What was she going to do? She couldn’t seem to think clearly since this had happened. Always in the past she’d had her way. She’d never come up against someone like the duke before. He was ruthless, mean, vengeful—and intelligent. And, he had caught her.
Sabrina sniffed and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand like a small child, then sat up in dismay as a sudden thought struck her.
Mary! What must she be thinking? She’d been missing countless days now. Poor Mary, she must think she was dead, or captured. And John would be storming about the countryside looking for them, and he would find nothing because they weren’t there. They’d left the area and no one knew where they’d gone. How could he possibly find them? And even then, there would be little he could do except get caught himself. This place was like a fortress, and the duke wasn’t one to be caught off guard. No, if they were to escape it was up to her. But how?
Sabrina rubbed the back of her neck thoughtfully, the movement bringing back the memory of other fingers. Gradually a look of cunning entered her eyes as she remembered further.
The duke had not been unaware of her as a woman. She instinctively knew this. There had been something about the way his hand had caressed her waist when he’d held her to him and threatened to strangle her. It had been at variance to the violence of his actions. He had been trying to frighten her, yet he couldn’t control the automatic gentleness of his hand at her waist.
His eyes had given him away also. They had softened, just for a moment, maybe with pity, but soften they had, and that surely meant that he felt something besides anger. Sabrina had seen other men’s eyes widen when they’d gazed at her face and body, but she’d always disdained it and never encouraged a man—but now—now she would play the game.
Sabrina straightened her slim shoulders resolutely. She would attract this arrogant duke. She would bring him to his knees before her, and when he was at her mercy, deceived by her honeyed words, she would escape him. She would manage to free Will and they would flee this prison, leaving the beguiled duke looking the fool.
Sabrina climbed from the bed, feeling a momentary faintness as she stood and walked on wobbly legs to the porcelain bowl placed on the bedside table. Rolling the sleeves of the duke’s shirt above her elbows, she poured icy water into the bowl from a matching pitcher, and splashed the refreshing water on her face. She toweled it dry with a large handkerchief folded next to it, and then began to brush her hair free of tangles, smoothing it back from her face in long waves. It was dull and lifeless from her fever. Sabrina frowned at her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. She would demand a bath, wash her hair and get clean linen. She felt her shoulder experimentally; it was stiff and when she moved it she felt a twinge of pain, but it was healing. At least she had been given careful treatment at his hands when she’d been ill; apparently his velvet gloves were off now that she’d recovered.
A frown of uncertainty settled on her face as she realized what she was about to do. She stared at the pale scratch across the back of her hand, remembering vaguely how she had received it. The sense of the danger she had placed herself in intruded realistically into her plans. That scratch could be a minor wound compared to what could happen to her along this course of action. But what else could she do? She had to escape and rescue Will, and they had to get out of the duke’s way before he discovered her true identity—at all costs that must remain a secret. Besides, she would call a halt to the game before it progressed too far. She would play the seductress, take the duke by surprise, then when he was least suspecting it, attack and the game was hers.
***
The duke insolently tapped the giant’s cheek with the tip of his sword. “Do be a good fellow and tell me about your escapades. I’m much kinder than my servants, one or two of whom are nursing sore jaws and the thought of revenge against you, my big friend,” the duke said in a friendly tone.
Will glared back, one eye black and blue, his lip swollen, and remained silent.
The duke shrugged. “You will talk eventually. I’m merely trying to make it easier for you.” He paused reflectively, then added significantly, “And of course it won’t be easy for your small female friend. A pity, she is rather pretty, don’t you think?”
Will strained ineffectively at the bonds that bound him to the chair. “You touch her and I’ll cut you into a thousand pieces,” he snarled in rage.
“My, my,” the duke declared. “You’ve found your tongue at last. I seem to have touched a sore point with you.”
The duke walked the small confines of the storage room and, turning abruptly, demanded sharply, “Who is she?”
But the giant remained mute, a venomous look in his clear blue eyes as he met the duke’s stare.
“I’ll find out sooner or later, then… well, it will be too late to ask mercy of me.”
“You ain’t going to do nothing,” Will muttered, challenging the surprised look on the duke’s face, “or you’d have done it by now. The soldiers would’ve been here and taken me and Charlie away by now. But I don’t see no redcoats, Duke—so I call your bluff.”
The duke gave a reluctant smile, which didn’t reach his eyes, at the giant’s reasoning. “Ah, but you’re wrong. Why should I spare you and that hotheaded female friend of yours?” he demanded coldly. “I have a few debts to collect with interest, my big friend, and if that means amusing myself with you two for a while before I kill you—then that is my privilege. Who cares what happens to two vicious criminals who attacked me in my home?”
Will’s face reddened with his anger and fear for Sabrina at this man’s hands. “What have you done to Charlie?” he demanded, straining against the rope that held him firm. “If you’ve hurt her—?”
“She’s in good health, for the moment at least, but who can predict the future good fortunes of people in the precarious business you’re in? Anything could befall her. Such a pity too, for you seem quite fond of the little vixen.” The duke smiled knowingly. “Of course she is quite a beauty in a wild, untamed fashion. You may have far warmer feelings towards her, eh? It might be interesting to form a closer friendship with her myself,” he speculated aloud.
