Lady X

by Claudy Conn

  “Jerry, don’t be daft, ye bloody fool,” Hunter snapped. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

  “Fool is it? Well then, don’t you think I can handle the thing? Would you like to wager on it?”

  Jacob shook his head and Hunter could see that the lad was disturbed over this. “Jerry, dashed wrong the passengers shouldn’t be subjected to this. Look here, you can’t take over a public stagecoach!” Sir Jacob’s voice was high pitched

  “Sport, Sir Jacob, my man, is never wrong!” Swit cut him off. “A few blokes took over the stagecoach on the New Forest Pike, it was good fun and no one got hurt. I’m going to do the same thing here.”

  “You can’t, you simply can’t,” objected Jacob.

  Hunter closed his eyes. Jacob had said just the thing to egg Swit on. He told him he couldn’t do it. Nothing for it remained, because Swit was now hell-bent and would not be stopped.

  “Can’t I just,” Swit called as he put his horse into a gallop.

  “Mad, the man is mad!” Jacob said and shook his head, but Hunter saw the glint of appreciation in the young man’s eyes. The lad was, in spite of himself, just a bit thrilled at the prospect of an adventure. He still had a thing or two to learn.

  He allowed his horse to prance in place, as his gelding was nervous from the sudden commotion. He watched Jacob put his horse into a lope and follow Jerry’s lead. He sighed and caught up to the two just in time to hear Jacob say, “Jerry, what if there are ladies on board, you can’t do this if there are ladies on board. You’ll frighten them.”

  “Ladies? All the better if there is a lady or two,” Jerry answered. He pulled out his pistol and was off rounding the bend in the road.

  MacTorry and Jake rode up on Swit to find him brandishing a gun at the driver and shouting in flash cant, “Hold up there, covey, hold on there, that’s right…ease it up covey!”

  The coachman raised his eyes to the skies, and said loudly, “Lord preserve and pity me.” He turned to the man waving his pistol around and said as he leaned onto his knee, “Well then, I take it, young blood, ye be out for a bit of sport.” He shook his head, “Ye don’t want to do that now, as I have…”

  Hunter closed in and grimaced as Jerry cut the driver off and said, “I do want to do this, and I will, so move yourself over, for I’m going to join you there and drive this coach the way it should be driven.”

  “Whot if I don’t move over, will ye shoot a hard-working man for a bit of sport?” the coachman challenged.

  “Brave words,” snapped Swit and suddenly the expression in his eyes turned ugly as he aimed his gun at the driver’s head. “You see my man; I care nothing, absolutely nothing for your life and I do have a fancy to drive your coach.”

  “Swit!” thundered Lord MacTorry at his back. “Put down that gun.”

  ~ Four ~

  WITHIN THE CONFINES of the stagecoach, Exerilla’s breath came in ragged pants. Would the creep actually kill the very nice coachman? She couldn’t allow that. She just couldn’t. She got herself ready to call on her wand.

  It would put her in danger of being found by her father, but she just had to do something.

  She scanned her mind for a simple spell she could use instead. She came across something she could do to spook his horse and perhaps send him flying off and loosen his grip on the gun. She prepared herself.

  Just then that she saw a huge, devastatingly handsome man astride a lovely dark bay gelding. He came into view and ordered the pistol wielding jerk to put down his gun. He was like a knight without the armor, but a knight all the same. He seemed to radiate with power as his voice thundered through he atmosphere and for a moment, Exerilla was struck dumb.

  She waited for Swit to comply. How could he not? she thought. She didn’t have a gun, and didn’t know if he was ready to put his down, just at the sound of his Scottish and authorative voice.

  Everything about the big man was attractive. The way he moved, the expression on his face, his black thick hair tied at the nape of his neck, the angle of his dark beaver top hat, and his eyes.

  She suddenly saw his eyes and opened her own orbs wide. His eyes were a shade of blue, she was certain she had never seen before and they were filled with strength and something else she could not name. She got a whiff of magic and immediately scanned him, no, he was not a warlock yet, she sensed power. She wondered where it had come from. Surely it was her imagination and nothing more. Holy Sweet Moly, this was one hell of a male human, she thought and her lips crooked into an appreciative smile.

