Moonstruck Madness (42 page)

Sabrina glared up at him as she jerked her arm free and ran to her horse. John gave her a leg up, and without a glance at Lucien she turned her mount and rode back down the path they'd just traveled up so happily.

Lucien stared at her retreating back, so stiff with pride that it would take more than his words to heal the breach. His attention was drawn from her disappearing figure by a long, painful moan. He turned and looked at the man masquerading as Bonnie Charlie, and picking up his rapier walked over to stand in front of the sprawled figure. He pointed it at the groaning man, flexing it against the man's chest lightly but firmly.

John glanced at Will who coughed and mumbled, "Soldiers will hang 'em soon enough."

Lucien turned his head, his eyes bright, the scar ragged against the whiteness of his face. Will and John shifted uncomfortably under that deadly gaze.

"How is it you two gentlemen came to the rescue just at the right moment?" he asked quietly.

"Not soon enough from the looks of it when we arrived," Will
answered
in self-disgust. "We overheard the plan at the inn this morning, but by then they'd . . ." He paused, spitting on the ground as he gazed at the three just coming around. ". . . already gone, and you and Charlie were out riding."

"We figured where the best place to ambush someone around Verrick House would be, and we hot-footed it here, only to find you already involved in a fight with them," John explained.

Lucien looked at the three men grimly. "Did I thank you for saving Sabrina and my lives?" He looked back at Will and John. "If there is ever anything I can do for you, just ask."

His attention was drawn back to the three men as they tried to rise. "First I think you'd better explain about overhearing plans to ambush us. You overheard these three?" he questioned Will, while keeping a wary eye on the man at his feet. John had roughly pulled the other two
close
together, and now stood holding each by the back of their necks.

"No, it was the fancy gent at our inn that we overheard. He and the lady was talking about it this morning and when I heard her say something about the death of their scar-faced cousin, and then call him the Duke of Camareigh, well I knew it could be none other than you, Yer Grace."

Lucien listened intently, showing no surprise as he recognized the description of Percy and Kate. He looked down at the masked man and, reaching out, ripped the mask from his face. The man cowered on his knees before Lucien, turning pale as he stared into the scarred face and cold eyes.

"Is what he says the truth? Answer me if you value your life," he demanded ruthlessly.

"Yes," the man spat back, cringing before the murderous look that entered the sherry eyes.

"And?"
Lucien said softly, inviting the man to continue.

"We
was
to kill ye and the girl, and blame it on the highwayman," he confessed sullenly as Lucien's sword point threatened him.

"I'd like to wring yer scrawny neck," Will threatened, taking a step forward, causing the man to crouch down at Lucien's feet.

"Don't let him near me! I beg of ye, please," he cried.

Lucien grabbed him by his shirt front and shook him
like a dog shaking a rat he'd caught. "You wouldn't also happen to know about a couple of cutthroats who attacked me in London, or a wagon that crashed my coach while I was conveniently held immobile, would you?" he asked dangerously.

"Oh, no, wasn't us, really, sir! I swear on my mother's honor," he whined.

"Never had any honor, most likely," John said doubtfully, tightening his hold on the two that squirmed in his grasp.

"And were you to return to the inn after completing your task to collect your pay?" Lucien inquired silkily.

"That's right, we was to be paid by his lordship, and me and me mates was shipping out for the colonies next week."

"Oh, you may still be shipping out for the colonies, but in irons," Lucien promised him, "unless you and your mates are hanged or rot in prison first. Turn these gentlemen," Lucien said sarcastically, to John and Will, "over to Colonel Fletcher, who will be relieved, I'm sure, to inform the neighborhood of the capture of the notorious Bonnie Charlie."

"Hey, but I ain't him!" the highwayman yelled at Lucien's back as he sauntered to his horse.

Lucien turned and arrogantly looked at the man.
"Really?
Odd that you should be dressed as a notorious highwayman if you are not he.
I doubt whether you will find anyone likely to believe your tales."

"But we
was
hired by that gent from London.
Hell tell
you so. We
ain't never
been here before. Find him and he'll tell you!" Jeremy Pace cried frantically, already feeling the noose tightening around his neck.

"Oh, I intend definitely to speak with your employer. Most definitely," Lucien assured him, his eyes narrowed in contemplation of the event. "And I seriously doubt he will be in any condition, or position, to help you, if he was of a mind to, which I doubt."

Lucien mounted his horse, his coat ripped out in the
sleeve and stained with dirt. His face was bruised and his lip was swelling rapidly.

Will jerked Jeremy Pace to his feet and pushed him toward his horse, only to halt him beside it. T think we'll let these three hearties walk back to town, eh, John?" he called as he climbed on his horse.

"Right, Will. Give them time to think over the error of their ways," he chuckled.

"Mighty glad I'm
not at the inn right now, nor
sitting tight in his lordship's breeches.
Him
and his lady are in for some powerful trouble when the Duke walks in alive and well, and madder'n blazes."

"Swine, imagine trying to kill their own cousin."

"And a little girl
like
Charlie."

"Come on," John urged the slowly shuffling feet of their reluctant prisoners. "We ain't got all day."

Lucien rode into the inn yard and dismounted without a glance at the ostler who came running out to take his horse. His anger had simmered as he had ridden along, but now it reached its boiling point and he could feel his scar throbbing in his cheek, his temper flaring into a black rage as he entered the inn.

He opened the first door he came to only to find the room empty. In the next he surprised an elderly couple sipping tea,
then
Lucien smiled grimly as he opened the third door and heard Percy's familiar voice.

"Well, what is it now? I told you we were not to be disturbed," he complained peevishly without bothering to glance up at the intruder.

