The Highwayman of Tanglewood

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Faris wept bitterly upon her pillow. She had been unfaithful of heart to her Highwayman. She had reveled in the passionate kiss of Lochlan Rockrimmon. Further, she may have caused the greatest heartache of all to her dearest friend—to Lillias. She thought of Lord Gawain Kendrick—wondered could she yet love him if he were the Highwayman of Tanglewood if he had lied to Lillias—and to her. Yet she loved the man she had met in the midnight meadow a year before. Oh, how she loved him! She loved him more than even she loved Lillias, and the thought sickened her. At the end of all her self-loathing, self-doubt, and confusion of thought, Faris simply cried herself to sleep. She dreamt not of purple twilight meadows or of delicious kisses borne of passion. Instead she dreamt of nothing but an uncertain heart lost and wondering in a dark, heavy fog, void of amethyst sunsets or the silver beacon of a rising moon.

  A Greater Understanding

  Sunlight streamed through the window of Faris’s small bedchamber, bright and warm and inviting. Yet as Faris busied herself on preparing for the day, she fancied that even the bright light of morning had done nothing to dispel her confusion, self-doubt, and trepidation. She was to meet him—this very night—near the old Castle Alexendria ruins. What would the Highwayman of Tanglewood say to her? What would he do when she confessed to kissing not only Bainbridge Graybeau but Lochlan Rockrimmon as well? Certainly the kiss she had shared with Graybeau was far less in consequence and feeling than the one she had so willing shared with Lochlan. Still, to have kissed two men since last she saw him—it was abominable.

  But what of the Highwayman himself? Was he Lord Gawain Kendrick as she suspected? If he were, his dalliances with her and Lillias were far worse than her own with Lochlan, were they not? And still she loved him—for he had renewed her hope, her dreams, when she was certain there was little dreaming left to be had.

  She was wrong, she was certain. All through the night, she had awakened at residual intervals to thinking Lord Kendrick could not be the Highwayman of Tanglewood! He could not! She was certain the Highwayman would not so blatantly lie to her. She was certain Lord Kendrick loved Lillias as no man had ever loved a woman—loved her as deeply and truly as Faris loved the Highwayman. Lord Kendrick would not betray Lillias, of this she was certain. She believed also that neither would the Highwayman betray her to such lengths. The Highwayman of Tanglewood could not be Lord Kendrick. This assurance was burned into her heart.

  And yet, Lillias’s outburst of the day before remained unexplained. Perhaps it had simply been a lovers’ first quarrel. Perhaps Lillias and her beloved Lord Kendrick had quarreled, and the fact of it had distressed Lillias to tears. Still, why had Lillias asserted she could not to speak of it—particularly to Faris?

  Faris’s head throbbed with the confusion of it all—the pain of her own guilt in having shared such a kiss with her young master. Even now, as she prepared to leave her chamber in beginning her duties—even now the thought of kissing Lochlan Rockrimmon caused excess moisture to flood her mouth. She sighed, feeling quite defeated.

  In the least, she was glad the Stringham women had quit Loch Loland Castle as commanded. She knew well she could not have faced them after their treatment of her the day before.

  Feeling as if she had not found respite in one wink of sleep, Faris left her chamber. She would endure—waft through the day until twilight was upon her. Then she would seek him—confess her mistake in thinking Bainbridge Graybeau was her lover—confess her unfaithfulness in allowing herself to kiss Lochlan on the third occasion of his championing her. Indeed, she feared the Highwayman would quit her entirely, for what man wanted a woman so easily deceived, so easily seduced by another?

  Faris comforted herself with the knowledge that it could only be Lochlan Rockrimmon who could ever have tempted her to such betrayal. As she entered his chambers to find his bed neatly spread, his clothing strewn hither and yon, she sighed. An odd sort of ache began in the center of her bosom as Lochlan’s emerald gaze appeared in her mind. Her tender flesh raced with goose bumps as she thought of him—as her mind lingered on his delicious kiss.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she silently prayed for release—release from being held captive by his charm, by his kiss, by his very existence! She prayed that, should the Highwayman of Tanglewood forgive her of her loathsome disloyalty, such forgiveness would banish her feelings for Lochlan forever.

