Moonstruck Madness (9 page)

"Si,"
she replied faintly, her fingers nervously clasping and unclasping her pearls.

Lucien settled himself in the coach and stared silently out of the window. The scar on his cheek still throbbed with anger.

"Why the hell did you do it?" Lord Wrainton finally found the courage to ask the Duke's aloof profile.

Lucien glanced over at him coldly. "Do what?" he asked haughtily.

"Risk all of our lives by baiting that highwayman? I could scarce believe my ears when I heard you insult him." Lord Wrainton took out his handkerchief and mopped his brow. "He might have shot me as I stood there next to you."

Lucien shrugged unrepentantly. "You were in little danger. I merely was curious how far I could push the fellow, and now I know his weaknesses."

The Duke's eyes were narrowed in thought and gradually a cruel smile curved his lips and he suddenly laughed, a satisfied expression settling on his features as he slapped his leather gloves carelessly against the palm of his hand.

"And so you put us all into danger for that?" Lord Wrainton demanded incredulously, feeling a shiver of apprehension as he saw the Duke's expression.

"Per favore,"
the Contessa broke in before the Duke could make his scathing remark. "We are safe,
si?
There is no cause for further alarm? So, we will forget the incident. Of course I must admit it was quite exciting," she added mischievously.

"Luciana!" Lord Wrainton said in exasperation.

"It was the first time I have been held at pistol point," she excused herself.
"Si,
I was most excited, and this
bandito,
he was quite the gentleman, too," she murmured, touching her pearls reassuringly.

"I personally found him to be impertinent," the Duke answered softly, "and in need of being taught a lesson."

"Well, I found the whole thing distasteful," Lord Wrainton said irritably. "Why, we came close to being
murdered,
and you two think it was exciting. Lud, but I must be the one half-crazed." He held his handkerchief to his lips, dabbing at the beads of perspiration.

The Contessa stared at him, then said in a puzzled voice, "You know, this
bandito,
there is something odd about him, something not quite right." She shook her head in self-derision. "Ah, I am silly. It is nothing really, and quite ridiculous."

"What is ridiculous?" Lucien asked curiously.

"No, we will not discuss this notion of mine. I will look the complete fool then," the Contessa laughed and snuggled down into the fur of her pelisse, then issued an abrupt
"Silenzio!"
to the sniveling Maria.

They arrived at the King's Carriage Inn early in the evening, the Duke dining with Lord and Lady Wrainton, and then bidding them farewell as he planned to make an early start the following morning. But he did not go to bed immediately. He sat in the darkness of his bedchamber for over an hour, his miad preoccupied with a certain scheme he'd been devising all evening, until, finally satisfied, he slipped between the sheets of his bed and slept contentedly.

"Here, give me the bandage," Sabrina told Will as she held a piece of cloth against the wound in John's shoulder.

"And give me the bottle," John said between clenched teeth as he grimaced at Sabrina's ministrations. "Don't worry, Charlie, Mam'll see to it," he said confidently.

"I just want to stop the bleeding or you'll never make it to her," Sabrina answered shortly, nervous perspiration threading down from her temples.

"He'll be all right, Charlie, John's as strong as an ox. Take more'n a bullet to kill him off."

"Yeah," John agreed, taking a deep swallow from the bottle of rum Will had handed him. "More like a cannon-ball, eh, Will?"

"More'n one," Will chuckled.

"I wish you'd stop joking," Sabrina spoke worriedly.
"Like I said, Charlie.
Mam'll take care of
him,
all we got to worry about is spending these guineas."

Sabrina wasn't listening. "This is the first time anyone has dared to shoot back at us. John could've been killed!" she cried.

Will rubbed his big thumb against the side of his nose.
"Told you I didn't like that scar-faced gent.
Would be his carriage we'd have to hold up. Looking daggers at us, he was."

"Gave me the shivers," John contributed thickly, the rum he'd drunk beginning to take effect.

