She cried in outrage, and took a step toward the thrown trunk. The lid had come open and her delicate petticoats, scarves, and other intimate apparel were scattered all over the ground.

Brenn took her arm, silently warning her not to move. Of course, any movement from him was considered threatening.

The highwayman who had ordered them from the coach waved his pistol menacingly. "If you know wot's good for you, you'll step back and away." He had a trace of the Irish in his m.u.f.fled voice. "Or you could make it easy and just tell us where the money is."

Brenn took two steps away from Tess. She started to follow him, but he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head-no.

The Irishman nodded. "That's right, guvner. Let the lady stay here." He placed a hand on her arm and pulled her close. Tess glanced at Brenn, uncertain what to do. Then the Irishman pointed the pistol at her head. "Where is the money?"

Tess wished she were the type of woman who swooned. She would have liked very much to close her eyes and black out, but it wasn't to be.

Suddenly, the man on top of the coach said, "This isn't what I was brought in for. I don't want any killing."

"Shut your mouth and keep looking," the Irishman ordered.

"The money chest is in the coach," Brenn said.

"Well then, fetch it," the Irishman commanded.

"Release her first," Brenn countered. Tess could not believe how calm he was. She was ready to swallow her heart whole, and he acted completely undisturbed by the presence of weapons.

She stood so close to the Irishman, she could see his glittering eyes through the face mask. He exchanged a glance at the man on the horse. A silent communication seemed to fly between them before he roughly shoved her in the horseman's direction.

The Irishman waved his pistol at Brenn. "Fetch the money.""Fetch it yourself," Brenn said calmly. "It's under the seat in the coach."The Irishman did not like his response at all, but he didn't quibble. Instead, he stuck his pistol in the waistband of his pants. "Watch him close," he ordered the rifleman and started to search inside the

coach.In a matter of seconds, the Irishman found what he was looking for. He straightened. In his gloved handswas the small money chest Brenn had been carrying around with him. "This is what we've been lookingfor! Let's go, lads."

Suddenly, Brenn moved, pushing Tess away as he reached in his pocket.

What happened next occurred quickly. A shot was fired. One moment the man sat on the horse, the next

he had toppled over backward. The animal reared, its hooves too close to Tess for safety. She fell to the ground, covering her head with her arms.

The man on top of the coach jumped down, landing heavily. The Irishman shouted someone's name. The

coach horses whinnied wildly, thrashing in their harnesses. Heavy footsteps ran past her.

And then another shot was fired.

A heartbeat later, all was quiet.

Chapter Twelve.

Tess opened her eyes in the silence. The rifleman lay less than five feet from herself. She saw his fingers make a crawling movement against the ground. Then his hand went slack and his eyes took on the cold-eyed stare of death.

Tess rolled over, ready to scream, but Brenn was by her side. He lifted her into his arms. "Are you allright?"She nodded mutely, still too shattered to speak.He hugged her close. "It's over, Tess. You don't need to be afraid. It's over."The postboy spoke. "The horses don't like the smell of death."

"I'll take care of it in a moment," Brenn said impatiently."That other one ran into the woods," the postboy informed him."And he won't stop running until he reaches the sea," Brenn answered. "Come, Tess, do you think you can stand now?"

She nodded. How could he be so calm? It was almost as if the taking of human life meant little to him.

On wobbly legs, she managed to regain her balance and let him lead her back to the coach. She sat on

the step and then gasped when she noticed the Irishman's body sprawled by the wheel. "Is he-?""Yes," came Brenn's grim reply."You should have seen Lord Merton, my lady," the postboy said. "I've never seen a man move so fast.

He killed that one on the ground by the wheel with the man's own gun.""What happened?" she asked Brenn."I moved faster than they did," he answered."His lordship had a pistol," the postboy said. "And good aim. Knocked the one right off his horse.""See to the horses," Brenn ordered, his voice curt. He reached in the coach for the hamper of food he'd ordered earlier at the inn. There was a bottle of wine in it and he poured Tess a generous gla.s.s. "Drink this."

"Is it true? Did you have a pistol?"

"Drink."

She did as he asked and he pulled out of his coat pocket a pistol no larger than the palm of his hand.

"When did you put that there?" she asked.

"I always carry it."

"I hadn't noticed."

Brenn shrugged. "There is no reason that you should."

"I've never been more frightened," she confessed. Her gaze strayed to the bodies stretched out on the quiet road.

"Don't think about it.""It was so sudden.""They made their choices, Tess.""But it could have been you lying there."He frowned his answer. He obviously didn't want to discuss it. Instead, he lifted the money chest from the ground. It had fallen open and a handful of gold coins spilled out.

"How much is in there?"

"A little less than two hundred and fifty pounds."

"Two hundred and fifty pounds!" The words exploded out of her. "Why, that is an insignificant sum for which to risk your life!"

"Two hundred and fifty pounds is far from being insignificant," he argued.

Tess shook her head. "Brenn, the petticoat for my presentation at Court cost more than that."

He stared hard at her in disbelief. "You're joking."

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "It is made of laces fashioned from silver and weighs almost

more than the dress I wore, which is made of the finest brocade."

He frowned at the petticoats and scarves scattered across the ground. "Is it one of those?"

"No, it's on the luggage wagon."

"Thank the Lord," he said under his breath and bent down, favoring his bad leg, to pick up the coins off

the ground.

At that moment, the luggage coach rolled around the bend with Ace tied to the rear. The postboy driving shouted for the horses to stop. He jumped down and came running to Brenn.

Willa's head popped out of the coach window. A second later, she threw open the door. "What has

happened, my lady?" she cried.

"We were almost robbed," Tess said, surprised that her voice sounded so steady. "Come and help clean up the mess."

Willa hurried to do as she was bid, making clucking noises of concern. When she saw the two men lying

on the ground, she paused dramatically, clutching her heart. "Lady Merton-!"

"They are dead, Willa. They cannot bother us now." She said the words calmly. In truth, she still hadn't come to terms with what had happened. "Come and help repair these trunks."

The other postboy looked around, taking in the petticoats and scarves strewn across the ground and the

bodies of the dead men. "Blimey," he said, one word and it seemed to sum it all up.

"You should have been here, Clarence," their postboy told him. "Lord Merton took them both. I could barely believe my bleedin' eyes."

Brenn placed the money chest in the coach and then walked to the boot of the coach, pulling on his

leather driving gloves. Tess followed. "What are you going to do now?"

He removed a small spade from a wooden box in the boot. "Bury the bodies." His tone was grim.

"Why you? It isn't your job. Have the postboys do it."

"I killed them, Tess."

His words startled her. "They would have killed us."

"Aye, but once you kill a man, the least you can do is bury him." He motioned to their postboy. "What is

your name?"

"Tim, my lord."

"Help me drag the bodies off the road, Tim. In fact, you help too, Clarence. Then I want the two of you to reload the luggage."

They did as he said.

Tess and Willa were left alone. Willa kicked dirt over the bloodstains in the road. "It's a pity when

decent people can't go where they wish without being set upon by murderers and vagabonds."