Moonstruck Masness

by Laurie McBain

  "You want me to climb that tree?" he laughed. "I out­grew tree-climbing when I did short pants."

  "I bet you were a sweet little boy, but probably a little devil when you did not get your own way," she teased as she led him to the tree.

  "And you still are a naughty little girl," Lucien com­plained good-naturedly as he removed his coat and waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves above his elbows. He stood silently studying the tree and then placing the nest in a branch temporarily, gauged the distance and hefted him­self up. He looked down from his perch above Sabrina's head and smiled in self-disgust.

  "Climbing trees. What next will you have me doing, I wonder? Rescuing frogs from lily pads or a mouse from a cat's paw?"

  He stared down bemusedly for a moment at Sabrina—his wife. They had been married last week in the small Norman church in a short service with only the family present, for Sabrina was still recuperating from her illness and tired easily. They had decided it would be best for her to regain her strength in her own home with her family around her rather than trying to adjust to new surround­ings. There had been one outsider at the wedding, and that had been the Dowager Duchess's solicitor who had Witnessed the ceremony and then turned over the deeds to Camareigh. He had finally succeeded in claiming his inher­itance. Soon he would take Sabrina there, it was where she belonged. He smiled grimly as he thought of Percy and Kate, how they must hate him. He would deal with them as soon as he had Sabrina settled at Camareigh. His eyes roved possessively over her heart-shaped face raised to his, the black curls framing it delicately. Her cheeks were rosy and had filled out in the last couple of weeks and her eyes were bright and loving as they met his. She looked like a flower in her white dress embroidered with purple violets, a cinnamon rose he'd snatched from a stone wall tucked into her bodice, the little pink bud no softer than her own skin it lay next to.

  His hand tightened on the rough bark as he thought of the last few days and the new love that had grown be­tween them. He had learned of a different side of himself. A gentle and tender side that was irrevocably in love with the beautiful girl below him. And what of her? He had gotten to know the real Sabrina. The one that laughed and teased him, that flirted with him and begged for more kisses. She'd fallen in love with him. But if she ever remembered? If she ever became aware of his deceit, would she forget their newfound love and turn on him? How could he deny that he'd married her for personal gain? But then, how could he convince her that something he had not anticipated had happened . . . he had fallen in love with her?

  He picked up the nest and climbed higher, safely reset­tling the fallen home amongst the boughs.

  "Be careful, Lucien," Sabrina called, shading her eyes from the sun as she watched nervously as Lucien made his way carefully along the swaying branch. He'd nearly reached the trunk when the branch he stood on cracked sharply and with a lurch Lucien's feet slipped and he made a grab for the branch nearest to him.

  Sabrina screamed helplessly as he hung suspended for an instant of time and then dropped to the ground through the branches below. Sabrina ran to him where he lay still on the ground, the tall meadow grasses concealing him.

  She knelt down beside him and with shaking hands rolled him over, only to find his arms wrapped around her, pulling her down on top of him. He grinned up at her worried frown, his teeth gleaming white in the sunlight.

  Sabrina gave a sigh of exasperation, pushing at his chest ineffectively. Still peeved by his trick she lowered her smooth cheek to his, smiling with satisfaction as he yelled when her teeth then bit playfully on the lobe of his ear.

  "Vixen," he murmured softly before his lips found hers and he rolled her gently beneath him in the sweet-smelling grasses. His mouth touched the rosebud and followed the stem along the warm flesh, feeling the round, smoothness of her breasts with his lips.

  Sabrina gave a sigh of contentment as she felt his weight against her and caressing his neck and face she met his amorous gaze warmly.

  "I am so much better, Lucien, that I think I need not dwell in that big bed by myself any longer," she said shyly.

  Lucien hugged her tightly and kissed her long and hard until she drew back breathless. "Do you, perchance, find sleeping alone as unrewarding as I do?"

  Sabrina blushed, to his delight, and with a devilish look in her violet eyes said casually, "I am not sure my memory serves me, for it has been so long since I've en­joyed your company in bed, that I fear I have forgotten."

  Lucien chuckled, anticipation darkening his eyes as he interrupted her. "You will soon know it well, little one. I shall see to it that you have more than memories to re­mind you of me."

