The Highwayman of Tanglewood (4 page)

Faris laughed and clapped her hands! What a story! She thought of her own vision of the Highwayman, and she could see it all in her mind’s eye—his boot, his cape, the black steed he sat. Her heart fluttered at the secret knowledge that he had once called her by name—had once stolen a kiss from her very lips.

“Naturally, Kade the Heinous was frightened,” Lillias continued. “Graybeau says Kade drew his sword, his hand trembling as he wielded it, and called out to the Highwayman, ‘Coward! To ambush such as I when no aid is with me.’”

“Ridiculous fool!” Faris breathed.

“Graybeau says the Highwayman laughed, dismounted in one swift movement, and stood before Kade with his rapier at the ready,” Lillias continued. “‘To meet you in the broad light of day with two men at your back and none other at mine?’ the Highwayman asked. ‘That is no coward, Lord Tremeshton. Yet only a coward would tax his tenants so heavily as to starve wives and children. It is a coward I see before me, and your time has come once more. Hand over your purse, Lord Tremeshton—or see your blood spilt before me.’ That is what Graybeau heard the Highwayman tell Kade the Heinous.”

“Did Lord Tremeshton strike first?” Faris asked. She must know the tale! She must know if Kade Tremeshton was once again bested by the Highwayman of Tanglewood. Certainly she already knew he had been, but she must know how he was bested. She must hear it all.

Lillias laughed. “It is even worse for Tremeshton than that! He surrendered his purse! Without offering any defense of himself at all! He simply glanced at the unconscious stablemen about him and surrendered his purse to the Highwayman!”

“Are you in earnest, miss?” Faris asked, unable to believe what she was indeed hearing.

“I am!” Lillias answered. “Graybeau said there was no confrontation beyond that. Kade the Heinous simply surrendered his purse, mounted one of his stablemen’s horses, and rode away.”

“His cowardice knows no bounds! Even in villainy!” Faris said.

“Indeed. Kade Tremeshton has ever sickened me, and news of this only sours my stomach more at the thought of him,” Lillias said.

“It is no wonder the Highwayman dared a daylight ambush,” Faris said. “No doubt he knew Lord Tremeshton’s cowardice would make the besting easy.”

“No doubt,” Lillias agreed. She was quiet for a moment. Faris watched as Lillias glanced away, to the sunshine pouring warm and bright through the window of her brother’s empty chambers. “Do you suppose, Faris,” she began, “do you suppose it is possible my own Lord Kendrick is the Highwayman of Tanglewood?”

“What?” Faris exclaimed.

“I have often wondered it, for it is on several occasions my lord betrothed has spoken to me of the Highwayman’s escapades with a certain insightfulness I find curious.”

Faris was struck silent for a moment. Could it be? No! It certainly could not! Indeed Lord Gawain Kendrick was young and strong, a worthy nobleman who despised those of Kade Tremeshton’s character. Dark-haired and boasting a well-groomed mustache and goatee, Lord Kendrick was unusually handsome as well. Yet Lord Kendrick could not be the Highwayman—for if he were, it would only mean Faris’s dreams of meeting the Highwayman in the meadow once more, her dreams of his stealing another blissful kiss—her dreams would be dashed, as waves on a rocky shore.

“I-I am certain he would have told you, miss…implied it in the least,” Faris stammered. The thought of it was causing her heart to ache the like she had never known. The Highwayman of Tanglewood—her Highwayman of Tanglewood—betrothed to Lillias Rockrimmon? It could not be!

“I’m sure you are right, Faris,” Lillias said, looking to Faris once more. “Perhaps it is merely my youthful infatuation with the Highwayman that causes me to think it. Still, sometimes…sometimes Gawain seems to know things…and I wonder.”

“When next your lord speaks something to cause you to wonder,” Faris began, “perhaps…perhaps we could meet in secret as we do now and…and I can hear his words and help you to better interpret their meaning.” Oh, Lord Kendrick could not be the Highwayman! He must not be!

