Moonstruck Madness

by Laurie McBain

  Lucien spun as Will’s fist collided with his jaw, knocking him to the ground. He rolled quickly aside and caught Will’s uplifted, booted foot and gave it a vicious twist, throwing him off balance. As he fell heavily to the ground Lucien followed on top of him and punched him in the eye, dodging the big fist that whizzed by his ear, and landed another of his own on the giant’s nose. He heard the reviving moan of his other opponent and quickly jumped to his feet. Reaching into his coat pocket he withdrew a pistol, and waiting for the large brothers to slowly pick themselves up he stood pointing the barrel at the two men.

  “Well, well, the mighty do fall hard,” he commented with a grin, and then, feeling his own sore jaw, grimaced. “You should have known, gentlemen, that I do not frighten easily, nor do I take kindly to threats from country bumpkins. You may count yourselves lucky that I did not shoot one of you dead when you first threatened me. And you may tell Sabrina that her plan has failed and I am now, more than ever, determined to have my way. Do I make myself clear, my big friends?”

  Will and John slouched uncomfortably, a look of grudging respect for their would-be victim’s prowess with his fists warring with chagrined anger on their faces as they mumbled an indistinct reply.

  “Not quite so voluble now, are you? Tell Sabrina I’ll exact my revenge very shortly. She may count on it.”

  He turned and walked off, ignoring Will’s, “Hey, wait a minute, you’ve got it all wrong!”

  They watched his figure disappear behind the trees, then looked at each other silently for a moment.

  “We done it good this time.”

  “Yeah,” Will answered, holding his sleeve to his bloodied nose. “Made a bit more mischief than we’d planned. Charlie ain’t going to like this. He’s really out to get her now.”

  “Should’ve left it alone, I guess.”

  “Come on, let’s be off before he returns and decides to put a hole in our thick skulls.”

  They trudged off, their big shoulders slumped dejectedly.

  “Never seen anyone punch like that.”

  “Oughta be wrestlin’ at the fair, the way he moves.”

  “Knocked down by a London gent in lace. Never hear the end of it if anyone knew,” John complained.

  “Been thinkin’ maybe we ought not to tell Charlie about this,” Will suggested.

  John shook his massive head in agreement. “Nope, don’t think we oughta.”

  Sabrina greeted them happily when they showed up in the afternoon, but as they came closer and her eyes scanned their bruised faces, her grin faded.

  “What happened?”

  Will shrugged. “Breaking up a fight in the inn. Couple of locals got carried away in an argument.”

  “You’re in more danger running the Faire Maiden than you were as highwaymen,” she laughed, accepting Will’s explanation.

  Sabrina sat down on a fallen tree trunk, the sun shining down on her shoulders and warming them. Her face was pale and drawn, throwing the smudges beneath her violet eyes into prominence.

  John scuffed his feet as he said hesitantly, “You look pretty tired, Charlie, I wish you’d come and stay at Mam’s. This marsh ain’t good.”

  “I’m all right, really I am. All I need is a little rest. Once this is all over, then I can relax.” She smiled. “If you really want to help me, then tell me what you’ve heard. Is the duke still at Verrick House, and has the marquis shown up yet?”

  “No, haven’t heard a word about the marquis, and I know for certain the duke’s still at Verrick House,” Will replied sourly, despite John’s warning look. “In fact, he’s getting mighty close to your family.”

  Sabrina’s eyes narrowed and a flush appeared on her thin cheeks. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, heard tell he’s takin’ yer brother out shootin’ and even ridin’.”

  Sabrina jumped to her feet angrily. “How dare he make friends with my family. He’s up to something, I’m sure. If only I could be there to deal with him.”

  Will and John looked at each other over Sabrina’s head, both having seen the feverish look in her eyes and the agitated movement of her hands, but Will shook his head helplessly as Sabrina’s hands went to her hips and she took up her defiant stance, her booted legs spread and reminding him suddenly and ironically of the duke.

  “They’ll all be sorry. No one mocks me. Lucien is going to be sorry he ever came here.”

