Moonstruck Masness

by Laurie McBain

  "The Duke, Rina," she told her clearly.

  The drowsiness left Sabrina's eyes abruptly, alarm spreading across her features. "Here?" she demanded in­credulously.

  "Yes. I just saw him ride up the drive. He is probably in the house this very instant demanding to see you."

  Sabrina swung her feet to the edge of the big bed and hopped down. "Well, he will not find me here."

  "Oh, but he already has," a cool voice spoke from the door.

  Mary gave a startled squeal and spun around like a hare caught in a trap. Sabrina turned slowly at the familiar voice. She was breathing rapidly, her breasts rising and falling beneath their thin covering of lace as she faced Lu­cien. She stiffened her back and, squaring her shoulders, said coldly, "I think you mistake the room you are in, Your Grace. As you can see, I am dressing."

  Mary became aware of Sabrina's dishabille and hurriedly fetched her a dressing gown, which Sabrina gratefully ac­cepted and quickly slipped on. The dark purple velvet sleeves covered her bare arms while the fitted waist partially covered her lacey bodice. She'd released her hair from its knot and it now hung down her back and over her shoulder in a smooth dark cloud.

  "No, I've made no mistake, Sabrina. Women often in­vite men into their bedchambers as they dress, and, after all, we are betrothed, aren't we?" he asked softly as he left the doorway and intruded further into the room. He wore buckskin breeches moulded to his muscular thighs and a double-breasted frock coat. High jackboots covered his knees and were covered in a light coating of fine dust.

  "I do not think the circumstances apply here," Sabrina contradicted him, "and I have not invited you in, either."

  Mary glanced nervously between them, afraid to move or make a sound. Lucien tossed his cocked hat and gloves onto a chair and turned his attention to the two women standing uncertainly before him.

  "I can plainly see by the fear in your eyes, Lady Mary, that you have been given the worst details concerning me and you are concerned about having such an ogre for a brother-in-law. Of course, considering the company your sister keeps, you might have done far worse, say with a highwayman or pickpocket?"

  Mary licked her dry lips nervously, but before she could find a suitable reply, Sabrina answered abruptly.

  "You may taunt me, Lucien, but not Mary. She is not up to your subtle sarcasms or cruel witticisms, nor does she deserve them."

  Lucien inclined his head slightly. "I bow to your greater knowledge of the lady, but as she is a relation of yours, as is the Marquis, I doubt your wisdom to judge them. Itwould seem there are certain character traits that are un­mistakable in this family."

  "How dare you come into my home and insult us, and how dare you make that ridiculous announcement when you know that I will not marry you?"

  Lucien's mouth tightened ominously and his eyes nar­rowed as he held up his hand for silence. "I do not think we need an audience to play to." He turned to Mary and indicated the door. "If you will be so kind, your sister and I have a few matters to discuss in private."

  Sabrina's nostrils flared in anger. "You go too far, Lu­cien. How dare you—"

  "I'll dare anything, and unless you want to further em­barrass and distress your sister by what I shall say, then I suggest you agree to our privacy."

  Sabrina glanced at Mary indecisively, unsure of what to do.

  "I shall get Sims and the footmen, and have him thrown out!" Mary declared bravely.

  Lucien laughed unpleasantly. "I doubt they would enjoy throwing a Duke out of the door on his tail, assuming they could, of course. And also, as I have a letter of introduction from the Marquis giving me complete authority over this household in his absence, I imagine they would think twice before executing such a plan."

  "You've complete authority!" Sabrina fumed. "You can take your authority to blazes for all the notice I'll take of it."

  "Lady Mary," Lucien said softly, placing a gentle, yet firm hand on her arm as he guided her to the door.

  "Rina," she began, looking over her shoulder in conster­nation.

  "It's all right, Mary, I'll handle His Grace. But don't have a guest room prepared, for he shall not be staying."

  Lucien closed the door behind Mary and turned back to Sabrina, a glint in his sherry-colored eyes. "So, I will not be staying?"

  "No, you will not," Sabrina replied firmly, despite his approaching figure and menacing expression.

  He came to a halt less than a foot before her and stared down into her violet eyes. "I do not enjoy being made the fool, which you seem fond of doing, nor do I like having my plans changed. I do not like having to chase across the countryside like some besotted fool in pursuit of his lady­love. You have caused me a great deal of inconvenience, Sabrina."

