He lifted the vacant seat and retrieved a pistol. Five delicate fingers beckoned for it. He looked over his shoulder and into her defiant stare. She was nowhere near the floor.

“No, Annabel.”

“I will not cower while you hang out the window shooting at people.”

“It’s not that dramatic.” A shot rang out from behind them, proving him wrong at the worst possible time. The carriage lurched forward at Lawrence’s urging, and Frederick returned fire.

“You have more than one weapon, and I am not helpless.” Her face was pale, but her hand was still out.

“Do you know how to shoot?” He put the gun in her hand and watched her nod a little too fast for comfort. He pushed her into the corner of the bench and lifted her feet so her knees were bent. “Balance your arm on your knees and brace your back against the corner.” He shoved her down. “Keep your head clear of the window.”

He’d groused to no end when Kit had given him this lecture—as though he’d never considered dueling or having to defend himself.

“Both barrels are loaded. If you fire them at the same time, you’ll either scare the hell out of your target or break your elbow. Either way, you’ll ruin your chance for a second shot.” He lifted the pistol and her hand with it. “Pull the rear trigger first. If you need it, pull the front. They will have to be close, darling. Don’t close your eyes, and don’t hesitate.”

Once she nodded, he retrieved the other pistol and practically fell into his seat as the coach hit a rut in the road. He doused the lantern over his head, braced himself against the motion, and waited.

The world narrowed to pounding footsteps and shadows stretching across the floor. Frederick’s rifle came at regular intervals. He was trying, and failing, to spook the robbers before they reached the coach.

“Remember to breathe,” he said to Annabel as much as himself.

The lanterns grew brighter, gold replacing silver moonlight inside the coach. A shadow loomed over his head, while a hulking figure filled the window nearest Annabel.

Jasper aimed and fired, and the blast deafened him. Annabel’s shot set her wide-eyed face into stark relief. Moonlight flooded the coach as the riders fell back. Before he could move, she scrambled across the seat, braced her arm against the door, and fired again. She flew back against the velvet cushions with a yelp as the pistol fell from her hand.

Her target shouted and fell back out of sight.

“Annabel!” Heedless of the windows and whether the highwaymen were still in range, Jasper leapt across to her and pulled her into his arms. Ragged breaths sawed through her, warming his suddenly cold skin.

Jasper ran his hands over her, praying for nothing wet or sticky. “Are you injured?”

She blinked up at him, frowning.

“Hurt, Annabel,” he shouted. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head slowly, then with more force. Her smile was almost feral. “I’m fine. Though I should have listened more closely about how the pistol would kick.”

Jasper handed her his weapon and retrieved the other from the floor. “I’ll reload. Use that if you need it.”

A wild turn sent them toppling into each other, and trees shrouded them in darkness. Lawrence slowed the coach to a stop. In the quiet, every breath was distinguishable. But no one found them.

“Are you all right down there, my lord?” Lawrence whispered.

“Yes,” Jasper replied. “You?”

“Fine, sir. There is an inn up ahead. Off the route, but out of the way. Thought it would be best to rest the horses.”

“Excellent thinking. Thank you.”

Silence stretched as they wound deeper into the trees on a road that twisted back on itself multiple times. Jasper didn’t dare light the lanterns, and he gave up staring into the darkness trying to make sense of the shapes surrounding them.

He took the almost-useless pistol from Annabel. “I told you to stay out of the windows.”

She curved against him, lifting his arm over her shoulders. “Forgive me, but he had a sword, and I like your head where it is.”

Her arm draped across his waist, and her breathing evened out, deepened. Still, she trembled against him. Or perhaps it was his shaking. Jasper closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of travel and the cries of night birds.

He jolted awake when they came to a halt. The pistol was level with the window and cocked before he recognized Frederick. “My apologies.” He lowered the weapon. “Have we arrived?” Beside him, Annabel swung her feet to the floor.

“Yes, your lordship. Lawrence has arranged the room with Mr. and Mrs. Holt, the innkeepers. If you’ll follow me.”

“Fine shooting back there,” Jasper said as he helped Annabel down. “Rifle regiment?”

“Yes, sir. Served with Major Yarwood in Egypt.” The footman led the way up the stairs. “I’ll stand guard downstairs. Lawrence will patrol outside.” His eyes shone over his wide grin. “Stapleton and Travis will be sorry they had to go ahead.”

The innkeeper and his wife waited just inside the room. Their smiles contradicted their bleary stares. “It’s our pleasure to welcome you, your lordship,” the man said. His wife’s curtsy embarrassed Jasper. Had he been in their shoes, he would not have been so good-natured. And, he suspected, if he and Annabel had been any other traveler, they might have had a different reception.

“Thank you for your hospitality and your kindness, Mr. and Mrs. Holt.” Jasper took in their surroundings. The fire was beating the chill from the room at a rapid pace, and two rather exhausted servants were struggling to pour buckets of water into a giant tub. It would take them most of the night.

“Please,” Annabel said. “The bath is very kind, but unnecessary. We are imposing quite enough at this late hour. What you’ve provided here is fine.”

The relief on everyone’s faces was almost laughable.

“As you wish, my lady.” Mrs. Holt curtsied again. “We served stew this evening with a nice, thick bread and fresh butter.” She motioned toward the small table, where the food was already waiting. “It’s only simple fare, but—”

“It will be perfect,” Jasper said. “Thank you.”

Once they were alone, Annabel turned in his arms and stood on her tiptoes to pull his lips to hers for a kiss that was anything but shy. Jasper recovered from his surprise and caught her lips between his. “Now?”

“Now,” she whispered. “Please.”

They undressed without separating for any longer than necessary, and Jasper ran his hands over her skin, letting her wholeness and warmth reassure him. Her touch singed him, carving his muscles into iron and hardening his cock to stone.

He sat on the bed and pulled her between his knees, still kissing her as he lifted her breasts in his hands and stroked her nipples until she was pulling away and pushing his head down, demanding attention that he was eager to give.

Her taste recalled sweets and cream, and she smelled of flowers and spruce. But her nails scraped his scalp as she shuddered against him. Jasper trailed his fingers down her back to her hips and around to her thighs. He pulled away to watch as he slid his fingers inside her.

Annabel’s eyes drifted closed as her teeth dug into her bottom lip, but she rocked forward, taking him deeper into her slick heat. He knew then what he wanted. He nudged her knee with his free hand. “Come up here.” She stepped back with a confused frown, and he tightened his knees and added his now-free hand to the encouragement. “Astride.”

Her sharp inhale made him pause and wait for her to make up her mind. After a long moment, she did as he’d asked. The question in her eyes dissolved as he curved his hands under her hips, letting his fingers trail through her wetness to the spot that drove her wild. “Take your hair down, please.”

One thing he loved about her new hairstyle was how easy it was to disassemble. A few pins, and it coiled down her back. One shake of her head, and it was loose over her shoulders.

Keeping hold of her, Jasper reclined on the bed. His shaft was throbbing between them. “Take me in your hand.” She’d done that before, and it had nearly driven him mad. Today was no different, but he forced himself to follow through with his plan.

“Put me inside you.” He gulped against the instinct to do it himself. “Rise up and come down.” She’d felt him—watched him—do it enough times that he knew she could.

Her heat spread over him slowly until he was fully engulfed. “Bloody hell.”