The Highwayman of Tanglewood

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Inhaling a deep breath and brushing the tears from her tender and sore cheeks, she endeavored to regain a remnant of calm about her. Yet her heart cried out for the Highwayman. If ever she needed championing, it was now! Where was he? Where did he rest in daylight? Why was it she was ever assaulted in the broad light of day when the Highwayman of Tanglewood could not champion her? Why was it ever Lochlan Rockrimmon championing her at Loch Loland and not her beloved?

  As she opened her eyes, she gasped, unsettled at the sight of Lochlan himself standing before her. It was an uncanny thing—as if her thoughts of Lochlan had caused him to materialize.

  “What goes on here?” Lochlan asked, scowling as his eyes lingered on Faris’s gaping bodice. Self-consciously, Faris pulled the fabric together with one hand. “And here?” he asked, lifting her chin to study her.

  His touch was comforting and exhilarating in the same moment. From the sense of sting on her cheeks, Faris was certain Tannis’s and her mother’s abuse had left fiery red welts on her face.

  “Who has assaulted you thus?” Lochlan growled. His voice was loud, demanding, and angry in its intonation.

  Faris gazed into the hot emerald of his eyes. He was livid with barely controlled rage.

  “It—it is nothing to speak of, sire,” she lied, attempting to move past him. She did not wish to tell him of the abusive manner of his guests. It was humiliating to her all of a sudden. It seemed at every turn she was being assaulted at Loch Loland Castle. Surely Lochlan must have begun to wonder what a cursed being she was.

  “Nothing to speak of?” Lochlan nearly roared. “Your clothing wet and torn, the flesh beneath unnaturally red! The print of a hand on this cheek,” he said, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. “And here, too,” he said, pointing to the other.

  Faris was rendered breathless, her body rippling with goose bumps as Lochlan pressed the bareness of his hand to the scalded flesh just below her throat.

  “Warm and tender. You have been scalded,” he growled. His expression was that of rage, and Faris watched as his jaw clinched tightly shut. “You will tell me now, Faris. Who has caused this?”

  Faris opened her mouth to speak, but shook her head saying, “I…I cannot possibly tell you, sire.”

  “What?” he asked. “Why not?”

  “I-I…” she stammered.

  “Tell me here…now. I demand it. Do not refuse me, Faris,” he growled.

  “It was first Miss Tannis,” Faris whispered. “And—and then her mother.”

  Lochlan straightened his broad shoulders, ground his teeth, and said, “Tell me all of it, Faris. At once.”

  Faris frowned. Dared she tell him the truth of it? Surely it would mean her dismissal. Whether or not he meant to take Tannis Stringham to wife, she was his guest—she and her mother. Never would a servant’s word usurp that of titled lady and her daughter, guests at Loch Loland Castle.

  “I am a chambermaid, sire,” she began. “I-I don’t usually handle tea service, but Willeen is ill, and Sarah is—”

  “You are a woman, Faris,” he interrupted. “Now, continue.”

  Faris wiped tears from her sore cheeks and said, “I was serving an unscheduled tea to Lady Stringham and her daughter. Willeen is ill, and Sarah is—”

  “This much I have gathered, Faris. Out with it, for my patience is taxed near to being all spent,” he said.

  Faris was trembling before him. Yet for fear or joy at being in his presence, she did not know. “I simply held the tray for Miss Tannis, that she might serve herself. I was holding the tray, and she pushed at it, causing the tea and cakes to spill on me. I was disrespectful, sire—I admit it—for I spoke improperly, somewhat accusing she had done so on purpose. It was then she first struck me.” Desperate that he believe her, Faris reached out, taking hold of his sleeve and pleading, “I beg you to believe me, sire! I am not telling a falsehood! She truly did—”

  Faris’s words were lost to her, and she began to tremble as Lochlan glanced to where her hand held his sleeve.

  “Forgive me, Master Lochlan. I only wanted to make you understand—” she gasped as he took hold of her arm. “Sire, please,” she begged, for she knew he meant to throw her out of Loch Loland Castle forever. Yet, as he turned her toward his mother’s parlor, pushed her before him toward it, she realized his intent. He meant to make her face Lady and Tannis Stringham!

