Moonstruck Madness (28 page)

"Kill whom?" Lucien demanded incredulously, staring down at her as if he thought her crazed.

"Sabrina! The Marquis is beating her, and it is
all your
fault!" she raged at him, tears streaking her cheeks.

Lucien eased her into the majordomo's arms and sprinted up the stairs, heading toward the sound of a whip slashing through the air, his mouth set in a grim, determined line as he found the room. He grabbed the Marquis' raised arm and twisted it painfully behind his back, forcing the Marquis to drop the whip as he gave a grunt of surprise at the attack.

"What the devil?" he cried out and turned to see who dared to interfere, his face contorted with rage until he stared up into Lucien's eyes and the scar whitening along his cheek. He felt a flicker of fear as Lucien's grip tightened painfully, then cried out and Lucien pushed him away in disgust.

"Get out! And if you ever lay another hand on her I'll take that whip and strip your coward's hide from you," he warned the astounded Marquis, and turning his back on him knelt down beside the fallen figure crumpled on the floor.

Lucien carefully lifted her up into his arms and placed her gently on the bed, laying her on her stomach to avoid the raw strips of flesh exposed through the torn gown that was stained with drops of blood. His face was taut as he smoothed a deep wave of black hair out of her face and stared down at her pale face, lines of suffering still on it. He waited while her eyelids fluttered and gradually opened and she stared up at him with her great violet eyes.

"I
hate you, Lucien," she whispered. "Have you come to gloat over your victory?"

Lucien's mouth tightened at her words, for that was what he had come to do, and instead he had found her nearly unconscious with pain because of him. "I'm not gloating, Sabrina. I would never have you harmed like this," he told her truthfully.

But Sabrina's faith had been broken, and her young girl's love for him shattered, and all she felt now for him was hatred. "Liar," she told him, her lips curling with contempt as her thick lashes came down and closed over her eyes, blocking him from her mind.

Lucien continued to smooth the soft hair from her face despite her unresponsiveness to his touch. He looked over his shoulder as Mary entered the room with a bowl of water and cloth to bathe her wounds. She stood beside him staring down at Sabrina's bloodied back, tears starting afresh in her eyes at the sight of proud Sabrina humbled and humiliated this way.

"If you will leave us?" she asked coldly, her eyes still on her sister.

Lucien got to his feet and without a word left the room and Sabrina to Mary's ministrations. He walked purposefully down the stairs, heading for the door where raised voices could be heard.

"How could you beat the little one?" the Contessa demanded angrily. "That is not the way to handle such a one as she. You bring out the rebellion in her to do that. Besides, you might have ruined her beauty, and that is all that we have to offer her for," the Contessa continued practically. Then her brown eyes softened for just an instant. "I am fond of the little one, oddly enough, and I do not like to see you crush the spirit out of her."

"Nor do I," Lucien spoke as he entered the room. "She was not to blame for the incident at Granston's. She was duped by me, and I am here to make amends, and come to an arrangement that should meet with your approval."

The Marquis eyed the Duke mistrustfully, keeping a good distance from him. "I do not think that we've anything to discuss, Your Grace," the Marquis told him coldly, still feeling affronted by the rough handling he'd received from the Duke.

"Oh, but I think that we do," Lucien contradicted him smoothly. "You see, I intend to marry your daughter, Sabrina."

The Marquis choked at this sudden announcement and couldn't have been more startled had he been shot. "Marry!" he demanded, his eyes wide. "This is preposterous. You are already engaged, and are to—"

The haughty look on the Duke's face silenced the rest of the Marquis' sentence and he spluttered to an abrupt stop. "Due to some unfortunate circumstances, that engagement no longer exists, therefore I am free to select another bride," Lucien informed the Marquis and Contessa who were listening in silent amazement, "and I choose your daughter, Sabrina."

"Aspetti un momento, per favore"
the Contessa murmured, "while
I
sit down, for this news is too much excitement, and order some wine for I am in need of it,
caro."

"Certainly," the Marquis beamed, "after all, this is cause for celebration."

"You'll forgive me if I must decline," the Duke said in a cold voice that left little doubt that he felt just the opposite, and with a cool nod turned to leave the room.

