Moonrise

Sarah shook her head and tried to clear her mind. Where were her wits? she asked herself angrily. She needed to think what to do with this unwelcome intruder. The last thing she needed was a representative from the king hanging around and discovering the natural riding skills she had inherited from her father. And what about Jack? Since her father’s death four years ago, she had fiercely protected her younger brother, trying to keep him from any notice by the king. Though King Charles had said the punishments would end with the executions of those responsible for his father’s murder, Sarah had never stopped worrying that the king’s vengeance could somehow extend to the families of the convicted men. “I fear my uncle exaggerates,” she said finally.

“I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to judge for myself.”

His gaze had gone from her face to linger briefly on the close-fitting silk of her bodice, then to her narrow waist and the gentle flare of her hips. Sarah felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your business here, Lord Rutledge. I’ll just go up to the house and inform the cook about the midday meal. You will be staying to eat with us?”

“I’ll be here well beyond that,” Anthony said with another devastating smile. “Your uncle has graciously invited me to stay at Leasworth while I view some stock in the area.”

Sarah gave a faltering smile in reply. “We’re honored to have you, of course. If you’ll excuse me...”

She backed up another step, then another, then stumbled as her foot hit a hay rake. In an instant the baron was beside her, supporting her with one strong arm around her back and another at her right elbow. “Are you all right, mistress?” he asked softly, his face just inches from hers.

She could see the black stubble along the lean line of his jaw. A small cleft parted his chin. Through the thin silk of her dress, she felt the solid hardness of the muscles of his arm. She took an uneven breath. No, this man was definitely not one of the soft court dandies she had heard about. It was time to gather her wits about her.

“Thank you, my lord. How clumsy of me.” Deliberately she put a hand on his chest. “I do believe you saved me from a nasty fall.” She looked around her with distaste and wrinkled her nose. “And in all this filth. What a dreadful thought.”

Anthony felt her soften in his arms and gave a satisfied smile. Perhaps his stay in Yorkshire wouldn’t be so dull after all. This slender beauty would be a conquest worthy of his expertise. He looked down to where her soft white hand rested against the leather of his jerkin. The lass seemed amenable, at least. He wondered how closely her uncle guarded her virtue. He knew that many country folk had kept more of the old standards from the Puritan days of the Republic than had the people in London. As far as Charles’s court was concerned, virtue had never been a high priority, even during the days of exile in Europe.

“Dreadful, indeed,” he agreed pleasantly. “Would you like me to escort you back to the house...to be sure there are no further mishaps?”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you so much.” Sarah’s smile was sweet. Anthony’s eyes were drawn to her full lips, which were naturally pink and moist without, he was sure, any of the paints used by all the ladies at court these days—and some of the men. He felt his blood quicken.

“I will look forward to seeing you at dinner, then.” He lifted her hand from his jacket and brought it slowly to his lips.

Sarah’s stomach jumped at the touch of his warm mouth. But at the same time, she immediately thought of the calluses on her palms, which told of endless hours of chafing against leather reins. She smiled at the baron through her long lashes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the abrupt way she pulled her hand away from his.

“Yes, until dinner,” she said hastily. Then she turned to leave before this unwanted visitor had her in a complete dither.

She berated herself for her foolishness all the way back to the manor house. She had always prided herself on her cool head. When Jack would get into a lather over some slight hitch in one of their midnight forays, she would be the one to stay calm and collected. Now suddenly the presence of a handsome king’s man had her feeling like a witless dairy maid.

The best thing would be for both her and Jack to stay out of the way as much as possible while the gentleman was here. That would be no problem at all for her brother, whose comings and goings were little noted by the other members of the household. But in the past couple of years her widowed uncle had come to rely more and more on Sarah as mistress of the house. There was no way she could escape dining with their guest.

She rubbed her telltale palms together and wondered if Baron Rutledge had noted them. She was sure that at court a lady would rather be caught naked than riding without gloves, but Sarah was unaccustomed to such refinements. She had been raised in a thoroughly male household. Her mother had died giving birth to Jack, and John Fairfax had been too involved in his Puritanism and his politics to worry about finding a replacement.