"Revenge is what he's gonna want, Charlie. And once you're at his mercy, he'll want blood for blood," Will warned. "You shouldn't
of
hit him."

"Speaking of accounts to be settled," Sabrina promised, looking at John's shoulder wound, 'Tve one to settle with our scar-faced friend."

"Go easy, Charlie," Will entreated her. "He's different. If he ever gets his hands on us, well, I'm a big man but that look of his sent a chill up my spine."

"Do you think I'm frightened of that town fop?" Sabrina demanded incredulously.

"You should be, Charlie," Will
told
her quietly.

Sabrina's lower lip jutted out, and with her hands on her hips and the light of battle still in her violet eyes she vowed rashly, "I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but he'll soon wish he'd never set eyes upon me, and I'll give him time to lament the fact before I send him to his grave."

Will gazed at this little firebrand who was the brains behind their misadventures and shook his head sadly. They'd come to love her these past years, admiring her courage; but she was a tough, determined little lady who would have her own way, and he had an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that it would lead to ruin. He felt like they were sitting on a barrel of gunpowder with Charlie going around striking sparks off everything, fearing nothing and no one. He shook his mop of corn-colored hair in resignation. They'd end up on the gallows yet.

It is
a
double pleasure to deceive the deceiver.

Jean de La Fontaine

Chapter 4

S
ABRINA climbed down daintily from the horse-drawn gig. To any observers she was playing Lady Bountiful to her less fortunate neighbors, bearing a basket of homemade goods, perhaps bread and soup, to the ailing Taylor son who'd hurt his shoulder chopping wood.

Sabrina knocked once, then twice rapidly and
waited,
the scent of lavender and herbs heavy in the warm afternoon air. Sad-faced pansies stared back at her from the flower beds and the loud notes of a storm thrush called from a chestnut tree.

"Ah, Lady Sabrina, come along in," Mrs. Taylor welcomed as she escorted Sabrina inside the cottage. "You don't mind going into the kitchen? I've bread in the oven and it's likely to burn if I'm not there to watch it."

"Of course not.
You know I like that room above all; it's always so warm and smells so good in there."

Mrs. Taylor smiled. "You and the boys'll never grow up. Hoping for a piece of freshly buttered bread, are you?" She chuckled happily as she pulled out a cane chair for Sabrina to sit on.

The large farm kitchen was full of the aroma of baking bread from the brick oven built into the fireplace, where a great kettle hung over the open fire.

"How is John?" Sabrina asked.

"Well, a bit feverish, but that's to be expected. I'm not worried, though, I've applied a salve and he's gettin' plenty of rest. Be himself in no time," Mrs. Taylor answered assuredly.
"Now, how about a cup of coffee?
I've just brewed some over the fire."

"I was hoping you'd ask me to have some," Sabrina admitted. "I've been tantalized by it since I came in, and with the coffee mill still fragrant, it must be freshly ground."

"Not much misses your eye, Lady Sabrina," Mrs. Taylor beamed.
"Just finished grinding it shortly before you knocked."

Mrs. Taylor took down two pewter mugs and placed them on the table, then removed two loaves of crisp, golden bread from the oven. Holding one of the loaves with the edge of her voluminous apron, she placed it on the table in front of Sabrina. Going back to the fire with the mugs, she tipped a small kettle from its adjustable hanger and filled the two mugs with the steaming brew.

"Now, some butter." She reached for a large wooden bowl with freshly churned butter that hadn't yet been patted into shape and a small pot of honey.

"This should do us," she sighed, dropping down in a chair at the table. "I've been on my feet all day, about worn them off."

Sabrina took a dab of fluffy butter and spread it across the piece of warm bread, licking her fingertip as the melting butter dripped over the edge. "No wonder John and
Will
grew so big, with this good food inside of them."

"Well, no one can say I didn't feed 'em proper," Mrs. Taylor agreed proudly, spreading honey liberally across her slice of bread.

