Moonstruck Masness

by Laurie McBain

  Will's face turned purple with his struggles to free him­self. "She's not that kind! She's innocent, and if you lay your fine gentleman's hands on her, I'll cut your heart out and feed it to the crows," Will threatened, following it with further bloodthirsty epithets directed at the Duke's head.

  "My, my," the Duke murmured with a thin smile. He moved to the heavy wooden door, but before opening it turned and added softly, "I'll let you think upon my words a bit, and should you decide to break your silence, call out for one of my servants who will be on guard outside of this door, but don't dally too long, my big friend, for I'm not a patient man." With that he left Will alone in the room to ponder his fate.

  Lucien poured himself a brandy and stared out into the bleak afternoon light. He hadn't planned to stay here this long, but then he hadn't foreseen this whole, incredible series of events, either.

  A woman! Who would have imagined that troublesome highwayman was in actuality a young girl? It was beyond belief. He still felt chagrined at what he'd nearly succeeded in doing. To kill a woman—he'd never thought he'd come to that. But why should he blame himself? How was he to know that Bonnie Charlie was some common fe­male masquerading in men's breeches? She had no right to be doing what she was. He shook his head in puzzlement. The problem was just that—she was no common female. She looked and talked like a well-bred lady. And even if she were not that, how could he turn a woman over to the authorities? Her fate would be doomed and he would have her death on his conscience. No, he must do something, for he couldn't just let the vixen loose.

  He would learn her name, find out all there was about her, and that giant friend of hers, and then threaten ex­posure should she ever ride again as Bonnie Charlie. Yes, that was the thing to do. But how would he get this pre­cious information from that defiant female?

  Threaten? He could still remember the feel of her soft neck beneath his fingers. She'd been frightened, but he could not follow that course. Bullying women was not to his taste. He preferred a more subtle approach.

  He saw again her small, heart-shaped face with those beautiful violet eyes and ivory-smooth skin, and had to ad­mit that she was an unusual beauty.

  It was odd, though. He had never seen her before, yet there was something tantalizingly familiar about her. He couldn't quite place it, but he must have seen her some­place before, that was the only answer to it.

  He could threaten them with the demise of the other to get the information he desired, but there was another and far more pleasant way of going about it. He smiled thoughtfully. No woman who'd led the life she had couldbe as modest and innocent as she would have him be­lieve—especially one as beautiful as she was. Some man would've caught her by now; besides, her type never had been innocent, they knew what a man wanted before he did, and she would welcome the chance to buy her way out of the predicament she found herself in. Right now she was too angry and frightened to realize this. But soon, the seduction would begin. Only he would be the seducer and not she. He would get the information from her soft lips without her being aware of it—or being able to help herself. She would not be able to call her soul her own when he had finished with the little firebrand.

  He smiled in anticipation, for he was beginning to look forward to this little game as he remembered the feel of her beneath his hands. Yes, this should prove quite a diversion before he was forced to return to London.

  Sabrina sat before the crackling fire, her freshly washed hair drying quickly from its warmth. It came to life beneath the brush and shone with mysterious highlights in its midnight depths, falling below her hips as Sabrina stood and stretched and it swayed sinuously.

  The door opened as Sabrina stood before the fire. Her instinctive reaction was to abruptly crouch down, but remembering her desperate plan for escape she forced her­self to breathe deeply and slowly, continuing the even strokes of the hairbrush, well aware that her body was out­lined by the light from the fire behind her, the Duke's nightshirt doing little to mask the shape beneath.

  Lucien stopped momentarily, his eyes widening in sur­prise at the scene before him, then quickly recovered his usually calm mien. But a small muscle twitched at the cor­ner of his scar as his eyes took in the beauty of the woman before him. Through the thin material of his night­shirt he could see the smooth line of hip and thigh, her small breasts high above a slender waist that he knew he could span with his hands if he wanted. He followed the tapering slimness of her legs to the small toes that peeped out beneath the edge of his shirt. If he hadn't seen the slow smile and the soft look in her eyes, he would have thought she was nervous.

  He placed the tray with the decanter and glasses down on a table and moved closer until the light from the fire played upon the scar on his cheek. Reaching out a hand he captured a stray lock of her hair, his fingers brushing softly against Sabrina's breast. Threading the long strand through his fingers he was amazed by its vibrancy. It seemed to have a life of its own as it curled into his palm. He stared down into the upturned face that looked up into his and began to wind the long, soft strand of blue-black hair around his hand, pulling her closer to him as it tightened.

  Sabrina's eyes widened slightly as she was forced to step closer to the Duke. Her small bare feet moved between the glossy, black shine of his boots as his arm enclosed her lightly clad body, pulling her the remaining distance. She was pressed firmly against his broad chest and thighs, her heart pounding frantically against the hand that now cov­ered her breast.

  Lucien lowered his head and found her soft mouth with his. The fresh scent of jessamine engulfed him from her hair and body and he tightened his arms around her as he folded her closer into him, his senses beginning to swim alarmingly from her nearness as he felt her first response to his kiss.

  Sabrina wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to hers as she stretched up against him. His hard mouth seared hers in what was her first kiss and taste of a man's mouth.