  “Oh, please, sire!” she begged. “I swear I am telling the truth!” She had no choice but to do his bidding, for he fairly dragged her into the room where sat Lady Stringham and her daughter. Both women looked up as Lochlan pushed her toward them.

  “Lochlan, darling,” Lady Stringham began. “I see you’ve found our truant serving maid.”

  Faris wiped the tears from her cheeks only a moment before Lochlan took hold of her shoulders and held her forward, as if assuring Lady Stringham knew she was present. Well expecting another slap, Faris closed her eyes and winced. No slap was administered, however, and her eyes widened as dinner platters when she felt Lochlan pull aside the fabric of her bodice.

  “Explain this to me, Lady Stringham,” he demanded.

  Faris could feel his strong hands trembling with rage as he held the fabric of her bodice. He was indeed enraged—but not so for the reasons Faris had at first assumed.

  Lady Stringham smiled. She tossed her head as if innocence were her nature and said, “The girl is as clumsy as any hog, Lochlan. She had an unfortunate episode with the service and spilled the tea and cakes.”

  “And this?” Lochlan asked, taking Faris’s chin in hand and displaying first one cheek to Lady Stringham and her daughter, then the other.

  “She is wildly impertinent, Lochlan,” Tannis said. “If only you had heard her sharp serpent’s tongue.”

  Faris gasped as Lochlan took hold of her shoulders once more, turned her toward him, and held her firmly against his the protective strength of his powerful body.

  “Lady Stringham,” he growled. “This—the entirety of it is unacceptable in the very least.”

  “No apology is necessary, Lochlan,” Lady Stringham began. “It was the girl’s clumsiness, her inexperience—”

  “Milady, you and your daughter have but one hour to gather your things and quit Loch Loland,” Loch growled.

  “What?” Tannis exclaimed.

  At the understanding of his words, Faris could not help but to melt against him. His championing her again was unexpected to her—though it should have been entirely predictable.

  “Lochlan,” Lady Stringham began, “you cannot possibly be in earnest.”

  “I am well in earnest, woman,” he said.

  “Lochlan!” Tannis exclaimed in utter astonishment.

  “I will send someone to assist you with your exodus,” he said. Then, still holding Faris to him, he turned to leave, yet paused. Looking back at the two women, he added, “I do not believe it necessary, yet I will now inform you that you are no longer welcome in my father’s house. No matter the circumstance.”

  Faris stood in astonished disbelief at what had only just transpired. Had she understood correctly? Had Lochlan Rockrimmon ordered Lady and Tannis Stringham to quit Loch Loland?

  Lochlan swept her into the cradle of his powerful arms, rendering Faris further astonished and even more breathless. As he carried her from the room, Faris looked back to see Lady Stringham standing unbelieving, mouth agape. Tannis burst into tears and began wailing about her loss of prospective husband.

  “It is your fault, Mother!” Tannis sobbed. “You had to offend his little pet!”

  “I?” Lady Stringham screeched. “You struck first, Tannis! Would that you had kept your envy in order for one more day!”

  Lochlan closed the door to the parlor with a swift kick of his foot before continuing to walk down the hallway, cradling Faris in his arms. Uncertain as to what action she should take, Faris simply stared up at him. His brow was deeply creased with an angry frown, his jaw still tightly clinched.

  �
��Sire?” Faris ventured. At the sound of her voice, Lochlan stopped and looked at her, though he did not release her. “Sire—I am well,” she told him. “Certainly well enough to walk.”

  Lochlan’s massive chest rose and fell with the heavy breath of anger. Still, after a moment, he nodded. He dropped her feet to the floor, further releasing her when her balance was certain.

  “Thank you, sire,” Faris said, gathering the fabric of her open bodice into one closed hand.

  “I am sorry you endured such treatment, Faris,” he said. His teeth were still clinched, his anger yet lingering. She was quite certain the emerald fire of his eyes would next set Loch Loland Castle to flames.

