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Hunter was not alone in his concerns. Sir Jacob closed his eyes and said, “No Jerry, I am not up to any of your crazy larks this morning.”
Both he and Jacob could see by the glint in Swit’s eye that Swit wasn’t going to be deterred.
“Aw now, we can’t pass this up. Look here, Jacob of Cressly, haven’t ye ever wanted to drive a stagecoach?”
“Well, no,” Jake said frowning. “I can’t say…”
Swit cut him off, “Well I have!” He started off and Hunter called after him, but all he did was to grin broadly and say, “Deuce take it, don’t you think its paying customers would like a faster ride? Indeed they would for it will get them to their destination just a bit sooner.”
“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.”
