Before the Scarlet Dawn - By Rita Gerlach Page 0,4

a canvas pouch fastened to her waist.

The wind, smelling of rain, damp moss, and turf, rushed through her hair and blew it back off her shoulders. She had been gone too long, she thought, and mounting her horse, she turned back, hoping to reach home before dusk.

As she neared the rocks that threw long shadows across the moors, a long howl rose out of the wind. At first, she hoped it was not a wolf prowling the grasslands far from the forest. Then off in the distance, her eyes caught sight of a spotted boarhound bounding after a rabbit. She nudged her horse on with a click of her tongue and came around a sharp bend in the road where a cart barred the way. One man jumped down and thrust his hands into his pockets—the other drew off his hat and gave her an insolent bow. She went to turn her horse, but the younger man leapt forward and grabbed the halter. The horse snorted and stamped its hooves, as the one man held it fast and the other looked at Eliza with a wide grin.

“Well, if it isn’t the vicar’s raven-haired daughter. Good day to you, miss.”

“Jack Fie, let go my horse.”

“Not until you tell me something I’ve been dying to know. Are you as pure as they say, or have those beautiful violet eyes gotten you into trouble?”

She smacked him across his shoulder with the reins. “Let go, I said!”

“Oh, let the lass be, Jack,” said the older man, who clenched a pipe between his teeth.

“Only havin’ a bit of fun. Come down, Eliza Bloome, and kiss me.”

Relentlessly, he attempted to pull her down from the saddle. The mare twisted, and Eliza pressed her knee hard into its side.

Suddenly, a pistol snapped and lead whizzed straight past Jack Fie’s head into his seat in the wagon. His companion yelped. Fie jumped back and hurried to his place in the cart, and with his cohort sped off as quickly as their shaggy workhorse could carry them.

Heat rose in Eliza’s cheeks as a man on horseback galloped up to her with the hound hard upon his mount’s flanks. He shoved his flintlock pistol into his belt and looked at her with a smile. He wore a dark blue overcoat, tawny breeches, and black riding boots. His eyes were deep brown beneath a strong brow. His hair, dark as the wings of the hawk that flew above, lay tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon.

The boarhound barked, and Eliza’s frightened mare reared and beat its hooves—its eyes huge and fearsome. Stamping its hooves deep into the sod around the dog, the mare bolted off and went racing across the downs. The rider caught up to her, reached for the bridle, and brought the mare against his boot. It twisted its head with a whinny and skidded to a sudden stop. Thrown from the saddle, Eliza landed on the ground. Dazed, she gasped for breath and slowly sat up.

The gentleman alighted and commanded the hound to be silent and stand down. His shadow fell over Eliza as she put her hand to her brow to steady the dizzy feeling swimming in her head.

“Are you hurt?” His tone hinted of sincere concern, but also amusement.

She looked at him and was struck with the strangest sensation. Flushed, she glared at him. “I do not believe so. Your dog is to blame for frightening my horse and causing it to run off like that. You should control the beast. I could have been killed.”

He reached his hand down to her. Reluctantly she took it, and he pulled her up.

“He’s really gentle in most instances.” Eliza’s rescuer slapped his thigh with the palm of his hand, and the hound came forward to have his ears stroked. “You are a sprite of a woman,” he went on. “So I imagine you could not control your mare.”

His arrogant half-smile caused her blood to simmer. “Normally she is as docile as a lamb. I have never had a problem with her before, not until your animal accosted her.”

“Though you are not afraid to speak your mind, girl, you should not be out here alone. Those ruffians could have done you more harm than my dog ever could.”

Eliza brushed the dry grass from off her cloak and stepped away. “I do it all the time.”

With a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed a stick into the field, and his hound ran after it. “I