  “It was no fault of yours, sire,” Faris said.

  His frown deepened, and he looked at her. His eyes narrowed, and he said, “It was my invitation that brought them here.”

  “Yet their character is no fault of yours,” Faris reminded him.

  He reached forth, taking her chin in one hand and studying the welts on her cheeks. “It wounds me to see your tender flesh so injured,” he said.

  “It is nothing so lasting as to give you concern, sire,” Faris said. Her heart was hammering in her bosom. His presence was unraveling her somehow—rendering her weak and adrift in confusion.

  “But I do concern myself, Faris,” Lochlan said. His voice was low, alluring suddenly, and Faris was instantly breathless. Again, he tenderly stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, and Faris closed her eyes as he bent, placing a soft, lingering kiss to it.

  “Sire, you are not responsible for…for…” Faris stammered. Her words were lost as Lochlan Rockrimmon’s lips pressed her other cheek. Oh, where was her Highwayman? If he would only come to her more often, give her a thread of hope of spiriting her away, of still loving her as time passed—then perhaps she would not find such unsettling distraction in her young master’s presence.

  “Sire, please…” Faris breathed.

  He meant to kiss her, she knew it! And imp that she was, she wanted him to! How could she be so unfaithful to her beloved? How could she be so easily seduced? And yet Lillias was in her thoughts then. Lillias who so desperately loved Lord Kendrick—Lord Kendrick, who had deceived them both. Yet she loved him! Whether Lord Kendrick or not, Faris loved the Highwayman of Tanglewood! How could she be so unfaithful? How could she allow Lochlan Rockrimmon to affect her so? Her undeniable attraction to Lochlan, the trembling that was washing over her body, the moisture gathering in her mouth as she anticipated being kissed by her young master—she knew all of it was simply her wish the Highwayman were standing before her.

  “I favor you, Faris,” Lochlan whispered, his voice deep and resonate. He lightly kissed the corner of her mouth. “Yet I know your heart is owned by another.”

  Faris swallowed the excess moisture in her mouth. “It is, sire,” she whispered.

  “Still, you tremble at my touch, a crimson blush upon your soft cheek each time we meet,” he said. “And I think you may not deny me a kiss.”

  “I…I should deny it,” Faris whispered as Lochlan cupped her face in his hands. How she reveled in the feel of his hands to her face—the rather rough, calloused feel of his palms against her tender flesh.

  “But you will not,” he whispered, smiling at her. His eyes held her gaze fast with their bewitching emerald brilliance.

  “I-I will,” Faris stammered. She felt as if the very threads of her being might ascend instantly to the heavens as Lochlan Rockrimmon caressed her lips with his thumb a moment before pressing them tenderly with his own.

  “Sire,” Faris began, turning her face from him. His kiss had unnerved her, for its quality was as such to send her mind and senses spinning. She thought of her Highwayman, of his passion’s kiss. She winced, furious that her mind and body should be so affected by another man’s attention—angry that Bainbridge Graybeau’s kiss had not affected her so. She wanted to cry out—to call to him—to cry, My Highwayman! Come! Champion me now when I am in the deepest depths of peril!

  She did not cry out. She only remained silent, attempting to muster her courage and resolve to resist succumbing to Lochlan Rockrimmon.

  “Share one kiss with me, Faris,” Lochlan said. “One kiss, and I will leave you.”

  “Sire, I cannot. You alone know he whom I—” Faris whispered, entranced by the fire in his brilliant green eyes.

  “One kiss,” he repeated. “Shared. Then I will let you go.”

  Faris’s mind struggled with her heart, with her mouth, watering for want of his. The Highwayman owned her heart. Indeed she knew he would own her were his circumstances ever to allow it. Still, the imp on her shoulder whispered to Faris in that moment, reminding her she may never belong to the Highwayman the way she dreamed—he may never belong to her. How could he when Lillias stood so beautiful and perfect between them? Further, she knew Lochlan Rockrimmon could never belong to a chambermaid. Still, in the deepest corners of her mind, she gave herself admission—she cared for Lochlan! Cared deeply and lovingly for him—secreted strong desires where he was concerned. Her loyalty to her Highwayman kept her from inwardly facing any further feelings for Lochlan, but in those moments, Faris knew Lochlan Rockrimmon was in her heart as well.