  She could see the man with the gun eyeing the blue-eyed hunk speculatively, but after a moment the gun-toting man said, “Right then, Scotsman, we shan’t kill our man today, but I will drive his stagecoach.”

  Chewing her upper lip, she watched this jerk turn to the younger lanky man still on his horse, with a grin that made him look as insincere as she was sure he was. He actually chuckled and demanded, “Come, Jacob, we’ll allow the driver to move over and enjoy my company. Tell the silly fellow what good company I am.”

  The man he called Jacob looked relieved, “If you are bent on this, give me your reins; I’ll put your horse up at the boot.”

  Exerilla wondered if they had seen her. She continued to watch from the window without putting herself forward.

  She heard the younger man say to the blue-eyed one, “That was close. Zounds, Hunter,” he continued, “you knew just how to handle Jerry.”

  “Did I? Perhaps that is because there isn’t much there to handle.” the blue-eyed hunk answered, Exerilla considered him thoughtfully as she sighed. Apparently the stagecoach ride would no longer go comfortably down the road.

  She continued to watch as best she could as the man called Jerry climbed up to the driver’s seat and ignored the coachman’s protests, and said to the blue-eyed hunk, “Well then, Hunter, do you mean to ride, or keep the lady within pleasurably amused?”

  She closed her eyes. They had seen her; the man called Hunter rode up to her window and looked inside.

  She couldn’t explain what happened next, but as their eyes met she felt an explosion of heat race through her veins and take on speed as it rushed to her brain and sucked out all the oxygen. Her brain turned into a mass of porridge. All thoughts were suspended as it experienced a ‘duh’ moment.

  She felt as though she was falling into a well of never ending blue and she just wanted to keep on falling. It was warm, all-encompassing and full with promise, and she wanted to explore. She was bombarded by tiny little electric pinpricks, but they didn’t hurt, they simply made her feel alive.

  Did he feel it? Was this all in her mind? It was as though everything she was, her magic, her spirit, her chemistry had met and mingled with his. But that was silly. He wasn’t magic. She had scanned him, no magic.

  She decided that he couldn’t have felt what she did. He had broken free, apparently without effort and while she was still riveted in place.

  He was gone, out of sight and she gave herself a shake. What the heck is wrong with you, Xie girl?

  Suddenly the carriage door swung wide open, startling her into a gasp. The blue-eyed stranger easily, nimbly made his way inside and planted himself beside her.

  She wanted to speak. She told herself to say something, anything, but all she could do was sit there like a dummy and stare. She felt a fool and told herself she must look like one as well.

  Exerilla opened her mouth and put up a finger. Okay, that’s a start, she told herself, but that was all she could manage, as her voice was still lost in her throat. She tried taking in all the facts and the facts appeared to be that he was in his late twenties, or early thirties, though he had a worldly ‘feel’ about him that gave him an ‘older façade’. Fact two, he took off his top hat and dropped it negligently on the opposite seat, allowing his black waves of hair to fall about his handsome face. Fact three, he appeared to be an aristocrat, a very well dressed and very masculine aristocrat, what she had heard someone say recently was ‘plump in the pocket�
� or in her vernacular, just plain rich.

  All of these facts got jumbled up in her brain when he smiled at her.

  Something in her was already stumped. Thought patterns went zap and left her nerve endings gasping for life. Nothing was left of the inner material of her mind. During this assault in her head, she felt an absurd smile take over her face and was sure she looked like a complete idiot.

  His blue eyes twinkled and he said, “A hearty good morning to ye, lass.”

  His burr traveled through her almost empty brain and made mush with what was left.

  “I don’t mean to intrude on ye, lass, but I did want to reassure ye and promise ye that we mean ye no harm.” He paused as though assimilating the fact that she was probably in shock before saying gently, “I thought ye wouldn’t mind a bit of company while m’friend has a go with the reins?”

