Embrace The Dawn

Wilkens grumbled but withdrew his hold.

Jane rode her horse beside Anne. “My dear, I give you my word, if you remain hidden and do nothing to give yourself away, I’ll help you find your father. I have powerful friends who know the whereabouts of wounded and captured Royalists.” Beneath Jane’s black hood, Anne saw her wide eyes glitter with trust and assurance.

Anne desperately wanted to believe. “You can trust me, Mrs. Herrick.”

Jane smiled. “I know I can, my dear. Remember, whatever happens, stay hidden in the bushes.” She paused and her expression grew serious. “Don’t be frightened, just think of your father.”

Anne forced a brave smile, then hiked up the loose trousers and scooted across the deep rutted road. She tripped, but righted herself before splashing into a muddy puddle. When she finally reached the tall bramble of wild plums, she crawled inside the cover of low branches. A limb poked her head, pushing her woolen knit cap off. She grabbed the hat and stuffed her thick, unbound curls beneath the coarse band.

The sound of cantering hooves grew louder and six Roundhead soldiers, riding single file, came into view. Their armor clanked noisily as they approached.

A cool breeze lifted the loose tendrils of Anne’s hair, and she shivered. Parting the branches, she held her breath and peered through the quivering leaves.

The first soldier trotted his horse beside Dr. Herrick’s mount and raised the lantern. Before he had a chance to speak, Jane’s dulcet voice carried on the night air.

“My prayers have been answered.” She fluttered her hands and smiled becomingly at the soldier. “When we heard horses, we feared you were that highwayman my godfather, Master Lowell, warned us about.”

Anne watched the soldier as he sat a little straighter on his mount. “I’m Sergeant Stone, at yer service, milady.” He touched his helmet in the customary salute. “‘Ave no fear of the Black Fox and ‘is kind. ‘E won’t dare come near these shires, milady.” He chuckled to his men. “Not with Colonel Twining’s troopers garrisoned nearby at Wycliffe Manor. Aye, men?”

The soldiers cheered in unison. They were as pompous as their leader, Anne thought.

“George Lowell’s niece is missin’. My orders are to bring all riders in the area back to the manor for questionin’.” The stocky soldier held the lantern higher. “May I see yer travelin’ passes?”

Anne’s heart raced as she watched in trepidation while Dr. Herrick rode forward and handed the soldier the folded parchments. The trooper eyed him a moment, then examined the passes before returning them. “What brings ye to travel these roads so late, Doctor?”

“My wife’s mother has been taken ill. We’re on our way to be with her at her estate, Rosemoor.”

Jane’s face brightened in the sputtering light. “We’ve just come from Wycliffe Manor. I was visiting with my godfather.” She pulled out several folded documents from her saddlebag and handed them to the sergeant. “These passes are for our servants.”

The soldier inspected the parchments carefully before returning them.

“We’re free to move on?” Doc asked hopefully.

“Aye. Yer free to go as soon as ye return with me to Wycliffe Manor for Colonel Twining’s interrogation,” he answered firmly. He waved his troops forward into escort position.

“But, Sergeant!” Jane fluttered a handkerchief in a demure gesture. “I—I’d never ask a soldier of Oliver Cromwell’s to betray his duty...” Her voice trailed off while she batted her eyelids. “B-but my late father, a member of Parliament, was a close friend of Oliver Cromwell. Why, Uncle Oliver, as he insisted I call him, bounced me on his knee when I was a child.” She laughed lightly, pausing, as though waiting for the effect of her words to settle.

In the lantern light, Anne saw the soldier’s brow furrow in thought. Anne watched in amazement. How can Jane be so serene and collected when her own heart thundered?

Jane brushed a gloved hand along the soldier’s forearm. “I’m sure Colonel Twining would understand if you could see beyond the usual enforcement of your office and oblige my sick mother this one small request.” Her voice faltered and she lowered her gaze. “You see, if my husband and I don’t hasten to her sickbed, she may...” Her voice faded as she bowed her head dramatically.

The sergeant scratched his neck, then turned toward the other troopers, as though hoping for an answer to his dilemma.

Anne watched, her apprehension growing by the minute. Unconsciously her fingers tightened into knots.

