Moonstruck Madness

by Laurie McBain

  Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut, and for good measure placed her hands over them. If only she could forget it all. Nothing was the same now. New feelings had been aroused in her and she didn’t know how to cope with them.

  She felt chilled and glanced at the smoldering fire, the ashes glowing dully as the flame went out. The tall decanter of brandy still stood where the duke had placed it. Sabrina reached out and taking one of the glasses poured herself half a glass of the fiery liquid and taking a deep breath swallowed over half in one gulp. She gagged and her eyes watered, but she could feel its warmth spreading through her body. She covered herself and fell into a troubled sleep beset by the nightmares that haunted her.

  Her grandfather’s face was cold and lifeless beneath her fingers as it turned into a stone death mask. The pipe’s mournful notes calling her back as she tried to escape from death. Soldiers surrounded her. Everywhere she turned they were there in their scarlet coats, calling out to her. She couldn’t breathe. Her feet swung in the air and she felt the breath strangled from her body. They all stared. Mary, Richard and Aunt Margaret sewing a tapestry of the gallows. Why wouldn’t they help her? She stretched her hands out to them, but they turned away.

  “No! Come back, I’m not dead! Don’t leave me here, please—don’t go!” she cried.

  But they were deaf to her pleas. They were leaving her alone with the hangman and the soldiers. They were abandoning her, turning their backs on her. She screamed and screamed, the sound echoing in her startled ears as it broke the silence of the bedchamber.

  Hands grabbed at her and shook her and she fought them. They mustn’t be allowed to touch her neck. “Please don’t hang me. No! Please, I beg of you!”

  “Hang! Hang! Hang!” the crowd of faces chanted excitedly.

  “It’s all right. You’re just dreaming, wake up.”

  Sabrina reluctantly opened her tightly closed eyes that still reflected the horror of her nightmare, letting the friendly voice coax her back to consciousness.

  Lucien was sitting on the edge of the bed, a worried look on his face. His hands were still holding her shoulders in a viselike grip, forgetful of her bandaged shoulder, but she felt comfort rather than pain, and his arrogant features looked dear to her frightened eyes. Sabrina moved her arms up and around his neck, hugging him tightly to her shaking body.

  Lucien stiffened in astonishment at her sudden move, remaining motionless as she whispered pleadingly, “Please don’t leave me. I can’t be alone anymore. I know they’re still waiting out there for me. They’ll hang me if they can catch me,” Sabrina said hoarsely, raising her tear-drenched face from the warmth of his neck, her eyes, full of anguish, looking deeply into his.

  Lucien stared back at her. No one had ever pleaded for comforting from him before. He wasn’t sure that he even knew how to give comfort. Her eyes continued to hold his, reminding him of a trusting child’s.

  He slid his arms around her and lifted her into the middle of the bed. Her arms refused to loosen their frantic hold around his neck as he slid into the bed beside her. Pulling the disturbed bedclothes back over them, he enclosed them in a cocoon of warmth, the only light coming from the candle he’d carried into the room to guide him when he’d heard the anguished screams.

  He could feel her tense body begin to relax against his as she snuggled closer to him. He could feel her need of him and it felt strange. He comforted her, smoothing back her tangled hair with gentle fingers, liking the feel of it in his hands. Their warmth spread between them and he heard Sabrina give a contented sigh, but she still clasped him tightly around the neck as though afraid that if she let him go he would disappear.

  Sabrina felt safer than she ever had before. It was as if all of her defenses had suddenly crumbled around her, leaving her vulnerable and lost. She suddenly knew that she never wanted to leave the safety of the duke’s arms. They held her so securely. No one could touch her while she was held by him. She had lost count of the times she had wished to be held and comforted by someone. Her father had never held her to his breast, and her grandfather had loved her, but he’d been strict and not one to show his feelings. But now she had arms around her, comforting her and keeping her safe. She was tired of making all of the decisions, of looking over her shoulder in fear. If only for a short while she could forget…

  Sabrina shivered as she fought back the images of her nightmare. Lucien tightened his arms, pulling her against his chest and placing a comforting, light kiss on the pulse beating in her temple. He could feel her soft breasts touching his chest and her bare legs were warm on his, bringing her hip close to his.

