Moonstruck Masness

by Laurie McBain

  "Oh, I would, truly I would," Richard breathed in awe. "You won't change your mind, will you? Even if I'm bad and don't study my lessons? Mr. Teesdale said I'd been lacka—, well, lazy, and he was going to tell you."

  Lucien laughed. "I'll tell you a secret, between only you and me now," he whispered conspiratorially.

  "I promise not to tell," Richard answered solemnly, crossing his heart to seal it.

  "Well, I played hooky more than I care to remember when I should've been cracking the books, but who can resist a warm afternoon when the trout are big and jumping in the lake? But don't do it too often," he cau­tioned him.

  "I won't, in fact I'll study extra hard," Richard prom­ised, a wide smile on his face.

  Lucien patted his small shoulder fondly. "Good lad, and remember, tomorrow I'll teach you a few pointers about those pistols of yours."

  Richard impulsively hugged Lucien around the waist, pressing his hot face against the man's waistcoat. "Thank you, Lucien," he mumbled before turning away, flustered, to examine his pistols. Lucien stared at the boy for a mo­ment before leaving the room, wondering why pleasing that little fellow should leave him feeling so pleased him­self? The poor little man. That was exactly what he needed—a man to take him under his wing and teach him what all young boys should be enjoying. His own son would not be left to grow up without a father's guidance. His son—yes, he liked the sound of that. He wanted this child that Sabrina carried. She was hardly more than a child herself, and yet she would bear him a child—his heir. And what a child it would be, he thought proudly, as he saw her beauty and spirit.

  Sabrina awoke from her sleep feeling refreshed. The doubts that had caused her headache had vanished from her thoughts. She slid from the bed and opening wide the latticed window took a deep breath of the sun-warmed garden. Giving a sigh of satisfaction she spun around the room, coming to a halt before the mirror. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, noting the color in her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes, pleased that she was not nearly so thin anymore. Soon she would see Lucien's home, Camareigh, and she would live there with him. She would miss Verrick House, but Mary would wed her colonel soon, and of course this would one day be Richard's, but until then he would live with her. She would have to talk to Lucien about that, and of course, there was dear Aunt Margaret, but she doubted whethershe would leave Verrick House, it had been her home for so long. Well, she would let Lucien handle everything, he did these things so well.

  Smoothing her curls and tying a fresh apron of cream silk embroidered in colored silks around her waist, Sabrina made her way downstairs.

  Colonel Fletcher was standing by the mantelpiece sip­ping a brandy as he talked with Lucien. They turned as Sabrina entered, abruptly halting their conversation and ex­changing glances as she smiled up at them, her hand tucked into the crook of Lucien's arm.

  "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

  "Not at all, Sabrina," the colonel answered quickly, a smile of genuine warmth in his eyes as he stared down at her smiling face, and then at the gentle possessiveness on the Duke's. He hoped all would work out for them—and maybe she would be fortunate enough to never remember her unlawful escapades. He'd seen men under the stress of battle completely break down, and some never remember­ing anything.

  She was very fortunate that the Duke had fallen in love with her, for he was definitely the right man for the child—and that is how he'd always picture her. Running away from that Scottish hut, a little girl with fear and hatred in those remarkable eyes. They were clear of all emotion now, except for love.

  He looked up, his own eyes softening as he watched Mary enter, her face serene and her gray eyes gentle as she returned his smile. Sabrina caught the glance and with a teasing smile lurking in her eyes said to Lucien, "And I always thought that spring was the time for lovers?"

  Colonel Fletcher flushed, momentarily caught off guard, then grinned as he looked into Mary's brightly flushed face.

  "Sabrina!" she protested half-heartedly, although not displeased.

  "They cannot resist imitating our fine example," Lucien commented mockingly while Colonel Fletcher laughed.

  "You'd best watch your step, Lucien, or we'll put you to shame," he responded easily.

  "And when might that day arrive?" Sabrina asked curi­ously.

  "I think next month, if Mary agrees?" Colonel Fletcher said hopefully.

  Mary gave a shy laugh. "Once Sabrina has left, I see no reason why we shouldn't marry. I have wanted to be here to help, but when Sabrina is completely well—"

  "Which I am," Sabrina informed them. "I think you should get married while we are still here, so I may help with the arrangements. Don't you think so, Lucien?"

