Free The Beautiful Stranger by Julia London

there was a satchel, there was surely a body, one that could speak and tell him where in Gods name he had gone wrong. Arthur quickly dismounted and began to tug Hellion forward, but the horse resisted, far more interested in the grass than the satchel. Sighing loudly for the horses benefit, Arthur carelessly tossed her reins over a
    low-hanging limb of the hedgerow, then stepped away to have a look around.
    The road was bordered by a thick copse of trees on one side and on the other, sloped down into a grassy clearing on the edge of a forest. Slowly, he turned full circle, searching the landscape for any evidence of life, realizing as he did that the satchel likely had fallen from a passing coach.
    Bloody marvelous, he muttered, and walked back to the satchel, nudging it with his boot. Perhaps there was something inside that could help himalthough he had no earthly idea what. A map! A real map. He sank down on his haunches and opened the satchel.
    A frilly white cotton garment sprang free. Ah, bloody hell, then. The satchel belonged to a woman, which meant hed find nothing of use to him. But he removed his glove nonetheless and with a snort of displeasure, plunged his hand deep inside, past more frilly garments and other things he paid no attention to until his fingers scraped the bottom of the bag. Nothing.
    He was about to toss the damn thing aside in frustration when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
    Wasnt that just lovelynow he could add being robbed to the wonderful events of his day! He heard the rustle of clothing as the bounder moved toward him apparently on tiptoehe was certainly light on his feet.
    That struck Arthur as odd; he rather supposed any self-respecting highwayman would keep a fair distance from his prey in the event such prey was determined to surprise him, as he was about to do.
    What alternative did he have? He couldnt reach his gun before the highwayman could shoot him. No, unfortunately, what he had here was one of those unenviable situations where he would just have to spring on the rotter and hope for the best, for he was not in a mood to be robbed of all his possessions.
    He waited, listening closely to the soft rustle until he could practically feel the bandit at his back. With a grunt, he suddenly whirled, springing to his feet and swinging his arm out at the very same moment the gun discharged, scorching through his flesh like fire and knocking him flat on his back.

Chapter Five
    It was several moments before Arthur could pick himself up and grope about his person to assess the damage. Fortunately, it seemed that the bullet had only grazed his arm, doing nothing more than ruining his very expensive riding coat and giving him a nasty flesh wound that stung like hell.
    Nonetheless, it was about all Arthur Christian could endure of Scotland for one day.
    He jerked around to where his assailant would be standingshould be standingand his mouth dropped open in astonishment. A woman of all things, fiat on her bum and furiously rubbing her elbow with a grimace that suggested she had struck the ground hard. The kick of the pistol obviously had knocked her down. Lying in the road as it was, Arthur could see whythe thing was positively ancient and loud enough to scare an advancing
    Hellion.
    Arthur whirled around to where he had tethered the horse and released a very colorful oath. The sorry horse had bolted, taking all his belongings with her. He was running before he realized it, racing down the road in the vain hope that she was only hiding in the woods, but it was obvious that the damn nag had
    fled for the comfort of her stable in Perth. He stopped, gasping for breath, and pressed a hand to the stitch in his side. Damn it. Damn it! he bellowed, and pivoting sharply, stalked back to the scene of the crime, growing angrier with each step. He stopped just short of matching over the wench with the ancient gun and stood, legs apart, hands on hips, glaring at her sprawled on the road