The Highwayman of Tanglewood

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  He was gone then—galloping into the forest astride his mount, cape rippling in the breeze as he rode.

  Faris let her fingertips trace her neck where the Highwayman had kissed her—pressed them to her lips where his had lingered. It was astonishing! All of it! Not just a chance second meeting with the Highwayman of Tanglewood but the touch of bare hands, a second kiss, and a planned secret rendezvous in the purple-heathered hills.

  Faris experienced a momentary wave of guilt. He was, after all, a villain of sorts. Yet her heart cared not, for his crusade was a righteous one. The Highwayman of Tanglewood was the pure stuff of poetic fiction. The purest ingredient of delicious dreams!

  She thought of Lillias—wondered if her friend would be angry in knowing Faris had met the Highwayman. Yet Lillias loved Lord Kendrick, no matter her intrigue with the Highwayman of Tanglewood. No—Lillias would be happy in knowing Faris had touched the legendary rogue. Lillias could never know, naturally. Still, Faris took comfort in her own assurance Lillias would be delighted if she could know.

  Carefully, Faris made her way across the darkened meadow and back to Loch Loland Castle. How inviting Loch Loland seemed rising in the distance, warm-lighted windows as beckoning as paradise itself. Faris thanked the heavens for Lady Rockrimmon’s benevolence, for the good people who otherwise labored under the castle roof, for the soft lace of the pillowcase on which she laid her head later that night—a soft pillow on which to dream of the Tanglewood Highwayman. How charming he was! How strong! How brave and how thoroughly intoxicating!

  As Faris drifted into sleep that night, she thought of nothing but the Highwayman—of nothing save him and his rogue’s stolen kiss. Nothing—not her duties, not the impending marriage of Lillias to Lord Kendrick, and not the return of Loch Loland’s young master. To Faris, there was only soft lace, purple evening, and the vision of the Highwayman of Tanglewood riding over the midnighted meadow.

  ❦

  “Faris!” Lillias exclaimed as she entered the chamber with the grace of a swan.

  Faris turned, smiling as she saw her friend hurrying toward her.

  “Look, Faris! Simply look what my darling Lord Kendrick has gifted me this morning!”

  “Another gift?” Faris asked.

  Lord Kendrick was forever showering his betrothed with gifts. Yet for all her sweetness, Lillias Rockrimmon was as ever intrigued and excited about each new gift as she was the last.

  “Yes! Indeed, I do know he spoils me so,” Lillias said, pausing, a look of guilt puckering her lovely brow for a moment. Her smile returned nearly instantly, however, as she added, “I do admit I adore it!”

  “What treasure has he found this day to intrigue you?” Faris asked, anxious to see what token of affection Lord Kendrick had discovered in order to coax Lillias’s smile this day.

  “Oh, Faris,” Lillias said, looking at the bed Faris has been straightening. “Lochlan will not arrive until the very last moment. I do not understand why Mother insists his room be attended to every day. It is two years now he is gone and yet two months until his return.”

  “She is a mother who misses her son,” Faris said. “She has perpetual hope in his sudden and unexpected return.” She smiled at Lillias and took her hand as she spoke with intent. “One day you will have a son, and he will grow into a fine man like his father. I daresay you will be stricken with all manner of weeping and heartache when he rides from your nest.”

  “I shall have a son,” Lillias said smiling. “More than one, of course—and I will never let them leave their home!”

  “Then they will be silly, frightened boys who will no more be able to find a beautiful woman the like of their mother to take to wife than they will be to properly wield a blade,” Faris teased.

  Lillias frowned. “A blade is a blade. Yet the rapier is a gentleman’s weapon, antiquated though it may be, and I loathe a man who cannot well wield a rapier.” She giggled then as did Faris. “Yet, look, Faris! Look what Gawain has given me!”

  Faris gasped as Lillias opened her hand to reveal a lovely brooch. Set in gold, the brooch held a piece of amber-colored glass set to protect a lock of dark hair.

  “Is it not the most wonderful ornament?” Lillias exclaimed. “How I adore it! A tender lock of Gawain’s own hair—to have with me always! Can you imagine he would ever be so romantic?”