  "I have indeed more than memories," she reminded him impertinently, "to remind me of you."

  Lucien placed a firm hand on her stomach, a smile in his eyes. "Shall we have a daughter or a son, I wonder?"

  Sabrina gave him a provocative look. "You wouldn't al­low me to have anything but a son, so he can swagger along in your disreputable footsteps."

  Lucien's chest rumbled with laughter as he returned her look archly. "Me, swagger? I have seldom seen a pair of female hips swagger so! Be careful or the child will be­come seasick."

  Sabrina giggled happily and winding her arms tightly around Lucien's neck kissed him hungrily, surprising him by her ardor as she clung to him.

  They wandered slowly back to the house, their hands clasped, fingers entwined as they walked through the garden and entered the hall. Sims beamed with approval when he saw them, forgiving the Duke past offences now that the young mistress was so obviously happy.

  "Tea is being served in the salon," he told them, and then added, "guests are also present."

  Lucien nodded and led Sabrina into the room where Mary was pouring tea for Lord and Lady Malton and Lord Newley.

  "Tea?" Mary asked with a sigh of relief when she saw Lucien.

  "Yes, please," Sabrina answered promptly. "We're famished."

  She sat down next to Mary on the settee, pulling off her hat and shaking free her curls, unaware of being the cen­ter of attention as she selected a cream-filled cake.

  "Lady Malton was just telling me the most unbelievable story, Lucien," Mary said as she handed him a cup.

  "Oh, really," Lucien remarked in boredom, his eyes on Sabrina as she licked a dab of cream from the corner of her mouth.

  "Yes, it is quite ridiculous, really," Mary rushed on, "for she claims that she saw you carrying the notorious Bonnie Charlie in your arms."

  If Lucien was surprised he kept it well hidden as he laughed. "I was carrying Bonnie Charlie in my arms?" he repeated incredulously. "I have always preferred my lovers to be in skirts."

  Lady Malton choked and turned red in the face while Lord Newley hid an appreciative grin behind his hand.

  "Well, really, Your Grace, I didn't mean that at all," Lady Malton said huffily.

  "Told her she'd been out in the sun too long," Lord Malton commented with a mouth full of rich cream. "Make a fool of herself, I said."

  "I know what I saw, and I was wearing a bonnet," Lady Malton persisted stubbornly.

  "I really do not have the slightest idea what you are talking about, or indeed why you should concern yourself with my affairs. However, you might have mistaken my brother-in-law, Lord Richard, for this notorious bandit, for I did carry him one day when he had twisted his ankle, but as for him being Bonnie Charlie, I seriously doubt that, my good woman," Lucien replied suavely.

  "But I saw the eagle's feather and a glimpse of plaid as you turned to climb into the coach," Lady Malton argued, refusing to believe she'd been mistaken.

  "Plaid?" Sabrina asked curiously as she sat innocently sipping tea. "Our grandfather's—" she began conversation­ally, only to be interrupted by Lucien.

  "My dear, don't you think you should rest a bit, it has been a rather tiring day for you," he suggested, cutting off her words effectively. "My wife must still take it easy," he explained to their guests as they all stared at Sabrina.

 
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have the devil of a headache, it must be from too much sun, so if you'll ex­cuse me," she apologized, feeling suddenly very tired as she rose to her feet.

  "Of course, Your Grace, of course. Mustn't tire our­selves, eh?" Lord Malton exclaimed, full of understanding for the lovely young bride, while Newley just stared, his desire openly revealed in his eyes.

  Lucien watched worriedly as Sabrina left the room, impa­tient for the Maltons and Newley to leave so he could go to her. He accepted another cup of tea and sat through the desultory talk, contributing little to their chatter until fi­nally, during an uncomfortable silence, they took their leave.

  Mary closed her eyes in relief. "That was awful."

  Lucien turned, stopping his pacing. "I had no idea that woman had seen me leave the church with Sabrina. But the ridiculousness of the situation saved us. However, I thought Sabrina would surely give the game away with whatever she was going to say about your grandfather. I wasn't sure how she would react when the name Bonnie Charlie was mentioned, but she didn't move a muscle. I've been worried about mentioning anything concerning the past to Sabrina, so I haven't. I just hope this hasn't both­ered her any. No telling what talk of Bonnie Charlie could trigger in her memory."