Well, Sarah said to herself resolutely, if Lord Rutledge were to be so ungentlemanly as to comment on her roughened hands, she would merely tell him that life in Yorkshire was not as soft as in the palaces of London. Here in the country ladies worked rather than whiling away their days stitching fine tapestries or planning elaborate masques.

She was so lost in her own arguments that she almost missed seeing Jack skirt around the crumbling ruins of an old enclosing wall and make his way toward the stables. At her call he detoured in her direction.

“Have you just come from the horses, Sarah?” he asked eagerly. “I’ve heard there’s a royal surveyor visiting from the king.” His smile died as he took in Sarah’s sober face. “What’s the matter?”

Sarah motioned with one hand for him to lower his voice. “You heard right. There’s a representative from the king. And you’re not going anywhere near him.”

“Is he very grand, Sarah? Are his clothes as magnificent as they say?” Her brother’s eagerness was unabated.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, Jack? I don’t want him to know you’re here. It’s bad enough that he’s already got his eye on Brigand.”

As the import of her words gradually dawned on him, the smile faded from Jack’s face like the dimming of a lantern. “And you think he might have heard reports of the robberies?”

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s supposed to be just a royal surveyor, but it makes me nervous to have a king’s man staying here, especially one who knows horses. There’s not a horse like Brigand in all the surrounding shires.”

“And when the villagers tell their tales of the moonlight bandit, they sing the praises of the magnificent moonlit stallion ‘he’ rides,” Jack added soberly.

“I probably should have ridden one of Uncle’s horses,” Sarah said ruefully. “Though Brigand has taken me out of more close scrapes than we can count.”

“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now. The horse is already known.”

Sarah gave a deep sigh. “We’ll just have to make sure that master surveyor Rutledge has absolutely no reason to suspect any connection between the highwayman and anyone here at Leasworth.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

Sarah felt her cheeks grow warm again as she remembered her intense reaction to the man back at the stables. “Perhaps I can turn his thoughts in other directions.”

Jack eyed her suspiciously. “What do you mean...other directions?”

Sarah gave him a determined smile. “Never mind. Let’s just hope he won’t be here for long. And you, brother dear,” she added, putting her arm around his neck, “are to stay well out of his way.”

Jack pulled away from his sister’s embrace. “It’s about time you stopped giving me orders, Sarah. I’m eighteen now—full grown.”

“Eighteen you may be, but you’re still my little brother.”

Jack bristled. “Norah Thatcher didn’t think I was so little yestere’en after the Wiggleston fair.”

Sarah’s eyes grew wide. “Jack! What are you saying?” she asked, her voice rising with shock.

Jack’s neck colored just below his ears. “It’s just that I’m not a lad anymore, Sarah, and it’s time you recognized the fact.”

Sarah was still taking in the implications of Jack’s earlier statement. Norah Thatcher was one of the more notorious of the village maids. If she had been with Jack late at night after the fair, there was only one possible interpretation. “Fornication is a sin, Jack,” she said sternly.

Jack dropped his defensive expression and gave an easy laugh. “Hadn’t you heard, Sarah, love? There’s no such thing as sin in the merry reign of King Charles.”

Sarah looked at her brother closely. He was no different than he had been when she had broken fast with him this morning, but all at once she realized that he had shoulders as broad as their father’s had been. His chin showed traces of a man’s whiskers. His clear blue eyes and thick blond hair were no longer those of a boy. “Surely you’re not going to pattern your morals on the court’s,” she said soberly.

Jack, his typical good humor restored, leaned over to give his sister an affectionate kiss. “As I was just saying, Sarah, I’m a man now, and my morals are no longer the concern of my big sister.”

Tears stung Sarah’s eyes. “Don’t ask me to stop worrying about you, Jack. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you. You’re all I have.”

Touched by her unaccustomed show of emotion, Jack took her in his arms. “We’ll take care of each other, Sarah. You’re all I have, too, you know.”

Embarrassed by her tears, Sarah pushed at him and gave his chest a glancing blow with her small fist. “I’m all you have? What about Norah Thatcher?” she teased, covering the emotion with a grimace.