  Faris giggled, delighted with Lillias excitement. Hair jewelry in the form of brooches, lockets, or rings was not entirely too rare. Still, Faris knew what a romantic nature Lillias possessed—as romantic as her own. Faris doubted Lord Kendrick even knew how perfectly his gift had touched Lillias’s heart.

  “How splendid, Lillias!” Faris exclaimed. “No treasure on earth can compare to this.”

  “It’s exactly as I feel,” Lillias said, sighing with delight. “How will I ever force myself to wear another brooch when I have this to cherish?”

  “Indeed,” Faris agreed. “You have little need of any other now.”

  Lillias smiled and giggled. Sighing, she glanced about the room a moment.

  “Faris! Honestly! Fresh flowers?” she giggled, smiling.

  Faris smiled as well. “Yes,” she answered. “Your mother asked that I freshen the flowers in your brother’s room every three days.”

  “She is far too—” Lillias began. She paused, however, shaking her head with sudden understanding. “She has missed him so terribly. I wonder that Father has kept him away from her so long.”

  “In order that he may learn to properly wield a blade and find a wife as beautiful as his mother?” Faris offered.

  Lillias laughed, her eyes twinkling with merriment. “Oh, what mirth and delight you gift me, Faris,” she said. “Yet Lochlan is well acquainted with any blade, and he will have no difficulty finding a wife when he decides it is time. You have seen his portrait in the west wing, have you not?”

  “Yes,” Faris said.

  “And is he not the handsomest devil you have ever laid eyes upon?” Lillias asked.

  Faris quickly reflected on the one opportunity she had had to view the Rockrimmon ancestry by way of the paintings in the portrait hall. Inwardly, she admitted to having been very impressed by the painting of Lochlan Rockrimmon. The painting portrayed him in a most becoming light—eyes as green as emeralds, hair a warm and inviting brown. A square jaw and straight nose befriending no hint of smile in the painting gave him the look of a man already titled—a great nobleman. Yet Faris thought his blue breeches, red coat, and white cravat rather boorish. Undeniably handsome he was, yes—still, rather boorish in some manner. Of course, what young man, titled or not, could contend with the vision of the Highwayman of Tanglewood astride his magnificent steed, galloping over the meadow in the moonlight? None of Faris’s acquaintance.

  Still, she did not wish to hurt Lillias’s sensitive nature, and so she admitted, “Handsome, yes—but I hope there is no true devil in him.” She paused, astonished by her own next thought. In all her wondering if the Highwayman of Tanglewood were, indeed, handsome rather than plain or unattractive beneath his mask, it was only then she realized there was a bit of a devil in him. For what man could find himself a Highwayman if not for the influence of, in the least, a grain of impish character?

  “Oh, no! There is no devil at all in Lochlan. My brother is a good man, an honorable son, and a loving sibling.” Lillias explained. “And in business he is perhaps the best I have ever heard of. Father certainly thinks it, and it is why Father has given so much responsibility to him.”

  “I’m certain he is the best of men,” Faris said. “No doubt it is why your mother longs for his return.”

  “Oh!” Lillias exclaimed of a sudden. “In my excitement over Gawain’s brooch, indeed I forgot to tell you of the Highwayman.”

  “What of him?” Faris asked. She felt desperate of a sudden—desperate to know anything of her Highwayman.

  “Kade the Heinous has claimed he wounded the Highwayman of Tanglewood!” Lillias whispered.

  “
What?” Faris gasped. She felt as if her heart had leapt into her throat. Yet she had seen the Highwayman with her own eyes the night before. He had held her in his arms, kissed her. He had not appeared wounded in the least. She released an anxious breath at the realization. “But…but he was not injured. Graybeau did not mention his being injured yesterday morning when—”

  “Oh, no! But it was not then!” Lillias said. “Gawain was told just this very morning that Kade the Heinous set a trap for the Highwayman this night past! He claims to have matched blades with him once more and further claims he wounded the Highwayman in the left leg.”

  Faris’s heart hammered so brutally within her chest she felt certain Lillias could hear its mad beating.

  “But it cannot be!” Faris exclaimed.

  “I am in agreement with you, Faris,” Lillias said. “Kade Tremeshton is only trying to repair his muddied name.”

  “We will hope it is so,” Faris said.

