Read Pay the Devil (v5) for Free Online Page B

grinned as he took his place at the table. “I don’t think the Irish would appreciate your sentiments. In fact if the crowd in that pub was a fair sample of the locals, I’d keep your observations to yourself if I were you. They reminded me strongly of Hood’s Texans.”
    Joshua shuddered and sat down in the opposite chair. “Nobody on earth could resemble Hood’s Texans, Colonel, unless the Devil went to work in two places at the same time.”
    They ate in silence, each concentrating on the heaped plate in front of him. After a while, Clay sat back with a sigh and reached for the brandy bottle. “Joshua, I always did say that where food is concerned, you’re a miracle worker.”
    Joshua took the praise as his just reward. “True, Colonel, only it was your father who said it first. That’s why he hung on to me when everything else had to go in those bad years before the war, after your mother died. He always said he’d have been lost without me.”
    “And so would I,” Clay assured him.
    Joshua didn’t appear to consider the statement needed any contradiction, and busied himself with clearing the table as Clay went back to his seat by the fire and relaxed.
    He sipped his brandy and stared into the flames, more tired than he had been in a long time. Gradually, his eyes closed and his head nodded forward. He took a deep breath, forced himself to his feet and yawned. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll have an early night. There’ll be a lot to do tomorrow.”
    “I’ll bring your coffee at seven,” Joshua told him, and Clay nodded, picked up one of the lamps and opened the door to the staircase.
    It was cold in the bedroom. He placed the lamp on the small table beside the bed and opened the window. The rain had stopped and the darkness was perfumed, as a small wind lifted from the trees beyond the courtyard. He breathed deeply, inhaling the fragrance of the wet earth. Then the tiredness hit him again and he had barely sufficient strength to strip the clothes from his body and climb into bed. He blew out the lamp and the darkness moved in at once to welcome him.
     
    Clay was not aware of coming awake, only of the fact that he was lying there and that moonlight drifted in through the window with opaque, white fingers.
    For a little while he lay staring up at the ceiling, wondering what had caused him to awaken, and surprised to find that he no longer felt tired.
    He reached to the small table beside his bed and picked up the gold hunter. It was almost two o’clock, which meant that he had slept for no more than five hours. As he watched, the moonlight faded. He threw back the bedclothes and padded across the floor to the window.
    It was a night to thank God for, the whole earth fresh after the rain. He stood there, his skin crawling with excitement, a small, restless wind touching his naked flesh. It was a quiet night, the only sound a dog barking several fields away. Then the bank of cloud rolled away from the moon and the countryside was bathed in a hard, white light. The sky was incredibly beautiful, with stars strung away to the horizon where the hills lifted uneasily to meet them.
    At that moment, he became aware of another sound, a hollow drumming that was somehow familiar. As he leaned out of the window, a rider, etched against the sky, appeared from the trees beyond the courtyard and galloped along the rim of the valley where the moors began.
    As he watched, the rider reined in his mount sharply so that it reared up on its hind legs. For a brief moment, the horse and rider were like a statue, completely immobile. Clay stared up toward them and suddenly, for no reason he could analyze, knew he was being watched. As he drew back quickly, a gay mocking laugh drifted down toward him and the horse snorted and leapt forward, as if the spurs had been applied, and disappeared over the rim of the valley.
    Clay dressed hurriedly, his brain clear and cool. There had been too many mysteries already at