The Highwayman of Tanglewood (10 page)

“
Once I a weary, bonnie lass was set upon by thieves
,” she sang.

“
I smiled and asked the band of them, upon my bended knees,

‘
Take pity, lads, upon a lass with not a cent in tow

And save yourselves from burning with the devil down below
.’”

Taking hold of the heavy drapery pole with one hand, Faris stretched her other arm out toward the center of the window. It was precarious, her manner of dusting the draperies. Still, she had performed the task many times successfully enough, and she saw no reason she could not do it again—even without a ladder.

“
The thieves they set to grinning and laughing to themselves
,” Faris continued to sing, frowning as she held tightly to the drapery pole and stretched even further.

“
And I enjoyed their merriment, this band of thieving elves.

‘
I’m glad you are so merry in entering your tomb,

For the devil doesn’t tarry’
—”

“May I ask—what exactly it is you are about, miss?”

The deep resonation of the unexpected voice behind her startled Faris. She began to wobble, her hand slipping from the drapery pole, thus causing her to lose her balance. With a shrill scream, she tightly clutched the folds of the velvet draperies as she began to topple off the bookcase. Closing her eyes in anticipating the pain of her body meeting with the floor, she was surprised when she felt herself suddenly cradled in two powerful arms instead.

The Heir, The Rider, and The Rogue

Faris Shayhan gasped as she looked into the extraordinarily handsome face of the man in whose arms she was cradled. Instantly stunned at the pure magnificence of his features and form, she determined the man to be nearly as tall as the bookcase from which she had fallen—his shoulders nearly as broad as the expanse of the window whose draperies she had been endeavoring to dust. His eyes flashed green as emeralds; his hair was such a color of brown spice as to cause Faris to wonder if it undeniably tasted as ambrosial as cloves.

“Are you injured?” the man asked.

Faris could only swallow hard and shake her head in response.

“Very well,” he said, maneuvering her body so she hung over his shoulder as a sack of potatoes. “Then we shall seek out my mother.”

“Y-your mother?” Faris squeaked. Surely not! Surely this was not Lochlan Rockrimmon! Surely this was not the young master of Loch Loland Castle! Yet every part of Faris’s body and soul knew it to be true. Acting in such a careless, silly manner, Faris had been caught by the young master of Loch Loland—literally caught!

She would be sent away! Indeed, she would. What other course was left? Faris had been fairly dangling from the draperies, showing such a lack of respect for the furniture in his chambers, and Lochlan Rockrimmon had no doubt been infuriated. She would be dismissed—at once.

Yet hope coupled with pure desperation gripped! She could not leave Loch Loland—it had become her home! What would become of her? Furthermore, where would she go? How would she meet her beloved Highwayman six nights hence if she were not dwelling close to the Tanglewood Forest?

“Oh, sire! Please forgive me!” Faris pleaded, her voice skipping with the rhythm of his stride. “It was an accident! I’m certain the draperies can be mended. I’ll mend them myself! I’m quite skilled with a needle. Please, sire,” she begged. “Please do not—”

The handsome man chuckled and asked, “As skilled with a needle as with a dusting cloth?”

“No, sire,” Faris stammered, uncertain as to what to anticipate where her fate was concerned. In truth, it was an astonishing situation—flung over the shoulder of the young master of the house, on her way to a very severe reprimand, no doubt. Even for his occasional chuckle offering that he was amused, Faris knew it could not go well for her. Yet she must endeavor.

“Please, sire,” Faris began. “I was distracted in mind, I do admit it. Yet I beg you not to—”

“Mother. There you are,” Lochlan Rockrimmon interrupted.

Faris turned her head to see Lady Rockrimmon approaching. “Look what I’ve found dangling from the draperies in my bedchamber. What a thoughtful gift you and father have left for me.”

“What?” Faris gasped. Was he in jest? Lady Rockrimmon’s delighted giggle signaled that he was. Still, she could not believe he would be so merry about her abominable behavior.

