Embrace The Dawn. Jackie Summers

ahead and the shape of the old, abandoned cottage would rise into view. Frustration raged in Nat’s blood. He should be riding alongside the king, not minding this winsome bag of tricks who had fallen asleep in his arms. Bloody hell! Who was he trying to fool? It was his own fault! Why had he gone soft at the sight of that fresh-faced beauty acting so bravely in the face of the dreaded Black Fox? Why had he allowed her feisty charm to tug at him, just as it had earlier in the rose arbor? What was there about her that made him want to enfold her and comfort her? But he couldn’t ignore the baser need—his growing desire to taste the sweetness of her innocence. It’d been a long time since he’d known lust burning in his loins for such a woman. Was she as full of fire in bed as out, he wondered?

      Anne stirred in his arms, and he glanced down at the sleeping temptress against his chest. Only her head and one hand peeked out from his heavy cape. The blindfold had slipped from her face and rested softly below her chin. How he longed to touch her cheek, feel the softness of the silken hollows of her throat. He smiled to himself. How angelic she appeared in sleep. So peaceful, so serene, so—

      Without warning, Anne reached up and yanked at his mask.

      “You little—” Nat reined up and grabbed her wrist, snapping it back with his free hand. “Try that again, vixen, and I’ll leave you here with the wolves!” When he straightened his mask, he noticed that two of the three ribbon fasteners had come loose. “Bloody hell!”

      “What are you going to do with me?” she demanded.

      Nat heard the brave note in her voice. She must be frightened to death, he thought, admiring her pluck. “You’ll be taken care of. That is, if you don’t try to rip off my mask again,” he warned.

      She huddled back against his chest, the black cape tightly wrapped beneath her chin. “Are you going to kill me?”

      He grinned beneath his mask. “Although you tempt me, wench, I told you, no harm will come to you.” He glanced down at her, but the high canopy of oak branches shaded the moonlight from her face.

      He spurred Shadow onward. “We’re almost to the farm cottage where we’ll stay. Tomorrow, I’ll sort out what to do with you.”

      He felt Anne stiffen in his arms, and although she said nothing, he knew that mind of hers wouldn’t stop until she thought of a way to escape him and locate her father.

      Nat urged the horse along the bank of a stream almost hidden by overgrown ferns. He chose the circuitous route purposely rather than ride through the overgrown weeds. Surely Anne would try to search out their trail the following morning. She’d find no tracks to follow along the riverbank, he mused.

      Within minutes, the dark outline of the familiar thatched cottage of his childhood rose from the shadows. He swung down from his horse, pulling Anne with him to the ground.

      Anne blinked and rubbed her eyes. The tiny cottage stood silhouetted against the moonlit sky, its thatched roof hung so low it almost touched the top of the latticed windows. “It looks ready to fall down,” Anne muttered warily.

      The Black Fox ignored the comment as he led the horse past her to the hitch. “Don’t think about running away, wench,” he warned while tying the reins to the post. “We’re in the middle of a deep forest. If you run away, there will be nothing left after the wolves finish with you.” His mouth quirked behind his mask at the gasp she couldn’t quite hide.

      He swung his cape over his shoulder and lifted the saddlebags with one hand. “Follow me.” He strode toward the cottage door. “You start the fire,” he ordered, “while I get water and tend to the horse.”

      “I won’t spend the night with you, alone in that—” she turned a timorous glance toward the cottage “—that hovel. I’d sooner sleep under a tree than—”

      “Suit yourself.” His boot steps crunched along the stone path toward the cottage. He stepped over the stoop in one long stride, slamming the door behind him.

      Anne bit her lip and strained her eyes against the dark canopy of trees that surrounded the cottage. The wind wailed low through their branches. Servants’ tales sprang to her mind of horned, grinning beasties who dwelt in the forest, watching, waiting. The horse neighed and she inched closer to the animal.

      Something hooted nearby and she jumped. The horse whinnied and pawed the ground. Something was out there! Horses sensed such things. She shuddered, pulling the jerkin about her.

      Damn the Black Fox! He was as evil as her uncle had said. He held no loyalty to Royalists or he wouldn’t be mistreating the daughter of one of the king’s finest. More than likely, once the king was safely out of England, she’d be ransomed back to her uncle. Providing there was enough left of her for him to find!

      What was she to do? She saw a candle flicker in the cottage window. Shivering, she watched his shadow dart in front of the warm light. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since morning. Her body ached from weariness. How she longed to lie down, but the thick grass hung heavy with dew. The rogue had taken the horse blanket, leaving her no covering.

      A faint smell of wood smoke drifted on the wind. He had lit the fire, no doubt. She pursed her bottom lip and stared at the warm, comforting glow in the window. On second thought, she’d rather be inside, but she’d die first than let him know it.

      The stallion tossed its massive head and she noticed the animal was still saddled. If he thought she might be foolish enough to escape, he’d be forced to bring her inside. With a furtive glance at the cottage, Anne crept up to the animal and raised her right foot to almost reach the stirrup. When her fingers grabbed for the pommel, the stallion whinnied a bloodcurdling warning and reared up, throwing her back to the ground with a jolt.

      Before she caught her breath, the Black Fox bolted out of the cottage and stood looming over her, his cape billowing in the wind. “Never give up, do you, wench?”

      She bit her tongue to keep from replying that if he thought she was such a goose to try to escape, he shouldn’t have left his horse saddled. But what did she care what he thought? Her plan had worked, and he’d have to bring her inside. “Your beast is as savage as you,” she spat instead. “He nearly killed me.”

      “Don’t give me any ideas, you little hellcat.” He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her to her feet.

      Before Anne could fire a retort, he picked her up by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of oats. Anne twisted in his iron grip. “You can’t just carry me off—”

      He gave her backside a hard whack. “The hell I can’t.”

      “Y-you low-life...bastard!”

      He kicked the door open, stormed into the cottage and flung her down upon a feather bed in the corner of the room.

      “I’ll do anything I want with you, understand?”

      “I’ll tell the king! I’ll tell my father! I’ll see you hanged!” She rubbed her backside, still feeling the sting of his hand on her bottom.

      The Black Fox threw back his head and laughed. The rich, deep baritone reminded her of someone, but who?

      “Don’t laugh at me!” She floundered a moment before regaining her balance in the billowy feather bed.

      He lit another candle and placed it in a holder. The soft glow illuminated his glittering dark eyes from behind the slits of his mask. He seemed oblivious to the loose ribbons dangling down behind his head mask. So, she had pulled the bottom ribbons loose. Her hands positively itched to snatch the black silk from his face, not only to see the devil beneath it, but to strip him of his arrogant manner.

      “I’m leaving to bed down the horse,” he said. He walked to where he had dropped the saddlebags next to a large trunk. “When I come back, we’ll eat and have a glass of the finest French brandy.” He reached in and pulled out a dark shiny bottle. “Compliments of your uncle’s impressive wine cellar,” he said as he placed it on the table. He strode to the door in two long strides. Framed by