  "By all means, it will save us a trip as well, so I would marry soon if I were you."

  "Well, we will see," Mary hesitated, ignoring Colonel Fletcher's startled look.

  The next day a summer rain shower kept them indoors as the distant rumble of thunder rattled china and flashes of lightning played across the windows.

  Aunt Margaret was busily embroidering while Mary and Sabrina sat close, heads together as they contemplated several lists before them. Lucien was teaching an absorbed Richard the proper care and maintenance of his pistols, and occasionally Sabrina would glance up as she caught a word or two.

  "You really shouldn't be demonstrating the use of a pis­tol in the salon," Sabrina said as she got up, stretching tired shoulders as she came to stand beside Lucien.

  "Oh, Rina," Richard said worriedly, lest he be cheated out of a lesson, "Lucien did promise."

  Lucien nodded his head. "I can't break a promise, now can I?" He winked at Richard, who was lifting one of the pistols and pretending to aim it at a distant target.

  "No, no, Richard," Sabrina spoke suddenly, and reaching out casually picked up the other pistol and aimed it steadily. "You grasp the butt firmly, yet not tightly, and easily pull the trigger. Don't rush it. And be sure to hold the barrel—" she began knowledgeably, stopping abruptly as she realized what she said. Her face grew pale and the hand holding the gun so assuredly a moment before began to shake.

  Richard was staring open-mouthed and Mary's eyes had grown wide with consternation. Lucien reached out and pried the pistol loose from Sabrina's fingers.

  "Why, Lucien? Why did I know what to do? How could I possibly be so at ease with pistols? I don't remember ever having held one before," she said in puzzlement as she looked up at Lucien in panic.

  He put an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "It's not unusual, love. Your grandfather must have taught you as a small child. It's nothing to become distressed over." He looked down into her upturned face. "Now smile, come on, no sour faces on a day like this, it's bad enough outside."

  Sabrina smiled slightly, unable to resist the look in Lu­cien's warm eyes, but her doubts returned to her later that evening as she lay in bed unable to sleep.

  "Sabrina?" A voice spoke softly from the door.

  Sabrina sat up in her bed and stared through the darkness. "Lucien?"

  "And who else could it possibly be?" he asked as he drew near the bed. "I thought you might be lonely?"

  "Not any longer, Lucien," Sabrina said softly, her heart beating quickly as she felt the bed give under his weight. He drew back the covers and slid beneath, taking her in his arms as he lay down beside her. Sabrina buried her face in his neck, pressing close to his warm body.

  "I couldn't go to sleep. I've been so worried about ev­erything, and all I needed was you, Lucien," Sabrina whis­pered against his throat.

  "I knew I should've made your bed mine long before now," Lucien murmured as he nibbled at her ear. "I'll not have you worrying your foolish head about that incident this afternoon. I thought it was time I gave you something else to think about."

  Lucien's lips captured hers as he pulled her tightly against his chest, her eager mouth opening beneath the pressure of his. She rubbed her hands over his chest and up behind his neck and into the th
ick golden curls, feeling herself respond to his hands as they moved over her body knowingly.

  "Make me forget everything, Lucien, everything except you," Sabrina pleaded as she moved wantonly against his body. "Lucien, love me."

  "Sabrina, my love," Lucien replied, kissing his name from her lips as he made her forget everything but his lovemaking.

  Here's the devil-and-all to pay.

  Miguel de Cervantes

  Chapter 13

  " WE get them extra bottles of rum in yet?" Will asked John, who was polishing several knives and spoons.

  "Came this afternoon," he replied without looking up from his chore. "You know, I kind a miss the excitement of riding with Charlie."

  "Yeah, being respectable isn't very exciting," Will agreed, picking up a spoon, and breathing on it, rubbed it clean on the corner of his coat.

  "Wonder how she's doing? She was mighty sick."

  "Poor little Charlie. Think she really did forget al about us like the Duke said?" Will speculated doubtfully.

  "Sure, she would've been to see us if she hadn't. Really miss her, so does Mam."

