"You do not know what you are talking about. I told you last night that men have died in pursuit of treasure." "Uncle Reggie may be among that number. If that is the
case, I intend to discover who murdered him and then I will try to recover some of the money he lost."
"I understand your concerns." Leo straightened. "After thinking the matter over last night, I came to the conclusion that if the Rings exist, it would be best if they are found quickly."
A m a n d a Q u i c k
She watched him warily. "What are you saying, sir?" "I have arrived at a solution that will resolve the dilemma."
"Indeed, my lord?" She braced herself. "What is it?"
"I have decided to accompany you back to London tomorrow," he announced. "I myself will make inquiries into the affair of the Rings."
"You will search for them?" Beatrice stared at him in amazement. "I do not comprehend you, sir."
"It is quite simple. You will stay out of the matter entirely. I will deal with it."
Realization dawned. "You want the Forbidden Rings for yourself, do you not?"
"Mrs. Poole, even if it were possible for you to discover the whereabouts of the Rings on your own, which is highly unlikely, it would be extremely dangerous for you to possess them. I am far better equipped to handle that sort of thing."
"How dare you, sir?" She drew herself up and glared at him over the tops of the ferns. "If you think for one moment that I will abandon my inquiries and leave the field to you, you are very much mistaken. Those Rings and the money they will fetch belong to my cousin Arabella. Uncle Reggie intended her to have an inheritance."
"Damnation, it is not the money that concerns me." "I comprehend that perfectly."
He looked slightly mollified. "I am relieved to hear that." "Money would never be a primary consideration for a man of your temperament." She narrowed her eyes. "But there are other things which would no doubt arouse the, shall we say, acquisitive side of your nature?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Admit it, Monkcrest. You wish to get your hands on those Rings because you wish to discover the truth of the legend. You seek the treasure that is supposedly hidden in the alchemist's Aphrodite."
"Hell's teeth, madam."
W i t h T h i s R i n g
"I do not blame you. It would be a brilliant coup, would it not? Just think of the paper you could write for the Society of Antiquarians. After all, how often does it come about that a man who studies legends gets an opportunity to prove one true?"
"The legend has nothing to do with it." Leo took his hands off the plant bench and flexed his fingers with a quick, savage motion. "At least not directly."
"Rubbish. You have just told me that it is the nature of the Mad Monks to pursue their interests with obsessive enthusiasm. You are passionate about the investigation of ancient legends and 1, fool that I am, have dropped the possibility of a fabulous discovery concerning one straight into your hands."
"Mrs. Poole, this is not a game of hunt-the-treasure. We are discussing a potentially dangerous situation."
She spread her palms wide. "What a bloody idiot I was to seek your help. Talk about walking straight into the jaws of the wolf."
"Kindly forgo the melodrama. As it happens, you have come to the one man in England who just may be able to salvage matters for you."
"Forgive me, my lord, I am overwhelmed by your modesty and humility." She whirled and walked quickly toward the far end of the greenhouse. "The one man in England who could help me, indeed. I'll wager there are any number who could assist me."
"You know damn well that is not true." He pursued her down the adjoining aisle. "I am the man you need for this venture. That is why you came here, if you will recall."
She stopped and swung around to face him across a field of unnaturally large daisies. "Let me make one thing very clear, my lord. I came to you for information. You gave it to me, for which I must thank you. But that is all I require of YOU."
"You need a good deal more from me, Mrs. Poole." His
A m a n d a
eyes narrowed ominously. "And whether you like it or not, you're going to get it. I shall accompany you back to London in the morning."
"This is a disaster. Utter disaster." Beatrice was still fuming that evening as she joined Sally in the small sitting room that linked their bedchambers. "What on earth am I going to do with him?"
Sally, garbed in a faded wrapper and a yellowed muslin cap, reclined in a chair in front of the fire and sipped a glass of gin. "Ignore him?'
"One can hardly do that." Beatrice was also dressed for bed. The hem of her chintz dressing gown swirled around her legs as she stalked back and forth in front of the hearth. "He is hardly the sort of man one can simply ignore."