  Sabrina allowed a small smile of satisfaction to curve her lips. "Good, and no less the amount of trouble you have caused me, Your Grace," she said insolently.

  They stood staring at each other silently for a minute, neither moving until Sabrina finally broke the silence. "I will not marry you, Lucien."

  Lucien smiled cynically. "You think not? It has gone past what either of us desires. We will be wed, Sabrina, that I promise you."

  Sabrina stamped her foot angrily. "Damn you, why the . devil won't you leave me alone?"

  "Careful, Sabrina, your highwayman's manners—or lack of them—are showing."

  Sabrina raised her arm swiftly, and before he could react she had slapped him hard across his scarred cheek, the contact sounding like thunder in the stunned silence.

  Without stopping to think, Lucien slapped her back, re­acting in the heat of anger and an instant's uncontrollable rage. Sabrina's head jerked back with the force of his hand, and the imprinted outline of his fingers stained her white cheek vividly in angry red marks. Huge tears rolled down her face as she put the back of her hand to her trembling mouth, her eyes staring at him dazedly. With a cry she hurled herself onto the bed, hiding her mortified face in the soft, cool pillows, her velvet robe spreading out like a fan on the quilted coverlet as she lay shaking on the bed.

  She felt the bed sag as Lucien sat down beside her, and the next instant he had her in his arms, his lips caressing the weals on her cheek soothingly.

  "All I want to do is kiss you, and I end up hurting you," he whispered thickly, passion and remorse inter­mingled in his voice. His mouth closed over hers, pressing against her lips until they parted and he kissed her deeply and thoroughly. She felt his lips move along the arch of her throat and shoulders, the scent of him filling her senses.

  His body was heavy against hers as his hands twisted into the thick strands of her hair, holding her face next to his as he rubbed his scarred cheek against the cheek he'd slapped.

  "I was as mad as hell when I first came into your room, and now all I want to do is make love to you, revenge for­gotten while I hold you so close in my arms and kiss that sweet mouth," he murmured as he found her mouth again and kissed her hungrily, his hands sliding beneath the soft velvet of her robe and cupping her breasts.

  Sabrina pulled her mouth free, trying to turn her face from his eager lips. "You cannot seduce me again, Lu­cien," she whispered tearfully.

  Lucien gave a low laugh. "You act so cool, but I think you cannot resist my kisses. You want me, Sabrina," he said confidently, pulling her warm body closer.

  "No, I don't," Sabrina denied. "I do not blame you for believing that. I did try to seduce you that first night," Sa­brina admitted, "but things have changed since then. It was one night only, Lucien. I know what you are and what you are like, and I do not love you. You are mean, cruel and selfish, and I will not be your pawn in whatever games you intend to play."

  Lucien stared down into her defiant face, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright with tears. "Bravely spoken, little one, but quite useless. We will be wed, so why not make the best of it? You will have all the money your heart could desire, a grand home, and"—he paused, giving her a bold glance—"you will have an attentive husband, which is more than most
women have. You will not be lonely, Sabrina, that I can promise you." He smiled and placed a light kiss on her reddened mouth.

  "And how long will you desire me, Lucien? How long will I be able to amuse you, for that is all I am for you. A new diversion, something to play with for awhile. Then what happens when you tire of me?"

  "When we tire of one another you may feel free to take a lover, as long as you are discreet," Lucien allowed gen­erously.

  Sabrina gave a sob and pushed him from her frantically. "Leave me alone! Just get out of my life, Lucien. I hate you!" she cried.

  "No you don't, you—" Lucien began, pulling her back to him determinedly when they were startled by the loud report of a pistol. Lucien rolled on top of Sabrina to pro­tect her and looked over his shoulder, only to see a figure flying at him. He caught it as it hurled itself at him, fists swinging as they tried to make contact with his face.

  "Leave my sister alone! I'll kill you!" Richard cried as he took a swing that barely missed Lucien's nose.

  Lucien caught the young firebrand's wrists with one hand and moving from Sabrina's huddled form, managed to capture the boy's kicking feet between his knees. The figure struggled ineffectively for a moment before quieting.

  "Let me go!" a childish voice ordered.