  "You're playing with fire, Lucien, and I'm afraid some­one is going to get hurt."

  Lucien looked at her, startled. "You haven't seen some­thing have you?"

  "No, but it's obvious that things have not gone as you planned, have they, Lucien? You've fallen in love witheach other, and yet you've built that love on a very shaky foundation. If she should remember, Lucien?" Mary looked at him pityingly.

  "It will not matter. She will be my wife, and there is nothing she can do then. If she does remember, well, she'll remember the love too," he said obstinately. "She is tied to me as my wife, and as the mother of our child. The bonds are too strong for her to break."

  "She will feel anger and hate, and betrayal first," Mary warned him, "and later she may admit her love for you, but it may be too late by then."

  Lucien stared at her wise face silently, and then arro­gantly raised his chin. "I'll not lose her, Mary. She is mine—and no one else's."

  "I pray that it will all work out. She needs you, Lucien, but the circumstances under which she has found out she does are odd to say the least. She is very stubborn and hot-tempered. When she finds out that she has been lied to, that you have deceived her, well, I just hope that she never remembers. It would be far better."

  Lucien found Sabrina lying on her bed, a hand pressed to her temple as she rested. Hearing him enter she opened her eyes and smiled, holding out her arms to him as he came towards her. With an answering smile he sat down next to her and took her into his arms. She snuggled against him and pressed her cheek against his throat.

  "Lucien," she said hesitantly, "I feel as though I am in a daydream half of the time."

  "Lovers always walk around in the clouds," he answered carefully.

  "But it is different from that," she persisted as she looked up at him. "I feel I should remember something. There is something nagging at the back of my mind that is im­portant. I know it is. Oh, why can't I remember, Lucien?"

  "You don't need to remember. I can tell you everything you need to know. The past isn't important, only our fu­ture," he told her roughly.

  "But I feel so blank at times. You don't think that I am be-coming like Aunt Margaret, do you?" she demanded worriedly, gripping Lucien's forearms.

  He gave her an admonishing shake. "Of course not You've been ill, and have just forgotten a few inconse­quential details," Lucien reassured her.

  "Forgetting you? I would hardly call that inconsequen­tial," Sabrina retorted tartly.

  "It doesn't matter, since I am here now to give you new memories. You'll remember someday, but by then we'll be in our home with our children and our new life to keep your mind occupied, and the past will seem unimportant Believe me, Sabrina."

  "But it plagues me, Lucien. I want to remember and when I try I get such headaches."

  "I said not to try," Lucien spoke angrily, his voice hard for the first time. "I forbid you to continue. You have our marriage to think about. Let that be your only concern."

  "Lucien," Sabrina said reproachfully, "you've never spo­ken this way to me before."

  "That is because you have never defied me before as you now persist in doing," Lucien answered autocratically. "Will you listen to me, and do as I suggest?" he asked per­suasively as his hand slid under the lace of her dress and caressed her smooth shoulder while his mouth pressed kisses against her temple and he rubbed his cheek against her soft curls.

  Sabrina wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. "I trust you, Lucien, please don't be angry with me. I can't bear it, I love you so. Don't ever leave me," she cried, clinging to his warm body desperately. "Promise, Lucien?"

  Lucien held her tight. "You'll never get rid of me, Sa­brina, my love. In fact, you shall probably tire of seeing this scarred face of mine, but leave you, by God, no I never shall," he swore softly against her scented hair.

  Sabrina struggled from his arms and balancing on her knees faced him, a glowing light in her eyes as she leaned forward and rubbed her creamy cheek against his scarredone, letting her lips trace its ragged length until they reached his mouth and lightly touched his lips.

  Lucien slid his arms around her small waist and pulled her off balance and against his chest, feeling the flame of desire flicker through his veins as she lay against him, her fragrant softness sending his senses reeling as he felt like staring forever into the dark, purple depths of her eyes that returned his gaze with matching desire.

