The Highwayman of Tanglewood (30 page)

“I cannot speak of it now, Faris,” Lillias sobbed. “I must—I must gather myself. I cannot speak of it now—especially to you!”

With such an outburst of emotion as Faris had never before witnessed in her dear friend, Lillias dashed out the kitchen servants’ door and into the gardens.

Faris stood astonished into silence, paralyzed with not understanding. And yet, it was then her own thoughts of a moment before returned to her—mingled with the realization of what could upset Lillias Rockrimmon so thoroughly.

“No,” Faris whispered. Yet it came to her then—Lord Gawain Kendrick. He had not been present the day before, when the Highwayman of Tanglewood had ridden to Loch Loland Castle. He had not been present when the Highwayman of Tanglewood had been besting Lord Brookings in Saxton. And even still, it was ever Lord Kendrick who appeared at Loch Loland with tales of the Highwayman’s antics.

Could this be the reason for Lillias’s emotional distress? Had Lord Kendrick confessed to being the Highwayman of Tanglewood? And if he had, what then did it mean for Faris? Certainly Lillias would not have appeared so overwrought with panic emotion had Lord Kendrick simply confessed and not mentioned his connection to Faris. Had he then—had Lord Kendrick broken with Lillias in favor of Faris?

“Quickly, Faris,” Mary said upon entering the kitchen. “Milady Stringham and her daughter are demanding tea and cakes.”

“Wh-where is Willeen then?” Faris asked, pulling herself from her thoughts and to the present moment at hand. “Do you wish that I should bring her to you?”

But Mary shook her head as she began hastily preparing a service. “No, no, no. Willeen is taken ill. You will have to serve milady and Miss Tannis,” Mary said.

“Me?” Faris gasped. In the mere space of one day—most of which she had been told to take rest at Lady Rockrimmon’s word—in the mere space of a day, Faris was certain she did not wish to be near the Stringham ladies more than was absolutely necessary to keep her position. “I-I cannot possibly serve their refreshment, Mary! I have not the steady wits about me this day. Cannot Sarah tend to them?”

Mary rolled her eyes and breathed an exasperated sigh. “Sarah? Posh and piddle posh! She has taken the day to visit her sister in town. No. I am afraid you must tend them. They are your lot, after all.” Holding the silver tray and service, Mary turned and handed it to Faris. “If they have one complaint about my service or cakes, I do not wish to hear it. Oh, I cannot wait until they have taken their leave. How long will Master Lochlan cause us to endure before he asks for Miss Tannis’s hand?” Mary grumbled. She straightened one cup and saucer and said, “There now, Faris. On your way now. We don’t want them complaining to Lady Rockrimmon about anything they haven’t already.”

“Very well,” Faris said. “If I must.”

Yet Faris felt weak, unhinged somehow—as if the emotion of the previous day and night’s goings-on had drained her very life’s blood from her. She thought of Lillias sobbing in the gardens. Surely the Highwayman had not so thoroughly lied to her as to keep Lillias his lover by day and Faris his lover by twilight? Surely he loved Faris better than that?

Stepping into Lady Rockrimmon’s parlor, she nodded as Lady Stringham and Tannis looked up from their reading and needlework. Glancing about quickly, Faris was quite unsettled to see that Lady Rockrimmon was not present.

“Maranda has left us here with none whatsoever to entertain us,” Lady Stringham said.

“There seems to be some squabble between Lillias and her betrothed, and Lady Stringham is in search of Lord Rockrimmon to soothe it,” Tannis added. “Or so I would gather from the recent goings-on and Lillias’s childish outburst of emotion.”

Faris was loath to serve such arrogant and unfeeling gossips as sat before her now. Yet she admired Lady Rockrimmon, loved her as nearly her own mother. Lady and Tannis Stringham were guests at Loch Loland Castle: welcome or not, she would serve them.

“I have brought your refreshment, milady,” Faris said. “Do wish me to serve it?” She prayed they would serve themselves, for she feared her trembling hands might betray her own tender emotions.