  They lay quietly together, not speaking, drawing from each other’s presence. Lucien felt her fingers caress the hair at the back of his neck and wondered if she was even aware of what she did.

  He waited a moment and then allowed his lips to move along her soft cheek, so smooth to his touch, until they reached her mouth. Her fingers stilled at the back of his neck as his mouth closed over hers, and then as she felt the gentleness of the kiss they curved up through his hair.

  Lucien felt a thrill go through him and teased her lips with his mouth until they parted hungrily and licked at his. His hands moved over her body slowly and confidently, feeling the alluring curves he’d longed to fondle.

  Sabrina moved against him, curving her body into his until she found a closer intimacy. She nibbled at his lips, pulling back from his when he tried to capture them and hold them beneath his. Her fingers played lightly along his back and down boldly to his hips. Lucien groaned and captured her small chin with his hard fingers until his mouth took hers in a deep and stirring kiss, leaving them breathless.

  His parted lips left hers and he passionately kissed her face and throat, his hands cupping her breasts as he lowered his mouth to kiss them. He felt the bandage against his face, and looking up murmured, “To think I drove my sword through this small, perfect body of yours.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Forgive me for hurting you.”

  He lifted her hand with the scratch across its back and pressed his mouth to the wound, then held its scarred back against his scarred cheek, binding them through pain suffered.

  Their lips met and they kissed, Sabrina’s heart racing under his hand. His face was hard and cruel-looking with the scar jagged across it as he gazed into her passion-dark violet eyes, his voice deep as he whispered into her delicate, shell-like ear.

  “You puzzle me, little one. I am holding you close to my heart and yet I don’t even know your name. Tell me,” he commanded, biting playfully at her ear.

  “Is it Elizabeth? Jane? No? How about Anne, or Kathleen?” he teased. “More unusual, eh? Well, then, how about Ariadne or Cressida?”

  “No, it’s Sabrina,” she laughed.

  “Sabrina,” he whispered against her lips, liking the sound of it on his tongue. “I should have known. You’re the nymph of the river Severn, and a princess of old England. Have you taken a fancy to a mere mortal and taken me as your lover, Sabrina? Will you be kind to me, or will you lead me through the woodlands and into the fens where I’d be helpless and at your mercy?” he asked mockingly before kissing her passionately and almost punishingly.

  “I would never do that to your grace,” Sabrina replied, the flickering light in the room casting mysterious shadows on her face.

  “Ah, but you already are being cruel to me. ‘your grace.’ How dare you address me in that manner, as though we were strangers. Lucien is my name, Sabrina,” he told her before his mouth found hers.

  He held her to him intimately, and sensing a change in him, Sabrina tried to draw back, but he held her firmly locked in his embrace. “Don’t turn from me now, not when you hold me in those small hands of yours. I’m wild for you, Sabrina, and I intend to make you mine.”

  Sabrina gave a gasp of surprise as he rolled over her, covering her bare flesh with his, gentleness turning to strength as he bo
ldly pressed against her and let her know a man’s body. She arched her back, moving her hips sinuously as she tried to get even closer, while his hands and lips urged her building desire to a heightened pitch. Delight was shattered by pain as he became part of her body and they moved together as one, his muscular and controlled strength overwhelming and frightening her until she felt the first stirrings of passion in her loins, and responded ardently to his every move as he tutored her in the art of making love.

  Afterwards he lay beside her holding her close and kissed the tears from her face, then very gently tilted her face up to his.

  “Why?” he whispered, feeling an unaccustomed tenderness for this young girl he held so closely in his arms. “Why did you let me take you? I had no idea you could possibly be a virgin.” He shook his head in disbelief, but felt a certain possessive satisfaction at having been the first man to make love to her and know the delight of her charms.

