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She glared at him. "What the devil are you babbling about?"

He grinned and opened his hands. In the left was her mother's cross and a wad of money, in the right her harmonica.

She gaped at the objects. "How did you get these back?"

"Picked his pockets, of course." He gave her the cross and harmonica and dumped the money into his knapsack. "Come on, there's no time to waste." He entered the lane at a fast jog.

"Picked his pockets?" After a moment of astonishment, she stashed her possessions inside her coat and darted after him. "Robin, you're disgraceful!"

He gave her a laughing glance. "God will forgive me-that's his business." His expression sobered. "Sorry I didn't get the watch, but I couldn't think of a good way to get close to Ned."

Good heavens, he had deliberately taken those blows in order to retrieve her cross. And she had thought him stupid! As a pickpocket, he was firstclass. She had been standing right there and seen nothing.

Shoving aside thoughts of where he had learned such appalling skill, she said, "Never mind. Letting yourself get beaten goes well beyond the call of duty."

As Robin climbed onto a stile that crossed over a fence, he said, "Jem didn't hit me as hard as he thought he did."

Maxie followed him over the stile and dropped lightly to the ground. "What do you mean?"

"Just as there are ways of hitting, there are ways of being hit," he said vaguely.

"It still must have hurt. Thank you for taking the risk. The cross means a great deal to me." She made a sound halfway between amusement and exasperation. "You have the instincts of a gentleman-one who is seriously warped."

His mouth twisted. "There are many who would agree with you."

She regretted the remark, but before she could apologize, Robin went on, "A good thing this area is a maze of fields and woods-it should be easy to disappear. I think we should swing north. If they come after us, they'll probably assume that we continued south, since that was the way we were heading."

A shout of fury sounded from the direction of the road. Maxie made a face. "Time to stop talking and start running."

For the next two hours, they snaked their way through the quiet countryside at a punishing pace, alternately jogging and walking. The sun was dipping toward the western horizon when they crested a hill and found themselves looking down on a substantial road. Two carts, a man on a donkey, and a dozen ambling cows were within view, which meant this route was busier and safer than the quiet tracks they had been following.

They both halted. Every muscle in Maxie's body was trembling with exhaustion. She lowered her knapsack to the ground and wrapped her left arm around Robin's waist for support When his arm circled her shoulders, it occurred to her that her gesture had been rather forward. Yet it felt natural, for sharing danger had created camaraderie.

After a few blissful moments of relaxation, she panted, "Do you think we're safe now?"

"I doubt they could have tracked us this far," Robin replied, his chest heaving. They probably decided to save their efforts for the next travelers."

She frowned. "We should tell the authorities."

"Tell them what? They have to know that there are highwaymen in the district By the time we could lay information, Jem and Ned will be long gone." He chuckled. "I think we came away with almost ten pounds. If not for the watch, I'd say that we got the best of the encounter."

Maxie began to laugh, letting her head fall against Robin's shoulder. "Can you imagine the expression on Jem's face when he found his pockets empty? You made such a fool of him!"

"The Creator beat me to it"

She laughed even harder. He joined her, his arm tightening around her shoulders as they surrendered to the uninhibited hilarity of relief.

She raised her head to speak at the same moment Robin looked down. His shirt had fallen open at the throat to expose several inches of naked chest, and his hair clung to his forehead in damp glittering tendrils. He was vital and beautiful, and she wanted him as she had never wanted a man before.

Trying to distance herself, she said feebly, "Your sense of humor is blasphemous."

"Blasphemy is one of my specialties." He raised his free hand and brushed her lips with featherlight fingers. She touched them with the tip of her tongue. The salty taste made him seem sharply real, no longer enigmatic.

He exhaled roughly and curved his hand around the back of her head, tilting it up for his kiss. His lips were warm, his tongue a delicate tease. As naturally as breathing, she opened her mouth. The kiss deepened and desire coiled deep within, drawing the strength from her limbs. Her eyes drifted shut and she stroked the back of his neck, the silky strands of hair twining around her fingertips.

He murmured her name, the sound coming from deep in his throat. His right hand slid down her back, warming her spine and pressing her close. Her hands opened and closed on his ribs, mussing his linen shirt. She had thought him cool, but there was nothing cool about his mouth, or his hard, demanding body.

She stood on her toes and locked both arms around his neck. Her head tilted back, her hat falling to the ground. The air was chilly on her unprotected scalp and her heated skin, which seemed scarcely able to contain the thunder of her blood. His hand slid up under her coat, kneading the curve of her hip.

A whickering horse brought her back to her senses. With a rush of disbelief, she realized that she was kissing a pickpocket-a rogue who probably didn't even remember what his real name was. And she wasn't simply kissing him, but eating him up like the first piece of spring maple sugar after a long, cold winter.

Her eyes snapped open, and she took a step backward, pushing against his upper arms as she gasped for breath. Their gazes met, and in his eyes she saw the shadows she had glimpsed once or twice before.

Sensing danger, she instinctively retreated to safer ground. "You'll look conspicuous without a coat. How far do you think it will be to a town where you can find another?"

He took a deep breath, and his expression smoothed out. "I think this road must lead to Rotherham," he said in his usual voice. "There will be a used clothing shop there, if not before."

She bent over for her knapsack and hat, giving the latter a hard tug so that her eyes were in shadow. "Being robbed and having to go north again has cost us easily half a day."

Robin lifted his pack. "It could have cost us a lot more."

She thought of that kiss, and knew that it had. No matter how energetically they both pretended that it hadn't occurred, matters had changed between them, and not for the better.

As they descended the bill toward the road, she wondered if she dared to continue their journey together.

Desdemona gazed out the carriage window without enthusiasm. She was becoming heartily sick of scenery, but her pursuit should soon be over. At the last village, she had been given exact descriptions of Maxima and her disreputable companion. They couldn't be more than a couple of hours ahead. If they stayed on this road, she would overtake them by the end of the afternoon. A good thing they didn't know that they were being pursued.

She hoped Lord Robert wouldn't turn ugly when Desdemona removed Maxima from his clutches. Not that it mattered; her driver and guard were former soldiers, and they could deal with a wastrel who had never done a bit of honest work in his life.

Desdemona tried not to consider the possibility that Maxima might want to stay in the fellow's clutches. She really couldn't kidnap her niece, even for her own good. But at least if Desdemona had to abandon Maxima to her fate, she would have the satisfaction of knowing the girl was acting of her own free will.

Her musings were interrupted by a drumming of hooves and a hoarse shout of "Stand and deliver!"