Angel Rogue (6 page)

"Yes, but I'm not named Hercules, so I'm not trying to deceive anyone."

"My father was named Maximus and I was called after him. No one thought to wonder if I would grow up to fit the name until it was too late." She finished eating her roll. "If your name isn't Hercules, what is it?"

"It isn't a lot of things." He took a swig of ale as he weighed what to say. He was obviously a wayfaring rogue who had had so many names and identities that he didn't remember himself what he had been christened.

Eventually he said, "Lately I've been using Lord Robert Andreville."

Startled, she asked, "Are you really a nobleman?" Despite his old clothing, he did have an air about him. Then she frowned. "You're hoaxing me, aren't you? My father explained titles to me once. A real peer does not use Lord with his Christian name. I reckon that Lord Robert is a pretend title that you invented to impress people."

"And here I thought I could fool someone from the colonies." An impish light showed in his eyes. "You're quite right, I'm a commoner, not the least bit noble. My friends call me Robin."

Whatever his name, the man had a marvelously expressive face. Perhaps he was an actor rather than a swindler. Of course, he could be both, but still Maxie found herself smiling back. "In that case, you should give something to your namesake for luck." She gestured at the brighteyed English robin that had landed in the middle of the fairy ring and been hopping closer and closer as they ate. Smaller and more lively than the American robin, it did rather resemble her companion.

"A good idea." He tossed a fragment to the bird, which grabbed the morsel and flew away. "One should always offer to the gods of luck." Delving into his pouch again, he asked, "Care for some shortbread?"

"That would be very nice." She accepted a wedge, trying not to look too greedy.

He had a marvelously engaging smile, with the charm of a man who could sell you a dozen things you didn't need. Maxie and her father had met many likable wastrels on their travels, and the self proclaimed Lord Robert was another of that breed. Actually, Max could have been considered one as well. Perhaps that was why his daughter had a weakness for beguiling rogues.

She ate the butter rich shortbread with pleasure, thinking that this was the best meal she'd had in a very long time. After finishing, she went to the stream to wash her hands and drink some of the cool water.

Robin watched his improbable guest thoughtfully. Though she had done her best to disguise herself with shapeless clothing, his palms remembered the shapes of concealed curves. When she returned, he asked, "Do you live near here?"

"No, I'm on my way to
London
." She picked up her hat and knapsack. "Thank you for sharing your meal."

"
London
!" he said, startled. "Good God, do you seriously intend to walk that whole way alone?"

"It's only about two hundred miles. I'll be there within a fortnight. Good day to you." She settled the hat back on her head, tugging it down so that it shadowed her clear brown eyes.

He bit back the impulse to tell her not to put the hat on, that it was a crime to obscure that exquisite face. When she had first crashed down on him, he had thought her a mischievous young tomboy in a brother's clothing. Then she had doffed her absurd hat, and he had briefly forgotten how to speak or breathe.

Maxima—Maxie—had the exotic beauty sometimes found in those of mixed race. While her delicate features were almost English, the smooth dark complexion, glossy black hair, and subtle modeling of the bones were definitely not.

It was a face one would not forget.

Yet beauty was the least of it. What drew him like a magnet was a quality of focused directness as strong and true as a blade, a still strength that showed in every word and gesture she made. Seeing her had triggered a flood of long suppressed emotions, and they battered inside him like ice breaking up in the spring rains. The effect was far from comfortable.

In the midst of tumult, one fact was blazingly clear: He must not let this extraordinary creature walk out of his life.

Robin swept up the remnants of the meal, then got to his feet, slung his bag over his shoulder, and fell into step beside Maxie. "The distance to
London
is not insurmountable," he admitted, "but the roads are not safe for a young woman alone."

"I have had no trouble so far," she replied. "No one except you has realized that I am female, and I will not be so careless as to trip over anyone else."

"A young boy could be equally in danger." Looking down at Maxie, Robin realized how small she was, scarcely over five feet tall, but so perfectly proportioned that it was hard to judge her height unless standing next to her. "In fact, some of the gentlemen of the highway would probably prefer a lad."

The brown eyes looked at him askance. A proper young lady would not have understood the remark, but Maxie did. Perhaps she wasn't entirely naive.

"Here in the north the roads are fairly safe, but the closer you get to
London
, the greater the hazard," Robin continued as they emerged back on the grassy track and turned south.

"I am quite capable of defending myself." Her patience was beginning to erode and her voice was snappish.

"With that knife you carry?'

That gained him a hard stare. He explained, "You did land on me rather hard, and the haft of a knife feels quite different from a human body." Especially from a soft, rounded female body.