"Really," Lucien spoke clearly, closing the door behind him, "I would've thought you'd be very anxious to know the unfortunate outcome of your murderous plot."

Percy jumped to his feet, petrified by the unexpected voice behind him. Kate gave a scream of fright that turned into a whimper as she looked into Lucien's deadly cold eyes.

"Lucien!" Percy whispered hoarsely, trying to come to his senses. "W-what are you doing here, and what in the world happened to you?" he bluffed desperately.

"You bastard," Lucien murmured beneath his breath as he began to close the distance between them.

Percy choked on his words, turning pale as he watched Lucien stalk him. He tried to smile, but his muscles felt frozen. "Now, Lucien," he warned as he took a backward step.

Lucien grabbed Percy by his casually knotted stock, relishing the sound of it tearing beneath his hands and then, bunching his fist, swung it back and smashed it into Percy's sniveling face.

Kate screamed and ran to the fallen Percy, blood spurting from his broken nose. She found a handkerchief and pressed it to his face shakily.

"Get up, Percy, or aren't you man enough to do your own dirty work for a change?" Lucien taunted him, his face mirroring the disgust he felt for his cousin as he stared down at his crumpled form.

Percy glared up at Lucien with unveiled hatred in his eyes. Holding the handkerchief to his nose he struggled to his feet, Kate lending him support as he swayed. "How
I
hate you, Lucien," he spat.

"So," Lucien spoke softly, "you finally come out in the open. A pity you did not sooner, it would have saved us both a lot of time.
I
underestimated you and Kate once too often."

"Always a glib retort.
Never without the quick reply to put someone in their place.
Well, I'm not sorry for what we've done!" he yelled, losing control. "I'm only sorry those hired assassins didn't succeed. How you managed to escape them
I
don't know, but you won't escape this time," he promised, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a pistol. Lucien lunged forward and made a grab for the pistol, but Percy was strong with rage, the adrenaline pumping through his blood and feeding him strength. Lucien struggled with him, barely retaining his hold on the pistol barrel by feel alone as the pistol disappeared between their twisting bodies.

Kate backed into a corner, breathlessly watching the death struggle going on before her eyes. "Kill him, Percy!" she screamed shrilly, her eyes glowing with excitement as she saw the barrel of the pistol pointed into Lucien's face. "Put a hole through him!
Now, Percy, now!"

They twisted and stumbled, knocking into the table and sending the dishes crashing to the floor. A knife skidded across the wooden floor and came to a halt near Kate's feet. She stared down at it bemusedly, then looking up at the two figures she reached down and picked it up, wrapping her fingers around the hard, cold metal, the sharp blade pointed towards the broad back of the Duke.

A roar cut through the heavy breathing and scuffling feet and left a silence suspended in the room as Lucien and Percy caught their breaths in surprise, each waiting for the other to fall. Lucien stared into Percy's eyes, so similar to his own, his breath hot against his face. He could see every pore in Percy's skin as their gazes locked.

The door opened behind them and two soldiers rushed in, their pistols drawn. They came to an abrupt stop as they stared at the two gentlemen locked together in the middle of the room. A high-pitched scream shattered their immobility as a serving maid who'd followed behind the soldiers managed to sneak a look into the room.

Lucien pushed Percy from him, the pistol dropping uselessly to the floor. Percy saw the look on Lucien's face and the others standing helplessly in the room and, following their horrified gazes, saw Kate. With a sob of disbelief Percy fell to his knees beside her on the floor. Her pale yellow gown was stained with blood that trickled from a jagged cut across her cheek. From chin to temple ran a deep, vicious-looking wound.

Kate opened her eyes and stared up at Percy's horrified face. Dazed with shock by the unexpectedness of the searing pain she could only stare in confusion.

"Percy?" she whispered as pain shot through her face. As the pain increased so did her consciousness as she slowly became aware of the pitying looks on the faces crowding around. She gave a moan of disbelief and looked into Percy's eyes, only to see her worst fears confirmed.

Her eyes widened with horror as she raised a shaking hand to her cheek and quickly withdrew it covered with blood. She opened her mouth, giving a soundless scream that everyone heard as she realized her disfigurement.

Percy doubled over and shook with sobs as he pressed his head into her lap. Kate stared mutely at the knife still clenched in her other hand, the knife she would have driven deep into Lucien's back.

"Get a doctor, quick," Lucien ordered one of the silent soldiers, and as he still remained, a look of revulsion on his face, Lucien gave him an impatient shove. "Go, man, and the rest of you clear out, except you," he ordered, grabbing the serving maid as she tried to slip by. "Fetch water and bandages. And some brandy, lots of it."

"Kate, Kate," Percy cried, his voice muffled by the folds of her gown.

Her whole face felt as though it were on fire, the pain shooting up into her skull like a red-hot poker. Blearily she glanced around the room until she found Lucien. He stood silently watching them, his face blank of expression.

Despite the pain Kate managed a crooked smile, the muscle severed by the bullet allowing her mouth to pull down in the corner and hang open, creating a travesty of her once flawless face.

"Ironic, isn't it, that
I
should reap the rewards of my past actions in so bizarre a style," she whispered painfully. "You win, Lucien, you always do.
God, how I've hated you all these years.
Do you know how I enjoyed scarring your face? But you got over it, didn't you, Lucien? You still have all the women you want. You have everything, even Camareigh now. We thought we had defeated you when Percy killed Blanche, but the Duchess had to give her golden boy another couple of weeks, and you would manage to come up with another bride.
Always a step ahead of us, eh, Lucien?"