  Sabrina shrugged philosophically. “It was bound to have happened someday. Why shouldn’t I seek fulfillment before the hangman stretches my neck?” she laughed, the sound coming out harsh and hollow.

  Lucien’s arms tightened around her, his mouth grim. “You’ll not masquerade again. I’ll see to it, Sabrina, that you never have the chance to.” He forced her chin up roughly and stared into her still-passionate eyes.

  “God, I can’t even look at you without wanting you again.” He kissed her reddened lips deeply, drawing the sweetness from them into his. Sabrina’s arm curled around his neck as she answered his desire with a new-found confidence of her own.

  “You learn quickly, little one,” Lucien smiled, his hands straying over her taut stomach and up to cup her breasts.

  “I’ve had a good tutor,” she teased, a dimple peeping out as she smiled and added mischievously, “and imagine how I’ll be after several lessons.”

  “Just as long as I’m the only one giving them,” Lucien remarked with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll not share you with anyone.”

  “Jealous? Lucien,” she experimented using his name, pronouncing it lovingly. “It suits you with your golden curls and arrogant stare.”

  “Arrogant?” Lucien retorted. “I’d never met arrogance before I met you. Strutting around in breeches and jackboots. Terrorizing the countryside.”

  He laughed deeply as he thought of the first night he’d met her and the chagrined faces around that banqueting table. If they knew? He laughed again at the thought.

  “What is so amusing that you would shake me from my dreams?” Sabrina demanded, rising on an elbow across his chest, her breasts resting snugly against him.

  Lucien looked up at her, amusement still brimming in his eyes. “You, my funny little princess. Now,” he said with an imperious note in his voice, “we’ve a few details to straighten out. I want to know everything about you, and why an apparently well-bred young woman resorts to highway robbery?”

  Sabrina pulled away from the warmth of his arms, feeling at once lost and bereft without them around her. She turned a dainty shoulder to him and stared into the shadowy room, the candle having guttered long ago and just a small, flickering flame remaining of the fire he had re-lit.

  “Why must you know? Why must you meddle and interfere in what does not concern you? None of this would ever have happened if you hadn’t entrapped me,” she cried desperately as the memory of their passion was replaced with all of her old fears and the realization that she was still his prisoner.

  Lucien pulled her back to him, angered by that little shoulder turned to him and the stiff, slender back she presented against him. He was not accustomed to resistance from a woman, or from anyone for that matter, and he did not like it—nor would he accept it.

  “I am very much involved, as you have held me up at pistol point numerous times, stolen from me, and dueled with me. And, damnation, doesn’t that give me the right to know the truth? By God, you’ll tell me, Sabrina. I’ll not let you leave this bed until you do,” he threatened. “What harm can it do? If you implicate others, what can it matter, for I can’t prosecute them without bringing you into it, and I’ll be damned if I’ll do that. What kind of man do you take me for? I make love to you tonight and then let the soldiers take you away to be hanged? Besides,” he added arrogantly, “no one would dare threaten what is mine—and you are mine. I’ll not give you up,” he added in a hard, possessive voice.

  His lips found hers and he kissed her hungrily, moving her onto his chest where she lay beneath the caress of his hands.

  “What do you mean, Lucien?” Sabrina asked uncertainly, a sudden fear in her heart from the possessive note in his voice.

  His answer was muffled by his kisses on her throat and shoulders as he explained reasonably, “I shall set you up as my mistress. How would you like a house in London, and a small country house? I’ve a nice one near Bath that has been recently refurbished. I can be with you most of the time, and when in London I shall visit you at your house.”

  His hands slid over her buttocks and pressed her gently against his hips, making her aware of his desire for her. He rolled her under him and made love to her again, guiding her to please and satisfy him, unsatisfied himself until she felt the ecstasy he could bring to her.