  Lucien grabbed a fistful of red hair and raised the hid­den face into view off his chest. Two angry blue eyes be­hind round lenses glared up at him. The little boy's stock was crumpled and he'd lost a shoe in the scuffle as well as a stocking that was partially unrolled down his calf.

  Lucien returned the young boy's stare grimly. "From his manners I would hazard a guess that this pup is a rela­tion."

  Sabrina pulled herself up from the tumbled bedclothes and looked in amazement at Richard locked between Lu­cien's legs, his face red with anger and wet with tears as he tried to worm his way free.

  "Richard!" Sabrina cried, trying to release him from Lucien's bold. "Let him go. He's my brother," Sabrina told Lucien as she pulled ineffectively at his wrist. Her dressing gown had fallen open and the lace at her breasts fluttered with her heavy breathing as she confronted the blazing sherry eyes above her. "If you've hurt him!"

  "Hurt this little brawler?" Lucien demanded incredu­lously. "If he were not such a poor shot, your knight-errant here would have killed us both."

  "I wouldn't hurt Rina!" Richard cried. "You were being mean to her. You made her cry, I heard you, and she said she hated you!" Richard defended himself with childish logic. "I'd never hurt Rina," he repeated tearfully.

  A scuffling of feet caused them to look up as Mary, fol­lowed by Sims and a couple of footmen, Hobbs with a poker and the cook with a rolling pin, all fell into the room, their faces mirroring astonishment and consterna­tion as they stared at the three people in the bed.

  Mary was the first to reach them, her voice trembling with fear. "What has happened?" Her face was white as the sheets as her gray eyes searched the bed for any sign of blood.

  Sabrina pulled her robe together and pushing a thick wave of hair out of her eyes looked up at the dismayed faces surrounding the big bed. "Richard was showing Lu­cien his new pistol and it accidentally discharged. Fortu­nately no one was hurt." Sabrina smiled stiffly. "I appreci­ate your concern, but everything is fine, truly."

  Taking this explanation as a dismissal, they shuffled out, their faces wearing expressions of mixed emotions at her words.

  "I'll be polishing the silver in the hall, Lady Sabrina," Sims added as he left the room, a warning glint in his eye as he watched the Duke, who by now had released the squirming Richard.

  Mary stood silent, her face drained of emotion as Lu­cien's shoulders began to shake and he gave a deep rumble of laughter. Richard moved out of reach quickly and stared from the protection of Mary's arms at Lucien's grinning face, while Sabrina and Mary exchanged curious glances.

  "I haven't laughed so hard in years. You certainly have-a loyal staff," he laughed again, "and who was the buxom harridan with the rolling pin?" His chest shook with mirth. "God, what a household. I've never taken such abuse in my life. Assaulted first by a wild-eyed wench, spitting like a ruffled kitten, then a tadpole hardly out of swaddling clothes brandishing a loaded pistol, and now to top it off, the servants wielding pokers and rolling pins. Well, who's next? Some mangy mutt to snarl at my ankles? Not a very hospitable welcome for your husband-to-be."

  Lucien climbed from the bed, and with a sweeping bow to them all he left the room, his deep laughter ringing in their ears.

  "I don't like him," Richard said gruffly. "Who is he, and why is he here?" He looked into Sabrina's violet eyes, a puzzled frown on his childish features. "What did he mean, husband-to-be, Rina?" Richard asked trustingly as he left Mary's arms and climbed back onto the bed beside Sabrina.

  Sabrina rested her chin on top of Richard's red head thoughtfully. "I wish I could explain everything to you, Dickie, but I am so unsure of what I am doing."

  "The Duke spells trouble, Rina. He won't be put off this time."

  "The Duke! A real Duke, Rina?" Richard gasped aloud, looking up at her in awe.

  "Yes, he is very much the arrogant Duke," Sabrina an­swered simply, "and he makes the most of his title."

  "Are you going to marry him?"

  Sabrina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "No," she said softly, yet firmly.

  Richard's mouth opened soundlessly and his eyes wid­ened in fear. "But Rina, he'll beat you if you don't. Did you see that scar? He must be ever so mean." He straightened his shoulders manfully. "I'll protect you from him, Rina. Ill get rid of him if you don't want to marry him."

