Moonstruck Madness (38 page)

He walked to the door, his step light for the first time in
several weeks.
                                         

"Which means?" Mary persisted, not caring for the look in the Duke's eyes.

Lucien turned, a half-smile parting his lips. "If she has no memory of me, then she also has no memory of her feelings towards me, does she? When I present myself as her fiancée, she will naturally assume she loves me, won't she? She will not recall hating me, nor her objections to marrying me."

Mary stared at him open-mouthed, unable to comprehend exactly what he intended.

"Actually things have worked out quite nicely, for Sabrina and I shall be married before the end of the week—that is all of the time I have—and without the declaration of war it would have previously involved." He rubbed his scar, his eyes reflective. "You do realize that if what you suspect is true, how necessary it is now, more than ever, for Sabrina and me to wed?"

Mary nodded reluctantly. "Yes, of course, but I do not like to deceive her. It's not right and can only end in tragedy. You'll give her time, won't you?" Mary pleaded.

Lucien shrugged. "I don't have much time, but she will have time to recover a little of her strength—but not time to recover her memory."

With that unyielding remark he left the room, leaving Mary standing irresolutely in the center, a look of doubt on her face.

It was late in the afternoon of the next day that Lucien entered Sabrina's room. She'd insisted upon having a sponge bath and Mary had shampooed her long hair, rinsing it with warm water from a pitcher and then toweling it dry and brushing it soothingly in long strokes from scalp to waist. In a clean, snowy white nightgown of soft lawn, Sabrina sat propped up in her bed humming an old ballad from her childhood, surprising herself that she could recall it at all, when a strange man entered and came boldly to her bed and stood staring down at her enigmatically.

He was very handsome despite the scar on his cheek, Sabrina thought as she pulled the coverlet up around her shoulders modestly. He was tall and lean in leather breeches that clung like a second skin to his thighs, and his partially unbuttoned leather waistcoat and ruffled shirt front revealed a triangle of golden hair on his chest. His hair was the same dark golden color and curled behind his ears in unruly waves.

"You'll pardon my dress, but I've been out riding and was just informed that you'd awakened and were having tea, so I thought I'd join you," he finally said, and without waiting for an invitation, sat down on the edge of the bed, one booted leg crossed over the other. "I even brought my own cup," he added with a smile as he filled his cup from the teapot sitting on a tray beside the bed.

"Who are you?" Sabrina demanded curiously. "Why are you here in my room?"

"I'm thirsty," he answered mischievously as he took a large swallow of the steaming brew. "And in answer to
your first question,
I
am Lucien." He narrowed his eyes speculatively as he added purposefully, "I would've thought you'd have remembered me, little Sabrina?"

Sabrina placed her fingers to her temple as it throbbed suddenly. "I am sorry, but I've been ill, and I've forgotten
a
few things, but I'm sure I would have remembered you.
I am
sorry, are you sure we know one another?"

"Oh, very sure, Sabrina, you see I am your fiancé," he told her bluntly.

Sabrina gasped, her violet eyes widening with fright. "It can't be! I
am
not betrothed.
I would remember, I know I would.
You are a stranger to me," she cried out in confusion, tears hovering in her eyes that had grown big with disbelief.

Lucien put his teacup down and, taking her clenched hands in his, shook his head regretfully.
"Not very much of a stranger since we are lovers and you carry my child within you."

Sabrina's face was flooded with color and she tried to pull her hands free. "No," she whispered desperately.

"Yes," he answered firmly, and slipping his hand beneath the covers, placed it possessively on her abdomen, the gesture shocking Sabrina into frozen silence. "Soon it will show."

"Is that why you were to wed me?" she asked painfully, avoiding his eyes.

"No, I would wed you regardless. The plans were made before I knew of this." His hand caressed her hips and slid behind her waist, pulling her close to him. "Trust me, Sabrina. Would you marry me if you did not love me? Would you have let me make love to you otherwise?"

Sabrina turned her head and faced him, her eyes wide and confused as she tried to read his thoughts. Why would he lie? And if she were with his child, could she do anything else? She must love him—she would remember eventually, but until then she must believe him. And there was something so familiar in his sitting on the edge of her bed, it seemed so natural.

She smiled sweetly, her lips parting as she put her arms around his neck and looked up at him with trusting eyes. Lucien drew a deep breath, feeling desire stir as he felt her pliant body in his arms. Gone was the defiance and hatred he'd come to expect. The spitting wildcat had turned into a purring kitten.

He lowered his head and kissed her gently at first and then as she responded, more deeply, parting her lips with his and kissing her mouth passionately, straining her body close to him. His mouth clung to hers as she freed her lips to stare up into his warm eyes, a smile on her soft, red lips as she said, "You do tell the truth, I think, for I do remember a kiss such as this somewhere in my mind."

A
very merry, dancing, drinking,

Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.

John Dryden

Chapter 12

"OH
,
Lucien, look," Sabrina called out as she hurried to Lucien's side, her hands cupped around a nest of twigs and leaves. Nestled inside were three small chiff-chaff eggs, smooth and warm from the sun. "They've fallen from up there," she told him as she pointed to a tree some distance away.

