The story of The Highwayman is a classic story of love and betrayal.
In “I'll Come To You By Moonlight,", this classic tale
is expanded to include Bess's passionate relationship with the
Highwayman, their fervent romance, and their plans for a future
together in America.
Nothing can come between them or their devotion, not even the
betrayal of her childhood friend, Tim the Ostler, who cruelly
turns on the lovers due to his obsession with Bess. This shocking
betrayal forces Bess to do everything in her power to save her
lover, and pushes her to extremes she didn’t know were possible.
Excerpt
Winter, 1770
Bess watched the slanted moonlight slide across the floor as
she waited for the familiar sound of an approaching rider. The
inn was silent, empty, like a tomb. Her father was asleep in
the back. A heavy sleeper, she didn’t have to worry about
him stirring. Now if he would only come. Her nightly vigils
often ended in disappointment and she struggled to accept the
inevitable absences, the unheeded danger, and the uncertainty
of his life even as she longed to embrace him.
Bess fingered the soft material of her shift, letting the hem
brush against the floor. In anticipation for his arrival, she
wore nothing beneath. Since the night of his first visit, when
he stood beneath her window, pledging himself to her, she always
dressed for him. Despite the landlord’s efforts to keep
Bess hidden from sight, the highwayman spotted her, sought her,
called to her and wooed her from his horse, beneath her window
as the moon drifted overhead.
The torrent of wind abated and she heard it; first the clatter
of his horse over the cobblestones, followed by the light touch
of his whip against the shutters. A familiar signal, so delicate,
one could mistake it for the wind or a bird. He whistled a tune
that carried through the crisp air. Her heart leapt to her throat.
She didn’t hesitate to open the window to him. Her breath
caught as she studied him in the moonlight. He sat high on the
horse, proud in his smart clothes. His guns and knife twinkled,
a jeweled reminder of how dangerous her man was.
“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize
tonight…” he said, his voice as dark as the clouds
above them.
Bess put her hand out and wrapped her delicate fingers around
his. He wore soft leather gloves to protect his fine hands,
but they were strong, steady and sure. She knew from experience
how gentle and clever they could be. “Don’t go. Not
yet.”
“I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning
light.” She understood the implied promise in his words.
He would be back to carry her away, as prized as the gold he
stole. But a part of her never truly believed he would return—a
part of her always feared that each moment they spent together
would be their last. She couldn’t be content to let him
go.
Bess leaned as far out the window as she dared, her breasts
straining against the thin material of her dress. She unbraided
her hair, allowing the dark tresses to cascade down. He wouldn’t
be able to resist her, she knew. He lifted her hair to his mouth
and inhaled deeply. “Tarry with me awhile,” she whispered.
“Everybody is asleep and the road is quiet.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair and seemed to be weighing
his options. The clouds parted, revealing his face in the light.
Sharp, handsome and thoughtful. A face that could charm, a face
that could mask cruelty and evil intent with a suave smile.
He looked at her with half-closed, smoky eyes. “Come down
to me, my love.”
Bess closed the shutters of her high window and slipped out
of the room, moving like a shadow down the stairs to the backdoor.
She had taken this route a thousand times before. She quietly
navigated past her father’s room and descended the stairs.
He met her there, lifting her onto his horse without a word.
Ebony pranced as she settled her weight in front of the saddle,
but didn’t make a sound. He tossed his head toward the
sky and Bess caught the horse’s silky mane, holding it
tightly.
He held her against his body, his arm resting just below her
breast, his free hand tangled in her hair again. He guided his
stallion along a thin trail, deep into the purple moor. She
closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, reveling in the night.
Above the intoxicating smell of heather and the night, she caught
the familiar and haunting smell of him, his journeys and his
adventures. She relaxed against his solid chest, the warmth
of his skin radiating through their clothes, heating her flesh.
He kicked the stallion into a gallop and her hair flared out
behind her, trailing wildly in the wind. She clutched the arm
around her waist, but she wasn’t afraid. He wouldn’t
let her fall and the horse’s feet were sure on the moor.
The horse knew every rock and hole, every twist and turn in
the trail. Her body vibrated with every beat of Ebony’s
hooves against the ground, her blood pounded in her ears and
her skin felt impossibly warm in the cool night. Even the fresh
gust of wind couldn’t cool her face. Every second made
her achingly aware of the man behind her, of his body, his warmth,
the beat of his heart.
When the inn was only a dot on the murky horizon, he dismounted.
Holding his hand out, he helped her to the ground. As soon as
her feet touched the soft heather, his mouth found hers. She
tilted her head up to meet the kiss. The clouds parted above
them as she closed her eyes with relief and elation. The first
touch of his lips was always charged, like the air before a
violent thunderstorm. He always made her a little tipsy. She
almost couldn’t stand the intensity of her need and his
hunger as the two forces of nature clashed with a single kiss.
Heat flared in her breast as she wrapped her arms around him,
clinging to his body as he ripped at her dress.
She knew it was perilous to even talk to him. If anybody could
track him down to her father’s inn, it could lead to his
death. She knew she shouldn’t open her window to him, or
go to him every time he called her name in the night. She knew
she shouldn’t be with him, shouldn’t surrender herself
to his fingers, his lips, his flesh. But she couldn’t resist
him. He slid the shift past her shoulders, down her arms and
goosebumps erupted on her exposed skin. Her mouth ran dry, her
throat clenched, her stomach tightened and every inch of her
was awake, electrified.
He dipped his head and wrapped his lips around one of her nipples.
