The Highwayman of Tanglewood

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Another wave of pure nausea washed over Faris at the thought of Lochlan Rockrimmon taking Tannis Stringham to wife.

  “I like to think he would not consider her,” Faris said. “Yet, why then is she here? If not for the sake of expecting a proposal—why then?”

  “Expecting a proposal is far different than receiving one, Faris,” Lillias said. Lillias frowned all of a sudden. “You look so tired, darling,” she said, placing a loving hand to Faris’s cheek. “And after all, why should you not? Such a day! You should retire with haste, Faris—for Lady and the Miss Stringham will arise early, no doubt, and be quite expectant of service.”

  “I am tired, it is true,” Faris admitted. “Yet, I have one—one small attendance to meet before I am found drifting to slumber.”

  “Then go, my darling friend,” Lillias said. She smiled then and whispered, “For I must beg one last kiss from Gawain before he takes his leave of Loch Loland.”

  “Lord Kendrick is here?” Faris asked. She thought he had been absent from Loch Loland the entirety of the day.

  “He arrived only just an hour after we witnessed the Highwayman,” Lillias explained. “You should have seen the disappointment of his countenance when we told him we had seen the Highwayman of Tanglewood with our very own eyes. My poor love. He looked just as a little boy disappointed at not receiving a new sword for his birthday.” Lillias giggled, quickly kissed Faris on the cheek, and turned to go. “Sleep well, darling! Dream enough dreams of the Highwayman of Tanglewood for us both!”

  “I will!” Faris whispered after her.

  “Faris.”

  It was Old Joseph.

  “Yes?” Faris asked turning to face him.

  “Master Lochlan is on his way to the kitchen and requests that you meet him there momentarily,” Old Joseph said. He winked at her with understanding, and Faris blushed. She hoped the tittle-tattle at Loch Loland Castle did not involve their young master favoring his chambermaid.

  “Thank you, Joseph,” Faris said. Quickly, she fell into step behind him—her heart hammering with something akin to anxiety mingled with excitement.

  Following Old Joseph into the kitchen, Faris smiled when she saw a pie and two forks had been laid out on the servants’ table. Yet Lochlan was not yet present.

  “I will leave you to your pie,” Old Joseph said. He nodded and took his leave of the kitchen, leaving Faris all alone with nothing but anticipation.

  Faris glanced around the room. It was an inviting place when the day was over—when the bustle of busy cooks had been put to sleep for the day.

  She startled when she heard a knock on the servants’ entrance door. Had it been locked? It remained ever free of bolting as far as Faris knew—for Old Joseph enjoyed roaming the castle and gardens at night. The kitchen servants’ entrance was kept unlocked with no bolt drawn that Old Joseph may enjoy his meanderings.

  Going to the door, Faris placed a hand on the large latch. Inhaling a deep breath of courage—for her fear whispered that perhaps Kade Tremeshton had returned to assault her once again—she opened the door.

  “Hello?” she called, seeing no one standing on the other side. “Is anyone there?”

  “None—save he that would have ye far his own, lass.”

  Faris was breathless with delight at the sound of his voice. Glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one had yet entered the kitchen, she stepped into the cover of darkness and directly into the waiting arms of the Highwayman of Tanglewood.

  Act and Implication

  His mouth was hot, moist, and ravenous for want of hers! This Faris knew by the passion of his kiss—the powerful embrace into which he gathered her. All her fear, every shred of anxiety, even the great fatigue she had felt a moment before—all ill feelings had vanished the moment the Highwayman of Tanglewood had taken her in his arms!

  “You,” she breathed as he broke the seal of their lips for a moment.

  “Aye,” he whispered. He wasted no more breath in speaking—simply pulled her more tightly against the strength of his body as he endeavored to drink passion from her lips.

  Full darkness was upon them as they kissed—yet light and color as bright as any morning sunrise burst forth in Faris’s mind! To be held by him, to taste the warm flavor of his mouth—it was magic in quality—enchanting! The sense of his roughly shaven face against her own caused goose bumps to scatter over Faris’s entire body. The thought briefly crossed her mind that he donned no mustache and goatee—he was fair clean-shaven. Yet the passion burning between them was fiery and fierce, and the thought was lost to Faris almost as quickly as it had come to her.

