Free His Mask of Retribution by Margaret McPhee Page A

you?’
    ‘He took from me that which was most precious.’ And she remembered the words he had spoken to her father upon the heath, before he had taken her.
    ‘I don’t understand,’ she said.
    ‘Neither do I.’
    Their gazes held, locked, trapped in the moment. She could not have looked away, even had she wanted to. She stared at the tall dark highwayman with his great black coat flapping in the wind and the dark mask that hid his face, the very symbol of the villain he was. He was a man like none she had known. Strong, hard, ruthless. And yet...
    The wind howled through the gravestones and the first drops of rain began to fall. Still they looked into each other’s eyes, and the air was thick with a strange tension, like the unnatural calm before the storm, waiting for something she did not understand. She should have been more afraid of this man than any other. She felt that she was clinging to a great precipice, that her grip was slipping and she was beginning to slide inch by agonising inch towards the edge. And she knew what lay over that edge. She should have been grappling to regain her hold, but the edge was beckoning her closer and there was a part of her that found it dangerously alluring.
    ‘Who are you behind that mask?’ she whispered.
    ‘Do you really want to know?’ His voice was as quiet as hers as he stepped closer. She was surprised that she felt no compulsion to back away, even though her heart was pounding and every nerve in her body shivered. Her throat went dry, her mouth too. She wetted her lips and saw his gaze drop to them, before coming back to her eyes.
    The tension wound tighter.
    Another step forwards and they were standing so close that, were she to inhale deeply, she would feel the graze of her chest against his. He did not touch her, yet her body tingled as if caressed by his very proximity.
    ‘Marianne,’ he whispered softly.
    She looked up into his eyes and could see each golden striation within them, every dark lash that outlined them.
    His face lowered towards hers and she knew that he was going to kiss her. And for one absurd moment she wanted him to do it. She wanted more than anything to feel his mouth against hers, even through the silk. And then she remembered, and stepped away.
    Her breath was ragged as if she had been running and she was trembling so badly that she had to clutch her hands together so that he would not see it.
    He did not come after her. He did not grab her or force his mouth upon hers. He just stood there and watched her. The wind blew and all was silent and cool aside from the thump of her heart and the scald of her cheeks. Her eyes met his once more.
    A noise sounded from the other side of the mausoleum, making her start and breaking the tension between them. Part of her was relieved and another part dismayed.
    Someone was making their way over the grass of the burying ground. With a tiny nod of acknowledgement to her, the highwayman turned away and went to meet whoever it was he was waiting for.
    Marianne sagged back against the wall of the mausoleum. She did not understand what had just passed between her and the highwayman. But it did not matter, for the person on the other side of the tomb was bringing the document from her father. In a few moments she would be free and walking away from this.
    A shot rang out, shattering the peace and silence of the place. She moved to peep round the side of the mausoleum and watched all hell break loose.

Chapter Five
    ‘R un, governor!’ the little lad yelled and began to run towards him. ‘It’s a trap!’
    Knight saw three figures loom from behind the nearby gravestones and reacted even before he saw the first man take aim at the boy. He launched himself forwards, firing his pistol at the man as he scooped the boy up and ran for the nearest gravestone. The shot thudded into the other side of the stone as he dived behind.
    ‘I’m sorry.’ Smithy was white-faced, without a trace of his usual cocky bravado.