Sabrina looked up at Lucien entreatingly, her eyes darkened by the floppy silk brim of her hat. A dimple peeped out as she smiled and, unable to resist her soft lips, Lucien stole a quick kiss.

"Now what do you want me to do with this?" he inquired lazily as she placed it in his hands confidently.

"Put it back."

"You want me to climb that tree?" he laughed. "I outgrew tree-climbing when I did short pants."

"I bet you were a sweet little boy, but probably a little devil when you did not get your own way," she teased as she led him to the tree.

"And you still are a naughty little girl," Lucien complained good-naturedly as he removed his coat and waist
coat and rolled up his sleeves above his elbows. He stood silently studying the tree and then placing the nest in a branch temporarily, gauged the distance and hefted himself up. He looked down from his perch above Sabrina's head and smiled in self-disgust.

"Climbing trees.
What next will you have me doing, I wonder? Rescuing frogs from lily pads or a mouse from a cat's paw?"

He stared down bemusedly for a moment at Sabrina—his wife. They had been married last week in the small Norman church in a short service with only the family present, for Sabrina was still recuperating from her illness and tired easily. They had decided it would be best for her to regain her strength in her own home with her family around her rather than trying to adjust to new surroundings. There had been one outsider at the wedding, and that had been the Dowager Duchess's solicitor who had
Witnessed
the ceremony and then turned over the deeds to Camareigh. He had finally succeeded in claiming his inheritance. Soon he would take Sabrina there, it was where she belonged. He smiled grimly as he thought of Percy and Kate, how they must hate him. He would deal with them as soon as he had Sabrina settled at Camareigh. His eyes roved possessively over her heart-shaped face raised to his, the black curls framing it delicately. Her cheeks were rosy and had filled out in the last couple of weeks and her eyes were bright and loving as they met his. She looked like a flower in her white dress embroidered with purple violets, a cinnamon rose he'd snatched from a stone wall tucked into her bodice, the little pink bud no softer than her own skin it lay next to.

His hand tightened on the rough bark as he thought of the last few days and the new love that had grown between them. He had learned of a different side of himself.
A gentle and tender side that was irrevocably in love with the beautiful girl below him.
And what of her?
He had gotten to know the real Sabrina. The one that laughed and teased him, that flirted with him and begged for more kisses. She'd fallen in love with him.
But if she ever remembered?
If she ever became aware of his deceit, would she forget their newfound love and turn on him? How could he deny that he'd married her for personal gain? But then, how could he convince her that something he had not anticipated had happened . . . he had fallen in love with her?

He picked up the nest and climbed higher, safely resettling the fallen home amongst the boughs.

"Be careful, Lucien," Sabrina called, shading her eyes from the sun as she watched nervously as Lucien made his way carefully along the swaying branch. He'd nearly reached the trunk when the branch he stood on cracked sharply and with a lurch Lucien's feet slipped and he made a grab for the branch nearest to him.

Sabrina screamed helplessly as he hung suspended for an instant of time and then dropped to the ground through the branches below. Sabrina ran to him where he lay still on the ground, the tall meadow grasses concealing him.

She knelt down beside him and with shaking hands rolled him over, only to find his arms wrapped around her, pulling her down on top of him. He grinned up at her worried frown, his teeth gleaming white in the sunlight.

Sabrina gave a sigh of exasperation, pushing at his chest ineffectively. Still peeved by his trick she lowered her smooth cheek to his, smiling with satisfaction as he yelled when her teeth then bit playfully on the lobe of his ear.

"Vixen," he murmured softly before his lips found hers and he rolled her gently beneath him in the sweet-smelling grasses. His mouth touched the rosebud and followed the stem along the warm flesh, feeling the round, smoothness of her breasts with his lips.

Sabrina gave a sigh of contentment as she felt his weight against her and caressing his neck and face she met his amorous gaze warmly.

"I am so much better, Lucien, that I think I need not dwell in that big bed by myself any longer," she said shyly.

Lucien hugged her tightly and kissed her long and hard until she drew back breathless. "Do you, perchance, find sleeping alone as unrewarding as I do?"

Sabrina blushed, to his delight, and with a devilish look in her violet eyes said casually, "I am not sure my memory serves me, for it has been so long since I've enjoyed your company in
bed, that
I fear I have forgotten."

Lucien chuckled, anticipation darkening his eyes as he interrupted her. "You will soon know it well, little one. I shall see to it that you have more than memories to remind you of me."

"I have indeed more than memories," she reminded him impertinently, "to remind me of you."

Lucien placed a firm hand on her stomach, a smile in his eyes. "Shall we have a daughter or a son, I wonder?"

Sabrina gave him a provocative look. "You wouldn't allow me to have anything but a son, so he can swagger along in your disreputable footsteps."

Lucien's chest rumbled with laughter as he returned her look archly. "Me, swagger? I have seldom seen a pair of female hips swagger so! Be careful or the child will become seasick."

Sabrina giggled happily and winding her arms tightly around Lucien's neck kissed him hungrily, surprising him by her ardor as she clung to him.

