Reynard seemed glad enough of just the peck upon his cheek, thrilled even! Even in the moonlight within their private grotto, the flush upon his cheeks beneath the mask were clear for it was a blush of both embarrassment and thrill. They luncheoned in the dark, drank, and laughed. The wine began to go to their heads after a time, yet he remained the gentleman throughout! Caught up in the moment, the Lord Reynard found himself just as fully engaged by Lady Greensleeves spirit as her earthly charms. Perhaps more so! For as they talked and jested, he found in her a lively wit and wily intelligence that he expected most would never suspect of this country maid.

Their parting come the pre-dawn was reluctant, with Reynard escorting her on foot to the forest’s edge where upon he kissed the back of her hand as if Bess were some grand lady. Recklessly, he paused there and watched her go. His Greensleeves was long out of sight and the sun was starting to rise by the time he finally turned to go. 

The Highwayman found his heart curiously light. Was it missing? Had she stolen fit away from the road agent? Reynard had only meant to grant Bess a thank you for granting him the liberty of her silence the other week, and now found himself thinking more and more of her. God’s Breath, why did the next full moon have to be so far away?! As he rode towards the crofter’s cottage where he lodged by the secret forest paths, Reynard cast his mind to what pleasure and sights he might grace Greensleeves with the next time and what wonders he might show her. Another midnight repast, certainly. Better still… a gift. Something she could wear openly, something she might appreciate that wouldn’t raise awkward questions or raised eyebrows as to her character. Reynard decided he would dedicate himself to the hunt, then, both for such a trinket…

…and for Greensleeves herself. After all, what did he have to lose?

***

Late that next afternoon, he set out again upon his quest for revenge and gold. The Season was near enough to its end, and there would be carriages galore upon the road as the wealthy made their ways from the city to the countryside. There would be balls, as well, dances and soirees and cotillions for the young to preen and prim before prospective mates like colorful birds. The old ones would natter and chatter and gossip. It would be all matchmaking and one-ups-manship as social lions and lionesses scrapped for their place in society. Reynard had always been amazed at how the smiles were truly bared teeth and how pity was nothing more than patronizing. 

In many ways, he regarded his self-chosen career as a highwayman to be that of an equalizer. And the expensive carriage that made its way towards his chosen point of ambush certainly looked in need of lightening! Was it so poorly constructed that it sat so low upon its suspension springs?? Or did it have some great weight upon it to make it sag so? Reynard hoped for the latter, for great weight might mean great wealth!

He waited this time, allowing enough time for the carriage to just pass before he urged his black beast from out the wood and onto the road. The two men were looking ahead and to the sides, not towards their flank, and so Reynard made his assault from that direction. It also gave the highwayman the chance to see if any bodyguards might follow as they had the other night. Luck was with him, however, and the carriage was without escort. The grin beneath his mask was bright and savage as he road out immediately behind the conveyance. 

His heart was beating fiercely in his chest as his mount galloped up close enough for him to grasp a luggage rail and swing himself atop and behind the drivers. Both driver and footman looked around, startled at the unexpected commotion, and right into the bore of horse pistols each. Behind those guns the Highwayman knelt and gave the feared cry that drivers and wagoneers alike feared: “Stand and deliver!”

The driver, well experienced and no fool, sighed in resignation and pulled back on the reigns to slow the horses to a stop before raising his hands high in the air. The footman was not so experienced, and was either strong in bravery or strong in ignorance; his hands he began to raise up as the carriage slowed, only to then dive beneath his cloak to fetch out a pistol of his own. Without regret, Reynard fired his pistol into the man’s skull. The corpse rolled up its eyes and slipped from the bench to tumble down upon the road with a sigh. Cocking an eye at the driver, Reynard looked back towards the driver whose only response was to shake his head in exasperation. Brave? Ignorant? It hardly mattered, for either quality meant death.

The driver then slipped from the bench as well, stepping towards the compartment door and giving three hard raps against it. He eyed the road agent up the roof as he called out, “Madam? There is a… gentleman who wished to speak with you.”

Reynard grinned all the wider at the driver’s wit, and what looked to be a promising prize with which he might woo his Greensleeves…