"Mais oui. You can say that again." Sally frowned. "Did ye 'appen to notice that his eyes are the same color as that great beastly hound of his?"
"A trick of the light, nothing more."
"If ye say so. I still say it's peculiar." Sally swallowed more gin. "I'm sorry things ain't goin' the way ye planned. But look on the bright side, ma'am. If the Earl o'Monkcrest escorts us back to Town, we'll likely get a much better room at that bloody inn than we had on the way here."
Beatrice went to stand at the window. She could hardly discuss the problem in depth with Sally, who knew nothing of the real reason they were in Devon-
She had been a fool to come here. In the process of consulting him on the matter of the Forbidden Rings, she had unwittingly dangled an irresistible lure in front of Monkcrest. The man was consumed by his passion for legends and antiquities. One had only to read his papers to know that.
What in the world was she going to do about him? she wondered. She had to keep him out of London. She could not let him find the Rings first.
W i t h
R i n g
Two hours later she lay awake in bed, mulling over the same questions she had asked herself all evening. She was in the midst of devising a scheme to sneak away from the abbey before dawn, when her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable ring of a horse's hooves on paving stones.
It was nearly midnight. She could think of no logical reason for a horse to be in the forecourt at that hour. Perhaps Monkcrest was about to receive another uninvited guest. It would serve him right. It might also divert his attention from her, which would be useful.
Curious, she tossed aside the heavy quilts and sat up on the edge of the bed. A shiver went through her when her bare feet touched the cold floor. Embers still glowed on the hearth, but they no longer supplied enough heat to warm the bedchamber to a comfortable temperature.
She slid her feet into her slippers, pulled on her wrapper, and crossed the room to the window. A full moon illuminated the abbey forecouri.
She saw a horse and rider canter out through the gate. The stallion was a massive beast with a gracefully arched neck and muscled shoulders. The man on his back rode him with masterful ease. The folds of a black cloak swirled out behind him. A great hound, jaws agape, loped eagerly alongside the pair.
Beatrice folded her elbows on the windowsill and watched as the trio disappeared into the darkness.
She considered the matter for a very long while, but she could not think of a good reason for the Mad Monk of Monkcrest to ride out at midnight with only his hound for company.
Hunting highwaymen was similar to hunting any other sort of wild beast. One learned the creatures' ways and habits and then employed the knowledge to set a trap.
Years of experience had taught Leo a great deal. He was aware that one of the members of the local country gentry
had scheduled a house party that evening. Most of the guests would spend the night under their host's roof. Inevitably, however, a few would brave the roads to drive home. Those who did would be wearing their best jewelry.
If that were not attraction enough, tonight's full moon would tempt any ambitious highwayman who chanced to be in the neighborhood. Leo was almost certain that the villain who had attempted to rob Beatrice's carriage was still in the vicinity.
He made it a practice to keep track of everything that went on in and around Monkcrest lands. Information, gossip, and news flowed into the abbey through maids, gardeners, and grooms. It was Leo's habit, as it had been the habit of the Mad Monks who had come before him, to collect the information and sort through it.
Word of a rough stranger seen drinking at the inn had reached him that afternoon.
Highwaymen were common enough on the roads. Hunting them was a rather uncommon sport. But Leo reminded himself that everyone needed a hobby.
Over the years Leo had honed his ability to spot his quarry's favored hiding places. He rarely guessed wrong. Tonight he kept watch on a thick stand of trees that inevitably appealed to every passing villain on a horse. From his vantage point on the opposite side of the road, he waited patiently for the rumble of carriage wheels. He knew the man in the trees waited also.
There was a chill in the air. Leo thought of the warm fire and brandy that awaited him. And then he thought of Beatrice. Tomorrow he would go with her to London. Excitement stirred somewhere deep inside him.
The clatter of wheels and the thud of heavy hooves striking muddy ground pulled him out of his reverie. He eased one of the two pistols he had brought with him out of his belt and gently tightened the reins to get Apollo's atten-
W i t h T h i s R i n g
tion. The big gray stopped dozing. He raised his head and pricked his ears.