Jack grinned. “Norah has become...shall we just say, a good friend.”

Sarah shook her head and laughed. “You’ve ever been bad, Jack Fairfax.”

“Now that’s funny,” he said innocently. “Norah says I was ever so good.”

Sarah felt her cheeks grow hot again. This was a side of her brother she was not sure she was ready for. She had been both sister and mother to him for so many years. It was difficult to think of him moving on in life into activities that could not, by their very nature, involve her.

Jack’s smile faded as he saw that he had truly embarrassed her. “Don’t mind me,” he said, pulling her close to him once more. “You’re absolutely right. I am bad. But it’s just that...bad’s a lot of fun, Sarah.”

Unaccountably, Sarah once again had a vision of the almost carnal look in Lord Rutledge’s dark eyes as he had watched her in the stables. She stepped back from Jack and tried to rein in her spinning thoughts. “Just promise me you’ll do as I say, Jack, and stay out of the baron’s way.”

Jack looked down at her, his eyes full of love. “If it will make you happy, big sister, I’ll make myself as scarce as hen’s teeth.”

She gave his arm a squeeze, taking note of his rock-hard muscle. When had Jack suddenly become so big? “Thank you, little brother. I only wish I could do the same. But, alas, I must be the proper hostess for our guest. And if I don’t get up to the kitchens, the grand baron from London will be supping on raw rabbit stew,” she added with a giggle.

Jack joined in her laughter. “Run along, then. I’ll just take myself off to the village. Perhaps Mistress Thatcher needs some help today in the tannery.”

“Jack!” Sarah chastised.

“You said you wanted me out of the way, remember?”

Sarah gave a reluctant smile. “Just mind what you do, little brother.”

Jack grinned. “Oh, I intend to mind it very well, Sarah.” Then he turned and took off toward Wiggleston in a dead run.

* * *

Anthony stretched out his long legs toward the huge fire that blazed in the great room of Leasworth manor. He was tired, though not entirely displeased with the results of his day. Oliver, his colleague on the mission, had reported that his men had made some progress in the village gathering information about the moonlight highwayman. And as for Anthony’s own day at Leasworth, it had been more than satisfactory. To his surprise, Thomas Fairfax actually did possess a number of horses that would rival any in London. There was one in particular that was a magnificent animal, a dark gray roan stallion with sleek lines and powerful legs that made it look as if it could run the breadth of the country without stopping.

And then there was the girl. Fairfax’s niece. She had the look of a little country dove in her plain gray dress, but she had the features of a classic beauty, and her body... He’d only held her for a moment, but that had been enough. She had all the lush curves of a woman, but with an underlying strength that promised that she would be an exhilarating match in bed.

It was a pity that he was too tired to woo her yet tonight. She should be willing enough, he reasoned. As he’d come out of the stables, he’d seen her with what must have been one of her country swains. She’d been embracing the strapping young lad. She’d even kissed him there in the plain light of day. It shouldn’t be too hard to get her to turn her attentions to an experienced courtier like himself. After all, he had wooed and won the most brilliant women at court, at least those that Charles had not marked for himself.

The door to the cavernous room opened. It was she, the niece—Sarah. The name was plain, but it suited her elegant simplicity. So did the gown she was wearing—solid black, with a stark white vee bodice that emphasized her full breasts and narrow waist. Her hair was swept up from her slender neck in a graceful twist. Her finely etched cheekbones glowed in the firelight. She looked serene and dignified, but her gray eyes watched him with the deceptive calm of a wolf ready to strike. He rose to his feet. Perhaps he wasn’t too tired, after all.

Chapter Two

“Please don’t trouble yourself to rise, sir.”

“Why, I’ve already risen, mistress,” Anthony said, masking a rueful grin at the double edge to his words. Without jewelry, without paint, without laces and satin—by the holy rood, the lady was stunning.

“I’ve merely come to inquire about your sleeping quarters. They are to your satisfaction?”