  He could not quench his thirst for her kiss! As the Highwayman of Tanglewood led passion between him and his beloved Loch Loland chambermaid, he knew he would never have his fill of her—for his fill could never be reached. How he adored her! How he feared for her safety! How furious he had been with Kade Tremeshton! To run the villain through—it had been his first thought. Yet, upon seeing him thrown over the back of his mount, humiliation first seemed the order. Yes, he had heaped humiliation on Kade Tremeshton in plenty! Stripping him bare to his skin, he had tied him upright to his mount, gagged him, and sent the horse trotting for home! Yet now—now as he drank the sweet nourishment that was Faris’s kiss—he feared he had been mistaken in letting Tremeshton go so easy.

  She melded to him, and the Highwayman of Tanglewood nearly lost all sense of reason at the feel of such succumbing. He must not delay—else he endanger them both. Yet the very act of kissing her was like a wild intoxication—nearly impossible to deny—and he feared it would overtake him entirely should he linger as his heart, soul, and body bade him. With one final savoring of her mouth, he broke the seal of their lips, released his lover, and stepped back into total darkness.

  “Me letter?” he asked. “Did ya receive me letter, fair Faris?”

  “I did,” Faris whispered, still breathless from his attention.

  “Then we will meet there—in two nights yet—where the heather runs forever,” the Highwayman said.

  “Must you go?” Faris asked. She was desperate to stay near to him, desperate to know he wanted to stay near to her. Yet he had come to her. In doing so, he put himself in great peril. It was proof of his caring for her—was it not?

  “I have lingered too long, I have,” he said. “Yet it was sure I must be that ye are well.”

  “I am well,” Faris said. “I am well in your company.”

  “Lord Tremeshton has suffered great physical harm and even greater humiliation for what transpired at Loch Loland Castle this day,” the Highwayman growled. “Though methinks I should have run him through when I had the chance.”

  “He does not deserve to die on your blade,” Faris whispered. “He is without any honor and therefore not deserving of such an honorable death.” Faris smiled as she heard the Highwayman chuckle from his hiding place in the darkness beneath the old oak.

  “The day will come, fair Faris of Loch Loland Castle,” the Highwayman said.

  Faris felt her brow wrinkle with puzzlement. “What day will come, Highwayman?” she asked.

  “The day when I will spirit ye, lass,” he said. “One day I will spirit ye far me own and cease in sharin’ yar attentions with any other.”

  Faris’s heart felt near to bursting with joy—her stomach so full of the feeling of butterflies it took her breath from her bosom!

  “Then spirit me now, Highwayman!” she pleaded in a whisper. “Do not leave me again—never leave me again.”

  “I cannot ye have yet, lass,” he said. “But the day will come that I can—and I will. ’Til two nights hence, fair Faris.”

  She heard the rustle of leaves, the tread of boots on the night grass, and he was gone.

  The Highwayman of Tanglewood slipped through the break in the garden wall. He would have her! Neither man nor nature could stop him. Yet he feared what he was, feared Faris’s scorn were she to discover his true identity. Still, she was his—he owned her
heart—this he read in her kiss. Surely she would not spurn him simply for being what he was born to be. Carefully he made his way. Darkness had become his greatest ally, and he was grateful for its concealing cloak now.

  Faris stepped into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind her. Her heart yet raced with the excitement of having seen her lover—her lips yet tingled from his kiss! However would she settle into eating pie with her young master when the Highwayman of Tanglewood still lingered in her mind and heart?

  She sat down at the table—sat before the pie Mary had left for her and Lochlan. What a trivial thing a pie seemed at that moment. She thought of the Highwayman besting Kade Tremeshton and smiled. Yet had it not been Lochlan Rockrimmon who had bested the beast first? Still, it was the Highwayman of Tanglewood who had heaped such great humiliation on the blackguard, and she was glad.

