"Stand and deliver!"
He stood with pistols drawn praying the coachman and the guard would yield without a fight. Why would these poor bastards give up their lives for the rich fools in their charge? Honour? Foolishness, they had no chance, the setting sun was at his back, he was at very short range, they had been caught by surprise... he hoped they would simply yield and spare him the expense of the powder and shot. No such luck, the guard, young, foolish, moved. The musket by his side was loaded and primed but it was a bulky weapon and he was too hasty. The crack of the pistols shattered the silence and sent roosting birds to flight in the wood where he had ambushed the coach. He sighed deeply as he drew his rapier and third pistol from behind his back and walked to the door of the coach. He was ready for the possibility that whoever was inside might also decide to put up a fight, or merely delay, hoping for rescue. After all, someone may have heard those shots and come to their aid.
"Stand and deliver!"
Nothing but a muffled conversation. A complaint about having worn "those diamonds." This could prove a promising engagement indeed!
"I have killed two men already, do you really believe I will not kill again?"
The door opened and out stepped a gentleman. He was fat and disheveled from the long ride from York. Not terribly rich from the look of him, no rings, no wig, but he wore good clothing which well concealed his girth. The cost of those two dead men would be quite low indeed if this man's possessions were all that could be expected. Then she stepped out of the coach and the highwayman's mood improved immediately. The lady was stiff and austere trying to hide her fear behind a mask of disdain. Her husband could have at least tried to do the same. She was a lovely woman of at least 30, voluptuous and certainly very desirable. She did much to hide what feminine assets she possessed however they were very obvious indeed, as was the diamond necklace around her neck that twinkled in the sunlight. A fine prize indeed. He could see the fear in her eyes, though there was something else there too, something he could not yet place... was it surprise?
Lady Rebecca Stirling stood before the highwayman trying to maintain a mask of disdain and loathing. His stare had caught her completely off her guard. The only thing she could see were his eyes beneath the brim of his hat and above his mask. She had seen them look at her, at all of her, she had stopped considering herself an object of desire long ago. Whatever desires her husband had for her had died after the birth of their children. With an heir assured, her usefulness expired and her desire and love were left to wither. She felt a twinge of excitement as his eyes roamed across her form mixed with the tin taste of fear, she would be unable to resist this man should he desire more than to look upon her and take her possessions.
The highwayman was caught off guard by her, he had lapsed into thoughts of lust like some young lovelorn pup, the kind that thought of desire for flesh before desire for money, the kind that got themselves killed. He tore his eyes away from the lady and focused on her gentleman. The initial shock had worn off, he cursed his foolishness. He leveled the pistol at the man's heart.
"Please relieve yourself of your possessions, sir, without heroics, no more blood need be shed this day on your account."
Mutters of contempt and impotent outrage as the man fumbled with his coat.
His eyes moved back to her for just a moment, but a moment was all that was needed. The fumbling man drew a small pistol and pulled the trigger, a look of triumph in his eyes.
Another crack of thunder reverberated through the wood.
The gentleman's pistol was beautifully gilded, the barrel and grip etched by a craftsman from Germany. If it had not been for the glint of that gilding, the highwayman might not have seen it at all. The highwayman's pistol was plain, it was a tool, not an ornament, it was simple and effective. The pretty pistol dropped from the gentleman's limp fingers and landed in the road the powder had been damp, it had never fired.
Rebecca had not been able to move for some time, she stood and watched her husband's body for what seemed an age. It had been so fast. One moment her eyes had met the highwayman's again and the next there was a flurry of movement, the noise, the smoke and now stillness. She felt no sadness to look upon his crumpled form. Nor was she numbed as one might expect. She did however feel the tip of the highwayman's rapier at her throat. She looked down the length of the blade into the man's eyes, she saw fear in them.