Finally, the sergeant’s gaze fixed back to Jane. “Mrs. ‘errick, under the circumstances, I’m certain Lieutenant General Cromwell, ‘isself, would insist ye speed to yer mum’s bedside without delay.”

Anne saw Jane’s shoulders relax and heard Jane’s audible sigh. “You’re a credit to your country, Sergeant Stone. When next I see Uncle Oliver, I’ll remember your kindness to him.”

“Thank ye, Mrs. ‘errick,” he said, touching his helmet. “It’ll be me pleasure to escort ye to Rosemoor, meself.”

“But—” Jane’s eyes widened in the lantern’s brightness. “That’s—that’s not necessary. We don’t—”

“Aye, I’m sure Lieutenant General Cromwell would insist.” Sergeant Stone turned to his men. “Attention!” he shouted. His spurs jingled as his horse bolted forward. “Flank position!”

Anne froze in terror. They were leaving without her! She’d be left out here for days before anyone would find her! She stood on tiptoe and folded the blanket about the leather jerkin. Shivering, her heart sank while she watched Jane and the others turn to leave.

Suddenly Anne heard a pounding of hooves and a loud rush as another group of horsemen thundered across the fields from out of nowhere.

The soldiers fell silent, listening.

Through the trembling leaves, Anne counted at least a dozen horsemen charging from the darkness toward the astonished huddle on the road. Moonlight glinted off their poised swords as the hooves sliced the turf all around them.

“The Black Fox,” announced the soldiers, and Anne heard the fear in their cries. Sergeant Stone and his troopers drew their blades and waited.

From out of the night rode the most fearsome horseman Anne had ever seen. Her hands flew to her face and she gasped. Surrounded by masked men in Cavalier dress, he loomed larger than life.

A thrill coursed through her. It was the Black Fox, and he had come to rescue them!

He was dressed in black, from the wide-brimmed Cavalier hat with full black plumes cocked at a rakish angle, to the gleaming leather boots. Although his face was fully concealed by a silken mask, she knew he was the most handsome highwayman of all. A long cape billowed from his broad shoulders as he sat atop the majestic black horse draped in black skirts. The brace of pistols he held glinted in the moonlight. The steed reared back as the man’s rich laughter rent the night.

“What have we here?” he yelled back to his men. “A party of wealthy Pilgrims escorted by ol’ Noll’s men?” He spurred the charger to circle the group. “You must be carrying valuables, my good woman,” he addressed Jane.

Sergeant Stone’s back flexed, his sword drawn. “A pistol against a sword isn’t honorable, rogue.”

“How very perceptive of you, Sergeant,” mocked the Black Fox. “My compliments to your mum for raising a bright lad!” A titter of laughter rang around the group and Sergeant Stone swore under his breath.

“Be a good fellow and drop your weapon, if you value your life,” the Black Fox warned. “Besides, you’ll need both hands to dig into your pockets and hand over your coin for the king’s cause.”

The sergeant swore again, then tossed his sword to the ground, his men following his lead.

“Now, dismount and stand over there,” the Black Fox ordered, motioning with the barrel of his pistol. Grumbling, the Roundheads formed a line, hands raised, while the highwaymen dismounted and emptied the pockets of the soldiers.

Anne’s eyes widened when the Black Fox slid from his mount and strode beside Jane, Dr. Herrick, the king and Wilkens.

“We have no money,” cried Jane. “Please, let us be.” Her hand flew instinctively to the brooch at her throat.

Anne watched Dr. Herrick, who appeared as cold as a steel trap. His hand went to his hilt, but the Black Fox saw the motion, took his weapon and ordered his Cavaliers to search the Pilgrims.

Shocked, Anne watched as a burly highwayman removed a small dagger from the king’s vest pocket and tucked it inside his own belt. Anne was outraged. This was nothing like she had imagined. Didn’t the Black Fox realize that Jane and Dr. Herrick were loyal to the Royalists’ cause? How dare he take their valuables and arms?

“Your gold and jewels, fair lady,” ordered the Black Fox. “Be quick or I may take more.” His demonic laugh gave weight to his threat. Laughter from the other men made Anne wonder what sort of loyalty these men really served.

