The Enchantress (Book 1 of The Enchantress Saga) Read Free Page A

wrist that had snatched the rope from him and held it in a vice-like grip, hearing a sharp exclamation of pain.
    He looked down in amazement at the slender wrist he was holding, then up at the rider. He saw bright eyes gazing fiercely at him, a full, firm mouth that grimaced in pain and a beardless chin tilted in the moonlight.
    A boy! A mere boy. The voice had given him away if not the narrow wrist and unshaven face. Well he’d have a mere lad off his horse in a trice and he’d beat him soundly before handing him over to the magistrate, who no doubt would eventually hang him. Brent tried to spring on to the horse behind the lad but in the effort loosened his grasp on the wrist and, with the cunning of an expert horseman, the boy sharply backed his horse, causing Brent to lose hold completely and fall flat on his face.
    With a laugh the boy grabbed hold of the two horses tethered together and sped off.
    Now Brent was furious. To be worsted by a mere lad, a beardless youth scarce fifteen, or maybe younger since his voice was still unbroken. He grabbed hold of Marcus, sprang onto his back and kicked him into full gallop after the disappearing thief who had not only taken the horse he was on, but had had the nerve to steal two more as well, despite being pursued!
    The path through the forest taken by the thieves – leading towards Appleby as Brent had suspected it would – was tortuous and narrow. It was familiar to him from boyhood ramblings, but he guessed that the riders in front of him were gypsies and no one rode as gypsies rode, especially when they were stealing other people’s horses. A grudging admiration for them rose in his breast. And to employ a boy into the bargain – what nerve!
    Suddenly Brent saw his quarry in front of him; he was being held back by the two other horses he was leading. Looking back and seeing his pursuer, the boy let the tethered horses go and they halted abruptly causing Brent to falter. As he turned aside to avoid a collision Marcus at the same time stumbled on a gnarled bough in the undergrowth and Brent, without a bridle or saddle, went over his horse’s head and fell heavily to the ground. In front of him, the rider hearing the cry and the commotion of horses whinnying turned and paused. When he saw what had happened he kicked his horse and sped towards the fallen man.
    Brent lay on his face, winded and heaving, but aware that he was not hurt. He was also aware that the rider was coming back and as the horse trotted gently up to him made no move. The rider paused for a while and then dismounted, coming stealthily towards Brent. Brent saw the feet then the legs of the rider’s harsh leather boots, waited until they were a few inches from his face and then, drawing a deep breath, he gave a mighty lurch and dragged the boy thief to the ground sitting astride him so that this time there would be no escape.
    The boy gasped and struggled but Brent had his wrist between his knees and his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
    ‘Now my young rogue, I’ve got you,’ Brent cried banging his head on the ground. ‘They hang horse thieves, you know, no matter how young.’
    The boy gave a cry and struggled, arching himself, and Brent’s hands moved downwards to pinion him more firmly by the chest. But instead of a bony boyish frame such as he expected, his hands encountered twin mounds of firm flesh such as Brent had never felt on a male body, but many times on that of a woman. With an exclamation he drew his hands away still sitting astride, and pulled off the cap that the ‘boy’ had worn on his head.
    ‘My God. ‘Tis a woman!’
    He was so amazed that he continued to sit where he was gazing at the defiant face that looked up at him, the dark luxurious hair that now, loosed from its cap, spread on the ground. That firm small mouth, that tilted beardless chin pointing aggressively at him belonged to no youth but a full grown, beautiful – nay voluptuous even, he thought, aware of her curved