Free What A Scoundrel Wants by Carrie Lofty

trees as the woodsmen and their families shrank away, abandoning their leader.
    Will jumped off the log and snatched a man’s short sword. Dryden joined him, brandishing a makeshift club. They turned to face the charging dog, but the animal only sought the broken stick. It poked from either side of slobbery jowls. A great, shaggy tail wagged in apparent contentment.
    But its master was far more dangerous. The youth who had guided Meg out of the copse leveled a crossbow at Hugo and strode to her side. He casually angled a hand within easy distance of a dagger at his belt. Will liked the fellow already.
    The smoke surrounding Meg in a devilish cloud began to thin. “Release the prisoners,” she said.
    Her cold voice lifted the hairs on his arms. That she could sound and appear so altered from the previous night made him wonder what manner of woman he had bedded—or had bedded him. Could she really be the same woman who had scored his chest with her teeth?
    Then again, her bite had been none too gentle.
    But for the moment, he was content. A gratifying fear rippled across Hugo’s lean face. The worrying numbness had dispersed. And for the first time in hours, no one stood ready to do him harm.
    Dryden ran fingers through close-cropped hair. “We’re free.”
    “Good.” She smiled with all the sweetness of newly-sharpened daggers. “Hugo, you will permit us to stay in these woods unmolested.”
    “If you can pay.”
    She frowned. “Pay with what?”
    “The emeralds.”
    “Still pining after a few worthless rocks?”
    “They’re not useless to me,” the woodsman said. “I know you can make more.”
    She made the emeralds?
    Meg tensed. Her face blanched as white as almond milk, silently confirming the truth.
    The headache at Will’s temples spread across his scalp, festering at the base of his skull. He had arrested Ada because she tried to sell replicas. Knowing the sheriff sought an alchemist, thinking Ada might reveal her source, he relinquished her to Finch.
    The lye, the smoke, the tiny exploding bundles—proof of Meg’s understanding of alchemy lined up like stalls at a market. She created the emeralds, and she had survived the ambush on the earl. Little wonder the sheriff’s men pursued her with such dogged mania.
    And if he learned the extent of Meg’s value, Hugo would not settle for counterfeit gems.
    Dryden slid Will a frowning glance. The nobleman, it seemed, had pushed the same pieces into place. He positioned himself between Meg and her smooth adversary. “You’ll do well to remember who I am,” he said. “Permit us refuge and I shall disregard your transgressions.”
    Hugo flicked a quick, animal gaze across the glade, recognizing his loss of support. But he did not cower. Eschewing the chance to beg Dryden’s forgiveness, he turned to Will with a nasty sneer. “Maybe a hanging was not the best choice for you. We should’ve simply left you to the fine company of this witch and her Jew boy.”
    Will gripped the short sword, not at all surprised by the intensity of his dislike. “I should run you through.”
    Meg rolled her blank eyes heavenward. “Do not ruin this, Scarlet.”
    “Why, are these his woods?”
    “There are no laws here, hardly even noble titles.” The faint lines between her nose and mouth pinched into deep grooves. “Hugo has many allies whereas you have none, no matter that he is a thief and a churl.”
    If anyone knew the unwritten laws that governed outlaw assemblies, Will did. He had lived by the edicts of the forest, the foremost of which designated the man with the ablest skill and the readiest followers as the leader. Robin had been such a man, unswervingly in command no matter the moniker of outlaw.
    But he also knew that no interloper, no newcomer to Sherwood, would have been able to wrest power from his uncle. With whatever magic she wielded, Meg had stolen Hugo’s authority, leaving only foul words and a tetchy temper in its place.
    He swiveled the stiff