  "After that meeting with the Duke, you know, when he was threatening to string us up for allowing Charlie to stay in the marsh, I sort of respect him. He isn't really all that bad, and I figure he really does care for her."

  "Think so?"

  "Yeah, and what's more, I think Charlie is in love with him," he said thoughtfully, then chuckled. "She better be, after he made us give back all of Charlie's loot. Be madder'n hell if she knew."

  "He sure can fight," John said with admiration.

  "Just glad that we're on the same side now," Will com­mented thankfully, "and that he isn't one to hold grudges against a person."

  "But what about the colonel? He's gotten mighty sweet on Lady Mary," John said jealously. "Think he knows about us? Or even about Charlie?"

  Will shrugged. "If he did, he would've been here with a patrol to arrest us, and if he knew about Charlie, do you think he'd ruin his chances with the Lady Mary by hang­ing her sister? Besides, Charlie's a Duchess now, and I wouldn't want to tell the Duke you was planning on stringing up his wife." Will rubbed his chin reflectively. "Yeah, we're sitting real pretty, John, and I figure it's bet­ter to be bored than hanged."

  John nodded and put a big hand to his thick neck pro­tectively. He glanced around the largest, and nicest, of their private rooms. The oak-paneled walls and oak beams, combined with the fireplace and colorful landscape above it, created a very hospitable room. It was especially nice when the sun shining through the only stained glass win­dow in the inn, and imported especially from London, created a rainbow of colors.

  Will left John to his work and went out into the hall, stopping as he heard the sounds of a coach pulling up close to the door. Opening it he stood waiting, a smile of welcome on his broad face as he watched a man and a woman climb from the coach. "Welcome, I'm Will Taylor, the landlord and your host while you stay at the Faire Maiden Inn. Will you be requiring rooms, refreshments?" he inquired of the gentleman before him.

  Lord Percy Rathbourne gave a cursory glance at the big fellow as he escorted Kate into the hall.

  "We shall require a couple of rooms and your best pri­vate dining room. You may now show us to our rooms. Oh, and I expect neat wine," he told Will imperiously.

  Will flushed with anger as he answered steadily, "We never water our wines. We've a good and honest reputa­tion. Air our beds, good food and fair prices."

  Lord Rathbourne started to make a scathing retort when he was interrupted by a peevish voice. "Oh, do come along, Percy, I grow fatigued listening to you argue with this rustic."

  Will led them silently to their rooms, and finding John in the kitchen downstairs, grumbled to him about the fancy high-borns upstairs. "Oughta double-charge them and pep­per the beef, but good. Like to see the gent in such a sneezing fit he'd shake the wig off his head."

  John grinned as he sampled a slice of thick beef, and nodding his head said, "Could use a dash here, I think." With a sly grin he shook a liberal dose of pepper over the meat. Looking at the serving maid he pointed to the cut of beef and ordered, "Make sure this goes to the new arrivals, eh, Midge?"

  "Right, John," she answered with a grin of relish, having already crossed paths with the fancy lady upstairs. "Maybe they won't be a'wantin' to stay so long after samplin' our food?" With a broad wink she lifted the tray and carried it from the room.

  Will had returned to the hall when three men entered, and he quickly took their measure, not caring for their unkempt appearance as they loitered in the hall. "Can I be of service to you gents?" he asked doubtfully.

  "I dunno, who be ye?" one of the three demanded belli­gerently.

  "I'm the owner of the Faire Maiden, that's who, so if you're wantin' a room, then fine, although I doubt you can afford it. If not, then be off," Will answered in slightly less than a roar.

  The man who'd spoken for the three earlier shuffled his feet as he reassessed the big landlord who stood glowering at them. He spread his dirty hands pleadingly, a depre­cating grin on his face as he cajoled, "Ah, come on, mate, I meant no harm. My bunkies and me, well, we needs a place to ride anchor, so to speak. Now, we can pay for a couple of nights bedding. If our money's good enough?"

  Will shrugged with displeasure. "Money is money no matter whose pocket it comes out of, but you'll have to eat in the kitchen," he cautioned, hoping it would put them off. "We haven't got a common dining room."