  Her lips parted slightly and accepting the invitation Lu­cien lowered his mouth to hers and passionately parted the tempting lips that moved "enticingly against his. He kissed her long and deep, pulling her close to his heart, wanting her so desperately and possessively that he agonized of los­ing her, and was jealous of anything that threatened their happiness.

  Sabrina dragged her throbbing lips free of his, the rise and fall of her breasts rapid as she took deep breaths of air. "Thank you for giving me your child, Lucien," she whispered softly, her face full of love for him.

  Lucien sighed deeply. "If you were not already carrying him, you soon would be, Sabrina, my love," he spoke huskily, very moved by her sweet confession. "But now I must leave you to rest," he said reluctantly, unable to resist one last kiss from her lips before he got off the bed.

  Sabrina settled down in the pillows and gazed up at him with possessive admiration. "Are you sure that I can't per­suade you to stay, my love?" she asked as she stretched provocatively, her dress riding up over a silk-stockinged calf.

  "Soon enough you will no longer have a wistful ex­pression, my alluring little Sabrina." He walked to the door and turning to gaze on her beauty added, "You play the coquette well, but remember, my pet, you are the seductress only for me, or you'll fan into flame my already too jealous nature where you are concerned."

  Sabrina smiled enchantingly, hugging her arms together, her breasts swelling beneath the lace of her bodice. "Only for you, Lucien," she promised, closing her eyes sleepily.

  Lucien smiled with satisfaction and left her. He could handle her, he thought with assurance. She wouldn't remember because she didn't want to. She was in love with him, and remembering would destroy that. And should she ultimately remember, it would do her no good, for she was wed to him and she could not escape him— nor would she want to, he thought arrogantly.

  "Hey, Lucien!" Richard called out as Lucien passed the opened door of Richard's room. He stopped and retracing his steps entered the room. Books abounded, but now there was also the addition of riding boots, a shiny new gun hanging over the mantelpiece, and a fishing rod propped in a corner.

  "Are we still going to try out my new pistols?" he asked eagerly as Lucien saw the flat box on the bed, the lid opened to reveal two beautifully wrought pistols.

&nbs
p; "Of course, Richard, and if you are to leam how to shoot, then you'd better learn properly. I can't abide care­lessness or trifling with firearms or weapons of any kind."

  "I'll be real careful, Lucien. You will show me how, won't you?" He looked to the tall man hopefully, admira­tion written on his face as he watched the Duke handle the weapons.

  'Tomorrow," Lucien said and smiled as Richard gave a crow of delight.

  He started to turn and leave the room when he felt a tug at his sleeve and glancing down saw a small, slightly grubby hand holding on to the fine fabric of his coat. He looked into the small, earnest face, the eyes blue-gray be­hind the glass of his spectacles.

  "Lucien," Richard began shyly, his cheeks flushed as he searched for words. "Are you going to take Rina away soon?"

  Lucien nodded. "Soon, after she has gotten some of her strength back. You did know that we would not live here?" .

  "Yes," Richard murmured quietly.

  Lucien put a finger beneath his rounded chin and raised his face. "What is troubling you, son?"

  "Well, I know the colonel is going to take Mary away soon, too. I've seen them holding hands and looking at each other in funny ways."

  Lucien hid his smile at Richard's description. "And?" he encouraged.

  "And, well, I like the colonel, but I like you better, Lu­cien," Richard admitted, looking up into Lucien's face with his heart in his eyes as he added hesitantly, "I don't want to be left here. Can I go with you to your home, Lu­cien? I'd work real hard, and never get in your way, and I don't eat much. Please, Lucien, I don't want to leave Rina. I'd miss her something awful," he choked, turning his head away with embarrassment.

  "I just thought I'd ask, and if you don't want me, it's all right, I won't bother you again."

  Lucien looked down at the bent red head compas­sionately. "Now, you don't really think Rina would go off and leave you? Why, I've already picked out a horse for you at Camareigh, so you'll have to come. You've no other choice for I insist."

  Richard raised his face, his eyes shining. "My very own horse?"

  "Your very own. Of course you'll have to name him," Lucien warned, "and take good care of him."