“That is a brilliant notion, Faris!” Lillias exclaimed. “And so it shall be that next time Gawain piques my curiosity where the Highwayman of Tanglewood is concerned. I will seek you out, and we will ponder it together.”

“We will do it,” Faris said, forcing a smile.

Lillias giggled. “We will,” she said.

Faris felt a frown pucker her brow a moment. “Do you know, miss,” she began, “it even comes to me now that perhaps Graybeau is the Highwayman.”

“Graybeau?” Lillias asked.

“The Highwayman is said to be tall—quite tall, in fact. Why—Bainbridge Graybeau is near the tallest man I have ever known,” Faris said. And it was true. Bainbridge Graybeau was unusually tall, very handsome, and known for his strength. As Lillias’s eyebrows arched in astonished realization, Faris nodded.

“He is that,” Lillias said. “And handsome as any rogue ever was. As a child, I followed him around with endless infatuation. He looks to be skilled with horses—then why shouldn’t he be skilled with the blade as well? And it would explain his witnessing the Highwayman in the broad light of day.” Lillias gasped as if sudden realization struck her. “Do you know, Faris, that Graybeau told me neither Kade the Heinous nor either of his men was aware of Graybeau’s presence in the Tanglewood when they were set upon by the Highwayman?”

“Perhaps it was not so much he witnessed the ambush—” Faris began.

“—as much as it was he manipulated the ambush himself!” Lillias gasped.

For a moment, Faris’s mind settled on it—Bainbridge Graybeau was the Highwayman of Tanglewood! She could see the same thought alight in Lillias’s eyes. Still, in the next instant, both young ladies burst into peals of laughter.

“What a pair we are, Faris!” Lillias sighed once her laughter had subsided. “Meeting in secret to discuss such a rogue—to speculate his identity.”

“Well, we are not alone, miss,” Faris said. “Every soul in the entire countryside is speculating of it.”

“’Tis true,” Lillias said. She breathed a heavy sigh and shook her head as if dispelling a dream. “I’ll tell you a secret, Faris—though you may think very little of me for admitting it.”

“You are my friend, Faris,” Lillias said, dropping her voice once more. “But I pause to tell you my secret—for I am not sure you truly value me as yours.”

“The greatest I have, miss!” Faris assured. “I promise it with all my heart!”

“Then you must call me Lillias, Faris,” Lillias said. “For we have been fast friends for a year now, and still you call me ‘miss’ when we are speaking thus.”

Faris smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. Lillias Rockrimmon was the young miss of Loch Loland Castle. It was soon she would be Lady Kendrick—yet it was ever she begged Faris to call her by her given name. Always Faris had resisted for reasons of her station and for fear of letting Lillias Rockrimmon become too beloved a friend. Still, she could see in the young woman’s eyes the need for true friendship.

“Very well,” Faris whispered. “Please entrust me with your most delicious of secrets, Lillias.”

Lillias smiled, and Faris giggled when her friend reached out, embracing her quickly.

“You are my truest friend, Faris! The truest I have ever known!” Lillias said. “And because it is so, I shall tell you my greatest secret!” Lillias cleared her throat, and Faris giggled as a blush rose to her cheeks. “It is almost nightly I dream of the Highwayman.”

Faris giggled—for what shocking confession was this? She too dreamt of the Highwayman—dreamt of meeting him in a fragrant meadow at midnight, of being kissed by the rogue with the Irish brogue.

“Why, that is not so scandalous, Lillias,” Faris said, “for I dream of him as well.”

“But do you dream of his coming to Loch Loland Castle, stealing you from the warmth of your bed, only to carry you to the Tanglewood and hold you in the warmth of his arms? Do you dream of his ravishing you with kisses?” Lillias sighed, delighted by the reminiscence of her own dreams.

“No, indeed, I do not,” Faris said. “For I dream of wandering through the Tanglewood Meadow, the air fragrant with dew-laden grass and new flowers. I dream of a purple-draperied sky at midnight and a chance meeting with the Highwayman where he steals a kiss from me—a kiss the like you and I may only dream of.”

