Embrace The Dawn. Jackie Summers

Anne’s throat. “I—I have no coin,” she managed in a tiny voice.

      His deep baritone laughter broke the tension. “What have we here?” He lifted her by the waist and pulled her from the brambles like a hare caught in a lair. She gripped both hands on her breeches, her blanket left behind, snagged on a limb. “Men, see what I’ve found in the briar patch.”

      The men’s bellowed laughter infuriated her almost as much as this big peacock who enjoyed making sport of his victims. When he put her down on the road, she stumbled back, painfully aware of the comical sight she presented. She yanked up her breeches, then her stockings pooled down around her ankles.

      The Black Fox held up a gloved hand to silence the laughter. “You must give something to the cause, lad.”

      “I told you I have no coin,” she spat.

      He tossed back the flap of his cape over his shoulder and studied her. “Then, I’ll have to take something.” He strutted about in obvious enjoyment while his men shouted encouragements. “I think I’ll take this handsome hat of yours—”

      “No!” Anne’s hands flew from her breeches to her cap a second too late. He yanked off the hat and she heard a low gasp escape from under his silken mask when her long red gold hair tumbled around her. She shoved her hair from her face and glared up at him. “You son of Satan!” Anne yelled. Careful not to trip on the baggy stockings at her feet, she marched toward him, her fists gripping her breeches for dear life. “You want something else from me, eh?” Anne trudged to within a foot of him. “Take this!” She kicked the Black Fox squarely in the leg with the heel of her boot, just above where his wide cuff pulled down, to aim a square shot on his exposed shin.

      “You vixen!” The Black Fox yelled in pain. His men hooted in merriment. He glared over his shoulder at his men, then down at her. She couldn’t read his expression under the full black mask, but she heard his heavy breathing, like a charged bull, while his gloved fists knotted at his hips.

      She faced him squarely, her chin clenched, her fists balled in perfect replica at her side. But she found it impossible to hide the triumphant smile that started to spread across her lips.

      “Tom, tell the men to give the Roundhead soldiers back their britches so they can escort this hellcat back to where she lives. It must be past her bedtime.”

      “No, wait!” Jane called out. She urged her horse beside him, then leaned to whisper in his ear. No doubt Jane was informing him that Anne knew the real identity of Will Jackson, and she couldn’t be trusted to be returned to her uncle. When Jane finished, the Black Fox jerked his head back to study her. When she heard his deep sigh, she knew she had guessed correctly.

      Dr. Herrick and the king formed a small circle around them. “Well, what shall we do with you?” the rogue asked, the glittering eyes behind the mask fixed on her.

      “I’m going with the Herricks,” Anne whispered, careful to keep her voice within the small group. “Mrs. Herrick promised to help me find my father.”

      “You can’t. If more soldiers stop them, how will you explain why you’re traveling with the Herricks? Besides, I doubt if you have a traveling pass.”

      “I have an idea,” the king offered. “She’ll come with the Black Fox and me.”

      Anne’s gaze flicked toward him in surprise. So the Black Fox had known the unlikely servant was Charles Stuart, after all.

      “Nay. She’ll slow us down,” the Black Fox said. “Besides, by dawn, every Roundhead will be searching for her.”

      “Then there’s no choice.” Jane’s face was serious. “She’ll ride with Doc and me. We can’t have the king endangered.”

      “If the soldiers find her, she’ll endanger us all,” Wilkens warned, scowling. “We can’t trust her to keep our secret.”

      “We can’t argue here on the road all night,” the Black Fox said. “For tonight, the king will ride with Jane and Doc.” He waved to a stockily built masked man. “Tom, guide them to the inn. Keep a close eye on them until morning, then I’ll catch up with you and escort the king to the next safe house.”

      “What about me?” Anne stammered, her mouth dry as powder.

      “You’re coming with me.” His voice held such a chill Anne was glad she couldn’t see his evil face.

      “Then it’s settled,” the king replied. He leaned toward Anne, his voice silky. “It’s been my pleasure, sweeting.” He blew her a kiss. “If you ever decide to come to France...” In the moonlight, his eyes were as black as stolen coal.

      Anne pulled back a wisp of hair from her face and stared at the man who claimed to be Charles Stuart. Out of a confused sense of loyalty, she bobbed him a quick curtsy, just in case, she told herself. He responded with a crooked grin.

      “Make haste,” the Black Fox ordered the others. “I’ll send word along the usual route,” he added.

      Jane waved to her, then gave that same dazzling smile she had bestowed upon Sergeant Stone. A sinking feeling washed over Anne as Jane, Dr. Herrick, the king and Wilkens galloped away with the masked outlaw named Tom in the direction of Bristol.

      The Black Fox clamped his arm about her waist and carried her to his horse.

      “I can walk.” She squirmed beneath his grip. “Put me down!”

      He mounted the huge animal with one easy stride and pulled Anne up onto his lap. She writhed beneath his grip, but the more she wriggled the tighter she felt his arm constrict around her. She tried to kick and beat her fists against his chest, but he caught her wrists in such a way as to leave her helpless.

      “Throw me a blindfold,” he ordered the last man. “I’ll not risk a poor Royalist’s loyalty for this she-cat’s loose tongue.” Aware that there was nothing she could do, Anne quit fighting.

      The tall robber reached up and handed the Black Fox a silk scarf. The Black Fox grabbed it. “Cover your eyes with this,” he ordered. Anne pursed out her lips and took the blindfold. With an indignant huff, she did as she was told.

      “That’s more like it.” She felt his warm hands pull her closer. “Be still, or I’ll stuff a gag in your mouth.”

      “I’ll meet up the others tomorrow,” he said to the robber. His commanding voice pierced the darkness. “Scatter the Roundheads’ horses, then hide the soldiers’ breeches in the woods.” Blindfolded, Anne could hear the amusement in his voice.

      The other man muttered a reply, then she heard the clink of spurs, and felt the horse’s thrust throw her against the outlaw’s chest as the animal beneath them broke into a gallop.

      Behind her ear, she heard his heart pound, filling her with a strange sensation. The wind whipped her hair as the thundering hooves beneath them beat to an even rhythm. Wind tore at her face and she shivered. He must have felt her tremble, because he pulled his cape around her. When he did, she felt the heat from inside his cloak envelope her. Her heartbeat quickened. The smell of the soft wool reminded her of apples, and it triggered a familiar memory—one she couldn’t quite put her mind to.

      The wind whirled in Anne’s hair while they flew through the rough fields. It was nothing like the jostling ride behind Wilkens when they rode blindly away from Wycliffe Manor. She could feel the power and strength of the man who held her, and the mighty animal beneath them.

      She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her wits amid her fear. What if this outlaw murdered her, leaving her body in the deep forest, never to be found? Her insides twisted at the thought. Well, she’d fight him to her death, using the courage she knew she had. Hadn’t the lieutenant named Nat meant that very thing when he spoke of the courage to follow her heart?

      Well, she had the courage, and somehow she’d find her father. But first, she’d have to escape the fiend who held her.

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      For