Her voice was low and pleasant and her eyes now had softened. He could almost believe that he had imagined that fierce expression of moments ago. “I wish you could change your uncle’s mind, mistress,” he said, walking toward her. “I’d not have him abandon his own bedchamber for me.”

“He would have it no other way,” Sarah answered, a touch of defiance making its way into her tone. “Uncle Thomas has a very strong sense of propriety. He would never have a visitor of your standing sleep in lesser surroundings.”

Anthony shook his head. “Let me talk with him one more time. I don’t want to cause disruption in the household.”

“My uncle has retired for the evening, Lord Rutledge, and asked me to bid you goodnight.”

Anthony was silent for a minute. He supposed it was a good sign that General Fairfax still held enough respect for the crown that he wanted to treat its servants with all honor. He would so report to Charles. And in the meantime...the lady appeared to be temporarily without a guardian.

“Your uncle retires early,” he said evenly.

“Yes. He works hard and is not so young anymore.”

“But he’s in good health, surely?”

Sarah could not help the touch of bitterness that crept into her voice. “Years of battle and betrayal wear on a man, my lord.”

One of Anthony’s dark eyebrows lifted. “I know,” he said pointedly. “There are many who say the king appears much older than his five and thirty years.”

Sarah bit her lip. What was the matter with her? she asked herself for the hundredth time that day. She hadn’t come here to discuss politics with the baron or open up past wounds. She’d come to try to disarm any suspicions he may have developed during the day about Brigand and the masked highwayman. At least that was the reason she had given to herself when she found her feet directing her inexplicably toward the great room instead of to her own bed. At any rate, she certainly did not want to antagonize their guest.

She made her voice light. “I wouldn’t know about that, Lord Rutledge. I’ve never seen the king.”

Anthony cast a quick glance down the length of her black-clad silhouette and his eyes glowed. “That’s perhaps a lucky thing, mistress.”

Sarah blinked at the unexpected statement. “May I ask why, sir?”

Anthony moved so close that she could see the fine stitching on his black doublet. He spoke softly, bending toward her. “Because the king has a weakness for beautiful women.”

It was as if one of the flames from the fireplace had suddenly leapt up and scorched her face. She had never before been called beautiful. Her father had believed that vanity was a sin. While Sarah had always been secretly pleased that her features were comely, she had never remarked upon the fact, nor expected anyone else in the family to do so.

She stammered a reply. “I...I can’t imagine that his majesty would be interested in a simple country maid such as I.”

Anthony reached out a hand and gently ran a finger down her cheek. “You may be from the country, but I’m not at all convinced about the ‘simple,’” he said with a curious intensity, then lightened his tone to add, “and I’m afraid that ‘maid’ would definitely be no longer the case once Charles set his sights on you.”

Sarah dropped her gaze from the now teasing dark eyes and took a step backward, away from the touch of his hand. This was beyond her. She had grown up in a society where men and women touched not at all before their marriage, and as seldom as possible thereafter. In her household there would no more have been banter about a maid losing her virtue than there would have been blasphemy against the Lord. “I fear I’m not used to your court humor, Lord Rutledge,” she murmured.

Anthony frowned. He hadn’t meant to scare the lass. Perhaps she was virtuous, after all, in spite of the scene he had witnessed outside the stables. The fact would not change his intent, merely his tactics. “Please forgive my free speaking, Mistress Fairfax. You are correct. The ribaldry of the court has gotten out of hand these days, and sometimes I forget what it’s like to talk with a true lady.”

Sarah struggled to regain her composure. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, swallowing over the dryness of her throat. “Now if you will excuse me...”

Anthony grabbed her hand. “Don’t go, Mistress Fairfax. I’d have you sit with me awhile by the fire. I promise not to offend you again.”

His voice coaxed without pleading. Once again Sarah lifted her eyes to look at him. His hair fell in careless black waves past his shoulders, unlike the cropped Puritan style of the country lads she was used to. But instead of making him look feminine, it merely added to his aura of overwhelming masculinity. Raised with men all her life, she had never been so aware of the difference between the two sexes. Part of her wanted to flee to the shelter of her little room in the west wing of the manor. The other part of her kept her riveted to the floor. “I’ll stay awhile,” she said finally. “Though I would imagine you, too, are weary after your journey today.”