  “I do not know how you tolerate his untidiness, Faris,” Lillias said.

  Faris turned to see Lillias standing behind her. She appeared resplendent, happy, and bright. The overwrought emotion of the previous day was entirely gone from her countenance. In its place was a light to her eyes as bright as the morning sun.

  “Good morning,” Faris ventured. “Are—are you well?”

  Lillias’s smile broadened. “Yes, darling Faris,” she said. “And I owe you the greatest of apologies.”

  Faris nearly burst into tears! If Lillias was well, then nothing was amiss between her and her betrothed. Furthermore, if nothing was amiss between Lillias and Lord Kendrick…

  “I am sorry for my behavior toward you yesterday, Faris,” Lillias said, taking Faris’s hands in her own. “I was only so terribly upset about…about…”

  “You do not have to explain, Lillias,” Faris said. Tears brimmed in her eyes—tears of joy at her friend’s renewed happiness—tears of relief that all was well between them.

  “Of course I do, dearest,” Lillias said. “Come—sit with me a moment.” Faris sat next to Lillias on Lochlan’s bed.

  “Something…something was revealed to me yesterday,” Lillias began. “Something I was quite at first angry to learn of.”

  “Yet—yet all is well between you and Lord Kendrick?” Faris asked. Her heart pounded wild with trepidation. Something in her yet feared Lord Kendrick may be the Highwayman.

  “Yes,” Lillias said. “All is very well between us. Still, Gawain confessed to me yesterday of his desire to ride in assistance with the Highwayman of Tanglewood!”

  “What?” Faris gasped.

  “It is true!” Lillias said. “Gawain spoke to me concerning his desire to ride as the Highwayman of Tanglewood rides—in defense of those in need of championing! I was so overcome with fear and anger I knew not how to compose myself! Imagine the danger before Gawain should he ride out! In all this time of my wishing my darling Gawain were the Highwayman—how foolish have I been? His well-being—rather his lack of well-being—were he to ride…oh, Faris! I could not bear such anxiety!”

  Faris was stunned into utter and complete silence! She yet feared her worst suspicions may see fruition—that Lord Gawain Kendrick, in truth, was the Highwayman of Tanglewood! Certainly he had not confessed it in full measure to Lillias. Yet was his telling her of his desire to ride—was this his manner of leading her into pure knowledge he already did? Still, his wish to ride did not prove Lord Kendrick was, in fact, the Highwayman of Tanglewood. Did it? It was simply an example of his gallant nature. Was it not?

  “Still, I was quite out of countenance yesterday—unsettled and quite worried for a moment. This I confess, and I am sorry, Faris,” Lillias said. “My worry and frustration—well, it seems to have fallen upon whomever crossed my path. I did not mean to speak so unkindly to you yesterday.”

  Faris forced a friendly smile. She would settle herself—she would. Lillias had not been angry with Faris the day before—simply fearful of Lord Kendrick’s well-being.

  “We have all known a temper at one time or the other,” Faris said at last. “I am only glad to know your temper was no fault of mine.”

  “We are still friends then?” Lillias asked. “You are still my best and greatest friend?”

  “Of course,” Faris said. “As you are mine.”

  Lillias laughed. “There we are then—the greatest of friends.”

  “Other than your friendship with Lord Kendrick,” Faris said. “In truth, he would be your greatest friend.” Oh, how Faris hoped she was correct in her assumptions—that her Highway
man had been in earnest when he had promised he was not Lord Gawain Kendrick.

  Lillias smiled. “True. As Lochlan would be yours.”

  “What?” Faris gasped.

  Lillias’s eyes sparked with merriment and mischief. “This could be your bed one day, you know,” Lillias said running her hand over the soft sapphire velvet of Lochlan’s bed coverlet.

  “What?” Faris asked again, fairly leaping to her feet.

  “Oh, surely you are not going to stand on pretense with me, Faris!” Lillias giggled. “I saw him kiss you yesterday—just after he had ordered Lady Stringham and her insipid daughter to leave Loch Loland. I saw him kiss you—and it was no mere dalliance of a kiss.”