Will’s face turned purple with his struggles to free himself. “She’s not that kind! She’s innocent, and if you lay your fine gentleman’s hands on her, I’ll cut your heart out and feed it to the crows,” Will threatened, following it with further bloodthirsty epithets directed at the duke’s head.
“My, my,” the duke murmured with a thin smile. He moved to the heavy wooden door, but before opening it turned and added softly, “I’ll let you think upon my words a bit, and should you decide to break your silence, call out for one of my servants who will be on guard outside of this door, but don’t dally too long, my big friend, for I’m not a patient man.” With that he left Will alone in the room to ponder his fate.
Lucien poured himself a brandy and stared out into the bleak afternoon light. He hadn’t planned to stay here this long, but then he hadn’t foreseen this whole, incredible series of events, either.
A woman. Who would have imagined that troublesome highwayman was in actuality a young girl? It was beyond belief. He still felt chagrined at what he’d nearly succeeded in doing. To kill a woman—he’d never thought he’d come to that. But why should he blame himself? How was he to know that Bonnie Charlie was some common female masquerading in men’s breeches? She had no right to be doing what she was. He shook his head. The problem was just that—she was no common female. She looked and talked like a well-bred lady. And even if she were not that, how could he turn a woman over to the authorities? Her fate would be doomed and he would have her death on his conscience. No, he must do something, for he couldn’t just let the vixen loose.
He would learn her name, find out all there was about her, and that giant friend of hers, and then threaten exposure should she ever ride again as Bonnie Charlie. Yes, that was the th
ing to do. But how would he get this precious information from that defiant female?
Threaten? He could still remember the feel of her soft neck beneath his fingers. She’d been frightened, but he could not follow that course. Bullying women was not to his taste. He preferred a more subtle approach.
He saw again her small, heart-shaped face with those beautiful violet eyes and ivory-smooth skin, and had to admit that she was an unusual beauty.
It was odd, though. He had never seen her before, yet there was something tantalizingly familiar about her. He couldn’t quite place it, but he must have seen her someplace before, that was the only answer to it.
He could threaten them with the demise of the other to get the information he desired, but there was another and far more pleasant way of going about it. He smiled. No woman who’d led the life she had could be as modest and innocent as she would have him believe—especially one as beautiful as she was. Some man would’ve caught her by now; besides, her type never had been innocent, they knew what a man wanted before he did, and she would welcome the chance to buy her way out of the predicament she found herself in. Right now she was too angry and frightened to realize this. But soon, the seduction would begin. Only he would be the seducer and not she. He would get the information from her soft lips without her being aware of it—or being able to help herself. She would not be able to call her soul her own when he had finished with the little firebrand.
He smiled in anticipation, for he was beginning to look forward to this little game as he remembered the feel of her beneath his hands. Yes, this should prove quite a diversion before he was forced to return to London.
***
Sabrina sat before the crackling fire, her freshly washed hair drying quickly from its warmth. It came to life beneath the brush and shone with mysterious highlights in its midnight depths, falling below her hips as Sabrina rose and stretched and it swayed sinuously.
The door opened as Sabrina stood before the fire. Her instinctive reaction was to abruptly crouch down, but remembering her desperate plan for escape she forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly, continuing the even strokes of the hairbrush, well aware that her body was outlined by the light from the fire behind her, the duke’s nightshirt doing little to mask the shape beneath.
Lucien stopped momentarily, his eyes widening in surprise at the scene before him, then quickly recovered his usually calm mien. But a small muscle twitched at the corner of his scar as his eyes took in the beauty of the woman before him. Through the thin material of his nightshirt he could see the smooth line of hip and thigh, her small breasts high above a slender waist that he knew he could span with his hands if he wanted. He followed the tapering slimness of her legs to the small toes that peeped out beneath the edge of his shirt. If he hadn’t seen the slow smile and the soft look in her eyes, he would have thought she was nervous.
He placed the tray with the decanter and glasses down on a table and moved closer until the light from the fire played upon the scar on his cheek. Reaching out a hand he captured a stray lock of her hair, his fingers brushing softly against Sabrina’s breast. Threading the long strand through his fingers he was amazed by its vibrancy. It seemed to have a life of its own as it curled into his palm. He stared down into the upturned face that looked up into his and began to wind the long, soft strand of blue-black hair around his hand, pulling her closer to him as it tightened.
Sabrina’s eyes widened slightly as she was forced to step closer to the duke. Her small bare feet moved between the glossy, black shine of his boots as his arm enclosed her lightly clad body, pulling her the remaining distance. She was pressed firmly against his broad chest and thighs, her heart pounding frantically against the hand that now covered her breast.
Lucien lowered his head and found her soft mouth with his. The fresh scent of jessamine engulfed him from her hair and body and he tightened his arms around her as he folded her closer into him, his senses beginning to swim alarmingly from her nearness as he felt her first response to his kiss.
