Moonstruck Madness (15 page)

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, pulling 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.

Their lips met and they kissed, Sabrina's heart racing under his hand. His face was hard and cruel-looking with the scar jagged across it as he gazed into her passion-dark violet eyes, his voice deep as he whispered into her small, shell-like ear.

"You puzzle me, little one. I am holding you close to my heart and yet I don't even know your name? Tell me," he commanded, biting playfully at her ear.

"Is it Elizabeth? Jane? No? How about
Anne,
or Kathleen?" he teased.
"More unusual, eh?
Well, then, how about Ariadne or Cressida?"

"No, it's Sabrina," she laughed.

"Sabrina," he whispered against her lips, liking the sound of it on his tongue. "I should have known. You're the nymph of the river Severn, and a princess of old England. Have you taken a fancy to a mere mortal and taken me as your lover, Sabrina? Will you be kind to me, or will you lead me through the woodlands and into the fens where I'd be helpless and at your mercy?" he asked mockingly before kissing her passionately and almost punishingly.

"I would never do that to Your Grace," Sabrina replied, the flickering light in the room casting mysterious shadows on her face.

"Ah, but you already are being cruel to me
. 'Your
Grace.' How dare you address me in that manner, as though we were
strangers.
Lucien is my name, Sabrina," he told her before his mouth found hers.

He held her to him intimately, and sensing a change in him, Sabrina tried to draw back, but he held her firmly locked in his embrace. "Don't turn from me now, not when you hold me in those small hands of yours. I'm wild for you, Sabrina, and I intend to make you mine."

Sabrina gave a gasp of surprise as he rolled over her, covering her bare flesh with his, gentleness turning to strength as he boldly pressed against her and let her know a man's body. She arched her back, moving her hips sinuously as she tried to get even closer, while his hands and lips urged her building desire to a heightened pitch. Delight was shattered by pain as he became part of her body and they moved together as one, his muscular and controlled strength overwhelming and frightening her until she felt the first stirrings of passion in her loins, and responded ardently to his every move as he tutored her in the art of making love.

Afterwards he
lay
beside her holding her close and kissed the tears from her face, then very gently forced her face up to his.

"Why?" he whispered, feeling an unaccustomed tenderness for this young girl he held so closely in his arms. "Why did you let me take you? I had no idea you could possibly be a virgin." He shook his head in disbelief, but felt a certain possessive satisfaction at having been the first man to make love to her and know the delight of her charms.

Sabrina shrugged philosophically. "It was bound to have happened someday. Why shouldn't I seek fulfillment before the hangman stretches my neck?" she laughed, the sound coming out harsh and hollow.

Lucien shook her hard, his mouth grim. "You'll not masquerade again. I'll see to it,
Sabrina, that
you never have the chance to." He forced her chin up roughly and stared into her still-passionate eyes.

"God, I can't even look at you without wanting you again." He kissed her reddened lips deeply, drawing the sweetness from them into his. Sabrina's arm curled around his neck as she answered his desire with a new-found confidence of her own.

"You learn quickly, little one," Lucien smiled, his hands
straying over her taut stomach and up to cup her breasts.

"I've had a good tutor," she teased, a dimple peeping out as she smiled and added mischievously, "and imagine how I'll be after several lessons."

"Just as long as I'm the only one giving them," Lucien remarked with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll not share you with anyone."

"Jealous? Lucien," she experimented using his name, pronouncing it lovingly. "It suits you with your golden curls and arrogant stare."

"Arrogant?" Lucien retorted. "I'd never met arrogance before I met you.
Strutting around in breeches and jackboots.
Terrorizing the countryside."

He laughed deeply as he thought of the first night he'd met her and the chagrined faces around that banqueting table.
If they knew?
He laughed again at the thought.

"What is so amusing that you would shake me from my dreams?" Sabrina demanded, rising on an elbow across his chest, her breasts resting snugly against him.

Lucien looked up at her, amusement still brimming in his eyes.
"You, my funny little princess.
Now," he said with an imperious note in his voice, "we've a few details to straighten out. I want to know everything about you, and why an apparently well-bred young woman resorts to highway robbery?"