Tannis quirked one eyebrow as she studied Faris from head to slipper. Faris straightened her posture. She did not like being appraised by the haughty young woman. How she hoped Lochlan had spoken the truth to her when he had said he did not intend to take Tannis to wife. Still, considering Lord Kendrick’s deceit and the apparent deceit of the Highwayman, Faris was no longer certain any man wore truth as his emblem of honor.

“You dawdled so, girl,” Lady Stringham said. “I hope the cakes are still warm. I cannot fathom why Lochlan favors you as his chambermaid. If that is even the case.”

“Miss,” Faris said, holding the tray out to the young woman. She gasped as Tannis swiftly slapped the tray, causing the cakes and tea to spill out down the front of Faris’s dress. Dropping the tray, Faris quickly tore open the fabric of her bodice, for the hot tea scalded her tender flesh. She looked up only when she heard Tannis and Lady Stringham giggle.

“Such a clumsy girl,” Tannis said. “Perhaps you should keep to the bedchambers—not to serving tea and cakes to important guests.”

“This was intentional,” Faris accused, blowing into the opening of her bodice in an effort to cool her scalded flesh. Stooping, she retrieved a napkin from the heap of cakes, broken china, silver tea spoons, and linens at her feet and began dabbing at the moisture on her bosom.

She was rendered breathless in the next moment by the hot sting of a strong slap to her right cheek. Mouth agape in awe, she pressed a hand to the painful flesh a moment before Tannis dealt a second slap to her opposing cheek.

“Impudent wench!” Lady Stringham exclaimed. “Lady Rockrimmon will be very displeased when we tell her of the manner in which you have treated us, girl!”

“Y-you accuse me of mistreatment?” Faris stammered. She could not comprehend it—such treatment of others.

She gasped as the back of Lady Stringham’s hand delivered a violent slap to her already offended face. Stunned and unable to order rational thought, Faris turned and fled from the room in a mist of tears.

She could not believe what had just transpired! Tannis Stringham had intentionally knocked the tray from her hand. The tea had scalded Faris’s flesh terribly, yet the girl had accused Faris of dropping the tray deliberately. Although she knew Lady Rockrimmon to be wise and understanding, still she feared for her position. What if Lady Rockrimmon believed the Stringhams and she were truly sent away this time? She would never see Lochlan again! Her Highwayman would not know where to find her! She paused in her flight to close her eyes, silently reprimanding herself for thinking of Lochlan in the same moment as the Highwayman. Whatever was the matter with her? Had she lost her wits? In being so entangled in her desire to know the Highwayman of Tanglewood’s true identity, had she lost balanced thought? In knowing now that Bainbridge Graybeau was not the Highwayman, that Lord Gawain Kendrick may well be he, had she succumbed to the insanity of a breaking heart?

Inhaling a deep breath and brushing the tears from her tender and sore cheeks, she endeavored to regain a remnant of calm about her. Yet her heart cried out for the Highwayman. If ever she needed championing, it was now! Where was he? Where did he rest in daylight? Why was it she was ever assaulted in the broad light of day when the Highwayman of Tanglewood could not champion her? Why was it ever Lochlan Rockrimmon championing her at Loch Loland and not her beloved?

As she opened her eyes, she gasped, unsettled at the sight of Lochlan himself standing before her. It was an uncanny thing—as if her thoughts of Lochlan had caused him to materialize.

“What goes on here?” Lochlan asked, scowling as his eyes lingered on Faris’s gaping bodice. Self-consciously, Faris pulled the fabric together with one hand. “And here?” he asked, lifting her chin to study her.

His touch was comforting and exhilarating in the same moment. From the sense of sting on her cheeks, Faris was certain Tannis’s and her mother’s abuse had left fiery red welts on her face.

“Who has assaulted you thus?” Lochlan growled. His voice was loud, demanding, and angry in its intonation.

Faris gazed into the hot emerald of his eyes. He was livid with barely controlled rage.