  “Guess we better be gettin’ back, and we’ll see you tonight. Things been awful quiet the last day or two, hope somebody’s on the road tonight at least.”

  Sabrina sighed. “All right, I’ll see you then, and if you hear anything about a party let me know then. If we could just rob a few big parties that would be all we’d need to finish this once and for all.”

  As they turned to leave Sabrina got up and followed, calling to them. Coming up close she took one of each of their big hands and gave them a little squeeze. “Thank you for keeping me company last night. I truly appreciate it, but it’s not really necessary.”

  “Don’t like you being out here alone,” Will replied gruffly. “Wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, thinkin’ about it.”

  “Well, then, be sure to bring enough for us both to eat tonight. I don’t like eating alone,” Sabrina ordered good-naturedly.

  “Sure, Charlie, John’ll be here this evening,” Will told her, feeling relieved at her acceptance of their company.

  Sabrina waved as they rode off, a smile on her face, but as they disappeared, so did her smile, If she did not feel so bad she would be bored senseless, sitting about this dilapidated hut worrying and wondering what was happening at Verrick House, unable to do anything except helplessly watch events move beyond her control.

  She shivered with a chill and wrapping one of the blankets around her went outside again into the warm sunshine and leaned against the side of the hut, feeling the sun’s rays beating down on her and soaking into her chilled bones. A muffled sneeze shook her body and closing her eyes against the brightness she slumped down, resting her aching head on her drawn-up knees.

  By the next morning, after a long and unprofitable night waiting on the side of the road, she was congested and her throat was raw and hurt with every swallow. John hovered clumsily about trying to be helpful, but only succeeded in annoying her as she watched in suffering silence. When he left and Will returned in his stead, he was loaded down with salves and brews concocted to relieve her headache and sore throat.

  “A bottle of rum would’ve done as well,” Sabrina complained with a smile as Will unloaded his medicines and extra blankets.

  “Mam said to brew these herbs and honey for you and to rub this on your—” he hesitated in embarrassment “—your chest.”

  “I think I can manage that much,” Sabrina assured him in a husky whisper which ended in a painful cough. She gratefully accepted the hot brew, feeling its soothing qualities slide down her sore throat as she relaxed next to the fire Will had started.

  “Brought some rum, too. Figure it’s always helped me the most,” Will chuckled as he placed the bottle on the table and winked conspiratorially.

  He straddled a chair and rubbed his ear as he gave a deep sigh of regret. “Wouldn’t you know, there’s a big party going on at Lord Newley’s tonight, but you’re in no shape to go, Charlie.”

  Sabrina looked up at him from her cocoon of blankets, her small nose pink from sneezing. “I have no choice but to go. This could be the last time, Will,” she said in growing excitement.

  “I don’t know, Charlie. You’re mighty sick with the fever. Wouldn’t do to pass out in the middle of Lord Newley’s guests.”

  Sabrina sniffed, whether at the thought of passing out or with her cold, Will couldn’t tell. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’ll get through this night if it kills me.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Will commen
ted glumly.

  “Who’s supposed to be there? Is it really a big party?” A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Will’s mouth. “Well, that’s the odd thing about it, Charlie, you see it’s in honor of you and the duke. Sort of an engagement party you might call it.”

  Sabrina’s eyes grew wide and she gave a weak laugh that turned into a cough. “Yes, it’s appropriate that I should attend this party. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Sabrina chuckled, her feverish eyes glowing brighter in anticipation.

  Late that evening Sabrina leaned against the table as she braided her thick hair with unsteady fingers and tucked it up under the wig. Her face felt on fire and her head ached until she thought it would burst. For the last time, she hoped fervently, would she be putting this mask over her face. She set the cocked hat firmly on her head and pulled on her greatcoat. She swayed dizzily as she stuck her pistol into her belt, and holding onto the edge of the table tightly, closed her eyes. She had to get through this night. It meant everything—just this one last time, she prayed. She must find the strength to see it through. She opened her eyes and the room had stopped spinning, and lifting her chin she pulled on her gloves determinedly and left the hut, the swagger returning to her walk as she strode across the soft ground to meet Will and John, the spurs on her jackboots jingling into the quiet night.