  But the spokesman for the three merely shrugged. "As long as the food'll fill our bellies and ye got somethin' to wet our whistle, we're happy."

  Will frowned. "Just make sure you do your heavy drinking elsewhere. We, and I mean my brother and me when I say that," he grinned as John came up behind him to tower over the three smaller men, "don't deal lightly with drunks who feel like brawlin' on the premises."

  The three men grinned feebly before the superior strength of the two brothers. "Sure, mate, as innocent as little lambs we'll be. Not a peep out o' us, eh?" he promised, sending a look to his two friends who promptly nodded their scruffy heads in agreement.

  "What are you doing here? We don't have entertain­ment that'd keep you more than a day," John asked curi­ously, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as the three ex­changed secretive looks between them.

  "Just restin' up before we ships out o' Dover. No harm in a bloke gettin' a little country air, now is there?" he de­manded truculently.

  "As long as that's all you leave with, mate," Will warned them, and then with a jerk of his big chin, mo­tioned them to follow him upstairs to their room.

  As they made their way along the hall behind Will's broad back, they passed Lord Rathbourne and Kate who were on their way downstairs to dine. With little more than a perfunctory glance at the three, Lord Rathbourne continued behind the swishing satin skirts of Kate.

  "See those fellows we passed in the hall?" Percy asked after having seated Kate and quenched his thirst with a goblet of wine.

  Kate looked up at him derisively. "Dear, dear Percy, I am above casting my eyes at every male I happen to pass. Besides," she added archly, "I hardly think there is anyone here worth my time and effort. Not quite up to my stan­dards, dear."

  Percy scowled at her. "Your own guilty conscience and sharp tongue put you to the blush, my dear, for I was not questioning your amorous intentions, but merely drawing your attention to the fact that those three gentle­men we passed happened to be none other than Jeremy Pace and his hirelings," Percy emphasized nastily.

  Kate smiled at the revelation. "Jeremy Pace. How won­derful. He is the chap we hired to dispose of dear cousin Lucien. I'm sorry now I didn't take a closer look. They say you can always tell a murderer by his eyes."

  Percy snorted. "More likely by the sharpness of his blade and jingle in his pockets."

  Percy took a bite of beef and began to chew, only to turn bright red in the face as he gagged. Kate stared in alarm as Percy choked on the piece of meat
until he fi­nally managed to spit it out. "Merciful God, what in blazes are they serving here!" he croaked, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  Kate prodded her piece of beef experimentally, an un­certain look on her face as she found nothing. Cutting a small piece from the edge, she nibbled at it carefully, then finding nothing amiss, swallowed.

  "It tastes fine to me, Percy. You must've taken too large a bite."

  "Too large a dash of pepper is closer to the truth," he complained, pushing his plate aside and swallowing his glass of wine to douse the fire in his throat. "I shall cer­tainly complain to the landlord over this," he promised an­grily.

  "Do remember, Percy, that we aren't here to attract at­tention, in fact, I wonder at you dragging me down here as well," she demanded.

  "For moral support, of course," Percy sneered at her. "Haven't you always said that you could handle things better than I could? Well, now is your chance to see me fi­nally rid our lives of Lucien's presence."

  "You hope," Kate commented cynically as she pushed the food around on her plate idly. "We haven't succeeded yet, have we, dear?"

  "This time we will," he vowed, his eyes full of malice. "Lucien's time is coming shortly to an end."

  "And will he leave a grieving widow?" she asked mean­ingfully.

  Percy smiled and laughed with abandon. "I fear not, alas, the poor Duke and Duchess are to be murdered while still celebrating their marriage. A pity, for the new Duchess was so young and beautiful to die so tragically," Percy con­cluded sadly, his sherry eyes sparking with anticipation.

  "I do believe I underestimated you at times, Percy. You are a cunning devil. What is the plan?" she asked, in­trigued.

  Percy shook his head. "Not yet, my dear. The manner of his demise is of course all planned, but as yet the time is not set. Our not-so-nice friends upstairs will watch his movements and then we will act. He is lost, my dear Kate. Completely lost."

  He walked behind her and placing a gentle hand on each shoulder, massaged her skin persuasively. "I think now all we need worry about is how I am to spend my in­heritance."