Page 19 of Under the Earl's Wicked Spell

“So, that’s Robin Hood’s Bay, is it?”

“It is.”

“It doesn’t look like much. Far smaller than I expected.”

“Well, there was a point a couple of hundred years ago when it was more important than Whitby.” Rafe smiled. “It’s also one of the wealthiest places for its size due to all the smuggling that goes on.”

“Smuggling? You’re serious?”

“Of course. The town is pretty much a maze. So many tiny side streets, so it’s easy to lose someone if you know your way. They needed to get the contraband away from customs and the riding officers, who wanted to make sure people didn’t smuggle in things they wanted tax on.”

Charlie looked surprised.

“What sort of things were they smuggling?”

“Mostly tea, tobacco, gin, and rum. I think brandy was another significant product as well.”

“Tea?” Charlie burst out laughing. “You seriously pay tax on your tea?”

“I’m afraid so. I thought Americans paid tax on their tea as well?”

“If they do, I don’t know about it. I’ve never needed to pay for it. And you don’t care about it?”

“Why should I? Whitby did the same thing. Everyone benefited from the contraband.” Rafe set his horse into motion again. “It’s very organised, and you don’t argue with those men. Especially when you don’t have to pay extra for something you want.”

Charlie was still chuckling.

“And here I thought the English were stiff and law-abiding.”

“Trust me, we’re not.”

“I’m beginning to notice. Come on,” Charlie kicked his horse into motion, “let’s race to the bay. I’m in the mood for something interesting.”

“Charlie….”

But his friend was already gone, losing his hat in the process. Sighing, Rafe dismounted and picked up the hat, tucking it into his saddlebags. He had been about to tell Charlie that it was a popular walking route, and he should not gallop when he might come into contact with someone around a blind bend, but Charlie just had a habit of not listening when he didn’t want to.

Also, his excitement was going to get in the way. That was no surprise, considering he had never been outside America.

Mounting his horse again, Rafe set his horse off at a trot. The animal he had bought back in Southampton snorted and obeyed, the swaying jarring Rafe a little. He wished that he could have brought Dark Ash with him. His trusty steed had been a good companion, but he couldn’t bring the horse on the boat. It was of the few times when Rafe had wanted to cry.

He wouldn’t do that, not over a horse. Although he would miss Dark Ash.

There was a shout up ahead, the neighing of a horse, and a scream. Rafe groaned. Charlie had collided with someone. He urged the horse into a gallop and around the bend, came upon Charlie, who was trying to calm his horse as it pranced around. It looked like he was struggling to get control. There was a dark-haired woman backing away, clutching a shawl around her shoulders as she stared wide-eyed at the huge animal.

She was backing a little too much towards the edge. If she didn’t stop now….

Rafe quickly dismounted and hurried off, grabbing her arm and leading her away from the edge of the cliff. The woman slapped his hand before pulling her arm away.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Rafe bristled. He had tried to do something decent, and he was getting chastised for it.

“I’m stopping you from becoming a nasty mess on the rocks below,” he retorted. “Did you not see how close you were to falling?”

“I knew where I was,” she said with a sniff. “I could manage.”

“Are you sure about that?”

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