Moonrise

“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.”

“Fine. Shall we say midmorning?”