"Yes, I have a knife, and I know how to use it," she said with a definite note of warning.

"It won't be enough if several highwaymen attack you."

"I don't intend to get involved in any pitched battles."

"One doesn't always have a choice," he said dryly.

They continued in chilly silence, Maxie studiously ignoring his presence and Robin thinking hard. Even though he had only known her for an hour, he knew better than to try to change her mind. This was not someone easily swayed from her course.

She might reach London without incident, but the
odds
were that she would meet trouble along the way. Even if he weren't fascinated by her, he would be very reluctant to permit a female—and an undersized one at that—to make such a journey.

The conclusion was inescapable.

As the woods began to thin at the edge of Wolverhampton, he remarked, "There is really no help for it. As a gentleman, I shall have to escort you to London."

"What!" Maxie sputtered, coming to a stop in the middle of the track to stare at him. "Have you run mad?"

"Not in the least. You are a young woman alone in a foreign country. It would be quite dishonorable to let you continue alone." He stopped also and gave her his most trustworthy smile. "Besides, I have nothing better to do."

Her expression equal parts of outrage and amusement, she said, "What qualifies you as a gentleman of honor?"

"Gentlemen do not work. Since I do not work, therefore I must be a gentleman."

Maxie laughed. "You are the most absurd creature— that logic wouldn't convince a babe in arms. Besides, even if you don't work, surely you can't just take to the road on impulse."

"But I can. In fact, I have already done so."

She surveyed her companion. He was no more than average height, and while that made him almost a head taller than she, his elegant frame did not look designed for brawling.

"You appear not only harmless, but downright ineffectual," she said as she resumed walking. "I am more likely to have to protect you than vice versa. I have spent much of my life on the road and know how to take care of myself. I do not need or want an escort, no matter how honorable your intentions."

When he smiled, she said tartly, "For all I know, I would be in more danger from you than from any hypothetical highwaymen."

An offended expression crossed his mobile face. "The lady doesn't trust me."

"I can't think of any good reason why I should." She cocked her head to one side. "Are you an actor? You are constantly performing, and actors are often without work."

"I've played many roles," he admitted, "but never on a stage."

She should have realized that; if he had tried the theater, he would have been wildly successful if only because of the females who would pay for the privilege of gazing at him. "Have you ever done any kind of useful work? Or are you purely a lily of the field?"

"Work fascinates me," he protested. "I can sit and watch it for hours."

She struggled, with little success, to keep a straight face. "I see there is no getting any sense out of you." Deciding to try another tack, she added, "I might reconsider if you have enough money to buy us coach tickets to London, but I can't afford to feed two people. I may not have enough for myself."

That gave Robin pause for a moment. Then he brightened. "I am not in funds at the moment and my banker, alas, is in London. However, I can conjure money from the air when necessary."

Before she could retreat, he reached under her hat

His fingertips grazed her ear. Though his touch was light, her skin prickled with awareness. As she caught her breath, unnerved, he moved his hand in front of her face to show the shilling that had materialized in his grasp.

"Not bad," she allowed, "but sleight of hand is not in the same class as turning lead into gold."

"Sleight of hand!" He looked offended. "We are speaking of magic, not mere trickery. Give me your hand."

Amused, she stopped walking and did as he requested. He placed the shilling on her right palm and folded her fingers around it, his clasp warm and strong. "Make two fists and I will magically move the shilling to your left hand."

Obediently she did as he asked. He made several graceful passes in the air, murmuring unintelligibly as he did. After a final flourish, he said, "There, the shilling has moved."

"You need practice, Lord Robert, because the shilling is still in my hand." She opened her fingers as proof, then gasped. Lying on her palm was not the single coin he had given her, but two. "How did you do that?"

"Very well." He grinned, dropping his showman's manner. "True, it's only sleight of hand, but I'm fairly good at such things. I've often done conjuring to earn food and lodging when my pockets were empty."

Her companion was definitely a shiftless vagrant, albeit an entertaining one. Maxie handed back his two shillings. "This has been very pleasant, Lord Robert, but why don't you return to your nap in the forest and leave me alone?"

"The roads are public." He pocketed the coins. "Since I have decided to go to London, you can't stop me."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. What he said was quite true. Unless her unwanted escort actually assaulted her, which didn't seem imminent, he had as much right to the highway as she did. And if he chose to walk the same road at the same pace, what could she do about it?

She thought of the dogs that had sometimes followed her and her father. Like a dog, Robin would soon get bored and fall away, since charming wastrels had a span of attention somewhat shorter than that of the average mongrel. All she needed was patience.