  “I believe it is so,” Lillias said. “For Gawain has also told me that the Highwayman bested Lord Barnes only this morning just before sunrise. Lord Barnes was returning from his sister’s estate in the south when he was set upon by the Highwayman of Tanglewood.”

  “But what are we to believe?” Faris asked. She felt ill, sickened by the possibility of the Highwayman’s having been injured. Further, a sort of panic was rising in her. What if Kade Tremeshton’s story were true? And the worst of it—in meeting the Highwayman, had Faris put him in danger? What if Kade Tremeshton had managed to ambush the Highwayman of Tanglewood because of his dalliance in the meadow with Faris? She might, indeed, be responsible for his being injured! The thought frightened her to near trembling.

  “We are to believe Gawain,” Lillias said. “For he is honest and above all reproach—while Lord Tremeshton is the worst of men. And is it not the worst of men who weave lies in attempting to elevate themselves in gossip circles?”

  “Yes,” Faris said, placing a hand to her bosom in an attempt to calm the mad hammering of her heart. “Yes. I am certain Lord Tremeshton is false in his claims.”

  “Darling!” Lillias exclaimed, taking hold of Faris’s arm. “You’ve gone pale as the moon! Do not worry so over our beloved Highwayman. He can never be bested. I am sure of it.”

  “I am certain of it as well,” Faris said. “I should not allow myself to be so unsettled.”

  “I was unsettled, also, at first,” Lillias said. “But Gawain assures me the Highwayman is well. And I believe Gawain in all things.”

  Suspicion traveled across Faris’s mind a moment. Why should Lord Kendrick be of such certainty where the Highwayman’s well-being was concerned? No. She would not think it a moment longer. The Highwayman had assured her he was not Lord Gawain Kendrick in masked form—and she would believe him.

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  Faris and Lillias simultaneously gasped as Bainbridge Graybeau suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  “Graybeau!” Lillias exclaimed. “You frightened us near to fainting!”

  “My apologies, Miss Lillias,” Graybeau said. “But your mother and father wish to speak with you.”

  Faris frowned. Odd that Lord and Lady Rockrimmon should send the stablemaster into the house to summon their daughter.

  “Is it of a serious nature, Graybeau?” Lillias asked.

  “I do not believe so,” Bainbridge answered.

  “Hmm. Very well,” Lillias sighed. “We will speak later, Faris?”

  “Of course,” Faris said.

  Her heart was settling somewhat. Still, as Bainbridge Graybeau’s dark eyes met hers for a moment, she held her breath. There was something in his countenance—something unsettling. Was something amiss? Did he know the true reason Lord and Lady Rockrimmon had summoned Lillias? Was it grave news? No, it was something else. Faris trembled as an unfathomable thought entered her mind—did Graybeau know? Did Bainbridge Graybeau know of her rendezvous with the Highwayman of Tanglewood the night before?

  Lillias took her leave of her brother’s room, yet Graybeau remained in the doorway. His gaze lingered on Faris with a strange intensity.

  “Is…is there something you wish of me, Mr. Graybeau?” Faris asked. She could no longer endure his staring at her.

  “Not at the moment, miss,” Graybeau said.

  He was a handsome man! And so tall! Faris wondered why such a man as he did not have a wife and children. To be stablemaster at Loch Loland Castle—it was an impressive lot. Surely any woman for one hundred miles would think the dark-haired, brooding, and wildly handsome Bainbridge Graybeau, stablemaster of Loch Loland, a healthy catch indeed.

  “Good day,” Graybeau said. He turned and started walking down the hall. Quickly, Faris went to the doorway. Looking after him, she felt her mouth gape open. He was limping! Bainbridge Graybeau was favoring his left leg with a rather pronounced limp.

  “Pray, Mr. Graybeau,” she could not help but call to him.

  He paused and turned to look at her.

  “Yes, miss?” he asked.

  “Are you…are you indeed well?” she asked. “Have you been injured?”

  “I—um—I was thrown from a horse this morning, miss. It is nothing to be concerned about,” he answered. “Good day to you, miss.”

  Faris watched Graybeau walk away—counted the measure of his limp. Twilight would tell the tale. Had Bainbridge Graybeau simply been thrown from a horse at Loch Loland Castle’s stables? Or had the Highwayman been injured as Kade Tremeshton claimed?

