Read Online Puritan Bride by Anne O'Brien - Free Book Online

haul heavily on the reins, jabbing at the horses’ mouths.
    The lead horse began to plunge again, pulling its harness out of Marlbrooke’s grasp. He cursed and momentarily stepped aside out of the range of the flailing hooves, dragged Tom to his feet away from any obvious danger.
    ‘Put the gun down, lad,’ Marlbrooke ordered, but was given no time to see the result of his command. The horse trembled beneath his calming hands and sidled in a frenzy of panic. The Viscount braced his legs, clenched his hands, now slippery with sweat, on the loose reins and hung on. There was nothing here of the effete courtier who had earned Mistress Harley’s censure at Downham Hall. The muscles in his shoulders and thighs strained as Tom risked life and limb to untangle the traces from beneath the deadly hooves. Sinews corded in his forearms and sweat broke out on his forehead as he fought to prevent them making a dash for freedom. Jenks continued to handle the reins with all the skill born of thirty years’ experience. Then their combined efforts prevailed. The horses steadied. Marlbrooke focused again on the source of Jed’s terror.
    ‘What did you see?’
    ‘Take no heed of the boy, m’lord. His granddad’s been telling him the tale of the highwayman, Black Tom, hung in chains at this very crossroads twenty years ago—until his eyes was pecked out by the crows and his flesh rotted on his bones. Jed thinks that he’s still hanging there, creaking and rattling. Or his ghost is lurking in the bushes.’ Jenks clipped Jed on the back of the head with a large hand and ignored the squawk of pained surprise. ‘And his granddad’s a fool for filling his head with such stuff.’
    Marlbrooke released the lead horse with a final gentling caress down a sweat-slicked shoulder.
    ‘Ghosts and skeletons, is it? Now. Hand me down a lantern and let’s see what the problem is.’
    ‘Take care, m’lord.’
    He took the lantern handed down by Jenks, lit it, and went towards the shadowed verge. He would wager he would find no footpads lying in wait. Or decomposing skeletons. And it was as he thought. He returned to the coach, handing back the lantern.
    ‘Nothing to alarm you, Jed. Just a night kill. A young deer who did not run fast enough. And the shadows you saw under the horses’ feet would be foxes, I expect, as we interrupted their feast. The horses would have smelt the fresh blood and panicked. Far more prosaic than a chained skeleton, I’m afraid. Take us home, Jenks.’
    Just as he made to swing up into the coach again hisattention was caught by a distant sound, carrying clearly in the frosty air.
    ‘Horseman approaching fast, my lord,’ Jenks confirmed. ‘From the south.’
    ‘And travelling too fast for such conditions,’ the Viscount agreed grimly. ‘We had better stay and warn him.’
    They waited as the rattle of hooves drew nearer, saw a dark shape emerge from the darker surroundings and Jenks called out, either a greeting or a warning. The rider reacted and began to rein to a halt beside the coach. No one could have foreseen the outcome as the moon emerged once more to bathe the road in its stark and unforgiving light. Disturbed by the commotion, a hunting barn owl lifted from its perch in the elms to glide across the road, large and shadowless, its white shape and soundlessly flapping wings ghostly in the moon’s illumination. In a return of mindless terror, without waiting for any orders, Jed raised and fired the pistol.
    Chaos erupted around them once again. The ridden horse shied, reared, plunging as its feet came into contact with an icy patch on the road’s surface. Caught without warning, the rider cried out and was instantly flung to the ground with bone-shattering force. The horse made off, maddened, coat flecked with foam, the moon glinting on the whites of its eyes as it determined on putting distance between itself and the source of its terror, but the rider remained slumped on the floor, a dark shadow,