The familiar sound of the clunk of the old carts and the thumping of the large hooves on the dirt road that ran along the side of the Inn was a comforting sound that Bess had grown up listening to. She'd stop and listen to the passers by and the customers as they turned into the Inns court yard as she brushed down a few of the horses in the stables. That morning she was in the stable of her favourite mare, Clover, brushing her down. Usually one of the stable hands would, but she felt the need to do some sort of physical labor. She was tense, anxious, and confused.
The haunting image of the highwayman's eyes hadn't left her since they met five days previously. She had found herself desperately scanning the moors from her window, searching for some sign of him along the roads. But she saw nothing. Her father had forbidden her from taking the journey into town until the man was caught. She almost wished to be in a held up carriage once again.
Tim interrupted her train of thought, placing a pair of buckets on a shelf a few meters from her.
"Bess, you needn't do that. I'll have one of the boys brush her down."
"Oh, no, I want to. It clears my head." She said, giving him a sweet smile that tugged on his heartstrings. "And besides, I'm just about done anyway." She put the brushes back in their holder, and dusted off her skirt.
He looked as if he were about to speak, and Bess waited patiently as he stood slack jawed in front of her. He took two steps towards her, his rather vacant, sunken eyes seemed to gain some strange element that she couldn't quite place. But it stirred some discomfort inside her, and nerves began to creep into her mind, putting a black cloud over her sunny feeling of anticipation.
"Bess, I was wondering-"
"Tim, I really must get back to the bar," she interrupted, squirming a little at the shift in atmosphere. He nodded, and she brushed past him, towards the stable door. His arm suddenly darted out, and his hand grabbed her arm. She turned and widened her eyes at him, shocked. His fingers were curled round her thin arm far too tightly to be comfortable. She knew her lily white skin would end up bruised. He held her eye contact for a while, until he read the look of dread in her face. He let her arm drop. Bess turned, and ran from the stable.
Bess had been serving customers all afternoon, and was glad when her father told her to take a break. He'd been concerned, she hadn't seemed herself all day. But, when he'd asked what was wrong, she'd had nothing to tell him. Her easy coming smile hadn't quite held it's usual glow, however, and he happily said yes to her taking the rest of the day to herself.
Bess decided to go for a walk. She enjoyed the autumn colours of the trees, and the chill in the air was refreshing. She wrapped herself in her warmest wool cloak, and began a slow wander over the moors, every now and again plucking a leaf off a nearby hedge and shredding it between her nimble fingers. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, thinking of that morning in the stables. She couldn't, for the life of her, fathom Tim's behavior. As she thought of it, her upper arm throbbed painfully.
The discomfort was momentary, however, as she'd found herself walking along the side of a little country lane. She loved the look of the trees arching over the road. She began to daydream, thinking of the dashing highwayman, and the delicate way he had held her name on his lips.
No, no. She was being a fool. He was a criminal, merely a thief. He'd probably stolen the fine clothes he adorned himself with. The look they'd shared had meant nothing. It was all in her head. She'd been charmed, as was his intention. Perhaps he'd wished to steal something more than money from her. She couldn't allow herself to linger on the image of his rugged, confident smirk.
But perhaps she was lingering, because she didn't hear the new, almost sparkling carriage pull up beside her.
"Hello, Miss." The voice shocked her out of her deep thoughts.
"Good-day." She said, halting in her tracks to turn and face the two men leering down at her from the seat.
"I was wondering, darlin', if you happened to know how far off the nearest household is." One said, his gaze really made Bess sick to her stomach. She wasn't sure why. There was something wrong in his eyes. Something empty and sick. But she had no reason to fear him.
"There's no estates or homes for a few miles, but there's an Inn about a mile and a half away, to the North from here."
"That's convenient, then." Smiled the man, his misshapen mouth twisting into a grin.
"Convenient, sir?" Bess asked, her blood running cold.
"You've got no where to run to." She stared at them for a second longer, before lifting her skirts up and sprinting down the lane.
They spurred the horses on, and the new wheels of the carriage were quick along the road. Bess knew she stood no chance, and she soon felt the hands of one of the men snatching at her cloak from up on the carriage. She screamed, shrill and loud, and kept running. She almost swore she heard a third horses hoof beats, harder and faster than the other two.
Her slim legs burned with the effort and speed of her running. Her lungs felt as if they were on fire. All of a sudden she heard the men begin to shout, her ears were ringing however, and she couldn't hear what they were yelling. She could only keep the the beat of her feet on the ground at a steady rhythm. It was sudden, there was a blast of sound that cut through her to her very core. She spun to look, but her running didn't stop. She found herself tumbling backwards and falling with a heavy thump into the ditch running down the side of the road. She cried out in pain, and felt her vision fading. She saw the carriage swerve, and fall onto it's side, and behind it, a chestnut stallion and a rider in blood red. Then it all went black.
"Here, Bess, have this." A canteen was held to her lips, and she drowsily sipped from it. It was water, clean and cool, and it woke her up a little more. She was cradled on someones lap, wrapped in something softer and warmer than her woolen cloak. Her eyes opened slowly, but the shock of what she saw was enough to bring back her vision immediately.
"You!" She cried, sitting up in his arms far too quickly. A sharp stab of pain caused her to sway, and collapse back into his embrace.