She arched her back, burying her fingers in his fine, brown
hair, his hat forgotten on the ground at his feet. Bess closed
her eyes, imagining what it would be like to have him whenever
she wanted him, to be able to reach for him and always find
him waiting for her. To feel his hot mouth on her quivering
body anytime, night or day, to never have to worry about somebody
seeing them, somebody giving them away or betraying their secret.
He released her, straightening long enough to pull his jacket
off and spread it on the ground. Her shift pooled at her feet.
She stepped out of it, into his waiting arms. His hands were
all over her, caressing her neck, back, thighs and stomach.
She worked the buttons on his pants free, her fingers numb and
almost uncooperative. Her head was cloudy, her body felt far
away.
He lowered her to the jacket, still warm from his body. He
knelt beside her and kissed her again, lifting her back off
the ground and cradling her against him. She could feel a certain
urgency in his kiss and she knew their time together would be
short. He still had visions of gold in his head. She couldn’t
stand between him and the call of that challenge, the thrill
of the danger, the ultimate ecstasy of victory. She knew it,
but still, she clung to him, kissed him with desperation like
she wouldn’t let him go.
When he broke the kiss, he gently laid her onto the ground
and straddled her. She watched him watch her in the moonlight,
his eyes like shadows, casting her body into darkness. He knew
every inch of her, he knew her by sight and by touch, but he
still gazed her like he had never seen her before. Bess did
not fidget beneath his stare. She didn’t look away from
him or turn her head in embarrassment. The rapt look on his
face was enough to make her wet, enough to make her ache.
Finally, he touched her. He ran his fingertip lightly from
her neck to her thigh, skimming the skin, a delicate whisper
of a touch. Her blood thrummed, pulsed, made her skin and flesh
sensitive, made her slick and hot. He pushed her legs open,
exposing her completely, moving his finger down her body. His
knuckle brushed against the sensitive flesh between her legs
and her nub quivered, waiting for his touch.
Bess didn’t have to wait long. He brushed his finger against
her engorged, sensitive flesh and she gasped in shocked pleasure.
She thought the softest whisper of contact would consume her.
Just feeling his skin against hers, against the most secret,
sensitive part of her was enough to make her body tense. She
could feel the moment quickly approaching as her fingers and
toes dug into the damp, fragrant earth around her.
Before the pleasure could shake her entire body, he pulled
his hand away. Bess watched with hungry eyes as he positioned
himself above her, biting her lip to keep herself from begging
him. She was on the edge, tense, almost in pain and even a little
afraid. But then he slid into her, filled her, stretched her,
and they both sighed with the ultimate contact. She arched her
back, surrendering herself to him as he moved faster and faster.
The sounds of his heavy breathing and her fast, pleased whimpers
rose above them, carrying across the moor on the wind. She was
oblivious to the sounds, to the danger, to the wind, to the
world. All she could feel was his hot flesh, his divinity, the
blood that moved faster, hotter. She wrapped her arms and legs
around him, moving her hips against his, encouraging him to
move faster, to give her more, to give her all he had.
She thought she heard him say he loved her, but that could
have been the entangled sounds of wind and breath and blood.
But she told him. Her hair spread around her like a blanket,
the bright red ribbon resting on her milky skin, the moonlight
fading in and out behind mountains of clouds, she whispered
the words and her body proved her declarations as she rocked
with him in the swaying grass.
He kissed her, his mouth moving from her lips, down the gentle
line of her jaw, to the sensitive areas of her neck. He nibbled
on her skin, sucking it between his lips and teeth, responding
to her moans of approval. The pleasure went directly to her
head and made everything seem smoky and distant, fuzzy and out
of reach, except him. She slid her fingernails down his back
and he shuddered in response. She dug into his shoulders, pressing
red crescents into his skin and moved her body faster and harder.
A chord of satisfaction began where his mouth touched her skin.
It wound around her body, wrapping around both of them, binding
them together. Not even an inch separated their bodies. The
chord tightened, cut off her air, blinded her, made her light-headed
and finally, unable to tolerate the tension for another second,
she burst. The world exploded in color and the air rattled in
her chest as she fought to breathe. He held her, keeping her
grounded. He kissed her, giving her his air. She felt the echoes
of her pleasure in his body as he thrust into her one final
time.
Bess felt lethargic, her limbs were heavy, her vision blurry.
But he was all business, already on his feet and looking at
the road that stretched beyond them. She pushed herself to her
feet, then pulled her shift on with shaking fingers. She suddenly
felt very cold and she just wanted to wrap herself around him,
but he was already pulling himself onto Ebony’s back. He
helped her up without a word.
Each second weighed heavily on her. Her body felt sated, but
her mind and heart were already steeped in disappointment. The
inn loomed large, her prison on a road she never traveled. She
thought she would die there, waiting for him to return.
He pulled Ebony up just a few feet from the back door and surprised
her by dismounting and offering his hand. She took it, sliding
off the horse to the ground.
“Wait for me.”
She nodded. “I will.”
“I’ll be back by the morning, but if they press me
sharply and harry me through the day, look for me by moonlight.”
Bess nodded again, swallowing hard as she felt the night press
in on them from all sides. He gripped her shoulders and kissed
her thoroughly, his lips promising her more than his words ever
could. She took his promise, holding it close to her chest,
matching the fierceness of his kiss.
“I’ll come to you by moonlight,” he whispered
against her lips, “though Hell should bar the way.”
Then he was gone. She watched him ride until he was only a
blurred shadow on the horizon before she returned to her bedroom.
She thought she heard something near the barn, but when she
turned to look, nothing but the wind greeted her. Frowning,
she scanned the area for several moments, but didn’t see
anything. Finally, she slipped through the back door and glided
up the stairs to her bedroom. She changed her shift before sitting
by the window to watch the moon.