With the expertise of a skilled lover of women, Anthony watched the expressions flit across her face. He saw hesitation, then interest, then curiosity. There was not quite desire as yet, but that would come. He had plenty of time.

“I’m never too weary to enjoy the company of a fair lady.” Without relinquishing his hold on her hand, he led her across the room to the leather chairs in front of the fire.

“I’m unused to such compliments, my lord,” Sarah demurred, pulling her hand away and sitting in the chair farthest from the one the baron had been occupying.

“Now, I find that hard to believe.” He pulled his chair close to hers and leaned so that he was closer still. “I’ve heard no reports that an epidemic has struck blind all the good men of Yorkshire.”

His smile was warm and teasing and Sarah found it impossible not to respond with one of her own. “They are not blind, sir, but neither do they have time to waste on flattery.”

“Ah, but ’tis not flattery to merely speak the truth.” He paused a moment then added nonchalantly, “Surely the young suitor who called on you today must tell you these things.”

“Suitor?”

“A tall blond fellow. I saw you together as I came out of the stables with your uncle.”

Sarah’s mind worked quickly. As she had expected, Jack’s absence at the midday and evening meals had not been noted. Their visitor appeared to be unaware of the existence of her brother, and she intended to keep it that way if at all possible. “Oh, him,” she said casually. “Uh...Henry. He’s just a friend. His family has an estate in a neighboring village.”

Anthony was surprised. Though he would not have suspected Mistress Fairfax of having a devious character, he knew at once that she was lying to him. He considered the fact briefly. Was she just trying to conceal the depth of her feelings for the man? Or was there some darker reason for her duplicity? He could not, after all, forget why he had been sent to Leasworth in the first place. The lady’s clear deception put an entirely different tone to the evening.

“Perhaps I should make his acquaintance. His family might have horses of interest to me.”

Sarah gave a forced laugh. “I hardly think so. They are not wealthy people. I’m sure they would be quite undone at a visit from a member of court.”

She was definitely hiding something, Anthony concluded, surprised to find himself somewhat saddened at the knowledge. He had planned on seducing Mistress Fairfax and then sharing with her his considerable skill—to their mutual satisfaction. He’d even thought he would fall in love with her for a few days. He’d found in the past that being infatuated enhanced the physical sensations, and it had been some time since he’d been in the mood. However, it appeared that far from falling in love with General Fairfax’s lovely niece, he would be investigating her. The seduction was still not out of the question, but it would have to be done with his guard up. He would not be able to indulge in that delicious abandonment of intellect that he had at times found so rewarding.

“I’ll defer to your judgment, then,” he said with a smile. “Though my instructions were to view all the stock in the surrounding area.”

“Oh, take my word for it, sir. The...uh...Partridges’ animals are of extremely poor quality.”

“Partridge?”

“Yes. Henry Partridge,” Sarah said firmly. “That’s the friend you saw visiting me today.”

“I see.”

Sarah searched his face for any sign of suspicion, but he just watched her with a pleasant smile. “I should really seek my bed, Lord Rutledge. We are not accustomed to keeping late hours here at Leasworth.”

This time Anthony made no move to dissuade her. He stood and gave a courtly nod of his head. “Then don’t let me keep you, mistress, for I intend to request your services on the morrow.”

“My services?” Sarah asked uncertainly, rising to stand beside him.

“As a guide,” Anthony explained smoothly. “Your uncle has spoken so glowingly of your riding talents, I would like to see them for myself, and at the same time can use your knowledge of the neighborhood to help me in my mission.”

The entire conversation had left Sarah uncomfortable. At first she had been nervous about the baron’s disturbing effect on her personally, and now she began again to fear his presence as a representative of the king. She should never had made up that story about Jack, she told herself angrily. This man was too sharp to treat as a fool. She must tread carefully.

“As I said before, Uncle Thomas views my skill with the eyes of a doting relative. However, I would be happy to serve as your guide tomorrow.”