Read Online With This Ring by Amanda Quick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amanda Quick
Tags: Fiction, Historical
Ads: Link
wearing their best jewelry.
If that were not attraction enough, tonight's full moon would tempt any ambitious highwayman who chanced to be in the neighborhood. Leo was almost certain that the villain who had attempted to rob Beatrice's carriage was still in the vicinity.
He made it a practice to keep track of everything that went on in and around Monkcrest lands. Information, gossip, and news flowed into the abbey through maids, gardeners, and grooms. It was Leo's habit, as it had been the habit of the Mad Monks who had come before him, to collect the information and sort through it.
Word of a rough stranger seen drinking at the inn had reached him that afternoon.
Highwaymen were common enough on the roads. Hunting them was a rather uncommon sport. But Leo reminded himself that everyone needed a hobby.
Over the years Leo had honed his ability to spot his quarry's favored hiding places. He rarely guessed wrong. Tonight he kept watch on a thick stand of trees that inevitably appealed to every passing villain on a horse. From his vantage point on the opposite side of the road, he waited patiently for the rumble of carriage wheels. He knew the man in the trees waited also.
There was a chill in the air. Leo thought of the warm fire and brandy that awaited him. And then he thought of Beatrice. Tomorrow he would go with her to London. Excitement stirred somewhere deep inside him.
The clatter of wheels and the thud of heavy hooves striking muddy ground pulled him out of his reverie. He eased one of the two pistols he had brought with him out of his belt and gently tightened the reins to get Apollo's atten-
W i t h T h i s R i n g
tion. The big gray stopped dozing. He raised his head and pricked his ears.
The carriage rounded the bend in the road, its pace slowed by the damp earth. The curtains had been drawn back from the windows. The interior lamps revealed an elderly, bewhiskered gentleman and a woman who wore an enormous gray turban.
For a few seconds nothing happened. Leo wondered if he had mistaken his quarry. Then, with the crack of broken branches and scattered leaves, a horse and rider thundered out of the trees and took up a position in the middle of the road.
"Stand and deliver, master coachman, or I'll blast yer head off yer shoulders." The highwayman wore a broadbrimmed hat. A mask fashioned out of a triangle of dirty white cloth concealed his features. He aimed the pistol with a steady arm.
Leo pulled the collar of his cloak up around his ears and yanked his hat down low over his eyes. The shadows of night would do the rest. He prepared to guide Apollo out of the trees.
"Damn yer eyes, man." The startled coachman sawed frantically on the reins. "What do you want with us? I've naught but an old couple inside."
The highwayman laughed as the coach veered to a shuddering halt. "A couple of the local fancy, you mean." He urged his horse past the carriage team and stopped
near the door. "Well, now, what'ave we here? Come on out. Be quick about it and you'll be on yer way in no time. Give me any trouble and I'll lodge a bullet in someone's gullet. I'm not particular about which one of ye I'll choose either."
The turbaned lady uttered a high-pitched shriek that made the horses flinch. "Harold, it's a highwayman."
"I can see that, my dear." Harold leaned out the window. "See here, my wife and I have very little jewelry on us. I've got a watch and she has a bauble or two, but that's all."
"I'll have a look for meself." The highwayman gestured impatiently with the pistol. "Get out of the coach. Both of ye."
Leo used his knees to signal Apollo. The stallion walked out of the foliage and onto the edge of the road.
"The evening's entertainment has come to an end," Leo said.
"What the bloody 'ell?" The highwayman spun around in the saddle. Above the edge of the mask his eyes widened in shock. "What d'ye think yer doin'? This is my carriage. Go find yer own. Take yerself off afore I blow a hole in yer belly."
If that were not attraction enough, tonight's full moon would tempt any ambitious highwayman who chanced to be in the neighborhood. Leo was almost certain that the villain who had attempted to rob Beatrice's carriage was still in the vicinity.
He made it a practice to keep track of everything that went on in and around Monkcrest lands. Information, gossip, and news flowed into the abbey through maids, gardeners, and grooms. It was Leo's habit, as it had been the habit of the Mad Monks who had come before him, to collect the information and sort through it.
Word of a rough stranger seen drinking at the inn had reached him that afternoon.
Highwaymen were common enough on the roads. Hunting them was a rather uncommon sport. But Leo reminded himself that everyone needed a hobby.
Over the years Leo had honed his ability to spot his quarry's favored hiding places. He rarely guessed wrong. Tonight he kept watch on a thick stand of trees that inevitably appealed to every passing villain on a horse. From his vantage point on the opposite side of the road, he waited patiently for the rumble of carriage wheels. He knew the man in the trees waited also.
There was a chill in the air. Leo thought of the warm fire and brandy that awaited him. And then he thought of Beatrice. Tomorrow he would go with her to London. Excitement stirred somewhere deep inside him.
The clatter of wheels and the thud of heavy hooves striking muddy ground pulled him out of his reverie. He eased one of the two pistols he had brought with him out of his belt and gently tightened the reins to get Apollo's atten-
W i t h T h i s R i n g
tion. The big gray stopped dozing. He raised his head and pricked his ears.
The carriage rounded the bend in the road, its pace slowed by the damp earth. The curtains had been drawn back from the windows. The interior lamps revealed an elderly, bewhiskered gentleman and a woman who wore an enormous gray turban.
For a few seconds nothing happened. Leo wondered if he had mistaken his quarry. Then, with the crack of broken branches and scattered leaves, a horse and rider thundered out of the trees and took up a position in the middle of the road.
"Stand and deliver, master coachman, or I'll blast yer head off yer shoulders." The highwayman wore a broadbrimmed hat. A mask fashioned out of a triangle of dirty white cloth concealed his features. He aimed the pistol with a steady arm.
Leo pulled the collar of his cloak up around his ears and yanked his hat down low over his eyes. The shadows of night would do the rest. He prepared to guide Apollo out of the trees.
"Damn yer eyes, man." The startled coachman sawed frantically on the reins. "What do you want with us? I've naught but an old couple inside."
The highwayman laughed as the coach veered to a shuddering halt. "A couple of the local fancy, you mean." He urged his horse past the carriage team and stopped
near the door. "Well, now, what'ave we here? Come on out. Be quick about it and you'll be on yer way in no time. Give me any trouble and I'll lodge a bullet in someone's gullet. I'm not particular about which one of ye I'll choose either."
The turbaned lady uttered a high-pitched shriek that made the horses flinch. "Harold, it's a highwayman."
"I can see that, my dear." Harold leaned out the window. "See here, my wife and I have very little jewelry on us. I've got a watch and she has a bauble or two, but that's all."
"I'll have a look for meself." The highwayman gestured impatiently with the pistol. "Get out of the coach. Both of ye."
Leo used his knees to signal Apollo. The stallion walked out of the foliage and onto the edge of the road.
"The evening's entertainment has come to an end," Leo said.
"What the bloody 'ell?" The highwayman spun around in the saddle. Above the edge of the mask his eyes widened in shock. "What d'ye think yer doin'? This is my carriage. Go find yer own. Take yerself off afore I blow a hole in yer belly."
Similar Books
