Moonstruck Madness (4 page)

The mirror on the wall reflected the creamy smoothness of the highwayman's face.
The delicately moulded features; the nose short and slightly tip-tilted above curved lips and a dimpled cheek.

Shrugging from the loose-fitting frock coat and waistcoat, he folded them into the chest and stretched indolently, the fine, white lawn shirt tautening over the smooth outline of firm, rounded breasts.

Where before a masked highwayman had stood, the mirror now reflected an incredibly beautiful woman standing before it.
Her cheeks were flushed rosily and her lips parted in remembrance of the night's excitement as she turned to face the nightgowned figure.

"You constantly amaze me, Sabrina," Mary said from her curled-up position on the chair. Her red hair hung in a thick braid over her shoulder and her gray eyes were bright with mischief. "I sometimes have the sneaking suspicion that you really enjoy masquerading as Bonnie Charlie."

Sabrina laughed gaily.
"Not always, especially when
I
have to pull off these heavy boots."
She sat down tiredly on a chair and struggled to free one of her legs.

Mary jumped up and helped her pull, laughing as she fell backwards carrying the boot with her. After the other boot had finally been removed, Sabrina rolled down the thickly knitted, worsted stockings that protected her soft skin from the hard, chafing leather, revealing slim legs and small feet. She quickly removed the tight black breeches and full-sleeved shirt, then twisted her thick black hair into two braids and pinned them on top of her head.

Closing the carved lid of the chest, Mary glanced about the room, reassuring herself that nothing remained of the highwayman, Bonnie Charlie.

Sabrina gratefully slipped into the warm water of the tub and relaxed, letting the sweet-scented bath oil Mary
had added soak into her body. With her hair pinned up she looked like a small child as she yawned widely.

"I'm glad we don't have to do this every night, or I'd be swooning over the breakfast table," Mary said, curling back up in her chair as she waited for Sabrina to bathe.

"You know, I do really appreciate your waiting up for me. It's good to know that you're here and I can talk to you."

"Have you ever thought what an odd life we're leading?" Mary asked. "I do wish sometimes that we could just live normally like everyone else."

"Because of our odd life, Mary, we are able to live normally," Sabrina contradicted. "We live very simply compared to others, and even that takes money."

"Oh, I know, Rina, and I'm not complaining, truly I'm not," Mary reassured her. "It's just this gnawing fear and worry that you'll be shot or captured. I suppose it's my own guilty conscience, but I'm constantly in fear of letting something slip."

"I know how you feel. I'm tired too," Sabrina confessed. "But what can we do? This is our only means of support. Do you imagine I'd do it otherwise?"

Mary looked at Sabrina's set face, hesitating for an instant before she replied reluctantly, "Well, maybe. You are a bit of a devil, Rina."

"Mary!" Sabrina cried with an indignant laugh, splashing water on her playfully. "Of course I must admit I do so enjoy seeing my lords Malton and Newley's faces when I have them at sword point." Her eyes darkened at the thought of them and she angrily wrung the soapy cloth free of water.

"What is it?" Mary asked in concern, seeing the look on her sister's face.

"We found Nate Fisher in the woods tonight. He'd been caught poaching, and for his punishment he was hanged by the neck."

"Oh, no," Mary breathed.

"Oh, yes," Sabrina assured her in a hard voice. "Do you
remember how we hated all of these people when we first came here? They were all the same to me, and I hated the lot of them. But gradually that changed as I came to know them, and I discovered that people were pretty much the same no matter where you were. The poor and underprivileged still going
hungry,
and the rich that bully them still getting away with it."

"Do you know, Rina," Mary confided, "I've come to love it here. I want to stay here always. We won't go back to Scotland, will we?"

Sabrina shook her head regretfully. "There's nothing to go back to. This is our home now, Mary."

Mary smiled with relief. "I never thought I'd hear you say that. I've always loved this house, especially when Mother was alive and we were just little girls. Remember playing in the orchard and stealing apples?"

Sabrina laughed. "Yes, very well. And I haven't mended my ways, have I? I didn't want to think of those days when we first returned to Verrick House. I was so full of hate and revenge that I didn't want to remember the nice things about it. But now that I'm
seventeen I
can look at life differently, more objectively than when I was a little girl, and I can accept both my memories and the present."

"It's taken you a while," Mary teased.

"Ah, but then we were hardly made welcome, were we? I don't think the Marquis' solicitor could really believe his eyes when we stormed into his offices. Do you know, I think for the first time in his life he was actually
speechless.
The Marquis probably had neglected to inform him that he had children."

"You'll never call him Father, will you?" Mary asked curiously.

Sabrina looked at her steadily. "And why should I? He's no father to us. Why, he's never seen his only son and heir! No, he can stay in Italy with his rich Contessa as far as I'm concerned. In fact, I would say we've been exceptionally lucky that he's been living abroad. Do you think
he would've taken us in with welcoming arms? He's hardly proven himself to be paternal."

Sabrina laughed harshly. "He would have sold Verrick House by now if he had to pay the upkeep and taxes. If it weren't for my unlawful activities, we would most likely be in debtors' prison. I haven't forgotten how things were that first year we came here and tried to survive without outside help."

