Moonstruck Masness

by Laurie McBain

  Mary tightened her lips. "No one has admitted that Sa­brina is Bonnie Charlie. It is ridiculous, Colonel," Mary refuted his statement.

  "Is it really so ridiculous? An odd coincidence that you are from Scotland and the highwayman is Scots also. He is rather small and his two henchmen are exceptionally large, like those two large men talking in such a friendly fashion to your sister this afternoon, and then, Mary," the colonel added as his final proof, "they called her Charlie."

  Mary remained silent. "You still have no positive proof, Colonel. No one would believe you, you will look the fool," she told him quietly, refusing to trust him.

  "Do you really believe that I would turn your sister over to the authorities? I'm not quite that inhuman, but neither can I allow her to continue to rob and terrorize the countryside. She must be stopped."

  Mary turned away from his penetrating stare and looked out of the window. What was she to do? How could they afford to make an enemy out of this man? If only they had a little more time, then all would be finished and he need never know the truth. He couldn't hurt them then.

  "Mary," Colonel Fletcher spoke softly as he came up behind her stiff back, "don't fight me."

  Mary jumped as she felt his large hand lightly touch her shoulder and curve around it. She turned her head up against his shoulder and tried to pull free. "Really, Colonel, you are far too bold. Please release me this in­stant."

  "I intend to be far bolder, Mary," he answered auda­ciously, pressing her closer against the hard, metal buttons of his uniform. "You present quite a challenge to an old soldier, and I find I am always at my best when on a cam­paign with a particular objective to take."

  Mary's face flamed at his words. "Sir, I will not become the object of your maneuvers, nor, indeed, are these your barracks that you may come in here and issue orders as though we were under your command!"

  Colonel Fletcher laughed. "I'd wondered if you'd a bit of your sister's defiance in you. I've yet to meet such a cocky wench as that one. It seems inconceivable that you are related. So different in every way," he murmured as he lifted a red curl from the back of her neck, "one demure and sweet, the other high-strung and meddlesome."

  Mary stared into his eyes in growing panic as she felt his arm slip around her waist. "I thought men liked women with spirit?"

  "Some men, yes, but as a soldier who has been involved in far too many battles I now seek a gentle woman, one I can be friends with and share a home with, not a battle­field. I am tired of skirmishes and only want tranquility. I pity the man who takes on your sister, for that is all he shall have—one fight after another. He'll never have a peaceful moment, for she shall keep him wondering what she is up to. No, that is not for me, no matter how beauti­ful she happens to be." He looked down into the gray eyes staring up at him, the small nose with the light sprinkling of freckles, the soft mouth, and spoke more to himself than to her. "I think I have found my stronghold at last."

  His tanned face lowered to hers and his mouth touched hers briefly before crushing its softness beneath his in a long kiss. He turned her unresisting body around and held her close as her untutored lips clung to his.

  "Mary, let me help you," he spoke against her ear, his lips lingering against the smoothness of her fiery cheek. "You're so sweet, I want to teach you so many things."

  "Please, let me go," Mary pleaded. "Someone may en­ter." She struggled for a moment before Colonel Fletcher released her, but kept a firm hold on one of her hands Mary tidied her hair with a shaking hand, straightening the lace at her breast carefully, while the colonel watched in amusement.

  "You've never been kissed by a man before, have you?" he asked although he already knew the answer. "Are you going to let me help you?"

  "I-I don't know what you are talking about?" Mary an­swered flustered, wishing someone would come in and res­cue her from this predicament

  "You can't avoid the issue forever," he told her seri­ously. "I have my duty to perform, and I am one of the King's men, Mary. I do not want to hurt you or your family, but I cannot allow your sister to continue."

  "Continue what, Colonel?" Sabrina demanded as she en­tered the room, noticing with a start the clasped hands of Mary and the colonel as she came forward to stand before the tall, red-coated officer. "You do persist in this outra­geous notion of yours, and now," she said meaningfully as she sent a mocking glance at their locked hands, "what stratagem are you using to gain information? Are you seducing my sister in order to get her to tell you all you think she knows? Well," Sabrina laughed, sending Mary a curious glance, "she is not fool enough to fall for your sweet words and honeyed phrases. She knows that it would all be lies, don't you, Mary?"

