Masked rogue

chapter 5

Mr. James, who had been dozing, opened his black eyes and showed his small, sharp teeth at the bandit.

“And you’re testing mine,” Amelia said, holding herself steady. “There’s no point trying to scare me. And you asked two questions like I wouldn’t notice. But I did. So I’ll only answer one. I don’t have any brothers or cousins. Only my uncle has eyes like mine. Though I’ve always thought they were gray, not silver. You have quite the imagination, Mr. Vermilion. Now it’s my turn.”

The bandit nodded. “Fine, go on.”

“Have you ever hurt a lady since becoming a bandit?” Amelia asked, her cheeks warm as she looked at him.

“No,” he said gently. “And I won’t hurt you either, if you answer my questions. Where does your uncle live?”

“What do you want with my uncle?” Amelia asked. “You’re supposed to answer me before asking another question.”

Amelia picked up Mr. James and settled him on her shoulder. “Anyway, he lives in Ravenmoor now, near Black Hollow. What do you want with him? He’s not the easiest person.”

“I thought so. I once had something that belonged to him.”

“And you want to return it?”

Seb shook his head. “It’s lost.”

Amelia touched the ribbon at her neck. “Can’t you just get another one? You must have plenty of money if you’re a bandit.”

“What I lost can’t be replaced.”

Amelia dropped onto the bed. “That happened to me once. I lost a locket that belonged to my grandmother. It wasn’t expensive, but a new one wouldn’t feel the same. I felt really bad.”

The bandit nodded. “That’s serious.”

Amelia gave him a look. “So what did you lose?”

“If you don’t like being lied to,” he said, “you shouldn’t ask so many questions.”

“I am nosy, aren’t I?” Amelia said, scooting back on the bed.

They spoke a little longer, until he suddenly said, “I must go.”

“I want to see you again,” Amelia said quickly.

“It would be unwise,” he replied. “I am a criminal. I could be hanged.”

“They wouldn’t hang you!”

“I hurt people,” he said simply.

“I don’t believe that,” she said softly. “You’re just hurt.”

He stepped back sharply. “Do not fall in love with me.”

“I’m not!” she said, offended.

“Good,” he muttered, climbing out the window.

“You’re really leaving?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“When will I see you again?”

“You won’t.”

“But what about our friendship?”

“No.”

He climbed down, mounted his horse, and rode off into the darkness.

Amelia stood there, watching until he disappeared.

He had been there… in her room… like something out of a dream.

And as he rode away, his vermilion-lined cloak flying behind him, it felt as though he had taken all her dreams with him.

Amelia slept late the next morning. She had been awake most of the night, thinking about what happened and drifting into exciting dreams. The warm sun had been shining on her bed for hours before she finally called for breakfast.

She sighed as she drank her chocolate and looked through the newspaper. Peters the footman, a big man with pale skin, brought in the small round breakfast table like he always did. And like always, Amelia picked up her breakfast and pulled it towards the bed. Mr. James, wearing a little linen gown, slept curled up on a soft pillow at the foot of the bed.

Amelia shivered a little as she thought about the night before. The bandit had come to see her. He had climbed up to her window.

She frowned. This was where her thoughts became more interesting. Maybe he would have said he was madly in love with her. Maybe he would have asked her to run away with him and live a dangerous life. Maybe he would have kissed her.

Her hand moved to her lips as she wondered what that would feel like. Something told her it would be very nice.

She wasn’t sure if he was handsome under the mask, but in her mind, he looked like a prince from a storybook. His mouth had looked nice enough, and his eyes were intense. When he looked at her the night he robbed her, she felt like she might faint.

Sadly, Amelia never fainted. It actually sounded nice to faint, she thought, and be carried away by a bold bandit on horseback. Maybe he would take her to a small camp with a fire. Or even better, a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, with the wind blowing through it.

Would she have flowers in the windows? Yes, she decided. If she were a lady bandit, she would. She would grow flowers all around and maybe even keep a big beehive outside to scare people away.

Mr. James yawned, stretched, and walked over to her breakfast. Amelia broke off a piece of muffin for him, and he took it politely before walking away to eat.

It felt wrong to be unhappy. She had a beautiful home, she was comfortable, and she was loved. No matter how exciting the bandit was, she had a duty to her father. She would try to behave better. She would marry a rich man, maybe even someone with a title. That was what her father wanted for her, a proper future.

Mr. James finished his muffin and sat beside her, waiting for more.

“Do you want more, you little troublemaker?” she said, stroking his ears. “Let’s call Rosé and get you an apple.”

“Miss Amelia,” Rosé said, appearing at the door before she even called.

“Oh, there you are,” Amelia said. “Mr. James wants his breakfast, and please bring out my yellow dress. I want to go to the bookshop.”

Rosé didn’t look happy. “I think you should talk to your father first. He wants to see you in the library. Everyone will be there in fifteen minutes.”

“What is it?” Amelia asked, worried. “You sound serious.”

“You should hear it from him,” Rosé said, avoiding her eyes.

“I’d rather hear it from you.”

Rosé shook her head. “He’s waiting.”

Something was clearly wrong.

The walk down the stairs felt longer than usual. As Amelia passed the paintings and the flowers in the hallway, she had a strange feeling she would remember at this moment.