Sabrina pulled away from the warmth of his arms, feeling at once lost and bereft without them around her. She turned a dainty shoulder to him and stared into the shadowy room, the candle having guttered long ago and just a small, nickering flame remaining of the fire he had re-lit.

"Why must you know? Why must you meddle and interfere in what does not concern you? None of this would ever have happened if you hadn't entrapped me," she cried desperately as the memory of their passion was replaced with all of her old fears and the realization that she was still his prisoner.

Lucien pulled her back to him, angered by that little shoulder turned to him and the stiff, slender back she presented against him. He was not accustomed to resistance from a woman, or from anyone for that
matter,
and he did not like it—nor, would he accept it.

"I am very much involved, as you have held me up at pistol point numerous times, stolen from me, and dueled with me. And, damnation, doesn't that give me the right to know the truth? By God, you'll tell me, Sabrina. I'll not let you leave this bed until you do," he threatened.

"What harm can it do?
If you implicate others, what can it matter, for I can't prosecute them without bringing you into it, and I'll be damned if I'll do that.
What kind of man do you take me for? I make love to you tonight and then let the soldiers take you away to be hanged? Besides," he added arrogantly, "no one would dare threaten what is mine—and you are mine. I'll not give you up," he added in a hard, possessive voice.

His lips found hers and he kissed her hungrily, moving her onto his chest where she lay beneath the caress of his hands.

"What do you mean, Lucien?" Sabrina asked uncertainly, a fear in her heart from the possessive note in his voice.

His answer was muffled by his kisses on her throat and shoulders as he explained reasonably, "I shall set you up as my mistress. How would you like a house in London, and a small country house? I've a nice one near Bath that has been recently refurnished. I can be with you most of the time, and when in London I shall visit you at your house."

His hands slid over her buttocks and pressed her gently against his hips, making her aware of his desire for her. He rolled her under him and made love to her again, guiding her to please and satisfy him, unsatisfied himself until she felt the ecstasy he could bring to her.

Sabrina sighed, listening to his deep and steady breathing as he slept beside her. She bit her
Up
and blinked to keep the tears from overflowing her eyes. She only had herself to blame. Why should he think to offer her anything more? How could she tell him she was the daughter of a marquis, and even then would he really believe her? But what could their future be? As far as she knew he might be married. He probably was. After all, he was a duke, and handsome and rich as well. He was in his thirties, she guessed, and probably had children as old as Richard by now. But she couldn't become his mistress. She looked down at him sleeping so soundly and peacefully, not knowing that this would be the one night for their love. Never would she see him again. Because she would not take the chance of meeting him, she would never again masquerade as Bonnie Charlie. The charade would end, and Bonnie Charlie would be retired. They had enough money now. She was tired, her nerves were frayed from constant fear and worry, and this latest fiasco had broken her confidence. She knew if they played the game too long they would get caught, as indeed they had this time. They had become careless, and her cockiness had led to entrapment and near-disaster.

No, she must never risk meeting Lucien again. He
would be furious to lose her, and knowing his iron deter-
mination, she knew he would seek her out. She must be so
careful. She must hide for a while and he would soon for-
get a night of wonderful love, tire of his futile quest and
seek
diversion elsewhere. She swallowed painfully as she
admitted to herself that a diversion was all she was to him.
He didn't love
her,
he wanted her merely to fulfill his lust-
ful desires.
                                                                                  
,

Sabrina gazed lovingly at his face. Why should she be any different for him? How many lovers had he had since he'd reached manhood? She was just another in a long succession of women he'd desired. But for her, he was special. Lucien was her first love, a young girl's idealistic dream of what a man should be, awakening her desires and changing her from an innocent girl into a woman. Lucien would always be special for her, not only because he'd been her first lover, but because he was the man she loved.

She had fallen in love with the scar-faced gentleman. No, never again would she call him that. She gazed down at his sleeping face, her violet eyes reflecting the love in her heart. She traced the cruel scar with a fingertip light as a butterfly, then the beautifully chiseled mouth that was slightly curved with a dream. His lashes were long and dark, and she ran her fingertip across their fineness. His ears narrowed at the top like a satyr's and Sabrina smiled as she thought of his passionate lovemaking.