  ❦

  “He’s comin’ home, he is!” Mary said as Faris entered the kitchen for the evening servants’ meal. “I heard his lordship tell milady just this afternoon!”

  “Master Lochlan?” Old Joseph asked. “Well, it’s at last a relieving thing. It’s not good for a young man to be away from his kith and kin so long.”

  Mary was mistress cook at Loch Loland Castle. Faris knew little about her life before she had come to Loch Loland. Yet she was a kind, nurturing woman, and Faris adored her round rosy face, wiry gray hair, and smiling eyes.

  Old Joseph had been at Loch Loland Castle since Lord Rockrimmon’s father was a young man. Weathered in his looks and slowed in his ways, still there was a certain dignity in his carriage and manner. Of all the staff at Loch Loland, Mary and Old Joseph were Faris’s favorites. She had begun to look on them as one might look affectionately upon an aged uncle and merry-faced aunt.

  “When will he arrive?” Sarah asked. “Have you word of when Master Lochlan will attend us?”

  Faris watched as Sarah’s eyes lit up like fire on a nocturnal lake. It was quite obvious Sarah was overly excited at the prospect of Lochlan Rockrimmon’s return. Faris wondered for a moment if the young master of the castle had stolen the hearts of the young maids at Loch Loland before his departure to do his father’s bidding. By the look of excitement on Sarah’s face, she guessed he had.

  Sarah had been somewhat put off when Faris had joined the staff at Loch Loland Castle. Upon Faris’s arrival, Sarah had been moved from her post as chambermaid to Lillias and Lochlan Rockrimmon to that of chambermaid to Lady Rockrimmon. Even though the change in post was an honorable one, Sarah had been quite unfriendly to Faris at first. Still, as Lady Rockrimmon began to rain compliments upon her, Sarah’s frustration had vanished, and she was now quite friendly to Faris.

  “Within the week,” Mary answered. “And there was a whisper I caught too,” Mary added, lowering her voice. Everyone at the table leaned forward as Mary’s voice dropped. “A name,” she said.

  “A name? What name?” Sarah prodded.

  “Tannis. Tannis Stringham,” Mary whispered, raising her eyebrows in an expression of disapproval.

  “Tannis Stringham?” Sarah exclaimed, disappointment all too blatant on her pretty face.

  “Hush, girl!” Old Joseph scolded.

  “Oh, but Joseph—Tannis Stringham?” Sarah repeated in a whisper. “Why ever would her name be mentioned in conversation among the family?”


  “Why ever, indeed?” Mary said, sitting back in her chair, an irritated purse upon her wrinkled old lips.

  “Surely you do not mean to suggest Master Lochlan has…intentions toward Tannis Stringham, Mary?” Old Joseph rather chuckled. “Master Lochlan is far too wise a man to give attention in such a direction as that.”

  “Then why is there to be a visit from Tannis and Lady Stringham next month?” Mary added.

  “No!” Sarah gasped.

  Faris smiled, entirely entertained by the tittle-tattle of the servants concerning their young master. How she adored to sit in the kitchen in the evenings and converse with Mary, Old Joseph, and the others. It was quite like being part of a family, and Faris savored it more than the sweetest confection.

  “Yes!” Mary said. “I heard it with me own ears. Lady Stringham and her daughter, Tannis, are to visit here for a holiday next month.”

  “Am I to understand this Tannis Stringham is an unfavorable young woman?” Faris ventured.

  Old Joseph, Mary, Sarah, and the others at the table exchanged glances. In the end, each disbelieving expression settled on Faris. It was obvious the staff of Loch Loland did not think Tannis Stringham, whoever she was, worthy of their young master.

  “Suffice it to say Lord Stringham has frequently received, shall we say, attention from the Highwayman of Tanglewood,” Old Joseph said.

  At the mere mention of the Highwayman, Faris could not keep the butterflies from rising within her! The sun was low in the sky, and soon she would see him again! Furthermore, she understood why each person at the table disapproved of the young woman who was to visit Loch Loland Castle for a holiday. If her father was the sort to need the reprimand of the Highwayman of Tanglewood, then it did not serve that his daughter should be deserving of having Lord and Lady Rockrimmon as father- and mother-in-law.