"Woah, carefully, please. You've had a fall, my lady. Do try to be still." She did as she was told almost automatically.
"The men, the carriage-" She asked, her voice weak.
"Ah, now. That's a delicate matter, my dear, and I don't wish to alarm you-"
"What happened? Are they nearby?" Bess felt her heart flutter in her chest.
"No. You don't need to be worrying yourself about them, ever again." his voice was dark, and she gasped.
"You don't mean... that was a pistol blast. You killed them." She propelled herself from him, pushing herself a meter away from him. Her gaze was one of shock, she was looking at an actually killer.
"One seems to have had his neck broken when the carriage fell." The highwayman said, calmly. "The other, yes, I shot."
"Oh. Oh goodness." Bess said, and scrambled to her feet, though unsteady, determined. She began to stumble away, back down the lane, trying not to look at the wreckage of the cart.
"Bess, please. My lady, come back. You aren't well enough!" He followed her, easily, at a pace no more than a leisurely walk, her stumble was so slow and zigzagged.
"You're a murderer!" She cried, turning to him.
"The harm they would have done to you makes their lives worth nothing." He said, his voice so dripping with some dark emotion that she realized exactly what he had done.
"You saved my life, didn't you?" The shock had begun to relinquish it's grasp on her. The cold grip that a person's first close encounter with death brings began to release her. She saw the face of her rescuer clearly, and found the concern, but steady strength in his unwavering eyes.
"Yes, I believe I did." It was not humble, nor a boast. He was merely stating a fact.
"Thank you, sir." Bess mumbled, finally accepting the support of the hand he held out to her. He wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and she leant on him heavily.
"I'll return you home, it's almost sunset, it's not safe for you to wander the moors at this time." He said, gently guiding her to where his stallion stood, patiently waiting. Bess looked at him with something close to horror.
"But, sir, you'll be seen!" He didn't slow his pace towards his steed.
"Ah, Bess, your concern is flattering. Why should the capture of a common criminal matter to you?" A smirk played around his lips, and she could feel a pure satisfaction at her worry emitting from his form. She blushed,
"You saved my life. I do not wish to be the cause for the end of yours."
"You needn't worry, my dear. I shan't be caught. I'll leave you a little ways from the Inn." He was helping her onto the massive creature, which stood still as it could, as if trying to do it's part in assisting her. He mounted also, and she, embarrassed at pressing herself against him, held on to the sides of the saddle. He laughed at her, and reached behind him, he pulled her arms around his waist and said,
"You'll need to hold on a little tighter than that, I fear that if you were to tumble from this height, you wouldn't be as lucky." As if permission was all she needed, she held him as tightly as she could in her state. He turned their mount to the North, and set off at a pace that stunned and liberated her spirit all at once.
Bess had come accustomed to the wind whipping her hair back, and the warm feel of the velvet coat against her cheek. So she was almost disappointed when he, all to quickly, slowed the horse to a stop. It was dusk now, and the world had a ghostly grey quality about it. She recognized the little path they stopped on as one leading directly to the Inn's back entrance.
"You know this place?" She asked, as her swung himself down, and prepared to assist her.
"I know it. It seems safer than the main gate." He gave no further explanation, and swung her off the horse, her hands on his shoulders, his on her hips. They remained like that, when she was safely back on the ground.
"You never told me your name, sir." Bess asked, wished he'd remove his silky black mask and reveal the full glory of, what she could tell, was a handsome face.
"My name is William." He said, and without second thought, kissed her.
Bess wasn't quite sure how to react, all she knew was that she didn't wish to pull away. She tilted her head upwards, and relieved his discomfort at having to bend down so far.
She knew it must be wrong, somewhere, deep within her, a tiny, insignificant voice told her that the man that claimed her lips was naught but a criminal, and she a whore for allowing his embrace. But that voice was soon crushed by the overwhelming feeling that this was right. Their bodies seemed bound together by some magic, they slotted together so perfectly. Bess deepened the kiss, parting her lips to him. It could have been years until they finally, breathlessly, parted. Truly their passionate display had snatched away only three minutes of their time, yet the sky was already darker.
"I have to go!" Bess said, panicking, thinking of the worry her father must be feeling.
"Bess, please, know that we shall meet again."
"How can I find you?" She asked, reaching out and clutching one of his hands between hers.
"I'll come to you." He pressed another sweet kiss to her lips, and remounted. She watched him depart with both a feeling of bliss and sorrow dancing within her.
Her father's anger was quashed by his relief that she was home safe. But when he saw the muddied state of the back of her dress, he was outraged. She explained what had happened, but rather than tell him the highwayman had come to her rescue, she said the carriage had wrecked all alone. He didn't have her work for him, that evening, and sent her straight to bed. Tim listened to her tale from some distance away, knowing that since his actions that morning, his was a face that Bess would not take kindly to.
She couldn't sleep, however. She bathed herself beside the fire that warmed her room, and changed into her nightgown, her thoughts never leaving the kiss. She rested her elbows on the windowsill, and leant out into the night, allowing her long hair to dry in the breeze. She scanned the moors, flooded with moonlight, but knew she would not see him.
"William," she sighed to herself, "My darling William."