Pay the Devil (v5) by Jack Higgins Read Free Book Online Page B

companion.
    The mare covered the ground effortlessly, and slowly the gap narrowed until the two horses were almost abreast. The unknown ally wore an old tweed jacket and broad-brimmed hat pulled low over the eyes. Clay caught a sideways glance and heard a laugh and then they were plunging down into a wide, tree-filled valley following a sandy track.
    The rider swerved into the trees and Clay followed, twisting and turning, receiving a thorough soaking as wet branches whipped against him. They emerged into a broad meadow, took a low fence together, landing in a spatter of mud on the other side, and reined in before a ruined stone hunting lodge.
    Clay slid to the ground and stood beside the mare, running a hand gently over her heaving side. “I’m obliged to you, sir,” he said.
    The other held up a hand in warning and motioned him to silence. They could hear hoofbeats approaching rapidly as their pursuers followed the track. Within a few moments they passed, and after a while there was silence.
    The rider still sat motionless, head forward, listening to the hoofbeats die away into the night, then turned to Clay with a gay laugh. “The poor fools will run for a mile before it occurs to them that we might not be out in front after all.”
    The voice was clear and sweet like a ship’s bell across water. Clay frowned and took a step forward. As he did so, his unknown rescuer turned toward him, uncovering with a flourish and allowing a long switch of dark hair tied with ribbon near the crown of the head, to fall freely to shoulder level and beyond.
    “Well, I’ll be damned,” Clay said softly.
    The face that smiled impishly at him in the moonlight was that of a young girl of no more than eighteen years. She was small and slightly built, the man’s riding coat too big for her. The eyes were unusually large and set too far apart for conventional beauty, the nose tilted above a wide, generous mouth. There was about her an irresistible appeal, an attraction that was as immediate as it was compelling.
    “Who the devil are you?” he demanded. “Diana the Huntress or the Goddess of the Night?”
    She tilted back her head and laughed, the moonlight full upon her young face. “I had heard that Southern gentlemen were renowned for their chivalry, Colonel, but this exceeds all my expectations.”
    Responding to her mood, he removed his hat and bowed gravely. “Colonel Clay Fitzgerald, at your service. You have the advantage of me, ma’am.”
    “Oh, no, Colonel,” she said. “I much prefer to remain Diana the Huntress or even the Goddess of the Night for just a little while longer. Women are incurably romantic.”
    He started to replace his hat, and as he did so, she touched her mount with the spurs so that it bounded forward across the meadow, cleared the fence with room to spare and plunged into the shadows of the trees. A silvery laugh floated back to him, and as he swung a leg over the mare’s back he knew that he was too late.
    He reached the track in time to see the girl and her horse briefly silhouetted against the sky as they topped the rise at the head of the valley, and then they were gone.
    When he reached the place himself, there was no sign of her. He took a cheroot from his case and lit it carefully, hands cupped against the slight breeze from the sea. He frowned, wondering who she could be, and then a slight smile came to his face. If her performance tonight was anything to go by, she would not leave him long in doubt.
    He cantered back toward Claremont, enjoying his cheroot and the stillness of the night. When he reached the ridge above the house, he paused and gazed toward the distant mountains of Connemara. They made a spectacle to take the breath away, and the moonlight silvering the sea filled him with the beauty and wonder of it.
    He had made the mistake of coming to Ireland in search of peace, but already he was glad he had come. The thought of tomorrow filled him with a vague, restless excitement, and