  His mouth moved against her lips, pressing and teasing and opening them. His breath was hot against her fiery cheeks as he left kisses on her eyes and ears, fondling them with his tongue, causing her to shiver uncontrollably when she felt the nibbling of his teeth against her shoul­ders.

  His roaming lips caught at her mouth again and seemed satisfied to remain as the kiss deepened, taking the breath from her body. His hands moved against her back, down her spine slowly until they curved over her buttocks and held her intimately against the hardness of his thighs.

  Sabrina's lips clung to his as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the big fourposter, laying her gently down on the feather mattress, his lips still holding hers as he leaned over her, his fingers separating the wrapped front of the nightshirt and revealing to his dark­ened eyes the smooth curve of her breasts. His lips left a burning trail across her throat and shoulders, their hardness softening slightly as his mouth touched the soft roundness of her breasts. Sabrina ran her fingers through his thick, golden hair, her small hands delicately tracing his temples and ears and the back of the strong column of his neck where it was bent over her.

  He drew back, snatching a kiss from her parted mouth, his eyes dark and passionate as they took in the pale love­liness of her nude body. Sabrina blushed and automati­cally pulled the gown together across her breasts and thighs. Her eyes were wide and darkened by passion and fear of the unknown.

  Lucien and Sabrina stared at each other for a moment before he reached down to tug off his heavy boots, his shirt hanging loose where Sabrina's fingers had unbuttoned it, revealing the curly golden hair glinting with sweat on his muscular chest.

  Sabrina sat up and stretched out a tentative finger to touch the jagged scar on his cheek. Lucien drew back startled as she ran the tip of her finger down its length.

  "How did you get this?" she asked softly, her voice husky.

  Lucien smiled reflectively. "I didn't move fast enough." He laughed grimly and caught her hand, pressing a linger­ing kiss into her soft palm, then su
ddenly bit the tip of a tapered finger sharply.

  Sabrina cried out in surprise.

  "You once threatened to mar my other cheek, if I recol­lect correctly."

  Sabrina grinned impishly and, leaning closer until her breasts pressed against his chest, moved her lips along the scar, her tongue feeling the roughness. Lucien turned his head until her lips touched his mouth and their tongues met. He pressed her back into the covers of the bed, his body covering hers. He felt as if he would crush her beneath him, but when she locked her arms about his neck he relaxed and returned her kisses with experience, teaching her how to respond and please him.

  Sabrina felt his heaviness against her like a comforting cover. His lips and hands were sending shivers through her and leaving her weak and malleable in his persuasive hands. She felt like drifting along wherever he guided her, her hips moving when his hands rubbed over them, her legs entangling with his. His sweat dampened her body and his breathing was shallow and rapid as he moved over her.

  Then he wasn't the gentle lover any longer and Sabrina felt a sudden fear and repulsion of him. Sabrina pulled her mouth from his drinking lips and struggled frantically with him. Her eyes locked with his and she saw the surprise in their dark depths that gradually turned to anger as his scar throbbed and his nostrils flared above the beads of perspiration on his lip.

  Sabrina pressed her hands against his chest futilely. Her strength was sapped and she had little fight left in her as she fought him. Her bandaged shoulder was beginning to ache with the effort and she finally gave up.

  "Leave me alone! Please stop. I can't. I can't!" Sabrina cried incoherently.

  Lucien's eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned omi­nously as he released her shoulders and sat up, letting her roll sideways and bury her head in her arm. Her sobs shook her slender body as she cried. Lucien watched, a puzzled and angry look on his face. He couldn't see her tears, masked by the heavy mass of black hair that had fallen across her face, but he knew they were real.

  Lucien shook his head and climbed from the bed, pull­ing on the shirt he'd tossed aside and gathered up his boots and breeches from the floor. He glanced back at the shak­ing form huddled on the bed and with a scowl stalked from the room, feeling completely unsure of himself for the first time in his life. Nothing had gone as he'd planned. He had thought to sweet-talk and woo the little vixen, and yet she'd been waiting, her smile sweet and welcoming when he'd come to her, her lips soft and eager against his. He had forgotten his plan to seduce her and learn her secrets. He could only think of her clinging arms and small, round breasts pressed to his chest. Damnation, what had happened? If he didn't know better, he would have thought he'd been seduced.

  Sabrina looked surreptitiously over her shoulder at the empty room. He'd gone. She wiped at her tears with the long sleeve of his nightshirt and dried her eyes. Her fear was beginning to recede, leaving a numbness in its stead. She took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed shaking fingers to her temples.

  What had happened to her in his arms? How could she have forgotten everything as he'd held her so intimately, learning her body with his. Sabrina bit her lip, drawing blood. She knew what she had intended. She was going to seduce him. It had been so easy, so natural a thing to do, that she had been surprised by his immediate reaction to it. She had never tried to entice a man before and had acted blindly, receiving a response from him she had never expected. But she had not been in control of the situation at all. Her mind had become blank, a void except for the image of him. Never had she imagined the uncontrollable feelings that built up between a man and a woman.

  Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut, placing her hands across them to insure her withdrawal. 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 cold and glanced at the smouldering 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 cold 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 cold 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 cold features. His hands were still holding her shoulders in a vise-like 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, pull
ing 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 desires. 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.