Moonstruck Madness (39 page)

"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.

"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."

"Oh, I would, truly I would," Richard breathed in awe. "You won't change your mind, will you? Even if I'm bad and don't study my lessons? Mr. Teesdale said I'd been lacka—, well, lazy, and he was going to tell you."

Lucien laughed. "I'll tell you a secret, between only you and me now," he whispered conspiratorially.

"I promise not to tell," Richard answered solemnly, crossing his heart to seal it.

"Well, I played hooky more than I care to remember when I should've been cracking the books, but who can resist a warm afternoon when the trout are big and
jumping in the lake? But don't do it too often," he cautioned him.

"I
won't, in fact I'll study extra hard," Richard promised, a wide smile on his face.

Lucien patted his small shoulder fondly. "Good lad, and remember, tomorrow I'll teach you a few pointers about those pistols of yours."

Richard impulsively hugged Lucien around the waist, pressing his hot face against the man's waistcoat. "Thank you, Lucien," he mumbled before turning away, flustered, to examine his pistols. Lucien stared at the boy for a moment before leaving the room, wondering why pleasing that little fellow should leave him feeling so pleased
himself
?
The poor little man.
That was exactly what he needed—a man to take him under his wing and teach him what all young boys should be enjoying. His own son would not be left to grow up without a father's guidance. His son—yes, he liked the sound of that. He wanted this child that Sabrina carried. She was hardly more than a child herself, and yet she would bear him a child—his heir. And what a child it would be, he thought proudly, as he saw her beauty and spirit.

Sabrina awoke from her sleep feeling refreshed. The doubts that had caused her headache had vanished from her thoughts. She slid from the bed and opening wide the latticed window took a deep breath of the sun-warmed garden. Giving a sigh of satisfaction she spun around the room, coming to a halt before the mirror. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, noting the color in her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes, pleased that she was not nearly so thin anymore. Soon she would see Lucien's home, Camareigh, and she would live there with him. She would miss Verrick House, but Mary would wed her colonel soon, and of course this would one day be Richard's, but until then he would live with her. She would have to talk to Lucien about that, and of course, there was dear Aunt Margaret, but she doubted whether
she would leave Verrick
House,
it had been her home for so long. Well, she would let Lucien handle
everything,
he did these things so well.

Smoothing her curls and tying a fresh apron of cream silk embroidered in colored silks around her waist, Sabrina made her way downstairs.

Colonel Fletcher was standing by the mantelpiece sipping a brandy as he talked with Lucien. They turned as Sabrina entered, abruptly halting their conversation and exchanging glances as she smiled up at them, her hand tucked into the crook of Lucien's arm.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Not at all, Sabrina," the colonel answered quickly, a smile of genuine warmth in his eyes as he stared down at her smiling face, and then at the gentle possessiveness on the Duke's. He hoped all would work out for them—and maybe she would be fortunate enough to never remember her unlawful escapades. He'd seen men under the stress of battle completely break down, and some never remembering anything.

She was very fortunate that the Duke had fallen in love with
her,
for he was definitely the right man for the child—and that is how he'd always picture her.
Running away from that Scottish hut, a little girl with fear and hatred in those remarkable eyes.
They were clear of all emotion now, except for love.

He looked
up,
his own eyes softening as he watched Mary enter, her face serene and her gray eyes gentle as she returned his smile. Sabrina caught the glance and with a teasing smile lurking in her eyes said to Lucien, "And I always thought that spring was the time for lovers?"

Colonel Fletcher flushed, momentarily caught off guard,
then
grinned as he looked into Mary's brightly flushed face.

"Sabrina!" she protested half-heartedly, although not displeased.

"They cannot resist imitating our fine example," Lucien commented mockingly while Colonel Fletcher laughed.

"You'd best watch your step, Lucien, or we'll put you to shame," he responded easily.

"And when might that day arrive?" Sabrina asked curiously.

"I
think next month, if Mary agrees?" Colonel Fletcher said hopefully.

Mary gave a shy laugh. "Once Sabrina has left, I see no reason why we shouldn't marry.
I
have wanted to be here to help, but when Sabrina is completely well—"

"Which I am," Sabrina informed them. "I think you should get married while we are still here, so
I
may help with the arrangements. Don't you think so, Lucien?"

"By all means, it will save us a trip as well, so I would marry soon if
I
were you."