Sabrina sipped her coffee thoughtfully.
"I
can't tell you how awful I feel about John. It's my fault. I sometimes regret ever having started this charade," she spoke passionately, deeply troubled by the incident.

Mrs. Taylor patted Sabrina's hand comfortingly. "It's not you I blame. The boys were poaching long before they met you, and could've come to grief by that, sure enough."

"Poaching is not highway robbery," Sabrina said despondently.

"No, but it would've led to it soon. Things are bad hereabouts, people out of work, starving and nothing to be done for it. Not until you came, at least. Now you've leased your land cheap to them, and given food, money and jobs to those that can't farm. You've saved half the village. What did them other fancy gentlemen care? None, that's what," she spoke angrily.

"You make me sound like another Robin Hood, and I'm not. I can't claim that I began this
so
charitably, or from a divinely guided altruism. I did it selfishly and out of hate and revenge. I was motivated by self-interest," she contradicted Mrs. Taylor stubbornly.

Mrs. Taylor shook her head, not to be swayed from her opinion. "You might have started it for the reasons you say, although it be for your family more than yourself, I say. But you don't now, do you? Why do you help us and the villagers if you hate them? No, you're an angel, Lady Sabrina, and I'll hear no different even from your own lips." She closed her lips firmly together, refusing to hear any more on the subject.

"I don't suppose we'll know the truth of that until the final accounting, but I don't think I'll need my cloak," Sabrina teased. "Where is Will?"

"Gone into the village for a spot of ale at the tavern, and to pick up on the latest gossip.
More coffee, Lady Sabrina?
And you've hardly touched your bread."

"Yes, I have. You're just used to the giant-sized helpings of John and Will. This is plenty," Sabrina reassured her, taking a bite to placate her motherly instincts.

Sabrina glanced around the room, feeling relaxed. It was such a peaceful cottage. Sitting here eating bread and butter, sipping coffee like any other well-bred lady of the neighborhood paying a duty call. But at the back of her mind there was always that constant fear.
That niggling doubt that plagued her conscience.
She was a highwayman, a thief and a liar. And yet, was she so very bad? She helped people less fortunate, and only stole what was needed. She wasn't
greedy,
she hadn't really hurt anyone, although her temper had driven her closer than ever before to wanting to kill someone. She still intended to even the score with the scar-faced gentleman at some future date.

Sabrina suddenly felt something strike her foot and giving a startled cry looked down to see a small, furry face peeping up at her from the folds of her gown. Laughing, Sabrina leaned down and scooped up the playful kitten in her hands, rolling it into her lap in a fluffy ball.

"Where did you come from?" she asked the kitten softly as it licked her fingers with a rough, pink tongue. "You like butter, don't you?"

Tickling the little gray and white cat's tummy she watched Mrs. Taylor, who was busy gathering ingredients from her shelves. "I thought you were tired? What are you making now?" she asked in puzzlement as Mrs. Taylor placed a large pot on the table and a pile of dried flowers beside it.

"Mead.
Ill mix honey and ginger and a couple of hand-fuls of elder flowers in this pot of water and let it boil for an hour. Then after it's cooled and been skimmed, I'll pour it into a tub and let it cool off so I can add the yeast. Then I'll let it sit overnight so it get's that good mellow taste and then into the barrel over there. Best thing around on a warm afternoon when you're bone weary and parched with thirst," she chuckled. "Put away my fair
share, that
I do." She patted her thickening middle regretfully.

"Next time I come, I'd like to sample your brew," Sabrina told her, snuggling the kitten under her chin.

Mrs. Taylor made
a
mock frown. "Now what is that cat up to?" she demanded, nicking the kitten playfully under the chin. "She's
a
sweet-talking little rascal. Loves butter, and when
I
'm making it, tries to lick up all the cream before
I
can get it into the churn. Nearly split her sides the other day, the little pig. Waddled out of here so full of cream her little tummy was fair to bursting." She threw back her head and laughed heartily.

"What's her name?" Sabrina asked with a smile.

