Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,15

performance.

Because it did appear that she had made an impression on the young marshalman.

Every time Tucker glanced her way now, she caught an unmistakable softness in his freckled face. More than that. Pity.

And pity might very well prove helpful.

She slanted another look at the rogue, smiling sweetly. Laugh all you want, you overgrown oaf. We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m free and you’re still in custody.

Satisfied with her progress for the moment, she settled back against the cart’s wooden side, admiring the clear blue sky overhead. The day didn’t seem quite so miserable anymore.

Except for the way her stomach kept growling. She winced at the gnawing hunger. It had been... by the graces, how long had it been since she’d had a full meal?

The few hors d’oeuvres she had nicked at Lady Hammond’s assembly last night hardly counted. She had circulated through the throng only briefly before making her way toward the silver in the sideboard—because she hadn’t had an invitation.

But then, she never had an invitation. Amazing how the right gown and a few airs could gain one access to all sorts of places.

Sneaking into last night’s soiree had been a foolish risk, though. She should have left Staffordshire a fortnight ago. Four months working one district was too long. But the elegant country estates offered such easy booty, and she needed only another hundred pounds to have enough.

Enough to leave England behind forever. To start a new life. To finally be safe.

Seeing her dream almost within reach, she had been too eager last night, too emotional. Emotion always made her careless. One foolish, amateurish mistake... and Lady Hammond had caught her and immediately turned her in.

For stealing a half-dozen shrimp forks.

As if someone like Lady Hammond would even miss a half-dozen shrimp forks.

Sam grimaced. It was so blasted unfair. She could easily do far more damage if she chose to, but she never took more than a trifling amount from any one person. Partly because greed was the fastest way to gain unwanted attention and land one’s neck in a noose... but mainly because she refused to cause anyone hardship or distress.

Even someone like Lady Hammond.

It was a fine line she walked, but one she would not cross.

Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about food, or her foolish mistake yesterday.

Or her dreams for tomorrow.

The cart lurched and tilted as it rolled southward, but her sleepless night coupled with the thick heat soon made her drowsy. She was distantly aware of the horses breathing noisily, their hooves plodding now as the hours wore on into mid-afternoon. The sun climbed higher, baking the air and everything in it.

A raucous screech startled her awake some time later. She sat up and opened her eyes to find trees towering overhead on the left side of the cart, the road skirting the edge of what looked like a vast forest. A flock of birds high above squawked a warning of the intruding humans.

She sat up straighter, blinking to clear her vision, fully awake now. The leaf-laden branches blocked the sun and she almost groaned in gratitude. Her exposed skin had already darkened a shade and the road’s grit, like sandpaper, had rubbed every inch of her raw. The cooling shadows felt like a balm.

Her wrists didn’t feel quite so strangled anymore, either, as if the rope had expanded a bit in the humid air.

Everyone else seemed just as worn out by the long day of travel and heat and dust. Bickford cursed wearily as he swiped a lazy fist toward one of the ravens that swooped low over his head. Tucker, her savior-to-be, leaned on the cart’s side, his tricorne settled low over his eyes, his freckled cheek resting on the heel of his palm. His pistol lay in his lap.

Even Leach and Swinton slouched in their saddles, looking as sluggish as their horses.

Yawning, Sam glanced across the cart, expecting to find the rogue napping.

He wasn’t. He sat pressed against the wood at his back, head down, but he didn’t seem to be asleep. He shrugged his shoulders and moved his arms, as if to ease the soreness in his muscles.

The sun glinting through the trees struck glossy highlights from his black hair, and she noticed a peppering of gray at his temples. Odd, she hadn’t thought of him as being that old. She wasn’t sure why, but the impression she had gotten last night was of a youthful, utterly male confidence. Boldness. Arrogance. She found herself wondering how old he