The Highwayman

Return to the Inn

A.N:
This a very short chapter because the really saucy shit is going to happen in the next chapter.

***

The Inn was full of life more so than usual. Drunken men sang songs of old while filling their bodies with more beer and meat pie.

After what seemed like the longest might of his life, The Landlord closed the door and shutters as he bid goodnight to all.

What once was a place filled with laughter and song was now a land of silence.

All was quiet save for the heavy hooves galloping against the aging road.

Mounted upon the steed was The Highwayman. His dark curls blew in the howling wind.

He wore a cocked-French hat at his forehead and a black handkerchief that only revealed his hazel eyes, a bunch of lace at his chin, a coat of crimson velvet and breeches of dark brown.

His dusty boots were up to his thigh and he rode with an unimaginable grace. His pistol butts, strapped in at his waist, twinkled under the jeweled sky.

The Highwayman came ridding, ridding up to the old inn-door. Much like the first time he stumbled upon his Inn there was not a sound to be heard.

He rode to the back of the Inn and waited for his beauty to appear.

She did not.

He waited and waited until he lost his patience and left. That was until he heard a gentle voice and felt the pull of the blood red love knot, calling out his name.

With hast he guided the horse back to her window. The maidens beauty was the same as he remembered her pale skin and electric black hair brought his heart to a stop. The way her fingers intertwined together through her hair made him want to tug at it.

Her face. Oh her bonnie face, held such beauty and sorrow unlike any other woman he had seen.

He had to know who she was and tonight was the night he would cease his chance and she was his for the taking.