"Well now,
I
don't rightly know, never got around to naming her," Mrs. Taylor admitted. "Would you like to name her?"

"Oh yes,
I
think
I
'll call her Smudge because she has
a
little smudge of butter on her cheek," Sabrina proclaimed, rubbing the velvety black nose of the purring kitten who was asleep in her lap.

"Charlie!" Will
exclaimed
from the doorway.

"Hello, Will," Sabrina greeted him, casting him an interested look.
"I
hear you've been sampling some of the village ale and gathering a little gossip."

The big man shifted uncomfortably,
a
reluctant look crossing his face. He nodded his head and, avoiding Sabrina's eyes, stuffed
a
large hunk of bread into his mouth and was unable to answer her query.

Sabrina smiled. "You know that as soon as you've swallowed that mass you'll have to answer me and tell me what you've heard."

Will swallowed with a gulp and stared out of the window, an obstinate look on his broad features.

"Come now, Will," Sabrina appealed. "You know
I
'll find out eventually. You might as well tell me and save me the time."

"Will! You do as the Lady Sabrina asks. What's wrong with you?" Mrs. Taylor scolded.

Will turned, and facing Sabrina with dogged resolution answered, "All
I
heard was that some gent was throwing
a
private party tonight."

Sabrina's violet eyes brightened with interest as she looked expectantly at Will for further information. "Well?"

"That's all," Will said perversely.

Sabrina's eyes narrowed. "Since when have you bridled your tongue?" she demanded. "You usually talk yourself out of breath. Why are we so tongue-tied now?"

"I didn't think we would be interested in this. It's not in our vicinity. You know we like to stay close to home where we know the countryside," Will explained reasonably. "Besides, with John sick we're short a man."

"I know, but that doesn't explain jour reluctance to tell me about this party. Who is the host and where is it?" Sabrina asked curiously.

"If you'll excuse me, Lady Sabrina, I'll take some of this coffee and warm bread up to John."

Mrs. Taylor bustled out as she always did when they began to talk privately.

Will shrugged his massive shoulders. "It's the Davern estate. It's been empty for a long time, and it's just got a new owner, and he's giving a party for some of his friends at it. Supposedly brought in an army of servants to clean it up and now he's planning to do some entertaining."

Sabrina watched Will's flushed face in puzzlement. "I still don't see why you were so reluctant to tell me this news? It is beyond where we usually work, but it does sound too good to pass up. However, I don't know. We've plenty of work hereabouts," she concluded.

Will heaved a grateful sigh of relief. "Thought you'd feel that way," he grinned widely.

"But why were you worried?" Sabrina asked in confusion.

"Well, 'twas the scar-faced gent's man who told me. He's the new owner of that estate, and his man was in the tavern getting good and primed, and he tells me about this party his master's giving tonight. Ordering bottles of rum and wine, and—" He stopped abruptly as he saw the surprised, then determined expression on Sabrina's face. "Charlie, you ain't going to go, are you?" he said worriedly. "That's why I didn't want to tell you. I don't like it
The
scar-faced gent's bad news."

"I would've thought you'd be the first to want to get revenge on the man who shot your brother?" Sabrina accused him.

Will doubled up his fists threateningly. "I'd like to draw and quarter him, but John's going to be all right, and I got this feeling about the scar-faced one. I don't think it'd be worth the price we'd have to pay."

"I know you're not a coward, Will, but if you'd feel better not going tonight, then so be it. I'll not blame you, but I intend to go," Sabrina told him firmly.

Will shook his head. "You know I won't let you go alone. You need me. Only wish we'd John, too."

"Listen, Will, we're always in danger. Every time we ride out we risk capture and death. This is no different—except that we already know where we're going and who we're up against. The odds are in our favor more than if we stopped a coach on the open road. Don't worry, this will be one of our easiest and most rewarding jobs," Sabrina predicted with growing confidence. "To see our scar-faced friend's surprised face when we arrive unannounced at his private party. He'll pay for his misplaced courage of the other evening."