“For pity’s sake, Loch! Let the girl down,” Lady Rockrimmon said through merry laughter.

“Need I remind you, Mother, of father’s own words and yours—your very own teachings to me? You and father have ever taught ‘what I find and keep in my bedchamber…I find and keep in my bedchamber,’” he said.

“Frogs, Loch. Frogs. You found frogs—which you had no doubt secreted into your chambers yourself—and we told you were you to keep them, they must be kept there, in your chamber. And you were but four years aged, Loch—four,” Lady Rockrimmon said, holding up four graceful fingers as indication. “Now put the girl down. You’ll have Faris thinking you as lewd as Kade Tremeshton.”

“Tremeshton?” Lochlan Rockrimmon growled. Taking Faris’s waist between strong hands, he slid her body down and over his, finally setting her feet on the floor. “You wouldn’t think me the miscreant he is, would you, miss?” he asked her.

His eyes were mesmerizing—the whole of him was! As Faris stared at him for one long moment, she scolded herself for ever thinking his portrait boorish—for he was far, far from it!

“
For the devil doesn’t tarry
,” he said, repeating the last line she had sung before having been startled into falling from the bookcase.

“Oh,” Faris breathed. “F-for the devil doesn’t tarry in—in sealing up your doom, sire.”

The man arched his one eyebrow and nodded. “There’s truth in that,” he said.

“Oh, leave Faris be, Loch,” Lady Rockrimmon said. She reached out, pressing a palm to Faris’s crimson cheek. “I sent you to your chamber to change your traveling clothes—not to frighten poor Faris near to death.”

“Milady Rockrimmon,” Faris began. “The draperies in…in Master Lochlan’s chamber…I’m afraid I tore—”

“She fairly ripped them to shreds, mother,” Lochlan said.

But when Faris glanced at him, he wore an impish grin. He was a rascal, Faris determined. A superior one perhaps—bearing no malice—but a rascal all the same.

“For pity’s sake, Loch! Have mercy,” Lady Rockrimmon said with a giggle. “Faris is not as familiar with your wicked ways as the rest of us are. You’ve turned her pale as porcelain!”

“Forgive me—Faris, is it?” Lochlan Rockrimmon said. “The draperies are my fault, and mine alone.”

“Sire, I—” Faris began to argue, knowing full well she was the fool who had torn them.

“Oh, let him take the blame, Faris,” Lady Rockrimmon said, smiling. “We find if we all blame Loch for mischief and misfortunes, it keeps things much calmer here, more often than not.”

“But, milady—” Faris began again.

“She is correct, miss,” he said. “You’ll find that in matters of mischief, it’s best for all blame to be placed in my general direction, miss,” Lochlan Rockrimmon said.

The green of his eyes burned through the dark of Faris’s. She found she was breathless beneath his emerald gaze.

“Faris,” Lady Rockrimmon began, “would you know of Lillias’s whereabouts? She will so want to know Loch has returned.”

“I-I can seek her out quickly enough, milady,” Faris whispered with a short curtsy to her mistress and another to her young master.

“Then please do—if you don’t mind,” Lady Rockrimmon said.

“Yes,” Lochlan said, his emerald eye still heavy upon her. “I cannot imagine how she has changed in my absence—already betrothed. It is unfathomable.”

“Yes, sire,” Faris said. “I will find her.”

Turning to leave, she paused, blushing vermilion once more as she heard him say, “Although I cannot imagine enduring life in my bedchamber with the draperies so dull and dreary as they are now.” He chuckled and continued, “Pray, mother, do allow me to return your pretty Faris to her place as my favorite drapery embellishment.”

“Lochlan! Behave yourself! Where are your manners?” Lady Rockrimmon scolded half-heartedly. “Faris, do not pay him any heed. Please bring Lillias to me, and I will have his tongue straightened before your return.”

“Yes, milady,” Faris said, hurrying down the hall and away from the unsettling gaze of Lochlan Rockrimmon.