“It—it is nothing to speak of, sire,” she lied, attempting to move past him. She did not wish to tell him of the abusive manner of his guests. It was humiliating to her all of a sudden. It seemed at every turn she was being assaulted at Loch Loland Castle. Surely Lochlan must have begun to wonder what a cursed being she was.

“Nothing to speak of?” Lochlan nearly roared. “Your clothing wet and torn, the flesh beneath unnaturally red! The print of a hand on this cheek,” he said, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. “And here, too,” he said, pointing to the other.

Faris was rendered breathless, her body rippling with goose bumps as Lochlan pressed the bareness of his hand to the scalded flesh just below her throat.

“Warm and tender. You have been scalded,” he growled. His expression was that of rage, and Faris watched as his jaw clinched tightly shut. “You will tell me now, Faris. Who has caused this?”

Faris frowned. Dared she tell him the truth of it? Surely it would mean her dismissal. Whether or not he meant to take Tannis Stringham to wife, she was his guest—she and her mother. Never would a servant’s word usurp that of titled lady and her daughter, guests at Loch Loland Castle.

“I am a chambermaid, sire,” she began. “I-I don’t usually handle tea service, but Willeen is ill, and Sarah is—”

“You are a woman, Faris,” he interrupted. “Now, continue.”

Faris wiped tears from her sore cheeks and said, “I was serving an unscheduled tea to Lady Stringham and her daughter. Willeen is ill, and Sarah is—”

“This much I have gathered, Faris. Out with it, for my patience is taxed near to being all spent,” he said.

Faris was trembling before him. Yet for fear or joy at being in his presence, she did not know. “I simply held the tray for Miss Tannis, that she might serve herself. I was holding the tray, and she pushed at it, causing the tea and cakes to spill on me. I was disrespectful, sire—I admit it—for I spoke improperly, somewhat accusing she had done so on purpose. It was then she first struck me.” Desperate that he believe her, Faris reached out, taking hold of his sleeve and pleading, “I beg you to believe me, sire! I am not telling a falsehood! She truly did—”

Faris’s words were lost to her, and she began to tremble as Lochlan glanced to where her hand held his sleeve.

“Forgive me, Master Lochlan. I only wanted to make you understand—” she gasped as he took hold of her arm. “Sire, please,” she begged, for she knew he meant to throw her out of Loch Loland Castle forever. Yet, as he turned her toward his mother’s parlor, pushed her before him toward it, she realized his intent. He meant to make her face Lady and Tannis Stringham!

“Oh, please, sire!” she begged. “I swear I am telling the truth!” She had no choice but to do his bidding, for he fairly dragged her into the room where sat Lady Stringham and her daughter. Both women looked up as Lochlan pushed her toward them.

“Lochlan, darling,” Lady Stringham began. “I see you’ve found our truant serving maid.”

Faris wiped the tears from her cheeks only a moment before Lochlan took hold of her shoulders and held her forward, as if assuring Lady Stringham knew she was present. Well expecting another slap, Faris closed her eyes and winced. No slap was administered, however, and her eyes widened as dinner platters when she felt Lochlan pull aside the fabric of her bodice.

“Explain this to me, Lady Stringham,” he demanded.

Faris could feel his strong hands trembling with rage as he held the fabric of her bodice. He was indeed enraged—but not so for the reasons Faris had at first assumed.

Lady Stringham smiled. She tossed her head as if innocence were her nature and said, “The girl is as clumsy as any hog, Lochlan. She had an unfortunate episode with the service and spilled the tea and cakes.”

“And this?” Lochlan asked, taking Faris’s chin in hand and displaying first one cheek to Lady Stringham and her daughter, then the other.

“She is wildly impertinent, Lochlan,” Tannis said. “If only you had heard her sharp serpent’s tongue.”

Faris gasped as Lochlan took hold of her shoulders once more, turned her toward him, and held her firmly against his the protective strength of his powerful body.

At the understanding of his words, Faris could not help but to melt against him. His championing her again was unexpected to her—though it should have been entirely predictable.