The Highwayman of Tanglewood Read online

  Faris knew by the sound of the mad gallop there was not time to hide. She stood vulnerable, unprotected in the midst of the evening meadow—as helpless as an injured rabbit. It was senseless to run. Through the trees she could see the shape of a horse and rider approaching in furious haste!

  Faris’s eyes widened as she saw the rider’s black hood, his midnight cape billowing in the wind as he rode toward her. His mount was as black as moonless night and angrily snorted as it reared up before her. Instinctively, Faris raised her arm to cover her eyes, certain she would next be trampled by powerful hooves. Yet she was not, and she ventured a glance at the rider.

  The hooded man seemed to be looking at her—his horse pacing back and forth as its companion studied her. The rider was an enormous man, covered from head to toe in black clothing—from his black hood and cloak to his blackest of breeches to black boots cuffed just under his knee. For a moment, Faris wondered if perhaps the grim reaper were upon her, come to claim her before Kade Tremeshton did. For long moments, the only sounds were the horse’s heavy breath, the strain of leather as the rider shifted in the saddle, and the whip of his cape as he flung one length of it over his broad shoulder.

  “Who are ya, lass?” the rider asked in a low, raspy growl. “And what are ya about here in the night?”

  “I-I…I’m only Faris, and…I’m on my way to Loch Loland Castle,” Faris managed.

  “At sunset?” the rider asked. “Only ghosts and highwaymen wander at dusk and sunset, lass,” he said.

  Faris sensed his raspy whispered growl was intentional, a method of hiding the true intonation of his voice, but his accent was unmistakable—a man from the green isle. It was only then she realized with whom fate had matched her in that moment.

  “The Highwayman!” she gasped.

  The Highwayman of Tanglewood was legendary through all the land. With the will and purpose of Robin Hood, the Highwayman of Tanglewood set upon only those who were wealthy—further, only those who had come by their wealth in deceitful and hateful ways. The Highwayman of Tanglewood never murdered, and it was said he never robbed any honest person—only dishonest and arrogant persons who used the poor and less fortunate to further fleece their gold-lined pockets.

  “Hush, lass!” the Highwayman ordered, dismounting and striding toward Faris.

  Faris shook her head and took several steps backward, certain she had escaped Tremeshton Manor only to find her doom.

  “Know ya not the trees have ears, they do,” he whispered. He stood directly before her now—tall, dark, menacing. Reaching up, he pushed his black hood from his head, revealing a black mask, dark mustache, and goatee. Faris Shayhan found herself looking into the smoldering black eyes of the Highwayman of Tanglewood. The mask he wore covered his head and perfectly concealed any feature of his face around his eyes, nose, and cheeks. The mustache and goatee completed the concealment. It would be impossible to determine the true identity of the Highwayman of Tanglewood.

  “Why is it ya travel under the cover of evenin’?” the Highwayman asked.

  “I-I…It was the most convenient time to leave,” she stammered.

  The Highwayman growled low in his throat and began walking around her, prowling like a panther stalking his prey. He studied Faris—looking from her head to her feet and then from feet to head again. His study was thorough.

  “Leave where, lass? What reason would a bonnie young lass the like of ya have to leave a place?” he asked.

  “Are…are you going to harm me, sir?” Faris asked. Though she felt he meant her no damage, she was yet driven to ask.

  “It is unwise to travel at night, lass,” the Highwayman said as he stopped his investigation of her and stood straight before her once again. “Rogues and criminals and wicked men of every sort roam at night, they do—even highwaymen who might steal something from a young lass sooch as yarself,” he whispered.

  Faris was mesmerized by the flash in his eyes, by the sheer height of his head and breadth of his shoulders.

  “Are…are you going to steal something from me, sir? I…I haven’t much, but I will gladly give you all that I do have,” Faris said, certain she was about to be robbed.

  “I might indeed steal something from ya, lass,” the Highwayman said, grinning a rogue’s grin. “It might be I’ll steal yar satchel there,” he said pointing to her satchel. “Or I might instead steal away yar innocence.”

  Faris gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Could it be she’d only just escaped the grip of one evil man to fall carelessly into the grip of another? The Highwayman laughed, no doubt amused by her astonished expression. His smile flashed in the night like starlight—white teeth against all the blackness of his wardrobe.

  “But methinks tonight,” the Highwayman began, reaching out and taking Faris’s face between his large, gloved hands. “Methinks tonight I’ll steal yar kiss instead.”

  Faris’s eyes widened with surprise, and her heart hammered with fear mingled with some sort of wild exhilaration.

  “Only yar kiss tonight, bonnie lass,” the Highwayman of Tanglewood whispered. “Only yar kiss.”

  Faris couldn’t breathe! She felt faint—but not from fear. Somehow her breathlessness, the weak sensation in her knees, was not the product of fear but of some sort of unthinkable, unfathomable delight! She fancied she had lost her senses—gone mad. Delight—in anticipation of a thief stealing her kiss? She should struggle! She should! Yet her limbs would not obey her mind’s command, and she stood still, unmoving, frozen with a strange, enchanting sort of fear.

  “Ah, pretty little lass,” the Highwayman whispered as his gloved thumb caressed her lower lip for a moment. “Close yar eyes, and let the Highwayman of Tanglewood rob ya now.”

  Faris shook her head, unable to believe what was happening. But as the Highwayman’s head descended toward hers, the spell he had woven around her—the magic of the night breeze—all of it enveloped her, and she did, indeed, close her eyes.