“Please, this brooch was my grandmother’s,” Jane pleaded, unfastening the glittering pin from her collar. “It’s of little value except to me.”

The Black Fox caught it in his hand and examined it before he passed it to his men. “But, dear lady, one of my women might take a fancy to it.” He swept her an exaggerated bow and thanked her before turning to Dr. Herrick.

“Your purse or your life,” he demanded.

The doctor scowled defiantly while he threw several coins to the ground. “I’m only a poor servant of the Lord, but take this, too, you despicable lout.” Doc spit on the ground.

Anne froze in fear. This was the first sign of anyone disobeying the Black Fox.

With his hand on his sword, the Black Fox threw back his shoulders and strode purposely toward the doctor. “You’ve got starch, Pilgrim.” He glanced back to his men while they shouted encouragements. After a moment, he faced Doc Herrick. “We’re all poor servants, my good man. Only you and I serve different masters.” The Black Fox reached inside the doctor’s vest pocket and yanked off the gold watch and chain. “This will aid my cause quite nicely.” Several of the masked men cheered when he tossed it to them.

“You black-hearted devil!” Dr. Herrick balled his fists at his side.

“That I am.” The Fox swung around and from under his mask came a low chuckle. “As black hearted as you’ll ever meet.”

Anne stood horrified. This wasn’t how she’d imagined the Black Fox. She was startled to see her hand shaking as she spread the leaves to afford a better view. Could her uncle have been right? Could the Black Fox be a cutthroat who robbed in the name of the king, yet held no loyalty to anyone but himself?

The Black Fox strode beside Wilkens and the king. They turned their pockets inside out in proof that they had nothing of value while Jane explained that they were only servants who didn’t hold coin.

“Even the poor must give to Charlie Stuart’s cause.” He stroked his chin in feigned thought. “Take off your boots, lads. Your wealthy mistress will buy you another pair.”

The king appeared dumbfounded, but quickly followed Wilkens’ lead and removed his boots, tossing them to the amused men.

One of the highwaymen held up a fat bag of gold coins. “‘Ere’s what we gathered from the soldiers.”

The Black Fox grabbed the bulging purse and peered inside. “It’s not enough, I’m afraid.” He tightened the cord on the bag and tucked it into his saddlebags. “Not nearly enough.”

The highwayman shouted to several of his men. “Take the Roundheads down the road a modest piece from the eyes of the lady.” He tossed his head in Jane’s direction. “Then bring me back their britches.” The robbers jeered as all but two of them flanked the Roundheads and prodded them down the road.

Although appalled by his antics, Anne watched the rogue with fascination. When the soldiers were out of sight, the Black Fox grabbed the reins of Sergeant Stone’s sprig-tailed bay and brought it alongside the king. “Mount and follow me,” she heard him say.

The king climbed atop the horse but cast a nervous glance toward Anne in the thicket.

The Black Fox called to the burly masked man beside him. “Tom, see them safely on their way,” he ordered, motioning to Jane, Doc and Wilkens. “Hurry and be off with you.”

Jane and her husband glanced nervously in Anne’s direction then back at each other.

Anne’s throat constricted in fear. She was going to be left! If the soldiers returned, they would find her and take her back to her uncle, or if the Black Fox found her... A shudder curled down her spine. Nay, she wouldn’t think of that.

Doc Herrick assisted his wife in the saddle, then mounted his seat quickly. Jane wheeled her horse around. “There’s another in our party...over there.” She pointed in Anne’s direction.

The Black Fox whirled around, his cape billowing in the wind. His hand flew to his hilt. Anne heard him ask, “Is he armed?” Before Jane could reply, the Black Fox drew his sword and swaggered over to where Anne hid in the bushes. She hunched deeper into the thicket. Her heart stopped as he drew near.

The highwayman circled the copse. Trapped, Anne crouched lower. Suddenly the branches above her head sliced apart and the masked face of the devil loomed over her.

Chapter Four

“Bloody hell. It’s a tad.”

A scream caught in 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.

* * *

For the next hour, Nat rode like the wind over the moonlit fallow land he knew from childhood, goading the stallion to the limit. Only a little farther through the overgrown woods 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.