  Would one kiss tear the Highwayman from her heart, or her from his? The Highwayman who would not claim her? The Highwayman whom another owned claim to?

  “Faris?” Lochlan whispered, placing a hand beneath her chin and tipping her face up to meet his.

  “Only one,” Faris heard herself breath. “Only one,” she whispered.

  The emerald fire in his eyes caught blaze as he smiled, and she was undone. Closing her eyes as Lochlan Rockrimmon’s head descended toward hers, Faris harshly scolded herself—scolded herself until the instant she felt Lochlan’s lips press against her own. She gasped as he drew her body against his with great strength and determination.

  His kiss lingered upon her lower lip—lingered against her upper lip. She was near to crying out for want of his mouth full pressed to hers.

  He whispered then, “A shared kiss is required, Faris—if you wish to be free of me.”

  Instantly, his mouth captured hers, coaxing her lips to part. Faris melted against him, her resolve to resist in returning his kiss utterly vanquished as passion caught flame and smoldered between them. He was strong—powerful! His kiss was moist, demanding, overpowering in rendering a sense of intoxication to Faris’s full body and mind. Faris despised herself—for she reveled in the bliss evoked by Lochlan Rockrimmon’s kiss as deeply as she ever reveled in the bliss found in the arms of the Highwayman of Tanglewood!

  His rough whiskers assaulted the flesh about her mouth. His strong hands caressed her arms, tightened about her waist, wove fingers through her hair.

  “Will you not touch me, Faris? Will you not embrace me?” he asked in a whisper. “Will you not let me feel the warmth of your full self in returning our kiss?”

  Faris knew she must break from him, but not before she had held him in return. His words were as a warm rain, and she melded to him, letting her arms go around him—her mouth working with his to generate a passionate exchange the like she had shared with just one other.

  A deep moan rose from his throat as he pushed her back against the wall. His body pressed hers as he kissed her, his hands fisted and hard-pressed on the wall at either side of her head. His kiss was ambrosial in nature—perfect in its heated application and coaxing response.

  Faris pulled away at once, stepping out of his embrace and away from him. What had she done? She had never imagined herself capable of such unfaithfulness.

  “What have I done?” she cried, burying her face in her hands. “What have I done?”

  “You have done nothing,” Lochlan said, his voice low and filled with both satisfaction and regret. “It was I forced you to—”

  “No, no,” she cried, shaking her head as she looked at him. “You are the innocent in this. It was I who—”

  “No!” he growled
, taking her by the shoulders. “You have done nothing, Faris. He loves you, you love him—it is the truth. You are simply uncertain, I suspect. Uncertain he can ever—”

  “Hush!” she told him covering her ears. “It is not his fault!”

  “But it is! Do you not see it?” he asked, his hands tightening at her shoulders. “He—he should not expect you to wait—wait until his valiant escapades are over! He should not expect you to spend your life waiting.”

  “He has never asked me to wait,” she said. “I wait because—because I love him.”

  Lochlan was silent for some moments.

  “Then I am the villain,” he whispered. “To try and coax you away from him with my weak attempts at chivalry, ridiculous pie conversation, and inept attempt at making love to you. I am sorry, Faris,” he said.

  Drawing a deep breath, he turned and walked from her. He left her trembling—left her wanting to run after him—left her wanting to throw herself in his arms and beg him to kiss her once more. It was then she wondered—if Lochlan Rockrimmon were a common man, a man with no title, no wealth—if he were such a one as that, would she run to him? In knowing she might have him, would she claim him? Was it because Lochlan Rockrimmon stood more unobtainable than even the Highwayman of Tanglewood—was this what kept her from him? Was this what kept her loyal to the Highwayman of Tanglewood instead—loyal to a man she had seen but five times?