  ***

  Sabrina sighed, listening to his deep and steady breathing as he slept beside her. She bit her lip and blinked to keep the tears from overflowing her eyes. She only had herself to blame. Why should he think to offer her anything more? How could she tell him she was the daughter of a marquis, and even then would he really believe her? But what could their future be? As far as she knew he might be married. He probably was. After all, he was a duke, and handsome and rich as well. He was in his thirties, she guessed, and probably had children as old as Richard by now. But she couldn’t become his mistress. She looked down at him sleeping so soundly and peacefully, not knowing that this would be the one night for their love. Never would she see him again. Because she would not take the chance of meeting him, she would never again masquerade as Bonnie Charlie. The charade would end, and Bonnie Charlie would be retired. They had enough money now. She was tired, her nerves were frayed from constant fear and worry, and this latest fiasco had broken her confidence. She knew if they played the game too long they would get caught, as indeed they had this time. They had become careless, and her cockiness had led to entrapment and near-disaster.

  No, she must never risk meeting Lucien again. He would be furious to lose her, and knowing his iron determination, she knew he would seek her out. She must be so careful. She must hide for a while and he would soon forget a night of wonderful love, tire of his futile quest and seek diversion elsewhere. She swallowed painfully as she admitted to herself that a diversion was all she was to him. He didn’t love her, he wanted her merely to fulfill his lustful desires.

  Sabrina gazed lovingly at his face. Why should she be any different for him? How many lovers had he had since he’d reached manhood? She was just another in a long succession of women he’d desired. But for her, he was special. Lucien was her first love, a young girl’s idealistic dream of what a man should be, awakening her desires and changing her from an innocent girl into a woman. Lucien would always be special for her, not only because he’d been her first lover, but because he was the man she loved.

  She had fallen in love with the scar-faced gentleman. No, never again would she call him that. She gazed down at his sleeping face, her violet eyes reflecting the love in her heart. She traced the cruel scar with a fingertip light as a butterfly, then the beautifully chiseled mouth that was slightly curved with a dream. His lashes were long and dark, and she ran her fingertip across their fineness. His ears narrowed at the top like a satyr’s and Sabrina smiled as she thought of his passionate lovemaking.

  A desolate feeling of her accepted fate swept over her suddenly, and carried along by this wave of inevitable destiny, Sabrina ran her fingers through th
e wiry hair on Lucien’s chest, placing nibbling kisses in a frenzy across his face.

  Lucien’s startled eyes opened, then grew full of warmth as he stared up into the heart-shaped face above him. He gathered her to him, finding her soft mouth with his and sucking its sweetness as a bee sucks nectar from a flower.

  “Ah, little one, how you do please me,” he murmured as he felt her small hand fondling him boldly. He looked into her darkened eyes with pleased surprise. She was different. She had taken over the play and was on fire for him, guiding him now with her mounting passion. Her fiery responses and uncontrolled desire ignited a flame in him and he took her fiercely again and again, until they clung together unable to tell where they were not one.

  ***

  Sabrina looked down on Lucien as he slept deeply, her eyes capturing and memorizing each strong feature of his face. She turned slowly and tiptoed to the door, carefully pulled it open and passed through it soundlessly, then closed it silently behind her without a backward glance at the sleeping man in the four-poster bed. Quickly surveying the corridor she hurried across to a partially opened door and looked inside. The tumbled bedclothes and personal articles around the room showed her that it was the room Lucien had moved to while she convalesced in his. He would have brought her clothes and weapons here for safekeeping. Sabrina moved instinctively to a chest at the foot of the bed and opening the lid smiled with relief to see her coat and breeches. Beneath them were her pistol, rapier, and dagger. She quickly pulled the breeches on over the nightshirt. Her shirt and waistcoat were missing, too badly stained and torn to be mended, she thought, as she stood on one foot then the other and slipped her stockings on, rolling them up above her knees and over the tops of her breeches. Stepping into her boots she tugged them on and grabbed up her weapons. With a look of triumph she spied her mask in the dim corner of the chest and quickly donned it. Then braiding her hair with deft fingers she tucked it up and covered it with the wig and cocked hat that completed her disguise.