Lillias smiled. “I dream he is Gawain and that he dare not tell me the truth for fear of discovery.”

Faris giggled. “He has no true identity in my dreams,” she said. “In my dreams, he is only the Highwayman of Tanglewood—though sometimes I hear his voice in my mind.”

“Indeed?” Lillias asked. “And what is the nature of his voice?”

“Deep in intonation, masked with a rough rasping to secure the truth of his identity, and thick with a brogue—like they who travel here from the green isle.” Faris hoped she had not revealed too much to Lillias. Still, the words had been over her tongue before she could stop them.

“Yes,” Faris said. She thought again of her chance meeting with the Highwayman of Tanglewood—of the kiss he had stolen from her. “Both with our secrets cached safely.”

Lillias embraced Faris once more, and Faris returned her embrace. Her heart was warmed by friendship, the safe and happy life at Loch Loland Castle.

“Oh!” Lillias exclaimed. “It was nearly I forgot to tell you—Mother asked me to beg you to place a vase of lilacs in her dressing chamber the like you arrange in mine each day.”

They stepped from the chamber and into the hall. What met their eyes caused them both to gasp—for there, in the hall near the stairway, stood none other than Lord Gawain Kendrick and Bainbridge Graybeau in hushed conversation.

Yet Faris could not rid herself of the unsettled feeling that had washed over her at the sight of Lord Kendrick and Graybeau steeped in curious conversation.

Even after Lord Kendrick had greeted Lillias, kissed her sweetly on the cheek, and taken her arm—even as she walked down the long hall of the east wing toward Lady Rockrimmon’s dressing chambers—the unsettled sensation lingered.

She fancied she would not mind so much if the Highwayman were Graybeau. Bainbridge Graybeau was handsome, quite perfectly masculine, and quite perfectly unattached. Lord Gawain Kendrick, however, though handsome enough, would soon be married—and to Faris’s best friend. Faris decided in that moment the Highwayman of Tanglewood was not Lord Gawain Kendrick—for the truth of it would break her heart. No! The Highwayman was no one of her acquaintance. The Highwayman of Tanglewood was an Irish rogue with no other attachments save to a girl he had once met in a meadow in the moonlight. Faris was certain of it.

❦

The evening was summer-warm. A soft breeze played through the meadow grass, and twilight was just beginning. Faris gazed up into the violet of the evening sky—inhaled the fragrance of meadow flowers and moist grass.

How long should I wait for fate to appear?
Faris wondered. How long should she stand in the midst of the meadow waiting for a chance glimpse of the Highwayman of Tanglewood? Yet such a man was worth waiting forever to see again. Was he not?

It was her conversation with Lillias—the conversation they had shared concerning their mutual dreams of the Highwayman that found her in the meadow. In all the times she had visited the meadow in hopes of seeing the Highwayman again, she had never felt so desperate to see him as she did now.

All the day long she had agonized, wondering whether the Highwayman of Tanglewood was truly Lord Gawain Kendrick in disguise. Further, she was certain he was not—certain that if she could chance to meet the Highwayman again, she would be even more certain. Thus, she had waited until all was dark and quiet at Loch Loland Castle—waited until even Old Joseph, Lord Rockrimmon’s loyal first man, was retired to his chamber. It was then she had set out for the meadow. It was then she hoped—Faris Shayhan hoped the stars or heaven would bless her with another stroke of good fortune.

Faris reached up, pulling the pins from her hair and running her fingers through her long, dark tresses. Drawing a ribbon from the tiny pocket in her skirt, she tied her hair back at the nape of her neck, feeling somehow free and refreshed. The fragrant breeze caressed her cheeks, cooling the blush caused from her brisk walk.

Purple seemed to rinse the sky, and the sun was nearly set when Faris fancied she heard the rhythm of a horse’s gallop in the distance. She narrowed her eyes, straining to see through the darkness of the settling night, glad she brought a lantern with her. Still, she could see nothing but the outline of the Tanglewood Forest against the violet of falling night.