  “Ah, Faris,” Lochlan said, startling Faris from her thoughts. “There you are. My apologies for being belated.”

  “I am sure the pie is glad for a few moments of reprieve before being devoured, sire,” Faris said.

  Lochlan smiled, and Faris silently scolded herself for the delightful tremble running through her at the sight of him.

  Lochlan sat in a chair across the table from Faris and asked, “What is your opinion of Miss Tannis then, Faris?” Faris smiled as he plunged a fork into the center of the pie.

  Faris was delighted with his comfortable, rather boyish manner. She must thank him for his chivalry on her behalf, for her guilt because of his efforts was strong. Still, as she sat across from him, watching him eat from the middle of the pie as was his way, a different sort of guilt battled within her—a guilt in feeling somehow disloyal toward her beloved Highwayman. Oh, how she wished he were with her always. How she wished he would simply spirit her away with him. There would be no reason to be at Loch Loland Castle, no reason to be in the company of the alluring Lochlan Rockrimmon if the Highwayman could only spirit her away.

  “M-my opinion, sire?” Faris asked. Suddenly she was conscious of his question and likewise astonished he would inquire it of her.

  “Yes, Faris,” he said. “Or are you, as yet, too distracted for only having just met with the Highwayman of Tanglewood? He is your lover, I believe. Is he not?”

  All breathing that had once begun in Faris’s body ceased in its entirety. She felt instead the hot breath of fear as it washed over her. He knew! Lochlan Rockrimmon knew of her meeting with the Highwayman!

  “Pray draw breath before you expire, Faris,” Lochlan said, plunging his fork into the pie anew. “You have nothing to fear in my knowing—nor does your rogue lover.”

  “Sire—I-I…” Faris stammered. Words would not come to her mind, nor her lips. He knew! He knew, and now Faris’s greatest fear was realized—because of her, the Highwayman of Tanglewood was in peril of discovery!

  Lochlan waved his fork at her—a gesture she should not be overly distressed. “You have nothing to fear from me, Faris. I will do nothing to endanger either of you. You forget, pretty Faris, the Highwayman and I, we fight on the same battle lines. We fight for many the same purposes,” Lochlan said. His emerald eyes narrowed then as he added, “And likewise our desires run to many the same objects.”

  Faris felt her cheeks blush vermilion. Was his implication to what she understood it to be? Was he implying she was an object of his desire, as she was the object of the Highwayman’s?

  “Yet he seems the better man than me at every turn, does he not?” Lochlan asked, rather forcing a smile. “He has certainly set Lord Kade Tremeshton to humiliation—far more effective than my pounding him with my fists.”

  “Sire,” Faris began. “How—how did you—”

  “How did I know you were the Highwayman of Tanglewood’s lover?” he finished for her.

  She nodded and watched as he ate another bite of pie. “Yes,” she breathed.

  “The pie, Faris,” he said, pointing to the pastry with his fork. “I cannot possibly finish it all on my own.”

  Faris frowned, nodded slightly, and pressed her fork into the pie.

  “I suspected as much the night you arrived at the servants’ entrance here with quite the look of a woman seduced—for Graybeau had only just told me he had seen the Highwayman of Tanglewood riding away from Loch Loland Castle mere minutes before,” he said. “And I saw the expression on your lovely face this day, when the Highwayman rode to Loch Loland to deliver the parchments Tremeshton had left pinned to a tree. Your face was simply illuminate with resplendent bliss. Further,” he continued, “further, how often have you known me to be tardy in arriving for a meeting with anyone?”

  “N-never, sire,” Faris stammered. And it was true. Lochlan Rockrimmon was known for his promptness in character.

  “Exactly,” he said, pointing his fork at her. “Therefore, I tell you—I was not tardy for our pie-meeting this evening. I arrived in this very spot just in time to see the man dressed in black pull you from the door and into his arms.”