  Sabrina hugged Richard to her tightly. "Thank you, love, but it won't be necessary. I hate abandoning you two to the mercies of the Duke, but I must leave here if I'm to stay free and be able to get the rest of the money we need. Look, if you need me, leave a note in the church un­der our pew. You know the loose stone. Slip it in there and 111 check every so often, all right?"

  "Where will you stay?" Mary asked worriedly, not car­ing for this plan. "Can't you stay with the Taylors and send Will or John for news?"

  "Lucien might see them; he knows them well enough by now. Their size would make him suspicious, and I might be seen leaving the Taylors', either as myself or Bonnie Charlie, neither of which would go without comment," Sa­brina explained practically. "We've a hut in the marsh and that will suffice. After all, I don't plan on an extended visit. Lucien is so arrogant that he cannot imagine that I will not fall in with his plans, and he doesn't have the time to waste searching the countryside for me; so it's just a mat­ter of out-waiting him, and then we can return to normal. Just wait and see," Sabrina said with growing excitement, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she masked the hurt within her with pretended exuberance. "We'll go on pic­nics again, and this time Richard shall go riding with us, and we can have so much fun. We'll forget all of this soon. You'll see it'll all end soon."

  Mary lowered her eyes, hiding her expression from Sa­brina's sharp gaze, hiding the doubt and fears that she knew for a certainty would come true.

  "I thought I might be ostracized at dinner this evening," Lucien said dryly as Mary entered the salon, the first of the family to appear since afternoon.

  Mary curtsied and approached the Duke, an earnest look on her face as she stood before him, "I would like to speak honestly with you, if I may?"

  Lucien smiled cynically. "By all means, it would be a pleasure and like a breath of fresh air to hear the truth around here."

  They sat down in facing chairs and Mary began haltingly, "You must have a very poor opinion indeed, Your Grace, of our family, but you see us in unusual circumstances." She nervously twisted her lace handkerchief as Lucien watched and listened while sipping a brandy, having made himself perfectly at home.

  "You are privileged to know our family secret, but I wonder if you've fully realized the extent of it?" she asked timidly.

  Lucien smiled. "Had I not personally discovered the secret of the highw
ayman's identity I would not believe it if told."

  "Did you know that we fled Scotland for our lives one cold, very bleak and terrible day? We had no future, no real plans, just a memory of this house where we were born, but which we had not seen in over six or seven years. We'd lived since our mother's death with her father in Scotland."

  Lucien's interest had been caught, and he commented, "Bonnie Charlie now makes more sense."

  Mary nodded sadly. "Yes, we are part Scots, although Sabrina bears the most resemblance to our English side of the family, Richard and I obviously showing our Scots heritage. Sabrina was, however, influenced the most by our grandfather. Richard was too young, and I," she paused almost apologetically, "well, I had not the wild spirit of Rina. Grandfather and she were kindred spirits."

  Lucien shook his head. "Raised by a highland chieftain, no wonder she's an unprincipled little wildcat."

  Mary looked down at her hands in her lap. "Sabrina saw him die. I did too, but in my dreams. Rina was actu­ally there at Culloden."

  "Sabrina was witness to that battle? My God," Lucien breathed, "she must have only been a child."

  "She still carries the scars. She has nightmares and will not to this day wear red."

  "The nightmares, of course," Lucien remembered.

  "Can you imagine what that was like? The killing, the blood? Grandfather died in her arms in a crofter's hut in the hills," Mary told him softly, her voice edged with tears. "I'll never forget her face when she came back to the castle. It was like porcelain. I thought at the time if I stretched my hand out my fingers would touch cold china. She had seemed to age a century in a couple of hours."

  Mary looked up into Lucien's thoughtful eyes, then looking around the room she gestured, encompassing it all, including herself. "All that you see, both here and on the estate, is because of Rina. Do you think this house was as it is now when we arrived? The whole estate had gone to seed. Our tenants were starving, the commons had been eaten up by the larger landowners, especially Lords Mal­ton and Newley who have bought up most of the land in this valley, including a great portion of ours. When we ar­rived here in England we were virtually penniless. How could we live? Taxes had increased exorbitantly and the Marquis' solicitors were being forced into selling unless we came up with the money. The Marquis was living in Eu­rope and could not have cared less.