Moonspun Magic by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

year.
    The year he’d realized his twin hated him. The year his twin had proved his hatred.
    God, Rafael thought, and spurred the tireless Gadfly forward. He rode hard until he reached Lostwithiel, and stopped there for the night at the Bodwin Inn. There was no lovely barmaid there, but there was stargazy pie, a treat he hadn’t enjoyed for years. But he found that the pilchards, with theirheads poking out of the crust, took him aback for a moment. He’d become a faintheart, he thought, and shoved a particularly loathsome pilchard head beneath the crust. He took to his bed early. Tomorrow he would ride until he dropped.
    He left early the next morning and didn’t stop until he’d reached Liskeard. Gadfly was sweating and blowing hard. He didn’t want to change horses so it meant a good rest for Gadfly. He spent several hours exploring the old town with its Norman towers and ancient cobbled streets. Later he swung Gadfly toward the sheltered south coast, remarking the palm trees, the balmy breezes, and thinking of the similarity to the Virgin Islands.
    It was almost nine o’clock in the evening and he was nearing Axmouth. The night was cloudy, with but a sliver of moon, and very warm for the end of September. It was a night for smugglers, he thought, grinning to himself. He wasn’t tired and decided to push on. The curiosity from his youth brought him to a sheltered cove just south of Axmouth. He dismounted and quietly tethered Gadfly to a palm tree. Soon enough he heard voices, low yet perfectly distinct. He smiled, staying perfectly still, listening.
    â€œEh, a good haul, Toby.”
    Brandy, no doubt, Rafael thought, peering through the thick bushes toward the beach. Excellent, very expensive French brandy. He wasn’t stupid; he made himself as invisible as he could and made not a single sound. Smugglers were a funny lot. If threatened, they were violent. He had no intention of announcing his presence.
    â€œMy Gawd, Bobby, did ye hear that?”
    Rafael blinked. He’d made no noise.
    â€œBy all that’s holy, ’tis a female. Up there, Bobby. Hey, wait, ye!”
    A female? What female would be out here?
    He heard a scream, then sounds of a scuffle. He sighed deeply.
    â€œHold still, missy. Gawd, she’s a beauty, Toby. Just look at that pretty face.”
    â€œAye, she is. Guess we’ll have to take her to the Bishop. He’ll want her, that’s for sure.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œShut yer trap, Bobby. She ain’t for the likes of ye. A proper little lady, she be. Why be ye here, missy?”
    â€œPlease, let me go. Who are you?”
    â€œNow, that be right funny, missy. Just who do ye believe us to be? Frogs mybe?”
    â€œWe hopped right over the Channel, that’s what ye believe?”
    â€œI saw the lights and thought perhaps I was near Axmouth. I didn’t know . . . are you smugglers?”
    â€œThe missy’s got a rare wit, Toby. Aye, rare. It’s a pity.”
    Rafael gently pulled his pistol from his belt. He walked quietly toward the furiously struggling female and the two smugglers. He’d heard of the Bishop. The man was a mystery, for no one knew his identity, and he’d been in charge for so many years now that Rafael had assumed he was long dead. He thought with a twisted smile that if the girl was as pretty as the men thought, the old Bishop just might adopt her. Surely he was too old now for much more.
    â€œYe be sure she’s alone, Toby?”
    â€œNo,” Rafael said very firmly, “she’s not alone. She’s with me. Let her go, lads.”
    Victoria abruptly shut her mouth, relief flooding through her. The man Toby loosed his hold on her and she stomped on his foot with all her strength. He yowled and let her go. She stumbled to the ground and lay there panting.
    â€œNow, boys, I suggest that you take yourselves offto the Bishop with your booty. Surely there’s