Left At The Crooked Pine

The coach ride was boring, slow and cold now that the sun had set and Bianca pulled her cloak tighter around her bare shoulders wishing she had worn a different dress. But this one was her favourite and most flattering. Her mother had been appalled when she had brought it saying the bright turquoise silk was too brash for a lady of her class. But the colour suited her perfectly and it’s off the shoulders style highlighted her softly sloping shoulders and elegant neck. So she simply bore the cold and looked forward with anticipation to a warm room and good company.

~

The good company was distinctly lacking, everyone was about twice her age, although many of them were skilled musicians and Bianca enjoyed herself on that front. The fires in the music room kept her pleasantly warm and she suffered in silence at the disapproving scrutiny of all the older ladies there and the ogling stares she received from their husbands. All in all she was glad to be going home to Lucas House by the time it hit midnight, despite the damp cold that had settled over the countryside.

She huddled in the dark carriage wrapped tightly in her cloak and a blanket the groom handed her. The dark soothed her and good wine still warmed her slightly, making her head nod in relaxation and sleepiness. Bianca dozed off lent against the rattling wall of the carriage.

Jolted awake, Bianca sat up from her slumped position asleep feeling confused and disorientated. Raised voices grabbed her attention and Bianca listened in horror.
“No you can not look in the carriage!” George was shouting agitatedly, “we have nothing to give you and Miss Butler is asleep and I do not wish to disturb her. How dare you stop us, you scoundrel!”

“Well I’m afraid I don’t believe you,” came a calmer, deep voiced reply from someone Bianca did not know. Its calm, coolness sent shivers up her spine. They were being robbed by the highway man! “Besides” the voice continued, “I don’t give a toss for the welfare of your fuddy-duddy old mistress. Now move out of my way man before I have to hurt some one else.”

Someone else? Bianca shivered again at the menace in his voice and listened carefully. She picked up a groan, from the groom who had been driving, she supposed and winced on his behalf.

“No!” George cried in objection and Bianca could see him outlined in the window of the carriage door. Then horror rocked through her as she recognised the click of a pistol being readied, sounding loud in the quiet of the night.

“George,” she called softly and both men outside froze and listened to her. “Let the man in…”
“Miss Butler no!” George pleaded with her, but she cut him short.

“No buts George, I am awake now and this highway man I have heard so much about may have whatever he wishes which is not much to be honest. Also I would rather we left with our lives intact please George.”

She lit the small lantern that hung from the ceiling as she talked. George’s white tense face was dimly illuminated as was her own stern commanding gaze. George looked away and bowed his head in submission.

“As you wish Miss, I’ll go look after the driver Miss he has a nasty flesh wound.”
“Thank you George.”

The highway man watched and listened to this exchange with interest. A lamp was lit while they talked but he still could not see the occupant of the carriage from this distance. But he could hear the will power in her voice; that she would be obeyed. George opened the door and then moved to the front of the carriage to help the driver he shot. No one came out of the carriage so they must expect him to come to them. He expected as much as it was an older lady and stepped up into the carriage.

“Good evening Madam,” he greeted her, sitting himself down on one of the comfy seats in the coach. He tipped his dark hat respectfully, also to hide his eyes, with the end of his gun which he then rested in his lap. He did not look at her at all.

“Good evening sir,” Bianca replied shifting in her seat, letting the blanket covering her legs drop to the floor of the carriage, as she watched the highway man intently. She absorbed every detail she could, from the dark, black and grey clothes he wore and his matching cloak, a scarf covered half his face and it did not escape her attention that he had pulled his hat down to hide his eyes. She wondered why. Also why he wasn’t looking at her.
His head jerked in her direction when her blanket slid to the floor. Her skirts were the bright turquoise of a tropical ocean and small dainty bare feet peeped out from under them, the matching slippers kicked off and discarded to one side of the carriage floor. They were pretty, young feet. This was no old lady like he had thought. He looked up unable to resist the urge to look at her.

Bianca pulled her cloak tighter around her and was glad she had the hood up still. The eyes she had wondered about burned into her own from under the brim of his black hat. They were unnaturally green, like crisp green grass and as hard as emeralds. They grazed over her body with interest, finally settling on her face. The dress matched her unusual eyes, he thought as he stared at her, brown, rimmed and flecked with a strange blue-green colour. Neither spoke for a while. He cleared his throat.

“I need you to take off your cloak Miss so I can check you aren’t hiding any valuables from me.”

Bianca cast her eyes down and undid the clasp that held her cloak closed slowly. She was not scared of him but she was reluctant to reveal her daring dress and bare shoulders and low cut neck line to this rogue who was younger and more handsome then she had expected. She pulled the hood down, revealing her blonde curls that gleamed in the lantern light and let her cloak pool around her on the seat.

She could hide nothing in her dress, that was for sure, he thought briefly as he took in her full appearance. Her hair looked like the gold he craved so much and her long neck and bare shoulders glowed like smooth alabaster. A generous amount of cleavage peeped over the top of the dress and he grinned behind his scarf as an embarrassed blush coloured her pale skin. He re-focused himself and looked for jewellery on her person.

Bianca was embarrassed by his intent gaze but remembered why they were here. She held out her small bag to him and he looked at her surprised. She was helping him, willingly giving him her things?

“Your jewellery too please,” he asked holding out a hand. She slipped off a simple gold twisted band from her right wrist and slid some gold earrings from her ears. Bianca struggled with the clasp around her neck then gave up. “Come closer,” he told her, “and I’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, moving to sit next to him. His hands were large, cool and rough as they brushed against her neck. He struggled with the tiny clasp in the dim light. Watching over her shoulder, he watched with pleasure as her chest rose and fell with each breath. Then she suddenly spoke.

“Why do you do it?” he stilled and stared at her as she turned to look at him.

“Why do I do what?” he asked his deep green intelligent eyes looking confused for the first time since she had gazed into them. She smiled it was nice to feel some control in this situation.

“I meant stealing. Do you do it because you need the money or because you enjoy the rush of adrenalin it gives you?” he thought about it, pausing on his work on her necklace, resting his hands on her shoulders. They felt heavy and calming as they rested there. Bianca waited patiently for his reply. Then George poked his head through the door and asked,
“Are you still not done?” Bianca shook her head, blushing furiously as though she was the one doing something wrong. The highway man turned away not even acknowledging George’s question and swiftly undid the necklace clasp.

“Now I am done. Sorry to inconvenience you on this dark and damp night.” He lent in close to Bianca and whispered, “I do it for the thrill and adventure.” Her skin felt ultra sensitive under his warm breath on her neck and she felt sparks like electricity when he pressed a light kiss to her pulse point there. It was like a butterfly landing there briefly and then it was gone. And so was he. She turned to watch him go but he disappeared into the dark night fading into the shadows quickly and it was as if he had never been there. The only evidence he had left behind was the warm patch on the cushion besides her and the wounded driver. George quickly shut the door on her and started to drive them to safety. Bianca sat silently in the carriage thinking over the nights events, pulling her cloak and blanket comfortingly around her. The cold seemed to envelope her now and the coach seemed larger and emptier with out him in it. She wanted to go home.