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a loaded pistol tucked out of sight, but his concentration was centered on the pistol pointed at his heart.
    â€œAh, but being old enough to pull the trigger is considerably different from being willing to pull the trigger,” he taunted, his pulse perfectly steady. He had courted danger too often to be unnerved by a half-grown brat who dared to interrupt his journey. “It is no easy thing to take a man’s life, not even a man who might very well deserve to be in the grave.”
    â€œStay back,” the boy warned.
    Philippe took another step and reached up to grasp the bridle of the lad’s mount.
    â€œYou see?” He was close enough to see the dark eyes of the highwayman widen with sudden fear. “You should never hesitate. Once you actually begin to consider the cost of murder, you are always lost. You must allow instinct to rule if you intend to kill hapless travelers.”
    â€œMove back.”
    â€œHad you shot when I first appeared I would already be dead on the ground and you would be happily picking through my pockets.” He pretended to consider for a moment. “Of course, it’s more likely that Swann would already have put a hole in your head, but…you comprehend my meaning.”
    â€œI said to move back,” the villain commanded.
    â€œOr?”
    Without warning there was a loud explosion as the boy did as he had threatened and pulled the trigger of his pistol. The bullet flew harmlessly past Philippe’s head and he regarded his adversary with a lift of his brows. By God. He had underestimated the lad’s pluck.
    â€œDamnation, the bastard is out of his wits,” Swann snapped. “Stand back, sir, while I…”
    â€œYou will tend to the horses, Swann. I shall deal with our feral urchin,” Philippe commanded as he narrowed his gaze. “A brave, but foolish, gesture, mon enfant. Unless you have another loaded pistol hidden about your person?”
    The brat threw the pistol at his head. “Damn you.”
    Philippe ducked and gestured toward the lurking shadow beside the road. The encounter was all very diverting, but he was still hours away from a warm bath and his favorite brandy.
    â€œCarlos.”
    On cue the large man leaped toward the horse, and before the hapless lad could so much as squeak, Carlos had him plucked from the saddle and tossed across his shoulder.
    Philippe recaptured the reins of the horse before it could bolt, his lips twitching as Carlos struggled to keep control of his squirming bundle.
    â€œForgive me, amigo, I had presumed you more than capable of controlling one small imp. Do you need assistance?”
    â€œWhat I need is a whip to teach this whelp a lesson in manners,” the man growled.
    â€œWhen you have finished toying with him, Carlos, perhaps you would be good enough to put him in the carriage?”
    â€œAre you certain? He’s a filthy thing with who knows what sort of nasty diseases.” Carlos paused to smack the captive on the bottom. “You kick me again and I shall throttle you.”
    â€œI will do more than kick you. I will lodge a bullet in your arse. I will stick a dagger in your heart,” the lad swore. “I will kill you both, I swear it.”
    Philippe grimaced. “Yes, it is a pity to ruin such fine leather with the vile creature. I paid a near fortune to have it imported from Florence, but I will not stand in the frigid air to question a petty criminal.”
    â€œFine, but do not expect me to share the pungent experience,” Carlos warned as they walked back down the road. With a heave Carlos tossed the snarling lad into the carriage and reached for the reins that Philippe held. “I intend to test this nag and decide if it is worth keeping or not.”
    â€œNo.” The would-be highwayman struggled with the cape that had wrapped about him and trapped his arms. “You cannot.”
    â€œOh, yes, I can.” Carlos narrowed his