Moonstruck Madness (45 page)

"What the devil was that all about?" he demanded as he watched her throw the jacket carelessly to the bed and missing, it fell to the floor. "You come storming into the salon like the hounds of hell were on your heels and then with a murderous look at me, stomp out."

Sabrina turned to face him, her lips trembling. "I have just been insulted in my own home, and then I walk in to find your mistress and you laughing your fool heads off. It is because of you that I've been placed in the position that I am, every man thinking I'm free for some dalliance just because you so obviously carry on your affairs under your wife's very nose."

Lucien's lips tightened angrily. "I do not know what in blazes you are ranting about. Nor do I entertain my mistresses under the same roof as my wife," he added silkily, "I usually buy them a house."

Sabrina's face whitened. "Then why not go to one of them, it is where you would obviously prefer to be!"

Lucien stared at Sabrina's angry face. "I thought time would change things between us. That maybe with the birth of our child you might soften a little, but no, you're just as tough as ever, aren't you, Sabrina? I'm beginning to think it really isn't worth it. I doubt you'll ever grow up."

Sabrina stared at his back as he walked to the door, feeling like calling out for him to stop, when he turned and said, "I believe I will take your advice. A change of scene would do me good. I begin to grow tired of your frowning face and sulking moods. I want a woman, not a little girl."

Sabrina stared at the closed door feeling bereft and heartbroken, for she had never heard Lucien's voice so cold and impatient before. With a sob she had sunk down to her knees feeling completely lost.

That had been over a week ago, and now she was alone at Camareigh, Lucien having kept to his word and left for London along with all of the guests. Sabrina looked down lovingly at Rhea sucking at her breast and pressed her lips against the downy-soft head, loving the feel of the child against her breast, the little hands wrapped around a thick curl of her hair as it hung over her shoulder.

"Sabrina," Aunt Margaret whispered as she tiptoed into the room.

Sabrina glanced up in surprise, her reminiscences of the past year having drowned out everything else. "Aunt Margaret, you're up early today. I would have thought you'd
sleep late after your journey yesterday. I know how you hate to travel."

"I had to come. I've finished it," she whispered, watching Rhea curiously, "and now is the time to tell you."

"The time to tell me what?"
Sabrina asked politely but uncuriously, as she bent over Rhea.

"The secret, of course," Aunt Margaret exclaimed, "and you will learn it now, my dear. I can show you."

Sabrina looked up at Aunt Margaret's excited face in amazement. She had never seen her so animated before. "What can you tell me now?"

"Oh, but I must tell you in private, dear," she explained firmly, glancing meaningfully at the nursing baby. "No one must be able to overhear."

Sabrina frowned as she watched Aunt Margaret nervously twist her hands, violet-blue eyes shining with suppressed excitement. Sabrina looked down at Rhea, who'd fallen off to sleep, a little half-smile on her chubby face.

"Let me put Rhea to bed, and then we'll talk, Aunt Margaret," Sabrina told her gently. "I'll only be a minute," she assured her as she saw the flicker of impatience cross Aunt Margaret's usually serene features.

When Sabrina returned to the salon, Aunt Margaret was sitting on the edge of the settee hugging a thick piece of tapestry to her breast, her face flushed with anticipation. "You took so long, my dear, an hour must have passed," Aunt Margaret reproved
her,
although only fifteen minutes at the most had passed since Sabrina had left the room.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Margaret," Sabrina apologized. "Now what is the secret you wish to tell me?"

Aunt Margaret smiled slyly. "It is one I have known for the longest time, and never told. I could never speak of it. Angus made me promise, and I never break a promise," Aunt Margaret informed Sabrina primly.

Sabrina looked startled and sat down beside Aunt Margaret on the settee. "You mean, Grandfather told you a secret, Aunt Margaret?" Sabrina asked doubtfully.

"Oh, yes. He was very worried, you know, although I can't seem to remember exactly why. I should ask him, but I never see him anymore," Aunt Margaret told her, looking puzzled. "I wonder where he
went?
"

Sabrina patted her hand, impatient for her to return to the story, but knowing Aunt Margaret would never be rushed. "He is all right, Aunt Margaret, now do go on. What did he tell you?"

Aunt Margaret's eyes refocused as she hugged the tapestry, then looking around to make sure they were not being observed, she unfolded the heavy piece of canvas and spread it out across their laps.

Sabrina stared down in amazement at the colorful scene represented by the thousands of intricately worked stitches. "Oh, it is beautiful, Aunt Margaret," she breathed as she -touched the exquisitely worked tapestry.

"Look at it closely," Aunt Margaret advised her with a secretive smile.

Sabrina scanned the tapestry, her mouth opening in surprise as she recognized the scene sewn across it. "Why, it's the castle, and the loch. It's like a map of the highlands," she said in amazement, then paused in astonishment as she looked closely at the little figures around the castle, and then at the same five figures shown in a boat on an expanse of blue silk stitches. Sabrina gasped. "You've chronicled our escape from Scotland." She studied the scene more closely, her eyes widening as each happening of that fateful day was depicted on the canvas. Suddenly Sabrina remembered the words spoken to her so desperately all of those years ago by her dying grandfather.

"Threads, golden threads," she murmured beneath her breath, jumping with a start when Aunt Margaret's bony finger pointed to the little church of white thread interwoven with gold.

The kirk, false, that is what he had said, Sabrina remembered now. And then as she continued to gaze at the picture she became aware of a trail of golden stitches that weaved through the edge of the loch and then through gray stitches of rock until it disappeared in an area of black, only to reappear as a solid gold chunk in the far corner.

