attempted to rob a lady who was on her way to Monkcrest. Tonight you paid for that mistake." .
"Bloody'ell." The highwayman crumpled back onto the ground in despair. I knew that the woman was trouble the moment I saw her."
0 Q ler
4
A most dangerous pact with a man who might yet
prove to be the devil himself.
FROM CHApTER FouR oF The Ruin BY MRs. AmELiA YORK
I o ride back through the watched Le
abbey gates. A deep curiosity had kept her awake at her chilly post in front of the window. She knew she would not sleep until she discovered where he had gone and what he had done. The man and the mystery compelled her in a manner she could not explain.
She knew at once that something was wrong. The huge stallion did not canter back into the yard. The beast walked at a steady, even pace. Elf trotted alongside, tongue lolling. Moonlight glinted on the metal studs in his leather collar.
Leo was upright in the saddle, but he swayed slightly, as if exhausted.
The stallion came to a halt and stood quietly. Elf
A m a n d a
bounded up the steps to the door and barked once in a demanding fashion.
Leo started to dismount. But he paused abruptly in the middle of the fluid, practiced movement. He clutched his shoulder.
Alarmed, Beatrice watched as he slowly kicked his booted feet free of the stirrups and slid gingerly off the horse.
Safely on the ground, he kept his footing, but Beatrice saw him grip the edge of the saddle to steady himself. As if he sensed her watching, he glanced up at her window.
She stepped quickly back from the glass, whirled, picked up a candle, and hurried toward the door. Whatever Leo had been about, he had managed to injure himself in the process. She wondered if he had been thrown from his horse.
But that possibility left the most important question unanswered. What had lured the Mad Monk of Monkcrest out in the first place?
She made her way to the top of the staircase just as voices rumbled up from the hall.
"Stop fussing, Finch. The bastard only singed me a bit. I'll live. It was my own bloody damn fault."
"M'lord, I must take the liberty of telling you that at your age a man really ought to cut back on excessive excitement." "Thank you for the advice," Leo said in tones that would have frozen the fires of hell.
"Sir, you are bleeding. The wound must be bandaged." "For God's sake, man, keep your voice down. We don't want to awaken Mrs. Poole. She would demand explanations from now until sunrise."
"Yes," Beatrice said as she came down the steps. "Mrs. Poole will most certainly demand some answers. What in heaven's name is going on here? As a guest in this household, I have a right to an explanation."
Leo groaned at the sound of her voice. He did not turn
W i t h T h i s R i n g
around. "Damnation. One would think I'd had my share of bad luck tonight."
Beatrice reached the bottom step. "What is wrong with your arm, Monkcrest?"
He paused at the door of the library and looked at her over his uninjured shoulder. In the glow of the hall lamp his saturnine features appeared even more forbidding than they had earlier in the evening. Pain and bad temper had fused into a dangerous flame in his eyes.
"There is nothing wrong with my shoulder, Mrs. Poole." "Rubbish." She set the candle down on a table and crossed the hall to where he stood. "That is blood on your cloak, is it not?"
"I recommend that you go back to your bed, madam." "Don't be absurd. You require assistance."
"Finch will deal with my shoulder." Leo stalked into the library. Elf hovered close on his heels, whining softly. Finch hurried after him. "Really, m1ord, this sort
of thing must cease. It was one thing when you were a young man of twenty, but quite another now that you're forty. "
"I am not yet forty,' Leo growled.
"As near as makes little difference." Finch lit a lamp and rekindled the fire.
Beatrice stood in the doorway. "I have had some experience with this sort of thing, Finch. Please bring clean linen and hot
"Bloody'ell." The highwayman crumpled back onto the ground in despair. I knew that the woman was trouble the moment I saw her."
0 Q ler
4
A most dangerous pact with a man who might yet
prove to be the devil himself.
FROM CHApTER FouR oF The Ruin BY MRs. AmELiA YORK
I o ride back through the watched Le
abbey gates. A deep curiosity had kept her awake at her chilly post in front of the window. She knew she would not sleep until she discovered where he had gone and what he had done. The man and the mystery compelled her in a manner she could not explain.
She knew at once that something was wrong. The huge stallion did not canter back into the yard. The beast walked at a steady, even pace. Elf trotted alongside, tongue lolling. Moonlight glinted on the metal studs in his leather collar.
Leo was upright in the saddle, but he swayed slightly, as if exhausted.
The stallion came to a halt and stood quietly. Elf
A m a n d a
bounded up the steps to the door and barked once in a demanding fashion.
Leo started to dismount. But he paused abruptly in the middle of the fluid, practiced movement. He clutched his shoulder.
Alarmed, Beatrice watched as he slowly kicked his booted feet free of the stirrups and slid gingerly off the horse.
Safely on the ground, he kept his footing, but Beatrice saw him grip the edge of the saddle to steady himself. As if he sensed her watching, he glanced up at her window.
She stepped quickly back from the glass, whirled, picked up a candle, and hurried toward the door. Whatever Leo had been about, he had managed to injure himself in the process. She wondered if he had been thrown from his horse.
But that possibility left the most important question unanswered. What had lured the Mad Monk of Monkcrest out in the first place?
She made her way to the top of the staircase just as voices rumbled up from the hall.
"Stop fussing, Finch. The bastard only singed me a bit. I'll live. It was my own bloody damn fault."
"M'lord, I must take the liberty of telling you that at your age a man really ought to cut back on excessive excitement." "Thank you for the advice," Leo said in tones that would have frozen the fires of hell.
"Sir, you are bleeding. The wound must be bandaged." "For God's sake, man, keep your voice down. We don't want to awaken Mrs. Poole. She would demand explanations from now until sunrise."
"Yes," Beatrice said as she came down the steps. "Mrs. Poole will most certainly demand some answers. What in heaven's name is going on here? As a guest in this household, I have a right to an explanation."
Leo groaned at the sound of her voice. He did not turn
W i t h T h i s R i n g
around. "Damnation. One would think I'd had my share of bad luck tonight."
Beatrice reached the bottom step. "What is wrong with your arm, Monkcrest?"
He paused at the door of the library and looked at her over his uninjured shoulder. In the glow of the hall lamp his saturnine features appeared even more forbidding than they had earlier in the evening. Pain and bad temper had fused into a dangerous flame in his eyes.
"There is nothing wrong with my shoulder, Mrs. Poole." "Rubbish." She set the candle down on a table and crossed the hall to where he stood. "That is blood on your cloak, is it not?"
"I recommend that you go back to your bed, madam." "Don't be absurd. You require assistance."
"Finch will deal with my shoulder." Leo stalked into the library. Elf hovered close on his heels, whining softly. Finch hurried after him. "Really, m1ord, this sort
of thing must cease. It was one thing when you were a young man of twenty, but quite another now that you're forty. "
"I am not yet forty,' Leo growled.
"As near as makes little difference." Finch lit a lamp and rekindled the fire.
Beatrice stood in the doorway. "I have had some experience with this sort of thing, Finch. Please bring clean linen and hot
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