  “He—he only asked a boon, and I only meant to grant him thanks for his championing me yet again,” Faris stammered.

  “Oh, do not look so distraught, Faris,” Lillias said. “Lochlan does not scheme with virtue or emotion. He is not the like of Kade the Heinous. My brother is ever honorable, and he would not kiss you for triviality’s sake.”

  Faris stood trembling, tears brimming in her eyes. Lillias had been witness to her disloyalty to the Highwayman—to her being quite seduced by the young master of Loch Loland Castle! It was a terrible circumstance.

  “He favors you, Faris. I have seen it.” Lillias said. “I believe he would have you if you would have him.”

  “I cannot!” Faris cried in a whisper.

  “Why ever not?” Lillias asked. “Is it his position and title that frighten you? He cares not of it.”

  “What?” Faris breathed. She could not believe Lillias implication. Did Lillias truly believe one such as her brother, one such as the dashing Lochlan Rockrimmon, would settle his affections eternally on a chambermaid?

  “It is the truth,” Lillias said. “Lochlan will love whom he will love. He cares nothing for title or wealth. There is no arrogance in him.”

  Faris shook her head. “No, no. You do not understand,” she stammered. “He cannot possibly—your brother cannot possibly…” Faris felt overly warm, her throat dry and constricted. “There is another,” she said at last. “I have pledged to another.”

  “Wh-what?” Lillias asked.

  “I cannot keep this from you, Lillias!” Faris cried. Burying her face in her hands, she wept as she spoke. “I am a ruin, Lillias! A ruin! A can no more make sense of my feelings than I can keep the sun from rising! I have pledged my heart to another and yet—yet your brother owns me in a like manner! I am near to running mad with anxiety, confusion, and self-loathing!”

  “Faris!” Lillias breathed. “Who—who could possibly keep you from surrendering to Lochlan? Is not my brother the perfect example of masculinity—of beauty and honor? Is not he kind and even heroic? Who could possibly own your heart over him?”

  Faris raised her face and looked at Lillias. She could no longer endure silence. Lillias was trustworthy—of this she was certain. As she was certain Lochlan would never reveal her secret, so too she was certain Lillias was an able confident.

  “You will not believe me,” Faris said.

  “Of course, I will,” Lillias assured her. Lillias took Faris’s hands and pulled her to sit on the bed once more.

  “Not far over a year ago, the night I came to Loch Loland Castle,” Faris began, “I was set upon by a stranger in the Tanglewood Meadow.”

  “Set upon?” Lillias gasped.

  “I was walking through the meadow and—and a rider approached,” Faris said. She watched as understanding rained over Lillias.

  “Faris,” Lillias breathed. “Faris—you do not mean to tell me that it is—that it is the Highwayman of Tanglewood who owns your heart?”

  “It is,” Faris breathed. “We met under a purple curtain of midnight. He stole a kiss from me,” she said, smiling at the memory. “And we have met of recent again.”

  “The Highwayman of Tanglewood is your lover?” Lillias breathed, still obvious in her astonishment.

  “No one must ever know, Lillias!” Faris pleaded. “For it would put him in danger. Already your brother has guessed at it, and I fear—”

  “Lochlan? You confided in Lochlan?” Lillias asked.

  “I did not tell him—though I confessed the truth when he guessed at it,” Faris said.

  She watched as an expression of complete understanding burned radiant on Lillias’s lovely face. “What a greater understanding I own now,” Lillias said. Lillias’s eyes narrowed for a moment. It was obvious a far greater understanding, indeed, was washing over her. “Of course,” she breathed. “Of course—I see it now—and how could Lochlan ever compare to one such as the rogue Highwayman of Tanglewood?”

  Faris brushed tears from her cheeks and glanced away. She was only somewhat relieved at having confided in Lillias—for her revealed confidence had done little to soothe the struggle in her mind and heart. “He well compares,” Faris admitted. “And that is why I am such a loathsome creature.”

  “You? Why?” Lillias asked.