  The colonel's lips tightened ominously as he stared in anger at Sabrina. He looked down at Mary's stricken face and felt white-hot with rage. "Very well done, Lady Sa­brina, I compliment you on your tactics, although I am not sure whether you believe your own words or not. However, you are mistaken about my motives, at least concerning Mary, for I have not lied to her. Although thanks to you I doubt whether she will believe me now."

  Mary avoided his eyes and pulled her hand free, walk­ing over to the bellpull to ring for tea.

  "I've already ordered it," Sabrina told her as she took a seat opposite Mary, her violet eyes questioning as she stared at her.

  They remained silent while the tea service was set up by a footman, and then as Mary busied herself thankfully with the teacups, the colonel said in a cold voice, "You should be turned over someone's knee and soundly spanked, Lady Sabrina."

  Mary muttered beneath her breath as she spilled the tea, concentrating on it rather than look up at Sabrina, whom she knew would be glaring angrily at Colonel Fletcher.

  "And you think you are man enough to do that, Colonel?" Sabrina demanded contemptuously.

  "I'm man enough, but not the right man to do it," he answered back obliquely, smiling unpityingly at the thought.

  "The day some man tries will be his last day on earth." Sabrina smiled unpleasantly, her eyes telling the colonel that she wished he would be the one to try.

  Colonel Fletcher shook his head. "You have ruled this roost far too long, Lady Sabrina. It is time a man stepped in and took the lot of you under his guidance."

  "And who would you suggest? The Marquis? I'm sure he would appreciate that, eh Mary? He has hardly played the father figure before." Sabrina sat down, accepting her tea and sipping it nonchalantly. "Let me see," she contin­ued ruminatively, "he saw his son and heir for the first time a little over a week ago. And when did he last see us? Ten years ago? Yes, he is definitely the hand to guide us. All he cares about is money to fill his pockets. You think you have a chance to court my sister Mary? Oh, yes, I know you have probably made advances to her, and as­suming they are honorable, do you really imagine you've enough money to buy her?"

  Colonel Fletcher winced at the remark.

  "Yes, you may well flinch. But that is the distasteful state of affairs we exist in. We, my sister and I, are com­modities to the Marquis. Since having set eyes on us he re­gards us in the light of assets. He will find the richest hus­bands for us, and I don't really think that your officer's pay will qualify you, Colonel."

  "So young to be so bitter. If I did not know more about you than most, then I would not understand, nor be able to feel pity for you."

  "I don't want your pity!" Sabrina spat. "I don't need it. We don't need you. Why don't you leave us alone?"

  "Rina," Mary cautioned anxiously.

  "Don't tell me you've fallen for him? You can't have. We don't need him, Mary. He'll try to take you away."

  "You can't live in this fairyland of yours any longer, Sabrina. Don't you realize how lucky you are that it is me you have to deal with? Don't try so hard to hate me. Trust me. I can help you, all of you," he tried to placate her.

  Sabrina wanted to believe him, but all the years of mis­trust and the memory of him at Culloden came flooding back to her, clouding her thoughts. And yet, ma
ybe it was time to trust someone, maybe him. Sabrina stood up and taking a tentative step toward him she was about to speak, when the door was opened and Sims announced Lord Malton and Lord Newley.

  They hurried in, expressions of excitement on their faces as they greeted Sabrina and Mary, hardly noticing the colonel.

  "My dear, dear Lady Sabrina," Lord Malton beamed coyly, "you never let on, we had no idea that you and the Duke, why, it is remarkable, and, my dear, you have taken us all by surprise, yes indeed. I am agog at the news, even Newley here is struck dumb. Never been so dazzled," Lord Malton babbled.

  Sabrina felt the blood draining from her face as she ex­changed looks with a stunned-looking Mary. Colonel Fletcher found his voice first, impatience in it at the ill-timed interruption.

  "May I inquire as to what you are referring, Malton?"