Sabrina wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to hers as she stretched up against him. His hard mouth seared hers in what was her first kiss and taste of a man’s mouth.
His mouth moved against her lips, pressing and teasing and opening them. His breath was hot against her fiery cheeks as he left kisses on her eyes and ears, fondling them with his tongue, causing her to shiver uncontrollably when she felt the nibbling of his teeth against her shoulders.
His roaming lips caught at her mouth again and seemed satisfied to remain as the kiss deepened, taking the breath from her body. His hands moved against her back, down her spine slowly until they curved over her buttocks and held her intimately against the hardness of his thighs.
Sabrina’s lips clung to his as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the big four-poster, laying her gently down on the feather mattress, his lips still holding hers as he leaned over her, his fingers separating the wrapped front of the nightshirt and revealing to his darkened eyes the smooth curve of her breasts. His lips left a burning trail across her throat and shoulders, their hardness softening slightly as his mouth touched the soft roundness of her breasts. Sabrina ran her fingers through his thick golden hair, her small hands delicately tracing his temples and ears and the back of the strong column of his neck where it was bent over her.
He drew back, snatching a kiss from her parted mouth, his eyes dark and passionate as they took in the pale loveliness of her nude body. Sabrina blushed and automatically pulled the gown together across her breasts and thighs. Her eyes were wide and darkened by passion and fear of the unknown.
Lucien and Sabrina stared at each other for a moment before he reached down to tug off his heavy boots, his shirt hanging loose where Sabrina’s fingers had opened it, revealing the curly golden hair glinting with sweat on his muscular chest.
Sabrina sat up and stretched out a tentative finger to touch the jagged scar on his cheek. Lucien drew back, startled as she ran the tip of her finger down its length.
“How did you get this?” she asked softly, her voice husky.
Lucien smiled reflectively. “I didn’t move fast enough.” He laughed grimly and caught her hand, pressing a lingering kiss into her soft palm, then suddenly bit the tip of a tapered finger sharply.
Sabrina cried out in surprise.
“You once threatened to mar my other cheek, if I recollect correctly.”
Sabrina grinned impishly and, leaning closer until her breasts pressed against his chest, moved her lips along the scar, her tongue feeling the roughness. Lucien turned his head until her lips touched his mouth and their tongues met. He pressed her back into the covers of the bed, his body covering hers. He felt as if he would crush her beneath him, but when she locked her arms about his neck he relaxed and returned her kisses with experience, teaching her how to respond and please him.
Sabrina felt his heaviness against her like a comforting cover. His lips and hands were sending shivers through her and leaving her weak and malleable in his persuasive hands. She felt like drifting along wherever he guided her, her hips moving when his hands rubbed over them, her legs entangling with his. His sweat dampened her body and his breathing was shallow and rapid as he moved over her.
Then he wasn’t the gentle lover any longer and Sabrina felt a sudden fear and repulsion of him. Sabrina pulled her mouth from his drinking lips and struggled frantically with him. Her eyes locked with his and she saw the surprise in their dark depths that gradually turned to anger as his scar throbbed and his nostrils flared above the beads of perspiration on his lip.
Sabrina pressed her hands against his chest futilely. Her strength was sapped and she had little fight left in her as she fought him. Her bandaged shoulder was beginning to ache with the effort and she finally gave up.
“Leave me alone! Please stop. I can’t. I can’t!” Sabrina cried incoherently.
/> Lucien’s eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned ominously as he released her shoulders and sat up, letting her roll sideways and bury her head in her arm. Her sobs shook her slender body as she cried. Lucien watched, a puzzled and angry look on his face. He couldn’t see her tears, masked by the heavy mass of black hair that had fallen across her face, but he knew they were real.
Lucien shook his head and climbed from the bed, pulling on the shirt he’d tossed aside and gathered up his boots and breeches from the floor. He glanced back at the shaking form huddled on the bed and with a scowl stalked from the room, feeling completely unsure of himself for the first time in his life. Nothing had gone as he’d planned. He had thought to sweet-talk and woo the little vixen, and yet she’d been waiting, her smile sweet and welcoming when he’d come to her, her lips soft and eager against his. He had forgotten his plan to seduce her and learn her secrets. He could only think of her clinging arms and small round breasts pressed to his chest. Damnation, what had happened? If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he’d been seduced.
Sabrina looked surreptitiously over her shoulder at the empty room. He’d gone. She wiped at her tears with the long sleeve of his nightshirt and dried her eyes. Her fear was beginning to recede, leaving an emptiness in its stead. She took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed shaking fingers to her temples.
What had happened to her in his arms? How could she have forgotten everything as he’d held her so intimately, learning her body with his. Sabrina bit her lip, drawing blood. She knew what she had intended. She was going to seduce him. It had been so easy, so natural a thing to do, that she had been surprised by his immediate reaction to it. She had never tried to entice a man before and had acted blindly, receiving a response from him she had never expected. But she had not been in control of the seduction at all. Her mind had become blank, a void except for the image of him. Never had she imagined the uncontrollable feelings that built up between a man and a woman.
Moonstruck Madness Page 11