  “S-sire, please,” Faris began to beg, “I am ever so grateful for your intervention on my behalf where Lord Tremeshton is concerned—for both instances when you—”

  “Your secret is safe with me, Faris,” he interrupted. “This I promise you. I would in no way endanger my ally the Highwayman of Tanglewood, nor would I endanger you. If you are not sure of that fact by now, then I suppose my besting of Kade Tremeshton in your defense is of no consequence.”

  “No, sire! It is of every consequence!” Faris exclaimed. “I can never repay you such a debt. Nor can I repay you for the debt of your silence where the Highwayman of Tanglewood is concerned—where his meeting with me is concerned.”

  “Do you think it is Bainbridge Graybeau who rides as the Highwayman of Tanglewood?” he asked, pressing his fork into the pie before him.

  “Sire?” Faris asked.

  “Do you think the Highwayman could, in truth, be Graybeau?” he asked again. “I have thought for some time that he could well be. Of course, perhaps you already know the truth. Perhaps this is the reason Graybeau teaches you to ride—that the two of you may meet in daylight instead of only at night.”

  “I-I confess, sire—I do not know the Highwayman’s true identity,” Faris said. She was not lying—truly she did not know assuredly. Though Jovan’s presence in the stables when Graybeau claimed to be exercising him…it was evidence, was it not?

  “But you suspect Graybeau, do you not? Joseph tells me you were quite determined to find him today—just after I left to meet Tremeshton. He says a young stableboy said you were quite frantic in your search for him. Could it be that you suspect Graybeau of being the Highwayman of Tanglewood and meant to send him to aid me?”

  His understanding was uncanny!

  “Why else would you seek out Graybeau with such intensity? The Highwayman of Tanglewood stands as your lover. Therefore, you would have no great need of Graybeau, no great confidence in his ability to aid me, unless you suspect him of being the Highwayman as well,” Lochlan said.

  “Sire, I am fearful beyond understanding at your knowledge of my—” Faris began.

  “No wonder you are so indifferent to me,” he chuckled then. “Where ranks an heir to title and wealth when a rogue lover awaits at nightfall, eh?”

  “But, sire,” Faris began, “I am not indifferent to you in the least of it.”

  “Fear not, Faris,” he said. “We all have our secrets. I have secrets where lovers are concerned myself. We all of us do.” He leaned forward, the emerald of his eyes burning into the dark depths of her own. “And I will keep yours, Faris. Do not worry.”

  “B-but, sire—” Faris stammered. She was disturbed—disturbed by his reference to having secrets of his own where lovers were concerned.

  “Now,” Lochlan interrupted. “I am still awaiting your opinion of Miss Stringham. Pray eat your portion of the pie, Faris, and tell me your thoughts as you do so.”

  Faris’s mind still whirled with confusion, fear, and residual astoni
shment. He knew! Lochlan Rockrimmon knew of Faris’s connection to the Highwayman of Tanglewood. Yet he seemed no more disturbed by the knowledge than if he’d only discovered the pie before them encased apples rather than berries.

  “Your opinion, Faris,” he said. “I am in earnest in wanting to hear it.”

  “I-I am not entirely certain as to your meaning, sire,” she stammered. Her body yet trembled, yet unsettled by the fact someone knew of her twilight lover. Still, she would endeavor to answer him—to distract him to other venues of thought. “D-do you mean my opinion in regard to her appearance, sire? For if that is what you wish to know, then I cannot deny she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.”

  “Oh, but that is an easy opinion to form,” he said, pointing at her with his fork. “A person can look upon you and form such an easy opinion as well.”

  Faris blushed and could not subdue the rising gladness in her at the compliment. Such a delight fairly overtook her lingering fear.

  “However, there is much more to be considered here,” he continued, “at least from where I am standing.”

  Blush and thrill turned to sickness and fear in Faris once more, for there it was—his admission he was considering her as a wife. Faris considered screaming—considered reaching out and taking hold of his handsome, squared jaw and begging, No! She is no good for you! She does not deserve to be your wife!

  Instead, she simply swallowed hard, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “I cannot say, sire, for I do not know her well. I have only just this day seen her—met her for the first time.”