  Lord Malton chuckled. "The announcement of the up­coming marriage of Lady Sabrina Verrick, daughter of the Marquis of Wrainton, and the Duke of Camareigh, Lucien Dominick. The sly devil never said a word about it. In fact, I assumed he was to marry Lady Blanche Delande, but—" He cut himself off in mid-sentence looking sheep­ishly at Sabrina. "I beg your pardon, Lady Sabrina. No sense in talking about past loves, eh? Very strange though, you must admit, the way she just disappeared. No one has seen her since and some even say she eloped with a pen­niless soldier," Lord Malton confided in a theatrical whis­per..

  Colonel Fletcher stared at Sabrina's pale face, her look of despair confirming the news. "It would seem that you were right about the Marquis," he said grimly. "I've not had the pleasure of meeting him; however, I intend to make his acquaintance."

  "Glad you're here, Fletcher. Been wanting to ask you what you intend doing about that rogue, Bonnie Charlie. Thought you'd have caught the blackguard by now. We won't stand for much more of this harassment by that Scots cur," Malton threatened, his good humor forgotten for the moment. "Right, Newley?"

  But Lord Newley wasn't listening, he was staring morosely at Sabrina's heart-shaped face, his eyes watching every expression that crossed her lovely features.

  "Guess Newley's got other things on his mind," Lord Malton commented snidely, winking broadly at Colonel Fletcher. "He won't be the only one sorry to have the Lady Sabrina wed. Hear she made a big sensation in Lon­don."

  "I think you need not concern yourselves over the prob­lem of Bonnie Charlie much longer," Colonel Fletcher said, changing the subject, "for I feel it will resolve itself very shortly."

  Lord Malton puffed out his cheeks and stamped his cane on the floor. "You know something, eh? Good. About time we ridded ourselves of this wretched fellow. Expect to be informed of your movements, Fletcher. Want to be in on the kill, damned if I don't."

  Colonel Fletcher barely concealed his expression of dis­taste. How easily the civilian talked of killing. He won­dered how eager he would be if he saw over a thousand mangled and dead bodies in one afternoon's fighting.

  "The ladies were just telling me how fatigued they were from the fair, and about an unfortunate scuffle that ensued on the grounds, so I think I'll bid them adieu," he suggested, glancing at the two lords expectantly, leaving them little choice but to follow suit.

  "I had hoped to learn more about your engagement, Lady Sabrina," said Lord Malton. "When the wedding will occur, and if you'll be married in London? So much to tell, you know, what with everyone so interested. I do know that the Duke had only until this week to wed or he'd lose Camareigh. Wonder if that still applies." He looked to Sabrina for enlightenment, but on receiving no encouragement on her cold features, shrugged good-naturedly. "Well," must be off then."

  "If you'd be interested in learning about my plans for Bonnie Charlie, I suggest we make haste, I've an in­spection to see to, gentlemen," Colonel Fletcher spoke au­thoritatively, hurrying them on their way. Before leaving the room behind them he added, "I will be back to con­tinue our discussion, ladies."

  Sabrina sat as though turned to stone, the only sound the monotonous ticking of the clock. She bent her head, hiding her face from view, her shoulders slumped in de­feat. A muffled sob escaped from her and she slumped fur­ther into herself as she huddled in the chair.

  Mary quickly rushed over and knelt beside her, wrap­ping her arms around Sabrina's shaking shoulders. She let her cry, her sobs wracking her slim body as she drained herself of pent-up emotion.

  "What am I going to do? I thought I would have more time, and I never imagined that they would go ahead and announce it without my presence. Once again I've un­derestimated Lucien. I had forgotten how cunning he can be." Sabrina looked up tearfully. "Well, I will not do it! I will not be forced into marriage with him! I couldn't bear it, not after the humiliation he put me through. I must do something. He'll pay for this. He deserves to lose his estates and become the laughingstock when I leave him at the al­tar as his previous fiancée did," Sabrina threatened, her vi­olet eyes glowing with anticipation of revenge.

  Mary shook her head helplessly. "I don't think you can prevent him. How can you stop the marriage now that ev­eryone knows about it? Why not go ahead and marry him, Rina? It would settle everything, especially now that Colonel Fletcher knows about us. How can you continue to get money with him watching everything we are doing? I can't see any way out of this."

