Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1. Louise Allen

over the dibs.’ The man waved the pistol threateningly.

      ‘Now then, cullies.’ Nick raised his voice so it could be clearly heard by the second man. ‘This is no way to treat one of your own.’

      The nearest man squinted at Nick. ‘What’yer mean? I don’t recognise you and I know all the lads on the bridle lay round here.’

      ‘Never heard of Black Jack Standon?’

      Katherine stifled a gasp. Surely he couldn’t hope to get away with it?

      ‘Yeah, what of it? Everyone’s heard of him; these last few days since the news reached here no one’s talked of anything else in the taproom. Cut down from the gallows alive at Newgate, so they say. Don’t say why … Bloody hell!’

      Nick dragged at his neck cloth and pulled open his shirt. The vicious ring around his neck had developed more colours since the hanging, and if it was now less swollen it was certainly no less dramatic.

      ‘You? You’re Black Jack? How did you get off, then?’

      ‘All due to my clever little Katy here.’ Nick put an arm around Katherine’s shoulders and pulled her to him.’ She found the clergyman who’d testified in court to my lifting his cash box and gave him a night to remember, didn’t you, sweetheart?’

      Chucked under the chin, Katherine managed a smile she only hoped looked suitably saucy.

      ‘What, then he came over all soft hearted and told the court it was all a mistake?’ the taller man scoffed.

      ‘No.’ Nick grinned wickedly. ‘She told him she’d go into church and tell the entire congregation, including his wife and his patron all about it—right down to the birthmark on his left buttock. He couldn’t get in front of the magistrates fast enough after that.’

      ‘Gawd!’ The man regarded Katherine with awe mixed with an unsubtle appreciation of her well-displayed charms. ‘Left it a bit late, didn’t he?’

      ‘You could say so.’ Nick rubbed his throat cautiously. ‘Not an experience I would want to repeat.’

      ‘Too right.’ Both men stuffed their pistols in their waistbands and held out their hands to shake Nick’s. ‘Birthmark on the parson’s bum!’ The shorter one chortled. ‘Pleased to have met you and proud to shake you by the hand, Jack Standon. I’m Will Buckley, they call me Will the Fly and this here’s Long Harry Potts.’ He leered cheerfully at Katherine. ‘And if you want a change, sweetheart, you come asking for us at the White Horse.’

      ‘I might at that,’ she retorted, hoping her relief was not written plain across her face.

      With a few more sallies at the unfortunate parson’s expense the two highwaymen mounted up and vanished into the scrubby woodland that fringed the road.

      ‘Jenny, John—are you all right?’ They both seemed safe enough, walking towards the coach with relieved smiles on their faces.

      ‘I’ve got a hole through my hat,’ John grumbled, wriggling a finger through the crown. ‘Still, a miss is as good as a mile. Bloody quick thinking, sir,’ he added. ‘I thought we were going to lose every farthing we’d got left.’

      ‘Oh, Nick!’ Katherine threw her arms round his neck and clung tightly. ‘You were wonderful.’ She had been far more frightened than she had realised while it was all happening, and certainly more so than when she had sought out Black Jack. Then nothing had mattered other than saving Nick; this time people she loved had been at risk for a few pounds.

      With his arms full of warm, emotional and grateful young lady, Nick tightened his grip automatically. Something shot through him that blurred his vision and made the blood roar in his ears. It was like striking a spark on to tinder. He was scarcely aware of Jenny and John behind him climbing back on to the box in an undignified scramble to be tactful. All he was aware of was glorious curves pressed against him, the scent of femininity, the trembling of soft arms around his neck.

      ‘Hrrumph. Are you going to be getting into the carriage, sir?’

      Startled, Nick realised exactly where he was. ‘Er, yes, John.’ He swept Kat into the coach, slammed the door and sank back on the battered squabs.

      Kat settled herself opposite him, flushed and laughing, apparently with relief rather than any emotional lightning strike as a result of his embrace. Nick dragged air into his lungs and looked at her. Her hair was in disarray, tempting his fingers to rake through it, her face was charmingly pink with excitement and the swell of her breasts, exposed by the neckline he had so roughly pulled down, rose and fell with her laughter. His wife.

       Chapter Ten

      Nicholas found he could not take his eyes off the woman opposite him. She was enchanting, absolutely enchanting—and she was his wife. He must have been mad to promise her an annulment. If he could just get her to change her mind before they reached his home and she discovered what he had been avoiding for six years, surely she would forgive him for the deception afterwards?

      Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, for Kat stopped laughing and glanced down. ‘Oh, goodness, just look at this gown.’

      ‘I am.’

      ‘It is not funny.’ She was tugging up the neckline in a manner that was utterly feminine, which made him smile. ‘Please pass me my fichu. Thank you.’ She tucked and pinned and, finally satisfied, began to search for hairpins on the seat. ‘Goodness knows what those men thought.’

      ‘Precisely what I wanted them to think, luckily.’ God, the way she put up her arms to deal with her hair, the graceful line of her body … He shifted uncomfortably on the seat and found himself uncharacteristically lost for words.

      Kat finished fussing with her hair, pulled on her pelisse and sat there regarding him with an air of expectation, which, as he continued silent, seemed to subside into something like resignation.

      What could he say to her? Usually more than able to talk his way into, and out of, any situation, Nick sat and brooded on opening gambits. Kat, my home is rather … Kat, l am a … My father … Kat, you may be surprised …

      Hopeless. He would just have to show her and trust that by then she was tied to him and could not escape. Many young women would not want to escape, he knew that. This one, exuding silent discomfort opposite him, undoubtedly would.

      Kat appeared to cheer up as they approached the city and she exclaimed in interest as they caught glimpses of the imposing Minster tower rising over tiled roofs. Their carriage, guided by instructions he had given John that morning before they set out, made its way deep into the heart of York.

      The familiar yard of the Crown and Anchor glimpsed through the coach windows was larger than any they had stayed at so far, and the ostlers hurried out to greet the new arrival with an alacrity that spoke of a degree of style in the establishment. Some things had not changed, then; he needed to forestall any betraying welcome.

      Kat was frowning again as Nick opened the coach door and handed her down. ‘Is it not to your liking?’ he asked as she stood on the cobbles beside him, gazing critically around her.

      ‘It looks expensive.’ She was fingering her purse through the stuff of her reticule.

      ‘More so than anywhere else we have stayed, I agree.’ He had almost recovered his voice now, he realised, only a slight rasping edge when he was tired was left. ‘But I had a yearning for a comfortable bed and a glass of good brandy.’ And to be somewhere familiar, tobe amongst friends after all this time.

      He saw Kat shoot him a hasty glance to ensure that his neck cloth was back in place covering the betraying weal on his neck. No doubt she was expecting to be turned away from such a decent inn because he appeared to be some kind of felon.

      ‘We haven’t