  “A go with the reins?” she asked. She knew what this meant, but like the imbecile she was sure she must appear, she asked, “What, what do you mean, have a go with the reins?”

  “Aye, I know, ye probably have never heard of such a thing. I must admit though, I have heard of a lad or two taking over a stagecoach for a lark. I did not think Swit…well, never mind. Ye’ll be quite safe.”

  “But…but…why?” she asked suddenly finding her voice. “Why is he doing this? Why are you letting him do this?” She bolstered herself and although she had heard a squeak in her voice, she ignored it and attempted to regain the strong young woman she knew herself to be. However, the fact that she could feel her cheeks burning like a naïve teenager that did not help her situation. She was blushing and that was all she could think about. What was he going to think of her?

  “Right it is and right ye are,” he answered seemingly unaware of her red cheeks, “but, short of putting a bullet in his heart, there is no stopping him at this moment,” he said with a shake of his handsome head. He smiled reassuring at her and she eyed him doubtfully.

  “But what does he want with this coach? It doesn’t make sense,” Exerilla frowned.

  “Aye, no sense at all, lass, but Jerry has it in his head to drive the coach, and means to do so.”

  “Can he…er…drive this coach. I think the job takes skill and…he seems to be driving it a bit faster than it should go. Reckless, I call it.” Exerilla put her hands on the seat to steady herself.

  “Aye, so it is lass, so it is, but I promise ye I won’t let ye come to any harm,” he answered soothingly.

  The body of the coach creaked and seemed to object as X heard wheels scraping stone as the pace of the cumbersome coach took on speed. The vehicle had obviously never been designed to take the road at much more than a slow trot.

  Exerilla’s brows were up as she chewed her lips when she was suddenly thrown as though she were no more than a satchel of feathers across to the long seat facing her. She caught herself, and pushed herself back into position she turned and grimaced as she said, “Oh yeah, nothing shall happen to me, you’ll make sure of that. Yeah right!” Her words were no sooner out when the coach lurched precariously around a bend in the road and as she landed in her companions lap. Once again, a spark shot through her. She was sure he must have felt the same thing, like static electricity, but he gave no sign of it. She glared disapprovingly at him and scrambled back onto her seat.

  He regarded her oddly and said, “I am sorry, lass, but I am hoping he will tire of this soon enough and we can get on with our journey and let ye be.”

  “If he doesn’t overturn us first,” she answered irritably.

  He regarded her curiously and asked, “Are ye American then?”

  “Born and bred,” she answered without thinking and then realized that even so, she was in another century. Manners, her mother had warned her, you must watch your speech as well as your actions. Yeah well, she didn’t think these guys were very mannerly, taking over a stagecoach at gunpoint just because they wanted to. She was about to tell him so while her mind went about the business of rebuilding itself when the coach swerved badly, tilted onto one side and came down hard on all four wheels as they took yet another turn in the road at a speed she was certain was going to exhaust the big cob horses.

  Exerilla’s arms went out and a slight scream escaped her as she was thrown from her seat with some violence. She found herself caught and steadied by sure hands and was aware of a pair of muscular arms around her as the Scotsman balanced her more on his lap than not.

  “There love,” he grinned playfully. “I’ve got ye, so doona worry yerself.”

  “Thank you, but, I can manage from here,” she said as she tried to clamor out of his embrace and right herself while changing to take the seat across from him. Getting out of his arms and off his lap was more of a challenge during the bumpy ride than she had imagined and as she grunted and groaned, while his smile broadened.

  “Och aye, but I think ye would do better to stay right where ye are,” he said softly.

  “You could help me get resituated, you know,” she grimaced at him.

  “Now why would I be wanting to do that, when I like ye right where ye are,” he said and his blue eyes were alight with mischief.

  She eyed him and thought, he may not have magic, but he was way different than any of the men she knew from her century. She suppressed a smile and said, “Arrogant rogue! Is that what you call it, seeing that no harm comes to me? Ha.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time someone has called Hunter MacTorry an arrogant rogue,” he said with a grin.