"But what of the arrangements?
When will you marry? Do you not have to by a certain date if you are to inherit your estate . . ." The Marquis trailed off uncomfortably under the Duke's arrogant stare.

"Per favore, caro"
the Contessa intervened quickly, "we will leave it all up to the Duke. Of course, we will have to come to some small financial arrangement,
si?"
she said meaningfully.

Lucien inclined his head. "It will be taken care of,
Contessa,
I will have my solicitor draw up the papers. Now if you will excuse me?" He didn't wait for an answer and left the room, but not before he heard the Marquis' gleeful chuckle.

Returning upstairs he entered Sabrina's room without knocking to find her stretched out on the bed, a blanket covering her hips while Mary bathed her bruised shoulders and back. Lucien's mouth tightened ominously as he saw the ugly weals across the smooth, previously flawless skin. Every so often she gave a small, involuntary groan as Mary's gentle fingers caused her pain, but for most of the time she maintained a suffering silence.

Mary looked up quickly as she suddenly became aware of his presence in the room and stood up protectively before Sabrina. "Who do you think you are that you may enter our room unannounced?" The usually quiet Mary attacked him, her gray eyes stormy. "I will thank you, of course, for intervening and saving Sabrina, but if it hadn't been for you in the first place this would never have happened."

A flicker of surprise entered Lucien's eyes at this outburst from one he had mistakenly thought to be rather a nonentity, her quietness and serenity having surprised him at first considering she was Sabrina's sister. And now she had flared up like a firecracker. His eyes went to the red hair as if in explanation.

"As it so happens," he said quietly, "I do most certainly have a right to enter Sabrina's room—I shall be marrying her," he said bluntly.

Mary gasped in dismay, and then rushed to Sabrina who was struggling to sit up, the sheet held against her breasts as she stared up at Lucien, her violet eyes wide and darkened with both pain and puzzlement.

"Is this another of your games, Lucien?" she demanded in a small, choked voice.

Lucien moved forward until he stood next to the bed. "No, Sabrina, I have never been more serious than at this moment. You and I are to be wed, and despite the words you are about to fling at my head, we will be married," Lucien told her firmly, noticing the rebellious look enter her eyes as she stared up at him defiantly.

"Have you not forgotten your fiancée?" she asked icily, her round chin raised with dignity despite her dishabille.

"No, I have not forgotten her," Lucien answered quietly, his eyes clouded for a moment as he wondered about the fate of poor Blanche. "We are no longer engaged, so
I
have decided to marry you."

"You
have decided?" Sabrina laughed shortly.
"How fortunate for me.
However, it is a pity that I shall have to turn you down. Certainly a man of your noble bearing and experience will be able to find another poor fool to share your inheritance with you," Sabrina told him, feeling deep pleasure at being able to thwart his plans, "for that is why you've asked me, isn't it? You need a bride, and since you so ruthlessly destroyed my reputation you thought that I would jump at the chance of marrying you. Well,
I
do not need you, or your title, or your money.
I
can get all the money
I
need without having to resort to marriage with someone I find repulsive and offensive," Sabrina told him fiercely.

Lucien stared down at her angrily. Never had anyone defied him as much as this little
slip
of a thing. "You little fool. It's time you grew up and faced the realities of life. This isn't some game you are playing at. They hang men for doing less than you have. Do you even have the slightest idea what you'd face if you were captured and sent to prison?" he demanded, enraged by her devil-may-care attitude. "There are no separate quarters for the men and women during the day, and at night you sleep on straw infested with lice and fleas, living in little more than a pigsty, eating boiled bread and water. Of course, as a thief, you are well versed in the ways of the criminal? You have heard of 'pay or strip,' where you are required by the other inmates to pay an entrance fee in order to keep your clothes. A pity if you don't have the necessary guineas, for they will strip the clothes from your back." Lucien described the scene in detail, well aware of Sabrina's shocked face and Mary's white one as she leaned against the bedpost feeling sick.

