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information, convince him she was valuable enough to keep around until she figured something else out. She hastily mapped out areas of Radford in her mind. She would lead him on a merry chase, none of it related to the truth.
    “We turn up ahead, at the bend in the river,” she called out, not daring to glance at Trent. It was rather disconcerting lying to his face. A tinge of uneasiness flipped around in her belly. Surely it was not guilt. She owed this man nothing, while she owed Roane and his aunt her life. No, it was just nerves. It would be hard to trick her captor. He was an intelligent and all too observant man.
    Trent remained silent and followed her lead. She scanned the tall grasses and nearby trees for signs of the trail, which was both well marked and yet disguised. With a few wrong turns into the thick woods, followed by the grumbling of the large men behind them, she led the way into an open meadow. Wagon tracks marked the edges of the clearing and fire rings scarred the earth. A thick patch of purple clover buzzed with bees in the sunlight.
    Trent dismounted and left his horse to graze untethered. He paced around the clearing and gathered information in his head. “A gypsy encampment.”
    He did not know of this place though it was on his land. Good, it would be easier to trick him.
    “Yes,” Mazie replied, offering as little information as possible.
    Trent came to her side and wordlessly assisted her down from her mount. She stepped out of his arms as soon as her feet found purchase on the earth. It was terribly uncomfortable being so close to him. It was like her entire being awakened under his attention.
    Never had she thought herself such a dunderhead.
    The four other riders tied up their horses and walked the perimeter of the clearing. Would they know she was lying? Would the earth give them clues she could not know of?
    Her hands felt sweaty in her riding gloves. She took a deep breath. There was no sense delaying further. “I—” She faltered when Trent turned to her with those ever watchful eyes. Avoiding him, she looked down at the skirts of her riding habit and brushed out the wrinkles. “This is where I met him last.”
    “When?”
    Her gaze still downcast, she watched as he widened his stance and planted his feet. Ever determined, this one.
    “Three weeks ago. He made his camp here.”
    “Were you to meet him here again?”
    “No, I don’t think I shall ever see him again. We had a quarrel, you see.” Brilliant. She surprised herself sometimes.
    Trent’s feet shifted. “What sort of a quarrel.”
    “Just a quarrel, my lord.” She blushed. She could not care what kind of a lightskirt he thought her to be. A thief and a whore.
    “Do you know how to contact him?”
    She forced herself to look up at him. “No. I simply wait for him to send me a note when he is near. I wouldn’t know how to reach him.” The truth, safe enough to reveal.
    Trent crossed his arms. “How gallant of him, leaving with no forwarding address. What if you needed his assistance?”
    “I…well…I take care of myself.” Definitely the truth.
    “Remind me how you met this charming fellow.” He cocked his head to the side. Oh, how the young girls in London would giggle and twitter if they could see Lord Radford in his relentless handsomeness.
    “I told you last night. It was at the Saturday market. He bought me a ribbon.”
    “Ah, a ribbon.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
    “It was a very pretty ribbon,” Mazie said defensively. The absurdity of her feeling insulted by his reaction to her lie was not lost on her, but did little to sooth her temper.
    “Such a pretty ribbon that you agreed to meet him alone, in the woods, and assist him in his treasonous crimes?”
    “I did not know he was the Midnight Rider at first. Eventually he told me the truth and I found his mission to be rather heroic. You may scoff, my lord, but—” She stopped herself before she said too much.
    Trent shook his head.