Natasha gripped her cane tighter. “Highwaymen?” She’d heard there were none, but she’d told Max that they preyed constantly on this isolated road in order to convince him to escort her. “I told you there would be—”

“Silence,” he hissed. Another bellow rang out, this time an oddly polite but firm request to the two outriders to dismount. At the sound of a scuffle, Max’s face grew harsher as he closed the leather curtain, leaving them in blackness. She heard a rustling movement, and then a blanket was tossed over her. “Stay here.”

“Nyet!” She yanked the blanket from her head, smoothing her mussed hair. “I will not hide.”

“You will do as I tell you.” The soft words brooked no argument, and she realized she was hearing the general, not her grandson.

“Whatever happens,” he said calmly, “do not let them know you are here. If they open the door, make yourself as small as possible and do not move. If we are lucky, they will not see you in the dark.”

“You don’t need to tell me what to do; I am not a fool.”

“What you are is a stubborn old woman far too used to getting your way.”

“Pah!”

He lifted one corner of the curtain to provide a faint ray of light as he adjusted his sword, and then quickly examined his pistol. Satisfied, he returned it to its hiding place in the back of his belt, and closed the curtain. In the dark, she heard the click of the door handle.

She lunged for his arm, grabbing it with both hands. “You cannot go out there!”

There was a chilled silence, and she could imagine the hardness of his expression. With a wince, she released him. “You cannot protect me outside. That is your job: to protect me and no one else. If someone opens the door you may shoot them, but you will not place yourself in danger—”

“Stay down.” With that he threw open the door, the dim light outlining his broad figure. The last thing she saw before he was enveloped by darkness was his black fur-lined cape swinging from his broad shoulders, his boots agleam in the lantern light.

Shutting the door behind him, Max gave quick thanks for the low mist that allowed him to make his way unseen behind a trunk that had fallen off one of the other coaches. It laid on its side, broken open, several of Tata Natasha’s expensive fur-lined cloaks spilled across the mud.

Crouching behind the trunk, he surveyed the scene before him. Two men wearing kerchiefs over their lower faces had collected the coachmen into a small knot. Two more masked highwaymen guarded the other coaches’ doors to prevent the inhabitants from exiting. As Max peered over the trunk, a third masked highwayman was sent to watch Tata Natasha’s coach. Max had been fortunate to get out when he had.