Crisp, salt-ripened air blew across the cliff tops, riffling Knight’s hair. He put on his hat and strode out to meet the coach as it drew to a halt outside the inn. Gleaming under the early morning sun that peeked through scattered clouds, the carriage was drawn by four mottled gray horses. Knight huffed out a breath. He’d feel a damned fraud arriving home in such a thing.

Behind him, the inn door slammed shut, pushed into its resting place by a sudden gust of wind. It was likely Julianna seeing him off. After he’d informed her of their father’s death, he’d spent the night nursing a drink, and she’d busied herself with work. Neither of them had it in them to mourn the man. He turned.

“Knight?”

His name on her lips curled around his insides, tying tight. What the devil was she doing here?

Louisa peered at the bag he clutched in one hand. His belongings were sparse, but he’d gathered up what he needed early this morning, including a change of clothes and his spare pistol. Travelling in such grandeur could attract attention, and he’d be damned if he would not be prepared.

It took him a moment to notice she too clutched a travelling bag. He’d found himself distracted by the way the cool air made her cheeks pink and whisked tiny fair curls around her face. She wore a simple pale brown spencer that drew his attention inevitably down to the curves beneath that were carefully hugged by a simple column of linen.

She shifted, curling both hands around the worn leather handle of her bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

He shifted his attention back to her face. “Yes.”

“In the earl’s coach?”

“Yes.”

She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. “As am I.”

He lifted a brow. “The earl offered me his coach to travel to Northumberland.”

Her lips tilted. “And he offered it to me to travel to Bristol. It seems Red has been generous indeed with his transport.”

Knight cursed under his breath. Damn that man. What was he thinking? Red knew Knight would not want company for this journey. Especially from Louisa. As much as he’d like to think he had given nothing of his interest in her away, Red was no fool. The bloody man had come up with this ploy to ensure they spent time together.

Well, the man might not be a fool but he was an idiot if he thought time together would do anything. Louisa had no interest in him and rightly so. What could a man like him ever give a woman like her?

“I have to go with haste.” Knight handed his luggage over to the footman.

Louisa scowled and took several steps forward, thrusting out her travelling bag to the man while his back was turned. Before the footman could return to take it, Knight snatched it from her and deposited it back on the doorstep of the inn.

“What do you think you are doing?” She trailed after him and seized the bag, stomping back over to the carriage.

Knight went to grab the bag again, but she slapped his hand away.

He eyed her, brows lifted. Louisa had a fierce temper when necessary but it was rarely directed at him. “You can go another time. My business is urgent.”

And he could not travel with her. He just could not.

“As is mine!”

“You can go to Bristol on a different day. Or catch a mail coach.”

Her eyes flared. “Red promised his coach to me. You can take a mail coach if travelling with me is so terrible.”

He grimaced. The last thing he wanted to do was insult her, but the thought of being in such close confines with this woman made the knot in his gut tie tighter. Better to have her angry with him than have to suffer the torture of being so close to her and not being able to do a thing about it.

“I need to get to Northumberland,” he explained gruffly.

“Is this something to do with Julianna?”

“In a way.”

Her defiant posture softened, as he knew it would. His sister and Louisa were as close as siblings themselves. If she thought Julianna was in danger once more, she would let him go without a fight, surely?

She pursed her lips, drawing his attention to them. There’d been too many times he’d thought about those lips and wondered at their softness and taste. Wondered if any man was ever lucky enough to feel them against his skin. As far as he knew, Louisa had no time for lovers—for which he was grateful—even though he tortured himself with those thoughts out of habit. He smirked to himself. When had he ever done any different? He deserved a lifetime of torment for his sins, as far as he was concerned.

“Well, then,” she said gently, lowering the bag from the defensive position in front of her.

Knight released a long breath. He let his shoulders soften.  But before he could say anything, she shoved past him, threw her bag at the unsuspecting footman who fumbled to catch it, and flew up the steps into the coach.

Opening his mouth, then shutting it, he straightened once more. He should have known Louisa would not give up without a fight. He thrust his head through the carriage door to see her settled against the plush velvet seats. She smoothed down her skirt then offered him a serene smile.