  ***

  “A party?” Mary repeated in amazement. “Surely you jest?”

  “No,” Lucien answered seriously. “It would seem that Newley decided to give one in my honor, or I should say in Sabrina’s and mine.”

  “And you intend that we shall go? I wouldn’t think that you would care to? We should be here in case Sabrina should decide to return.”

  “That is exactly why I shall be at that party. Can you imagine Sabrina passing up the chance to appear at her own engagement party? I certainly cannot, and I intend to be there as well,” Lucien said, “just to make sure some trigger-happy guest doesn’t cheat me out of a bride.”

  “You’re right, she will be there. I know her too well to believe that she would not show up,” Mary agreed unhappily, her face pale.

  Lucien glanced at her, about to comment, when she suddenly pressed her fingers to her temples, her eyes turning cloudy as she swayed as though about to faint. Lucien rushed forward and scooped her into his arms, an expression of concern on his hard features as he began to lower her into a chair.

  He was bending over her, his arms still about her when Colonel Fletcher walked into the salon, his expression of anticipation changing to one of startled jealousy as he thought he saw Mary wrapped in some man’s arms.

  “What the devil?” he said roughly as he quickly came forward and pulled Lucien away from Mary.

  Lucien turned swiftly to confront whoever had manhandled him, his look of anger changing to recognition as he saw a soldier facing him and realized that this must be the colonel.

  Colonel Fletcher saw Lucien’s eyes narrow and a look of derision curve his lips, and drew himself up stiffly, wondering who this scar-faced gentleman was. They stood glaring at each other until a moan from Mary drew their attention, then each made a move toward her. They stopped as her eyes opened and stared unseeingly past them, the gray turning silvery before their startled eyes.

  A pulse was beating rapidly in her throat and her hands gripped the arms of her chair, her knuckles showing white. “I see… a mist and people… and cries… I see Sabrina there… and Bonnie Charlie. Oh, God, she’s on the ground… and I see pistols… and the duke’s scarred face. But it’s so clouded. I can feel the cold… Rina needs help… the duke is fighting Bonnie Charlie… double… double faces… I’m so confused,” she cried, “Sabrina!” Mary held out her hands to some invisible image before her.

  Lucien felt a shiver crawl over him as he stared in disbelief at the haunted face before him. Colonel Fletcher bent down and taking hold of Mary’s shoulders gave her a sharp shake. Her head rolled sideways and her eyelids fluttered before her head dropped to her chest. She was breathing heavily, perspiration beading her forehead.

  Lucien poured a sherry and handed it to the colonel, who tipped back Mary’s head and held it to her bluish-tinged lips. A small drop trickled into her mouth and down her throat as her blood once again circulated warmly and color began to return to her face.

  Colonel Fletcher lifted Mary in his arms and without a glance at the duke carried her from the room. Lucien picked up the forgotten sherry and drained it easily as he sat down and prepared to wait impatiently for some answers.

  Colonel Fletcher removed Mary’s jacket-bodice and turning her over on the bed, loosened the laces of her corset. He settled her comfortably against the pillows and taking one of her cold hands began to massage it gently.

  Taking a deep breath Mary opened her eyes and looked into the colonel’s concerned face. He ran his warm hands up her bare arms, and Mary blushed in startled embarrassment as she became aware that only her thin chemise covered her breasts.

  “Why you women insist upon tying yourselves up until you cannot breathe adequately is beyond me. No wonder you are so pale half the time,” the colonel chastised her gently. “Besides, you do not need such devices. Your waist is already so tiny.” He let his hands move from her shoulders over her breasts, lingering for a second before they slid around her waist and he lowered his head and took her trembling lips, demanding a kiss that left her breathless once again.

  “Terence,” Mary whispered. “This is not right.” His lips continued to caress hers as she tried to resist him, but she let herself be kissed, feeling a thrill as his mouth pressed against the soft swell of her breasts above the lacy corset front. Pulling his head back to hers she found his mouth with her eager lips, surprising him with her first real response to him. Mary drew back suddenly and turned her head away. “Please, Terence.”

