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Spring 1818
It was a perfect night for thievery.
From beneath the crowning shelter of anaged oak tree, the figure on horseback surveyedthe roadway. The hour was late, and with a sliverof moon slumbering behind a wisp of a cloud, thenight was as dark and depthless as the yawningpits of hell. The faint rush of the wind sighedthrough the tree limbs to sing a plaintive, lonesomemelody.
All the better to conceal his presence. All thebetter to aid his endeavor. All the better to awaithis opportunity.
Dressed wholly in black, from his hat to thesoles of his boots, a dark mask obscured all butthe glint of his eyes. He sat his mount—Percival—like a man accustomed to long hours on horseback, his posture straight as an arrow, betrayingno hint of weariness . . . and with the silentstealth of a man who knew well and true that hispresence must be concealed at all costs, until suchtime as he deemed the right time to strike.
Lest his very life be forfeit.
And the man known as the Magpie had no desireto meet his Maker.
Percival's ears pricked forward. Black-glovedfingers tightened on the reins. Squeezing hisknees, he stilled the massive horse's movement. Afingertip pressed gently over his neck. "Wait," hecautioned.
The powerful animal quieted beneath histouch, but he could feel his muscles bunched andknotted, ready to spring into action.
With narrowed eyes, the man squinted into theencroaching darkness, directly to the east. Thiswas not his first night masquerading as the Magpie.Nor would it be his last. Not until his purposewas accomplished to his satisfaction.
Beneath the black silk mask, a faint smile appeared.A familiar rush of excitement raced alonghis veins, an excitement he could not deny that herelished. His heartbeat quickened, for the poundingof hoofbeats had reached his ears as well asPercival's. The light from a dim yellow lanternhad appeared as well, bobbing in the distance.Quarry approached.
He waited until it was within sight, for he was not a man to make mistakes. As if on cue—damn, but he had the devil's own luck!—themoon slid out from behind the cloud. The Magpielifted his reins, broke free of the waist-highgrasses beside the road, and stationed himself directlyin the path of the lumbering coach.
When the coachman saw him, he stood on thebox and hauled on the reins. With a jingle of theharness and a shout from the coachman, the vehiclerolled to a halt.
Coolly, the Magpie raised a pair of pistols deadcenter at the man.
"Stand and deliver!" came his cool demand.
Hours earlier, Julianna seized her skirt and ranacross the courtyard at the inn, zigzagging toavoid the puddles left by yesterday's rain."Wait!" she cried.
The driver clearly was not particularly disposedto patience. He glared at her. "Ye'd betterhurry, mum," he grunted. "We're late already."
Late. Yes, that was certainly the word of theday. There was a thump as her trunk was loaded.And by Jove, she was determined to reach Bath, ifnot by tonight, then tomorrow.
Nothing about this journey had gone accordingto plan. Traveling by public coach had notbeen on the agenda. Unfortunately, she'd missedthe speedy mail coach.
Breathless, Julianna hurtled herself inside. She'd barely seated herself when the door closedand the contraption lurched forward.
There were three passengers besides her: an elderlywoman; another woman with a huge,drooping bonnet; and a man next to her who Juliannaguessed was her husband.
Julianna found herself next to the old woman."Good day to all of you," she greeted pleasantly.
"Good day to ye," nodded the old woman.
The other woman eyed her gray-striped travelinggown curiously. "Are ye traveling alone then,madam?"
Madam? Mercy, but at twenty-seven, had shebegun to age so dreadfully then?
"I am," Julianna returned evenly. "My maid andI were en route to Bath—I recently bought a housethere, you see—when she became ill early in the afternoon.We stopped and spent the night at the inn.
I'd hoped she would be quite recovered by today,but sadly that was not the case. By this afternoon, itwas clear poor Peggy was in no condition to travelthe remainder of the way to Bath, so I sent her backto London in my carriage." The fact that Juliannawas unaccompanied didn't bother her in the least.
"That was most kind of ye, mum," said theother woman. "But we aren't traveling as far asBath. And the roads aren't safe after dark."
Her husband sent her a censuring glance."Leticia! 'Tis hardly your affair."
"Don't look at me like that, Charles. You know it's true! There's that terrible highwayman, theMagpie. What will come next, I ask! Why, thewretched man may very well murder us in ourbeds, every one of us!" She cast an imploringglance at the elderly woman next to Julianna."Mother, tell him!"
The old lady folded her hands and bobbed herhead. "It's quite true, Charles," she said, hereyes round. "Oh, he's quite a horrid fellow, thisMagpie."
"You see?" Leticia transferred her gaze to Julianna.A Perfect Hero. Copyright © by Samantha James. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
Excerpted from A Perfect Hero by Samantha James
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