The carriage rounded the bend in the road, its pace slowed by the damp earth. The curtains had been drawn back from the windows. The interior lamps revealed an elderly, bewhiskered gentleman and a woman who wore an enormous gray turban.
For a few seconds nothing happened. Leo wondered if he had mistaken his quarry. Then, with the crack of broken branches and scattered leaves, a horse and rider thundered out of the trees and took up a position in the middle of the road.
"Stand and deliver, master coachman, or I'll blast yer head off yer shoulders." The highwayman wore a broadbrimmed hat. A mask fashioned out of a triangle of dirty white cloth concealed his features. He aimed the pistol with a steady arm.
Leo pulled the collar of his cloak up around his ears and yanked his hat down low over his eyes. The shadows of night would do the rest. He prepared to guide Apollo out of the trees.
"Damn yer eyes, man." The startled coachman sawed frantically on the reins. "What do you want with us? I've naught but an old couple inside."
The highwayman laughed as the coach veered to a shuddering halt. "A couple of the local fancy, you mean." He urged his horse past the carriage team and stopped
near the door. "Well, now, what'ave we here? Come on out. Be quick about it and you'll be on yer way in no time. Give me any trouble and I'll lodge a bullet in someone's gullet. I'm not particular about which one of ye I'll choose either."
The turbaned lady uttered a high-pitched shriek that made the horses flinch. "Harold, it's a highwayman."
"I can see that, my dear." Harold leaned out the window. "See here, my wife and I have very little jewelry on us. I've got a watch and she has a bauble or two, but that's all."
"I'll have a look for meself." The highwayman gestured impatiently with the pistol. "Get out of the coach. Both of ye."
Leo used his knees to signal Apollo. The stallion walked out of the foliage and onto the edge of the road.
"The evening's entertainment has come to an end," Leo said.
"What the bloody 'ell?" The highwayman spun around in the saddle. Above the edge of the mask his eyes widened in shock. "What d'ye think yer doin'? This is my carriage. Go find yer own. Take yerself off afore I blow a hole in yer belly." "Harold, there's another one. We are lost."
Leo ignored the woman. He trained his pistol on the highwayman. "I have come to tell you that this is not a healthy district for thieves. If you are not gone by dawn, you will hang."
The man laughed harshly. "I suppose you're the wolf in human form they warned me about at the inn. Well, I've got news for ye-I don't believe in werewolves and the like."
"That's your problem, my friend. Drop the pistol." "I don't think I'll oblige you tonight, master wolf."
The highwayman's self-confidence sent a flash of warning through Leo. Something was not right. This had to be the same highwayman who had taken to his heels when he was faced with Beatrice and her pistol. It was too much to believe that there were two villains plaguing the district at the same time.
Either Beatrice with a pistol was a good deal more intimidating than he was with his own weapon, Leo thought, or else the highwayman had a reason for his newfound boldness.
Leo heard the crackle of a broken twig behind him a fraction of a second too late. Another horse and rider emerged from the trees. Moonlight glinted on the barrel of a pistol.
The rider aimed and fired without hesitation.
W i t h T h i s R i n g
Leo threw himself to the side in the saddle, but the bullet caught him on the shoulder.
For an instant all was chaos. The impact sent a shudder through Leo's arm. He dropped his pistol. Apollo danced nervously and tossed his head. Leo fought to keep his seat. The woman's scream echoed through the woods.
Freezing fire gripped Leo's left shoulder. It could have been much worse, he thought. If he had not shifted in the saddle, the bullet would have taken him in the neck. Every hobby had some drawback.
The first villain roared with laughter. "As ye can see, master wolf-man, I do not hunt alone tonight."
The savage snarl of a great beast shattered the night into a thousand shards of moonlit glass.
Everyone froze.
Leo smiled faintly. "As it happens, neither do U'
The paralyzing effect of Elf's battle cry wore off an instant later. With the exception of Apollo, the horses went wild. They exploded into rearing, plunging confusion.
The coachman seized the opportunity to give his team their heads. The terrified creatures leaped forward, jolting the carriage into motion. The woman shrieked again. "Harold. "