Page 15 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
I press my face to the glass. The stranger meets my eyes and winks.
The carriage whips past.
I frown, craning my head as we hurtle onward, but I’ve lost sight of him. What was that about?
As if in answer, the pounding of hoofbeats joins the clattering of our wheels. When the sound grows louder—closer—my pulse quickens.
Someone shouts outside. Suddenly, the whole vehicle swerves. I’m thrown across the bench seat as something thunders past the window—that same rider, only now he’s pulled a cloth mask down over his face. Wind plasters his golden hair to his forehead as he extends a gloved hand.
My blood roars in my ears. From this angle, I can’t tell what he’s reaching for, but he’s clearly a criminal. A highwayman.
We’re being robbed.
Somewhere overhead, the driver lets out a strangled cry. The carriage jounces as a weight tears free. Something heavy hits the ground with a nauseating crunch.
I scramble toward the window again, shoving the lace aside. The driver tumbles through the roadside grass behind us. When he comes to a stop, the man jumps to his feet and shakes a fist, but he’s already shrinking to a speck. The black horse comes into view, now riderless.
My stomach clenches. The carriage bounces over one bump after another, and I cast a glance toward the ceiling. The highwayman must be driving, now.
I bang the roof with a fist but receive no reply. I try again, then sink onto the seat, my mind spinning. I can’t leap out at this speed. Not without breaking something. With my luck, it’d likely be a non-essential something, but I have no desire to test the limits.
Half an hour spins by. The sun dips below the horizon. A few times, we change direction, careening around one corner or another. Finally, we veer off the main road and down a dirt track, into a jumble of grasping brambles. Each jolt threatens to expel the contents of my stomach.
We finally grind to a halt in a secluded hollow. The carriage creaks and settles.
Quiet descends. Nothing moves, save for the lace curtains. They swing in the waning light, then go still.
My heart convulses. Should I...get out? Stay here? Shout to the plain-faced highwayman to return me home?
Before I can decide, the carriage jostles. Footsteps crunch through the brush, and my lungs shrink. But this man won’t hurt me, I tell myself. He’ll take one look inside, realize I’m an innocent bride, and let me go.
With any luck, at least.
Heavy boots mount the footplate. I cower, having nowhere to hide, as the door wrenches open.
The highwayman fills the entryway, silhouetted by the crimson glow of dusk. He’s swathed entirely in black—black boots, billowing black shirt, black cloth mask. Black leather gloves encase his hands.
I squint. I can’t make out much else. Just a fall of blond hair and a muscular frame.
“Hello.” His voice is low and gravelly. “Don’t worry. You’re not in any danger.”
I search for words. I can barely locate any over the frenzy of my pulse. “That’s a relief,” I finally say.
He steps inside. I scramble to my feet, not wanting him towering over me, but he does, anyway. Fortuna, he’s tall. And broad.
“I’m Jack,” he says.
“Jack.” I file the name away. “Okay. I’m Bri?—”
“I know who you are.”
I fall silent. His voice is scarcely more than a rumble, and it seems to saturate the air before settling into the lavish seatsand priceless curtains. But I suppose it makes sense that he knows who I am. This carriage, and the triquetra staring him in the face, kind of give it away.
“What do you want with me?” I manage.
He doesn’t answer right away. His expression might change, but the light from the doorway glares too brightly to tell.
“Are you ransoming me?” I prompt. If he knows I’m a Charm and came after me on purpose... “To the duke? Is this about money?”