"And should you survive your confinement, you face hanging at Tyburn, or maybe you will be more fortunate and die from fever. I do believe that is what gets most of them. It's not a very pretty life, is it, Sabrina?" Lucien asked softly, satisfied with the effect of his words on both young girls. "I think life with me will not be quite so harrowing, nor dangerous, Sabrina."

He turned and walked unhurriedly to the door.
"Ironic how things work out.
Who would have thought that I would be marrying the highwayman who held me up at sword point?" His sherry eyes encompassed both figures lazily as he paused at the door. "And
I
trust that
I
needn't warn you not to put your heads together and make some foolhardy plans to try and hinder me? It is too late, your father has agreed, and all of the arrangements are being made, so accept your defeat, Sabrina, for I can promise you it won't be as bad as you think."

Sabrina stared at the door as it closed behind Lucien's tall figure, her eyes a dark, brooding violet. She put a hand to her trembling lips, unable to believe what had just taken place.

Mary stood up, an indecisive look on her face as she stared at Sabrina, who looked like a small child who had been unjustly and cruelly punished.

"Rina," she began hesitantly, "you're not going to defy them, are you?"

Sabrina looked up at her blankly, her face a frozen
mask
from which the hatred and despair had been wiped clean, but so had the gentleness and innocence, and Mary felt as though she were staring at a stranger.

"I'm going home to Verrick House, Mary," she said dully, her eyes glazed over. "I'm going to get the Marquis all of the money he could want, but I'll not marry Lucien. He will have to find someone else to help him win his inheritance, but I hope he doesn't, I hope he loses it," she added spitefully,
then
looked up at Mary's concerned face, a wildness in her eyes. "Don't ever let the Marquis near me again, Mary, or I swear I will kill him and feel no regret"

A
great flame follows
a
little spark.

Dante Alighieri

Chapter
10

T
HE three horses pawed the soft earth impatiently as their masked riders sat patiently awaiting the sound of coach wheels creaking and rumbling along the darkened road.

"Should be coming soon, Charlie," Will whispered as
a
beam of silvery moonlight bathed the three of them where they sat silently on their horses beside the road.

"They was talkin' and drinkin' their fill this afternoon in the Faire Maiden.
Expectin' guests at Lord Newley's tonight."

"We will welcome them first," Sabrina replied with
a
grim smile. Her eyes glittered through the mask as she heard the first sounds of an approaching carriage. "Across the road, John," she directed quickly,
then
pulled her horse back under the overhanging branches as the coach-and-six appeared around the bend of the road. She could hear the coachman yelling to his team and the cracking of his whip until he saw the fallen tree across the roadway and began to slow the horses.

The two outriders were halted in front of the tree by now and as they looked around they were confronted by
the muzzles of four pistols aimed at their heads. They quickly dropped their pistols and dismounted as Will directed them to the side of the road and then walking his horse around them, wrapped a piece of rope about their two figures, securing them to a tree.

The coach halted within feet of the fallen tree, the coachman calling out for assistance, but by then John had dealt similarly with the outriders following behind, and now the coachman sat with a bemused expression on his face as he looked into Sabrina's pistol barrel.

"Disarm yourself, coachman," she ordered as Will opened the coach door and accosted the frightened occupants of the coach.

Quickly jewels and loaded purses changed hands, and without bloodshed Bonnie Charlie disappeared into the night, leaving stunned outrage on the victims' faces.

Time and time again they struck, gathering together one of the largest plunders they had yet seen. Bonnie Charlie's name was once again spoken of throughout the countryside, the suddenness and frequency of these holdups stunning people after the relative quiet of the past month when Bonnie Charlie had apparently disappeared.

Less than a week had passed since Sabrina and Mary had left London so abruptly. Nothing had happened so far, and that was worrying Sabrina. She knew that either the Marquis or Lucien would follow and try to force her into marriage—but so far she had heard nothing. But she vowed she would get the money for the Marquis and then they would be rid of him.

"Slow up, Charlie," Will called warningly as his big roan raced beside Sabrina's black stallion. They slowed their horses' pace as they neared the crest of the hill they had been steadily climbing. As they cantered over the top they pulled up abruptly as they saw a patrol of dragoons making their way up the other side.