No, Sabrina thought to herself, she hadn't forgotten their first year in England. Five years had now passed since her grandfather had died, so long ago that she sometimes wondered if they'd ever lived in Scotland. And then she would have one of the nightmares. She would see again the blood-soaked heather and tartan, smell the death and fear on the moors, the scene haunting her nighttime dreams. She would waken, feeling that choking, horror-filled fear that left her sweating and gasping for breath, her body shaking uncontrollably.

So long ago, yet still so vivid.
They had sailed away from the destruction in the Highlands.
The slaughter of men, women and innocent children.
The burning and sacking of their homes.
Sometimes she wondered what had been the fate of the
castle?

They had arrived safely in England, Aunt Margaret and Mary ghastly ill with seasickness from the turbulent crossing, Richard fretful and confused, and herself so full of hate she could scarcely conceal it from the English coachmen and innkeepers they'd dealt with on their journey to Verrick House.

The ancient family home had been uninhabited and inhospitable. The Marquis, their father, whom they had not seen in the ten years since his Scots wife had died, had long ago abandoned it for the more refined atmosphere of London life and countless other diversions.

But their hard work and determination had made
a
home out of the small Elizabethan manor house that had changed little over the last two hundred years.
The high on a garden and orchard overgrown with weeds and fields that had lain fallow year after year.
But the richly carved oak paneling and strapwork ceiling of the entrance hall still welcomed the visitor. The finely-worked tapestries that hung from the walls were still in good condition, and with a little beeswax the old oak furniture glowed into new life.

They had managed to live comfortably through that first summer, their money stretching through the warm months, but with the advent of winter their hardships began. Aunt Margaret had caught a cold that lingered and kept her in bed with a fever and cough. The doctor's bills had mounted daily, despite Hobbs' efficient care of her mistress, and food bills had risen each month until they were forced to ration their meals.

The Marquis had already sold years before any valuable object that might have brought a good price, leaving only the bare essentials of the house that would bring very little if sold.

Her resentment had grown as their neighbors had called, partly out of good manners, but mostly out of curiosity, to see the family of the long-absent Marquis. In their finery they had rolled up to Verrick House in elegant coaches, displaying their wealth to their impoverished neighbors.
Graciously accepting tea as they laughed behind their fans at vague Aunt Margaret busily sewing her tapestry, patronizing their awkwardly young hostess as she tried to serve them.
Sabrina had seethed as she'd watched Mary reduced to tears.

Sabrina had seen the poverty of the villagers, the maimed limbs of many unsuccessful poachers who'd only been trying to feed their families. The unfairness of it all had finally goaded and angered her into action.

It was a problem not easily solved by a young girl, but once she discovered the solution she set about making plans and strategies which would have complimented any general.

It was indeed ironic that the solution should come from Lord Malton himself. He'd been complaining of the unsafeness of the roads and apparent ease with which travelers were held up and robbed.

"Like taking candy from a child," he said angrily after church one Sunday morning while Sabrina listened, "the way these ruffians and footpads steal a person's property. No fit place to live anymore."

How easy, indeed, Sabrina had speculated, to act the highwayman.

The first attempt had been a terrifying failure, nearly costing her her life and limbs when the coach she'd tried to waylay had not stopped and had nearly run her down.

Her second attempt had been more successful and netted her a ruby brooch and a gold watch, relieved from her first victims, Lord and Lady Malton. She had sold the jewelry,
then
traded in the old mare for a speedier mount and with what was left, a cow for the barn.

Fortunately, misfortune had turned into good fortune when she'd inadvertently stumbled across the path of Will and John Taylor. Rabbits poached from forbidden land were slung across their shoulders when she interrupted them, a company of dragoons on her heels at the time, and time being of the essence, they had saved introductions until later.

Sheltering under the trees, they had watched the soldiers thundering by, turning to inspect each other suspiciously when the immediate danger had passed.

She remembered now with amusement how the two big men had towered over her as she'd stood bravely before them in her jackboots, her paling face hidden by her mask.

John had looked down at her from his great height, his thatch of straw-colored hair gleaming like silver under the bright moonlight.

"Well, what have we here?" he'd asked with interest.

"Looks like a little Scots gentleman to me, John," Will laughed deeply.

"Aye, tha' I be, lads," she had answered huskily, her hands placed arrogantly on her hips.

"Well, little man, you're a bit south of the mark, then. Don't you think you oughta head north a bit? Wouldn't want you stumbling into us again," John had threatened.

"Yeah, looks as though you'd been busy, too, little Scot
What'd
you get for yourself? Maybe you oughta share it with us for our trouble," Will had suggested with a smile splitting wide his mouth.

Sabrina remembered reaching for her pistol, unwilling to share her first profits with those two country bumpkins, but before she could find it she'd found herself wrapped in a fierce bear hug. Her little bag of loot was searched to their disappointment and then her mask had been tugged loose. Their surprise had been very satisfying to her ruffled feelings.

"Lord, but
it's
little Lady Sabrina Verrick," John had said, shaken.

Sabrina had enjoyed their discomfiture for a few brief moments, then had made them her startling proposal, having been suitably impressed by their strength and also preferring to have them a part of her secret rather than just knowing about it.

Never once had she regretted her decision, as Will and John made themselves indispensable to her and her family, finding servants and gardeners from the village to work at Verrick House and somehow managing to get them credit with all the local shopkeepers until they had built up their income enough to pay.