  “Hunter MacTorry, I find your Scottish manners lacking. In addition to that you appear to be pleased to wear the title of rogue.” She managed to resituate herself in spite of him and turned her head away to stare without seeing out the window at the quickly passing countryside.

  Her first week in the year 1815 had proved complicated and unsatisfactory. She was stuck in another century, without friends or family or even enough money to go off on her own and lease a place. How was she going to last until Samhain? If that wasn’t enough, now she was on a ‘joy ride’ against her will!

  This is why women of this century went around slapping men.

  And then as the coach swerved yet again, he caught her and held her close and safely in place.

  She shoved at him, and righted herself back onto the seat across from him and glared. He surprised her then by crossing over and as he sat down beside her, he put a steadying arm around her and said, “Hold tight, lass, I think we are in for a bit of a ride, and I do believe what we have experienced will get worse before it gets better.”

  “Let go of me! Did you hear me? Let go.” She didn’t know what was wrong with her or why she was behaving like this. She was so angry. She didn’t know why he didn’t just stop his friend, or knock him out or something.

  “If I let go of ye, lass, you will get hurt. A gentleman would never allow that to happen.” He held her tighter.

  The coach’s speed made its progress a rumbling ride. It created a swaying motion that sent it and them from side to side as it bumped over the badly rutted road. She admitted to herself that if he wasn’t holding her, she would have gotten tossed about. “Tell him to stop! This vehicle wasn’t made for this speed! You could stop him, so why don’t you? You are bigger than he is!”

  “Here is the thing, lass,” he paused. “If I take matters in hand, he will be worse when he comes aboot. I doona wish him to coom after the coach, and I canna keep knocking him out without doing him serious damage, if that is what ye mean by I am bigger than he is. I doona want Swit in that sort of mood. Best to let the man have a go with the reins and be done with it.” Hunter had pinned himself against a corner of the coach with her nicely tucked into his embrace, and she could see the frown on his face. It occurred to her that he was actually trying to keep her safe while his friend drove the coach.

  She said, “Please sir, then just ask your friend to stop and turn the reins over to the coachman. What he is doing is wrong, not to mention rude. I am a passenger on this co
ach and should not be treated in this manner.”

  “My friend, as you deem him, though I would not, will not be satisfied until he becomes bored. Surprisingly enough, he can drive, to an inch, in fact. Ye are quite correct though, this is not fair to ye lass, but I see that we are nearly at the Red Bull, where we will be stopping and yer ordeal will be over.”

  “We are not supposed to stop at the Red Bull. I shall be very late…” she fretted.

  “I am sorry, but the horses are no doubt in a sweat and will need to be rested, hayed and watered before they can go the remainder of the journey. These big cobs weren’t built for such speed.”

  “It’s all your fault!” she snapped as the coach had slowed and she managed to pull out of his arms. “You should have stopped him from the start,” she wagged a finger vigorously in his face.

  “Ye are exquisite in yer temper,” he said on a low note and then sighed.

  “And you, all three of you are loony tunes!” she snapped.

  “Loony tunes? What do ye mean? Is that an American expression? Och aye, no doubt ye mean ye think we are mad?” He sighed. “If so then we canna be held responsible for our actions then,” he said glibly. “Yer accent, lass, American I know, but the words ye use…very unusual.”

  She realized her modern tongue was going to get her into trouble. She would have to choose her words more wisely. She tried to ignore his remark for the moment and return to the problem at hand, “Your logic, is illogical,” she waved this off. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you feel responsible, I am supposed to be met by someone in Dover and not all of us are in a position to make other arrangements when we are virtually kidnapped and detoured from our destination!”

  “Och, lass, do I look the sort that would leave a woman I inconvenienced by someone in my party, to fend for herself?”

  “Well, since you and your friends are the sort to take over a coach without concern for the passengers, yes, yes, yes, you do look the sort. You have the ‘devil-may-care’ written all over you,” she answered him irritably.