"Thought I heard the cursed jingling of harness," Will spat as they swiftly turned and fled back down the hill, but
not before the soldiers had caught a glimpse of them and were following in close pursuit.

They galloped across the fields, jumping fences and hedges, the crying yells of the soldiers urging them on. As they neared the first trees of a heavily wooded area bordering the fields, they split, each masked rider going in a different direction as they disappeared into the thick belt of woodland. Sabrina urged her mount through the brambles and thickets, heading deeper into the concealing trees, but still behind her she could hear the breaking of twigs and snapping of branches as the soldiers traced their way after her.

Breaking from the cover of trees, Sabrina headed over a rising
mound,
and with a casual wave of a gloved hand as she glanced over her shoulder at the three soldiers just leaving the forest, disappeared from their view over the other side.

Colonel Fletcher stared about him, dawning dismay spreading across his features. "Where the devil did he go?"

Below them, down the easily sloping rise, the countryside was empty. How could there be no sight of the highwayman? Colonel Fletcher's mouth tightened into a grim line as he realized that he had been outwitted.

"Sir?" the young lieutenant beside him questioned tentatively.
"Which way?"

Colonel Fletcher shook his head in exasperation.
"Which way?
As far as I know he has disappeared underground, the cursed fellow. We're on his home turf. He knows every hiding place around here. But where he's disappeared to now, God only knows. We'd need an army to search the whole area," he said in disgust. "We might as well head back to the
road,
we'll not catch him tonight."

The two soldiers rode off, but before following them Colonel Fletcher spoke aloud to the empty darkness.
"This time you've gotten away, Bonnie Charlie, but not always.
Someday you'll make a mistake, and I'll be waiting."

Sabrina quieted her horse as she heard the colonel and his men leave the hill. So, he would be waiting, would he? Well, like the good man said, this was her turf and they played by her rules here, she thought with amusement. She sighed, shuddering in the darkness that smelled of decay as the richness of the damp soil permeated the air. The smooth stone slabs surrounding her were cool and hard against her palm. This ancient stone-chambered burial ground for some forgotten race made an excellent hiding place. Little did the colonel and his men realize that she stood hidden beneath their very feet in this barrow covered with smooth earth, the upright stones holding the man-made roof above her head and forming a perfect, man-sized rabbit hole. Will and John wouldn't enter it, superstitious of the ghosts of the dead, and Sabrina had to admit that she seldom cared to use it herself. She waited impatiently until it was quiet, and then led her horse past the fallen piece of stone that shielded the entrance and through the shrubbery that had grown up densely in front of it.

Will and John should by now have safely eluded the soldiers and made their way into the marsh. Sabrina smiled as she mounted and made her way to the trees, her saddlebag full of money and jewels. Men were such fools at times, she thought contemptuously. Through their own masculine conceit they underestimated women, and fooled themselves.

They had begun to rob in the daylight, a dangerous practice, but she was racing against time, for soon someone would arrive and she wanted to be able to turn over as much money as she could. Will and John had not even hesitated when she had humbly asked for their help once more. She had hated having to involve them again, but she could not succeed without them, and it wouldn't last forever. They would soon be back to normal, she reassured herself, as she rode through the lonely darkness.

The following morning as Sabrina was standing in the hall, Richard called down to her. "There you are! I thought I had missed you." He hopped down the stairs, his whole demeanor having undergone a complete change
since returning from London. "Mr. Teesdale says my mind's wandering, so he let me off early."

Sabrina caught the wistful look in his blue eyes and asked him what was troubling him, even though she suspected already what it was.

"Well," he began shyly, "the fair starts today, Rina, and
I
was kind of hoping to go, maybe?" He looked up hopefully, his eyes full of anticipation and excitement. "Of course, I know you've been extra busy and all, so if we can't go, well, I understand," he added unselfishly, but unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"Who said we were not going?" Sabrina demanded gaily. "Now go ask Mary if she wants to come, while I go fetch my bonnet."

"Oh, you really mean it, Rina?" Richard jumped up and down in joy.

"I most certainly do. Now, hop to it, we don’t want to miss anything."