For pity’s sake! Her hands were perspiring as well as her forehead! Faris scolded herself for being so unprepared for the young master’s return. She scolded herself for being so dim-witted in choosing to scale the bookcase. Most of all, she scolded herself for being so entirely unsettled by his attractive nature.

“You didn’t believe us, did you?” Sarah said as Faris met her rounding one corner of the hallway in search of Lillias.

“About what?” Faris asked, feigning ignorance. Faris smoothed her apron again, afraid the blush Lochlan Rockrimmon had brought to her cheeks still lingered.

“About how handsome and charming Master Lochlan is,” Sarah said, smiling.

Faris gritted her teeth for a moment. “Oh, he is as handsome a man as was ever born,” Faris admitted. “And he knows it. Such conceit!” She could not let Sarah know the true reasons Lochlan Rockrimmon unsettled her. In truth, there seemed no arrogance or conceit about him. Yet she could not let Sarah know she had been proven correct.

“Do you mean to say you don’t find him…desirable?” Sarah asked. It was obvious by the arch in her brow and her widened eyes that she was entirely astonished Faris had not admitted Lochlan Rockrimmon to be nearly incomparable in his appeal.

“What I find desirable in a man goes far beyond a pretty face and an ostentatious nature,” Faris said. She thought of the Highwayman—of her Highwayman—of his easy manner and overwhelming allure.

“He has unsettled you,” Sarah said, smiling. “Do not feel foolish, Faris. He unsettles us all.”

“Have you seen Miss Lillias?” Faris asked, praying to end the line of conversation. “Milady wishes me to inform her of her brother’s return.”

“She’s in the east gardens with Lord Kendrick,” Sarah said. She still smiled, knowing all too well how uncomfortable Faris remained.

“Thank you, Sarah,” Faris said. She would find Lillias quickly—send her to her mother and brother. Then Faris could, once more, allow her every thought to linger on her beloved Highwayman.

“Where did you find that one?” Lochlan asked his mother as he watched Faris round the corner.

“On the rim of disaster at Tremeshton,” Lady Rockrimmon sighed. “And Lochlan…I-I did something…something completely inappropriate.”

“Mother, what could you ever do that would be deemed completely inappropriate?” Lochlan asked. He was amused with his mother’s expression of mischief. She appeared as guilty as a weasel in Mary’s egg basket.

“I had been watching Faris some time—during my visits to Lady Tremeshton, I would watch her. It was insanely obvious Kade had…had intentions toward her,” Lady Rockrimmon said.

“Kade has intentions toward anything in a petticoat,” Lochlan grumbled.

Lochlan Rockrimmon despised Kade Tremeshton. It was men the likes of Kade who caused the great misery and unrest throughout the countryside—greedy, wicked men who cared for nothing, save their own gratification and gain. He wondered if the local government would ever rein them in. For all his two years away from Loch Loland Castle, he yet bathed in frustration—having done very little, in his own mind, to better the lot of those preyed upon by such as Kade Tremeshton. Politics were slow and wildly frustrating. Still, he was determined and would press forward in his efforts. He liked to think he had made some progress, helped in some small way. After all, he had managed to debate Lord Essex from his political seat; one less greed-monger would be raising taxes for his tenants with that victory.

“Mother, I’m proud of you,” Lochlan said. “Stealing chambermaids—they’ll be accusing you of riding as the Highwayman of Tanglewood next.”

“Don’t be absurd, Loch,” Lady Rockrimmon said. “He’s a thief! I simply offered Faris a position with…with a superior salary.”

“And a superior young master,” Lochlan teased. “Still, she tempts me, Mother,” he added. “She’s a pretty petticoat, indeed.” How Lochlan delighted in teasing his mother—and his sister, for that matter. It was far too easy a task to spur them to excitability. How he had missed teasing them.

“Lochlan!” Lady Rockrimmon scolded.

Lochlan chuckled and drew his mother into a tender embrace. “I do derive such enjoyment at your expense, Mother,” he said. “You’re far too easy a teasing target.”