They wandered slowly back to the house, their hands clasped, fingers entwined as they walked through the garden and entered the hall. Sims beamed with approval when he saw them, forgiving the Duke past offences now that the young mistress was so obviously happy.

"Tea is being served in the salon," he told them, and then added, "guests are also present."

Lucien nodded and led Sabrina into the room where Mary was pouring tea for Lord and Lady Malton and Lord Newley.

"Tea?"
Mary asked with a sigh of relief when she saw Lucien.

"Yes, please," Sabrina answered promptly. "We're famished."

She sat down next to Mary on the settee, pulling off her hat and shaking free her curls, unaware of being the center of attention as she selected a cream-filled cake.

"Lady Malton was just telling me the most unbelievable story, Lucien," Mary said as she handed him a cup.

"Oh, really," Lucien remarked in boredom, his eyes on Sabrina as she licked a dab of cream from the corner of her mouth.

"Yes, it is quite ridiculous, really," Mary rushed on, "for she claims that she saw you carrying the notorious Bonnie Charlie in your arms."

If Lucien was surprised he kept it well hidden as he laughed. "I was carrying Bonnie Charlie in my arms?" he repeated incredulously. "I have always preferred my lovers to be in skirts."

Lady Malton choked and turned red in the face while Lord Newley hid an appreciative grin behind his hand.

"Well, really, Your Grace, I didn't mean that at all," Lady Malton said huffily.

"Told her she'd been out in the sun too long," Lord Malton commented with a mouth full of rich cream. "Make a fool of herself, I said."

"I know what I saw, and I was wearing a bonnet," Lady Malton persisted stubbornly.

"I really do not have the slightest idea what you are talking about, or indeed why you should concern yourself with my affairs. However, you might have mistaken my brother-in-law, Lord Richard, for this notorious bandit, for I did carry him one day when he had twisted his ankle, but as for him being Bonnie Charlie, I seriously doubt that, my good woman," Lucien replied suavely.

"But I saw the eagle's feather and a glimpse of plaid as you turned to climb into the coach," Lady Malton argued, refusing to believe she'd been mistaken.

"Plaid?"
Sabrina asked curiously as she sat innocently sipping tea. "Our grandfather's—" she began conversationally, only to be interrupted by Lucien.

"My dear, don't you think you should rest a bit, it has been a rather tiring day for you," he suggested, cutting off her words effectively. "My wife must still take it easy," he explained to their guests as they all stared at Sabrina.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have the devil of
a
headache, it must be from too much sun, so if you'll excuse me," she apologized, feeling suddenly very tired as she rose to her feet.

"Of course,
Your
Grace, of course. Mustn't tire ourselves, eh?" Lord Malton exclaimed, full of understanding for the lovely young bride, while Newley just stared, his desire openly revealed in his eyes.

Lucien watched worriedly as Sabrina left the room, impatient for the Maltons and Newley to leave so he could go to her. He accepted another cup of tea and sat through the desultory talk, contributing little to their chatter until finally, during an uncomfortable silence, they took their leave.

Mary closed her eyes in relief. "That was awful."

Lucien turned, stopping his pacing. "I had no idea that woman had seen me leave the church with Sabrina. But the ridiculousness of the situation saved us. However, I thought Sabrina would surely give the game away with whatever she was going to say about your grandfather. I wasn't sure how she would react when the name Bonnie Charlie was mentioned, but she didn't move a muscle. I've been worried about mentioning anything concerning the past to Sabrina, so I haven't. I just hope this hasn't bothered her any. No telling what talk of Bonnie Charlie could trigger in her memory."

"You're playing with fire, Lucien, and I'm afraid someone is going to get hurt."

Lucien looked at her, startled. "You haven't seen something have you?"

"No, but it's obvious that things have not gone as you planned, have they, Lucien? You've fallen in love witheach other, and yet you've built that love on a very shaky foundation.
If she should remember, Lucien?"
Mary looked at him pityingly.

"It will not matter. She will be my wife, and there is nothing she can do then. If she does remember, well, she'll remember the love too," he said obstinately. "She is tied to me as my wife, and as the mother of our child. The bonds are too strong for her to break."

"She will feel anger and hate, and betrayal first," Mary warned him, "and later she may admit her love for you, but it may be too late by then."

Lucien stared at her wise face silently, and then arrogantly raised his chin. "I'll not lose her, Mary. She is mine—and no one else's."

"I pray that it will all work out. She needs you, Lucien, but the circumstances under which she has found out she does are odd to say the least. She is very stubborn and hot-tempered. When she finds out that she has been lied to, that you have deceived her, well, I just hope that she never remembers. It would be far better."

Lucien found Sabrina lying on her bed, a hand pressed to her temple as she rested. Hearing him enter she opened her eyes and smiled, holding out her arms to him as he came towards her. With an answering smile he sat down next to her and took her into his arms. She snuggled against him and pressed her cheek against his throat.

"Lucien," she said hesitantly, "I feel as though I am in a daydream half of the time."

"Lovers always walk around in the clouds," he answered carefully.

"But it is different from that," she persisted as she looked up at him. "I feel I should remember something. There is something nagging at the back of my mind that is important. I know it is. Oh, why can't I remember, Lucien?"