Richard skipped off, loudly calling for Mary as he went. Sabrina climbed the stairs, her shoulders drooping tiredly. She was having trouble sleeping and the restless nights had left their mark with the faint purplish shadows beneath her eyes. She stood before the mirror and put on a large, wide-brimmed straw hat, tying the leaf-green ribbons that matched her gown beneath her chin. She carelessly knotted the ends of a large, rose-colored silk handkerchief she had folded diagonally and draped over her shoulders, partially concealing the décolletage of her gown. It was the same shade as her quilted petticoat and the roses embroidered on the skirt of her gown. Sabrina smoothed the folds, liking the feel of it beneath her hands. With a purposeful sway of her hips she picked up her gloves and purse and left the room, enjoying dressing as herself for a change—men's breeches were a bit too revealing for comfort. She liked to hear the rustle of silk and feel the soft sway of her petticoats as she moved.

Mary and Richard were waiting in the hall as Sabrina descended the stairs.

"I've told Richard that we are going to keep a very vigilant eye over what he eats," Mary said. "You remember the stomachache he got last year after the fair."

"Oh, Mary, it's no fun if you can't eat what you want Please," Richard pleaded. "I've saved lots of money, too!"

"Well see," she answered as she winked at Sabrina who was openly grinning. Mary gave a sigh of relief. Sabrina had been so morose and desperate-looking these past few days, so brittle, Mary thought she would shatter soon. If only they did not have this awful fear and uncertainty hanging over their heads.

"We're going to the fair, Sims," Mary declared gaily as the butler held open the door for them.

"Yes, Lady Mary," Sims agreed stoically as they filed past.

"I'll bring you back some sake, Sims," Richard promised over his shoulder as he climbed into the cart.

Sims nodded, a smile lurking in his eyes as he closed the door on the gay trio.

They traveled quickly down the road, hearing the continuous bell-ringing calling the countryside to the fair. As their cart pulled off of the road and onto the bumpy ground of the field, they could see the little city of tents that had been set up for six days of merriment and trading. Farm wagons and coaches, carts and horses crowded together as their occupants tried to get closer to the loud sound of voices coming from the enclosed area.

Richard led them first to the baker, no sign of direction needed to find his tent, where the aromatic scent of freshly baked cakes and cookies drifted in all directions and guided the hungry unerringly to his door. Richard's eyes sparkled and he licked his lips in expectation as he stared at the display of treats before him.

"And what will the young master be wantin' this fine summer day?" a cheery-faced individual asked from behind the counter.

Richard frowned as he ran his gaze over the wide assortment of baked sweets. "I'll have some of
those sugar
and cinnamon sprinkled cakes, and the almond pastry shaped like the lion and the eagle," Richard decided firmly even as his eye lingered over a spicy confection filled with cream.

The baker grinned as he glanced for approval at the pretty ladies standing behind the young gentleman. At their nods he wrapped Richard's selection in paper and exchanged it for the coins Richard held out in his palm. "Pleasure doing business with
ye
, sir," he beamed as Richard took a hefty bite from one of the cakes.

They wandered through the crowd, bumping elbows with farmers' wives herding their unruly children from amusement to amusement, their scrubby faces full of excitement and adventure. Gaily clad jugglers and minstrels strumming their tales sauntered through the milling crowd, enticing and guiding prospective customers up to various rows of stalls. The fires of hot coals smouldered as the braziers worked their malleable brass and displayed their wares behind them on loaded shelves. Pewter gleamed dully from Pewterers' Row and a cloth exchange brimming with colorful fabrics of every description filled several large stalls. Fine French cambric, Indian cotton, cherryderry, damask and denim; drab, Florentine silk and gauze; soft mohair, nankeen, and poplin all caught the eye. Silver ribbons and bright velvet bows waved in the breeze as young country maids gazed rapturously at the beautiful colors, their fingers clenching enough coin to buy a gay length of ribbon to thread through their curls, or a silk handkerchief for Sunday morning.

Mary smoothed a square of blue and green Indian silk. "I've been meaning to buy a handkerchief to match this dress. Do you think it does?" she asked Sabrina who was deciding between a striped yellow and purple handkerchief and a solid turquoise one, while Richard fidgeted beside them, his eyes watching a puppet show across the path.