Naughty in Nottinghamshire 02 - The Rogue Returns Read Online Free PDF Page B

deliver,’ or, alternately, ‘Your money or your life.’ You cannot combine them.”
    “Says who?” one of the men spat.
    “Says I.”
    “And who are you?”
    “Who are you?” Roane shot back.
    “Stop talking with him, Sam.” The shorter, rounder one glared at Roane.
    The two men approached, skirting the maze of holes left in the earth. They wore the coarse garb of laborers. Locals, most likely. Farmhands that broke their backs in the fields for a meager wage. They would be hungry, always hungry. And angry.
    Roane knew too much about anger. How it drove a man.
    “Yer money or yer life, then,” the shorter one snarled. “An’ I wouldn’t mind shooting you.”
    “I don’t have any money,” Roane said. These men would be simple, or so he hoped. Easily confused. He would wrap them around to bite their own tails.
    “The map, then.”
    Goddamnit . He looked between the two men, staring them both in the eye. “Who are you to demand anything from me?”
    “Stop arguing,” Helen whispered from behind him. He didn’t dare glance at her, didn’t dare take his eyes from the men pointing their weapons.
    Trust me.
    “Who am I?” The shorter man stepped closer, his eyes alight with anger. Good, the emotion would confuse him. “I am the Midnight Rider, a man of great cunning and danger.”
    Roane scoffed. He widened his stance and felt the solid English soil beneath his feet. “You, sir, are not the Midnight Rider.”
    “Yes, he is,” the other man argued.
    “No.” Roane shook his head. “He most assuredly is not.”
    There was something familiar about these two. Perhaps he’d met them before, Roane thought, in his decidedly lawless past.
    “Oh, I have heard wonderful things about the Midnight Rider,” Helen sang.
    Was the woman bloody daft ? Roane twisted around to face her and considered covering her chatty mouth with his muddy hand.
    “I must tell all my friends I met you. They shall be green with jealousy. Why, there has been no news of the Midnight Rider for years . I’ll be coveted by every hostess.” She curtseyed—curtseyed!—to the robbers. Roane shook his head at her, hard, but she ignored him and kept smiling at the men. If she smiled any harder, they were certain to get ideas. Ugly ideas.
    “Helen,” he muttered with a dire warning in his tone.
    She made a sharp brushing away motion with her hand, telling him to be quiet. He clamped his teeth together so hard they hurt.
    “Certainly there has been some mistake here, gentlemen,” she continued with a forlorn look on her face. She was all softness and helplessness. An act, to be certain. “We’ve all been terribly fooled, and I don’t know what I shall do. My brother was fond of his drink, you see, and played a terrible trick on us. Now we’ve nothing and I shall simply faint…” She clutched her heart and swayed for effect.
    “Ah, the girl would like to be helpful. Good evening, missy.”
    “Good evening.”
    The shorter man paced to the side and Roane shifted, keeping himself between the gun and Helen.
    “Don’t move.” The man waved his weapon. Roane froze.
    The man kept walking until he had a clear shot at Helen. “I don’t think there has been any mistake. You have a map. We want it.”
    “I see, but…” Her voice faltered and she sounded truly afraid now, not playing a part.
    Roane dared take his eyes from the gun to dart a glance at her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide as she stared down the barrel of the pistol. Something flipped over in his chest, worry or some other god-awful feeling akin to it.
    He was going to kill these men.
    Roane turned to the man who was aiming his weapon at Helen. “Sam, is it?”
    The robber said nothing.
    “Sam, do listen well. Point your gun away from the girl, and I will let you live. Keep aiming at her, and I will kill you before the night is out.”
    “You hear that, Billy?” Sam chuckled, but it was without humor.
    Roane’s fists ached. They held the weapons, yes, but he was