  Colonel Fletcher sat back reluctantly and allowed her to try and compose herself. “Will you tell me about it, Mary?” he asked, watching her carefully.

  Mary nodded her red head dejectedly. “I want to confide in you, Terence, I want to trust you,” she said softly, looking up at him with pleading gray eyes.

  Terence reached out for her and held her comfortingly in his arms. “I would never hurt you, Mary. Trust me, let me help.”

  “You aren’t just pretending to like me so you can trick me into revealing something?”

  Colonel Fletcher put a hard hand beneath her chin and raising her face to his, looked earnestly down into her beseeching eyes. “I will not lie to you, Mary. Have you never met someone for the first time and known instinctively that this was to be a friend? Well, when I first set eyes on you I knew that I meant to make you my wife. Does that surprise you, Mary? No, I can see that it doesn’t, because I think deep inside you felt the same, also. But I am a man of quick decisions. I’ve had to be to survive the battles I’ve been in. And I’ve decided I want you, Mary. I’m not going to wait for the marquis to pick some rich suitor for you as he has for your sister. I’m not some young, fresh-faced lad courting his first love. I’m an old bachelor, certainly not the ideal man you’d dreamed of marrying and raising children with. I’m over thirty, Mary. What are you, eighteen or nineteen? Maybe there are too many years between us, but damned if I won’t make you a good husband. I’ll care for you, protect you, and love you as best I can. I want a family, a settled home. I’m tired of camping out, feeling the cold in my bones at night. I want a woman to warm my bed and give me fine sons and daughters.”

  He touched his finger to Mary’s lips, feeling their contour as he looked deeply into her eyes. “Are you woman enough for me, Mary? I think so, and I intend to ask for your hand in marriage. I shouldn’t imagine your father would have any objections. I’m the younger son of an earl, and I’ve a comfortable estate I intend to retire to soon. You’ll like it there, Mary, I promise you.” His gray eyes glowed in memory of his home as he described the scene to her vividl
y.

  “It’s north of here in a valley of beautiful lakes that shimmer under the moonlight. It’s a place for lovers, Mary. And I’m not so old that I have forgotten how to love my lady to her heart’s desire. The house is small but comfortable, and I’ve added a wing that will be completed soon. In autumn the—”

  “Oh, stop, please,” Mary whispered. “Do not torture me so.”

  Colonel Fletcher stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowed. Mary looked away from his steady gaze, unable to bear the hurt expression in his eyes. Her hands found his and curled into them as she searched his face for answers to her doubts.

  “You honor me, Terence, by your proposal, but I cannot wed you, nor anyone,” she explained softly. “I am needed here. After what I have just seen, I know I shall be. I could not marry you and leave my family when they needed me.” Mary looked down at their locked hands and added, “I cannot ask you to wait, either, it wouldn’t be fair.”

  Terence wiped a tear from her face and pressed his mouth against her lips softly. “I shall wait, Mary, for you are the only woman I want for my wife. And I understand your decision, even though I am not happy about it. But your sister is in a great deal of trouble,” he told her seriously. “I would like to talk with her. Would you tell her that?”

  Mary’s lips trembled. “She is gone. She has run away from the duke and will not marry him. That is why she has masqueraded as Bonnie Charlie again. She had quit doing it, until now.” Mary’s hands tightened on the colonel’s as she tried to make him understand. “You do see why she has done it? We had to live, we had no money. Sabrina only did it to save us. You do see?”

  “Yes, I do. But why does she pursue this dangerous path? She could marry the duke and be done with it all.”

  Mary shook her head regretfully. “Sabrina is a very passionate person, and she hates the marquis and the duke passionately. They both made serious mistakes when they threatened her and humiliated her the way they have, and she’ll never forgive either of them. But what is so tragic is that it’s all so useless. The Duke has already paid off the marquis, who has left for Europe. Sabrina will have no one to hand over all of her ill-gotten gains to, she’ll have endangered herself for nothing. I’m so worried about her. She is so close to falling apart. Having the duke here does not help matters at all, for I believe he is not one to concede defeat.”