"Oh, my God," Sabrina cried in rising excitement and disbelief. "It could be the buried treasure. Grandfather's gold, and all of the valuables from the castle and clan." Sabrina put her hands over her face, shaking her head in despairing regret. "All of this time.
All of these years it was there.
You knew all of those long years at Verrick House when I was forced to rob to keep us alive, and at your fingertips was the key to it all. Oh, Aunt Margaret, why couldn't you have told us?" Sabrina asked her, looking up only to find the settee empty. Aunt Margaret had slipped away. She had done what she had waited to do for over five years and now she was no longer interested.

The utter uselessness of it all, Sabrina thought in disgust. She couldn't blame Aunt Margaret, or be angry with her, for she had done what Grandfather had told her to. He had entrusted the secret to her capable fingers. He knew, should anything happen, that the secret would always be safe and not forgotten if sewn into a tapestry that would preserve it for generations.

And Aunt Margaret had interpreted his trust literally, not realizing how she could have helped them all of those years before. She must have had a map of the area drawn by Grandfather to guide her stitches.

Sabrina looked down at the revealing tapestry sadly. How different everything would have been if they'd discovered the secret of the tapestry. The colorful threads blurred before her as tears clouded her vision.

"Sabrina?" Richard questioned in concern as he came into the salon and found her crying silently on the settee, the tapestry held to her breasts. "What's wrong?"

He sat down next to her and put his arm awkwardly across her shoulders. "I thought Lucien had left?" he asked, assuming he was the cause of Sabrina's unhappiness.

Sabrina looked up at him.
wiping
her wet face with the back of her hand. "No, I'm just holding your inheritance. You are probably very rich," she told him with a nervous laugh.

"Me, rich?"
Richard asked incredulously. "Is that why you're crying?"

"No, the past just caught up with me for a minute, and I let it have the upper hand."

"Isn't that Aunt Margaret's tapestry?" he asked suddenly as he noticed what Sabrina held clutched in her hands, her tears having dampened a spot.

"Yes, it is," Sabrina answered as she folded it carefully into a square.

"She'll be angry, Sabrina, if she finds out
you've
looked at it. You know she never allows anyone to touch it," Richard warned.

"Aunt Margaret has finished with it, Richard, and I doubt by now she even remembers it. She has kept it in trust for you all these years. It's your inheritance, Dickie," Sabrina told him.

Richard frowned.
"A tapestry?"
He looked at the piece of cloth curiously. "Why would anyone give me a tapestry? What would I do with it?"

"It is only part of your inheritance, the most important part, actually," Sabrina explained carefully, "for it is the key to the buried treasure of Grandfather's. He left it all to you, as his only male heir, and to keep it safe from the English he buried it in the hills. It is all here, woven into the canvas by Aunt Margaret's careful fingers."

Richard's eyes grew wide. "Mine? Grandfather left the treasure for me? I never believed it really existed. I always thought it was a story you'd made up."

Richard jumped up in excitement. "Oh, Sabrina, I'm rich!"

"Richard, come here, please," Sabrina called to him as he hopped around the room. "I don't want to disappoint you," she said gently as he sat back down beside her, "but it may not be true. It could just be a figment of Aunt Margaret's imagination. You know how she is. You do understand that you mustn't count on it being there. Besides, after all of these years, someone may have discovered it, and the English were pretty thorough in their plundering."

Richard couldn't hide his disappointment, then raising his chin in imitation of Sabrina, he said confidently, "I know it's there, I just know it. It's mine, Sabrina. With it we can go back to Verrick House and live just like before. Everything will be like it was before Lucien came and spoiled things. He won't be able to make you unhappy
again,
I'll see that he doesn't. You won't have to live with him, or even see him again, Rina," Richard told her excitedly. "
You and me
and little Rhea will leave here. We can have a lot of fun like before."

Sabrina hugged him to her, touched deeply by his loyalty. "Oh, Richard, I wish that too, but it's too late, far too late for our dreams, but I love you for thinking of Rhea and me."

"It's not too late, Rina," Richard persisted stubbornly.

"Someday soon we'll go to Scotland and look for your treasure, but I'm afraid we can't really depend on it, love."

Richard stared down at the tapestry folded neatly in Sabrina's lap, a determined look entering his blue eyes.

The next morning Sabrina was breakfasting when the butler entered the dining room and coughed uncomfortably as he stood beside her. Sabrina looked up curiously. "Yes, Mason?"

"I hesitate to disturb Your Grace, but one of the grooms has some rather urgent news to inform Your Grace of."

"Urgent?" Sabrina inquired with a worried look. "By all means, show him in, Mason."

"At once,
Your
Grace," he answered in relief and disappeared to fetch the groom.

Sabrina sipped her tea thoughtfully, wondering what could be so urgent that the very proper Mason would actually interrupt her breakfast and suggest he bring the groom in to see her. She looked up as Mason escorted the uncomfortable man into the room, his face flushed with embarrassment as he faced her. Sabrina recognized him as one of the head grooms and smiled at him encouragingly. "Please, won't you tell me what is troubling you?" she asked.

Mason nudged the silent man with his elbow. The groom looked up from his contemplation of his boots and cleared his throat nervously. "Well, Yer Grace, I'm not one fer tellin' tales, but I don't rightly think I be doin' wrong this time in tellin' Yer Grace about the young lord."

Sabrina's gaze sharpened at the reference to Richard. "Yes, do go on, what has Lord Richard been up to? He hasn't filled your boots with water again, or used your hat as target practice, has he?"