“Bristol is on your way and will not add to your journey,” she said reasonably.

Knight gripped the doorframe until the wood bit into his palms. What was he going to do? Haul her back to the inn over his shoulder? He could if he really wanted. It would be easy. Despite her inner strength and her ability to throw the occasional punch when bar fights broke out, she was no match for him. She’d weigh little more than a grain of sand to him.

Jaw clenched, he glanced over her. She met his gaze, unblinking. He eased his grip on the doorframe and grunted. “Fine.”

Her smile expanded, satisfaction lighting her expression. She quickly quashed it and turned her gaze to her hands that she twined in her lap. He stepped away to give instructions to the driver then climbed into the carriage, his weight making it rock as he settled onto the seat opposite her.

Though it was not the first time he’d travelled in the earl’s carriage, he had never done it alone. The interior was fragranced with delicate flowers that had been placed in holders by each door and small cushions trimmed with some sort of intricate pattern that his sister could probably name were propped on each seat in matching dark blue fabric. Curling a lip, he took one and shoved it aside to enable himself to settle properly onto the seat.

Setting his gaze on the inn outside, he watched it vanish into the distance as the driver followed the road that led over the cliff tops and toward the next town. He stole the briefest of glances at Louisa when he noted her fingers tugging at the ribbon that dangled from her bonnet down to her lap. Regret itched his gut.

Louisa never left the inn.  Ever. In his years here, she and the inn had been one and the same. Everyone knew the tavern was practically her lifeblood. If he was a better man, he’d reach over and take her hand or say something comforting. Whatever reason she was going to Bristol, she was going reluctantly.

Perhaps it had been about whatever Julianna was going to tell him. He’d forgotten she’d tried to tell him something before he’d interrupted with the news of their father.

The scent of the flowers mingled with the clean fragrance of Louisa—a soapy aroma that he’d recognize anywhere. He blew out a breath and shoved open one of the windows, allowing in an aggressive gust of wind. Curls ruffled around Louisa’s face and he exhaled again, slamming the window shut. He’d have to suffer or else she’d freeze.

“It will be about two days to Bristol. The driver knows of a place to stop and rest the horses.”

She nodded, attention fixed on the ribbon she’d looped around one finger. Several beats of silence passed. Normally, he loved silence. Sleeping on the streets or in busy inns, even out in the countryside while battle roared on around him had made him appreciate every moment of quietness. But not today. He did not like Louisa’s silence one bit. What was so urgent in Bristol that it was doing this to her?

He shook his head to himself. If he were Drake or Nate, or even Red on occasion, he’d be charming her in an instant. But he was not like any of them. His rough life meant little time for women, and they avoided him anyway.

“Why do you need to go home?” she blurted out.

He was surprised Julianna had not mentioned anything to her but it was clear Louisa had her own problems. He frowned to himself. Or else his sister knew of Red’s plan for them to travel together and had deliberately concealed the details of their separate journeys.

“My father died.”

Her mouth formed a silent ‘oh.’ She unfurled the ribbon from her finger. “I am sorry.” Creases appeared between her brows. “At least, I...” She trailed off and glanced at his hand.

He looked down and realized his knuckles were white from his clenched fist. He released it.

“After what he did to Julianna, I cannot grieve for that man.”

“Is Julianna well? She did not mention anything to me.”

He shrugged. “I do not think she grieves for him anymore than I do.”

Louisa tucked her bottom lip under her teeth briefly. “Grief is a funny thing, though.”

Knight would not tell her he knew grief all too well. That there were men out there he felt a lot more for than his father. Whose deaths deserved grief. 

“So you are returning home for his funeral?” she pressed.

Not if he could help it. He was not sure if any arrangements had been made, but he would do what he must and leave as soon as humanly possible.

“I am going to settle his debts.”

“Oh.” A hand went to her mouth. “You are a viscount now!”

He snorted. The title meant little, especially now it had been tarnished by his father’s actions. Decades of legacy were gone, and as far as he was concerned, he had little duty to it—his father made sure he was aware of how unqualified he was to be a titled gentleman. He had to agree now. He was no more suited to the life of a gentleman than Drake was to a life on land.