  "I will not accept it," Sabrina said defiantly, her voice beginning to grow strong and hardening with resolution. "Mary, we have so much money already. If I can just get a little bit more, then I will personally take it to the Mar­quis and he will leave us alone. Besides, if the Duke can­not find me, then he has no bride to wed!"

  Mary sat back on her heels, staring at Sabrina's deter­mined face. "I think Colonel Fletcher was right, we've been living in a make-believe world."

  "Mary," Sabrina cried, her eyes mirroring hurt, "you can't desert me now. I thought we were a family?" She bit her lip nervously. She just couldn't lose Mary. "You aren't turning against me, are you?"

  "Of course not, Rina, how could you think such a thing," Mary reassured her, worried by the almost feverish look in Sabrina's eyes.

  "Good." Sabrina smiled, giving her a hug before rising to her feet. "We've got to make plans, Mary. Unless I am sorely deceived I would imagine we are in for a visit from either the Marquis or Lucien, and I have no intention of being present when they do show up."

  Mary laughed nervously. "So I am to be the welcoming committee? I do not look forward to it. The Duke has struck me as being a very forceful man, and we both know only too well how he exacts punishment against those that cross him. He will be outraged if you make him the laughingstock of London as you have predicted, and then cause him to lose his estate." Mary shuddered at the thought, touching her own soft cheek as she remembered his. "That scar makes him seem almost diabolical, it is quite dreadful."

  Sabrina turned on her indignantly. "There is nothing wrong with his scar. How dare you imply that it is ugly, or loathsome?" Sabrina said sharply, surprising herself by her sudden, passionate defense of him.

  Mary's gray eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it was repulsive at all. It just makes him look dangerous. That is all, Rina," Mary explained gently.

  "I'm the one who's sorry. I've been such a trial to you, I know, but everything is on the edge of collapse, and I'm at my wits' end. I'm meeting Will and John this evening, and I will figure out a plan. I won't be able to stay here and still get out as Bonnie Charlie. They mustn't be able to stop me." She left the room, her stride purposeful and firm.

  " 'O tiger's heart wrapp'd in a woman's hide!'" a voice said softly.

  Mary spun around at the sound. "Aunt Margaret! Have you been here all of the time?"

  Aunt Margaret left her seat in the bow window where she'd sat unobserved behind the folds of a velvet hanging. She tiptoed into the room, glancing about for anyone lurk­ing nearby.

  "I do so hate crowds of people, don't you? Odd," she puzzled, "Malty hasn't changed any since he was just a little boy, although he was always plump and always
tell­ing tales, too."

  Mary smiled at Aunt Margaret's description of Lord Malton, then tried to explain to her the importance of not talking about the conversation she'd overheard.

  "But, my dear, I keep the most divine secrets, really I do, besides, that is no secret," she scoffed at Mary's sur­prised face. She hugged her tapestry to her as she rocked to and fro, a complacent smile on her lips. "Now I know a real secret, but I mustn't tell you, dear, at least not yet."

  Mary walked over to her and taking her by the shoul­ders held her wandering attention. "Now, Aunt Margaret, you will forget all that you heard between Sabrina and me, and you promise you won't repeat it?"

  Aunt Margaret shook her head conspiratorially, a sly look entering her blue eyes as she whispered, "My lips are sealed, m'dear." She slipped from the room quietly, her slippered feet making no sound. Mary closed her eyes. What more could happen?

  She suddenly heard the sound of horse's hooves and wondered who was calling so late in the afternoon. Surely Lord Malton would not have returned to quench his thirst for gossip? She walked over to the window and glanced out to see a solitary rider approaching the house at a de­liberate gait, the big red horse kicking up dust as he made his way up the drive. The rider became visible as he passed by the window, and Mary drew back in panic as she recognized that arrogant face marred by the scar.

  Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy,

  And moonstruck madness.

  John Milton

  Chapter 11

  "SABRINA!" Mary called out as she hurried into Sa­­brina's room. "He's here."

  Sabrina glanced around curiously. "Who is here?" she asked, hiding a yawn behind her hand. She'd removed her gown and was lying in her petticoat and corset on the bed. She wriggled her stockinged feet lazily and stared at Mary's flushed face.