  “For if your brother were not heir to Loch Loland—if he were but a common man,” Faris began, “then I fear I would…I fear—”

  “You see Lochlan as unobtainable,” Lillias finished. “You do not believe he could love you, for you see yourself as beneath him. But I promise you—he holds you in higher esteem than he does himself or anyone else! I saw him kiss you last night! I know he holds you as—”

  “I do love the Highwayman, Lillias!” Faris exclaimed. “I do love him! I have loved him from the moment he came upon me in the meadow that night a year past and every moment since!”

  “Yet he is also unobtainable in your eyes,” Lillias said. “And we women—we need to hold a heart in our own, know it belongs to us, have daily assurance that it is ours. But for now—you cannot own the Highwayman of Tanglewood.”

  “I will meet him soon,” Faris said. “And I will confess my betrayal. He may put me off then. I may find myself abandoned and brokenhearted—and all for passion’s sake—for my inability to resist your brother.”

  “And then you will have no need to resist my brother,” Lillias said.

  “I will have great need,” Faris argued. “What sort of woman falls in love with one man and then finds herself so desperately drawn to another? I am not worthy of the Highwayman’s heart or affections. Still, I pray he will forgive me.”

  Lillias was silent for a moment. She inhaled a deep breath and then began, “Two years past, I was betrothed to another, Faris.”

  “What?” Faris gasped.

  “I had fallen quite in love with the son of my father’s friend, Lord Shelton,” Lillias answered. “John Shelton was the best of men—gallant, honorable, and quite handsome. I was happy in my betrothal—delighted to be marrying the man I loved. And then—one day as I was out riding with John’s sister, we were met by Gawain. I was astonished at my instantaneous attraction to him. We were quite thrown together shortly thereafter. I began to realize that although I loved John, I was in love with Gawain.” Lillias shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “Though I still own guilt over John, I know it is Gawain the heavens intended me for.”

  “I am in love with the Highwayman, Lillias,” Faris said. She understood her friend’s offering of the story—she was encouraging Faris toward Lochlan. Yet in her innocence, she still did not see two points: Faris was in love with the Highwayman of Tanglewood, and Lochlan Rockrimmon would not love a chambermaid.

  “Oh, I know that you are,” Lillias began, “For I may see it even more clearly than you see it yourself. Yet something in me wants you to believe that Lochlan esteems you in his own right. He would not have kissed you in the manner he did if he did not.”

  “You are afraid I will place him in Kade Tremeshton’s sphere,” Faris said. She understood then. Lillias wanted Faris to understand that Lochlan Rockrimmon was not an abuser of innocence the way Kade Tremeshton was.

  “I only wish to assure you that Lochlan is in earnest where his feelings toward you are concerned,” Lillias said. “I k
now him. Better than he knows himself.”

  “I thank you for that assurance,” Faris said. “And—and I will admit to you now that it does comfort me somewhat. I would not like to think I was so easily swayed into accepting affections from another rogue.”

  Lillias laughed, as did Faris. They embraced, and Lillias sighed with contentment.

  “He will forgive you, Faris,” Lillias said. “I am certain he loves you, and in loving you, he will grant you most any reprieve, I think. Certainly he will understand your fear of never owning him—for he must own the same fear. Yes?”

  “Let us hope,” Faris said, smiling at her friend.

  Lillias giggled, a sudden expression of gleeful delight on her face. “And to think, Faris,” she began, “all this time we’ve been sharing stories and dreams of the Highwayman of Tanglewood—you were living such dreams of him!”

  “It was difficult for me—not confiding in you,” Faris said. “I so often wanted to.”

  “You were right to keep him a secret,” Lillias said. “Indeed, for his own safety and for yours.” Lillias’s eyes were bright with mischief once more. “Now—you must tell me—is the Highwayman of Tanglewood as dashing a lover as we always dreamt he would be?”

  Faris smiled—her heart swelling with love and affection for her dear friend.

  “He is far more magnificent in character, person, and every other regard than we ever imagined him to be!” Faris said.

  “And will you tell me more of him one day?” Lillias asked.

  “If there is more to tell, then I will tell you,” Faris said. Her anxiety renewed. Would there be more to tell? Would the Highwayman of Tanglewood meet her in the forever running heather and forgive her weakness? Or would the amethyst twilight to come be their last reunion—their final rendezvous?