“I am a penniless viscount. It means little.” He eyed the passing countryside, empty save from the occasional sorry-looking tree and gray boulders lumped in piles from one of the many abandoned copper mines.

“So I do not need to call you ‘my lord?’” she teased.

He gave her a look. The last time he’d been addressed as that had been the day he’d left home, when his valet had packed up his belongings and expressed sorrow at his being thrown out. These days he was about as far from a lord as a man could get.

“I suppose not.” She smiled. “I hear Northumberland is beautiful, though. It might be nice to return home.”

“It is beautiful,” he admitted.

And it was one of the reasons Cornwall had appealed to him. They were both home to that wild sort of rugged beauty that a man could get lost in. There were no huge, bustling cities, filled with smog and dirt and noise.

It would not be ‘nice’ to return home, however. He had no idea what sort of greeting he could expect after more than a decade away, and he dreaded to think what state the estate had been left in. He’d be lucky to return to more than a ruin.

“Why the need to go to Bristol?” he asked before she could question him more about his estate and family. “You do not have family there, do you?”

She shook her head. “I have no family. Well, at least I do not think I do. A man arrived in Penshallow last night, claiming to be Jack’s son.”

“He’s dead.”

Louisa nodded. “He says the news of his death was a mistake and that he was not harmed but had been living and working in Bristol for some time.”

Knight rubbed a hand across his stubbled jaw. “The Army is known to report men missing when it’s simply a clerical error. Such is the mess of war.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “You know from experience?”

He ignored the question. Few knew of his time in the war. Even Red had the bare minimum. Well aware of the rumor circulating about his history, he was happy to keep it that way. If folk thought him a terrifying criminal on the run or the son of a famed pirate, so be it, and it forced them to keep their distance, he was more than happy for those rumors to persist.

“You do not believe he is who he claims he is?” he asked.

She wrapped her arms about her waist. “He wants the inn, Knight.”

“Like hell.” The words came out hard and forceful, like a punch landing just so.

Louisa chuckled. “I almost said as much.”

“Your stepson has returned and wants your inn?” he clarified.

“Indeed.”

“But you do not think he is your stepson?”

She gave a rueful smile. “It could be wishful thinking. However, it was odd, his sudden return. He said he learned of his father’s death and had decided there was no sense in coming home previously. From what little I knew of Ralph, that does not sound like him. Jack had many letters from him, and he’d been a dedicated son and happy at the news of our engagement. I know because I had to go through them all after Jack died.”

Knight had to look away and fix his gaze unseeingly on the countryside. The thought of Louisa having to deal with the death of a husband and the running of an inn alone at a young age created uncomfortable sensations in his chest. Sensations he did not wish to linger over.

“Did he have proof that he is Ralph?” he queried.

She pursed her lips. “He had a letter from his father, and said he had more evidence at his lodgings.”

“A letter does not mean much.”

“He has the deeds too. Or so he claims. I cannot help but think if he has returned to claim the inn as his, he must have enough to ensure his claim cannot be questioned.” She sighed.

“Or he could be taking a gamble that you would not fight him on it.”

Her gaze shot to his and that helplessness faded, replaced with the fire of determination. God help him, it made him want to lean forward and drag her into his arms and kiss her until she was warm and supple and had forgotten every worry.

“I will fight him on this. I intend to find out who he is for certain.”

Knight nodded. “Good.”

“He says I have two weeks,” she muttered.

“Two weeks?”

“To leave—”

Her words were cut off as the carriage slammed to a sudden halt, flinging her forward. Knight instinctively grabbed her, his body taking the brunt of her fall. She flattened her palms against his chest and looked up at him. Every muscle in his body tensed. The air in the carriage grew weighted, making him feel as though he waded through water just to make his next movement.

Shouts from outside snapped his attention away. He cursed under his breath and pushed Louisa back. “Stay here.” Reaching for the pistol on his belt, he hastily loaded it, cognizant of Louisa’s wide-eyed stare. He pressed his face to the side of the carriage and peered out. Just as he’d thought.

“Highwaymen,” he muttered.