  “Ya smell of the heather, of the meadow, of lavender and rose petals,” the Highwayman whispered as his breath, hot on her neck, caused Faris’s body to tingle with unusual bliss. “Yar skin is soft and sweet,” he breathed.

  Faris trembled as she felt his lips brush the bare flesh of her neck.

  “And do ya taste as sweet, lassie?” he asked. Faris was breathless, sent trembling as his lips pressed to hers in a firm but tender kiss. “Do ya taste as sweet as the lavender of yar skin smells?”

  Faris gasped as the Highwayman kissed her once more. His lips lingered soft against her own. Of a sudden, his hand gripped her chin, his kiss abruptly more intense, hot, and moist. This was a rogue’s kiss! Faris knew it was, for although she had never before experienced the like of it, she had seen it once—seen the milkmaid at Tremeshton kissed in like manner by a visiting coachman. In truth, Faris had always longed for a rogue’s kiss, for it seemed somehow more genuine, more passionate than the quick, properly administered kisses she had witnessed otherwise.

  But this—this was a stranger! The thought shouted in Faris’s mind, and she pulled away from the Highwayman—away from his strong grasp and rogue’s kiss.

  The Highwayman of Tanglewood smiled—his white teeth bright in the moonlight. “Ah, yar sweet as honey warmed in the summer sun, ya are, lass,” he whispered. Faris’s entire body was still erupting with goose bumps as he continued to look at her. “Sweet as honey,” he repeated. “And thrice as bonnie.”

  Faris could only stand staring up at him in astonishment. The Highwayman of Tanglewood! He had come upon her in the meadow and—and stolen something from her! Yet Faris knew he hadn’t really stolen anything, for something that was given so freely could not be considered stolen.

  “Now, off with ya to Loch Loland Castle, lass,” he said, striding from her and mounting his black steed. “But not alone,” he added, “for I’ll see ya safely there myself—though ya may not know it.” The magnificent black beast he sat reared up, neighing madly as the Highwayman of Tangl
ewood pulled his hood back over his head.

  Breaking into a gallop, the Highwayman rode past Faris to a nearby lilac tree. Snapping off a sprig of fragrant blossoms, he then rode to her once more. His black beast of a stallion impatiently stomped the ground as its rider paused, tossing the sprig of lilacs to Faris.

  “Goodbye, fair Faris of Loch Loland Castle,” the Highwayman said. Faris again saw the white of his teeth flash as he smiled at her. “And I thank ya, I do—for the wares which I’ve stolen from ya this night!”

  He was off again in a mad gallop across the meadow. Faris looked up into the purple curtains of night’s sky. The Highwayman of Tanglewood! It was as a dream! And such a kiss was the stuff of dreams too! Oh, what a blessed day it had been—deliverance from Tremeshton Manor and its arrogant young master and a chance, romantic rendezvous with the Highwayman of Tanglewood. Faris shook her head, knowing she would never again be the same girl she’d been before that moment—before that blissful, dream-borne moment in the meadow when the Highwayman of Tanglewood had stolen a kiss.

  At Loch Loland Castle

  Summer faded into autumn, and autumn slept through winter. Spring melted winter’s cold embrace, and once again the lilac and meadow flowers were abloom. As the Tanglewood Meadow was alive with early summer, so Loch Loland Castle was alive with merriment and grand anticipation. The young miss of the manor, Lillias Rockrimmon, was betrothed to the dashing Lord Gawain Kendrick. Furthermore, after an absence of near to two years, the young master of Loch Loland, Lochlan Rockrimmon, was expected to return for his sister and Lord Kendrick’s blessed event. Lord and Lady Rockrimmon were resplendent—joyous in expectancy at the return of their son as well as the marriage of their daughter. All others who labored and lived within Loch Loland’s strong walls were near to giddy for the beauty of summer and anticipation of the events pertaining to the Rockrimmon children.

  Faris Shayhan had never known such happiness and contentment as she had come to know at Loch Loland. An honorable and just lord and a compassionate and kind lady were the Lord and Lady Rockrimmon. Though she did not know the young master—for he had been away since long before Faris’s arrival—the young mistress, Lillias, was as kind and as lovely as ever her mother was. The staff at Loch Loland Castle were likewise unusual in their good character. Faris had made fast friends of many of those with whom she labored.

  Still, there was one circumstance, one detail of her coming to Loch Loland that she yet held high above all else—the Highwayman of Tanglewood. As Faris arranged lilac sprigs in a delicate crystal vase, the sun shone bright and warm through the window of the chamber in which she labored. Yet it was not the day filled with sunshine that owned her thoughts—but the memory of a purple-curtained sky in a fragrant summer meadow.

  Drawing one large set of lilac florets to her face, Faris inhaled deeply the sweet scent of it. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear the rhythmic approach of the Highwayman’s mount—almost sense the cool of evening, see the amethyst of evening’s drapery being drawn over the Tanglewood Meadow.

  It had been a year—an entire year since Faris had quit Tremeshton—an entire year since the Highwayman of Tanglewood had stolen a kiss under the cloak of darkness. Yet the cherished memory had lingered in Faris’s mind, heart, and soul every day since. Often she fancied she heard the Highwayman’s raspy brogue—fancied her lips still warm and tingling from his kiss. In leaving Tremeshton, in meeting the Highwayman of Tanglewood, it seemed Faris’s life had begun anew—her heart awakened.

  Yet Faris had not set eyes on the Highwayman since the night she had traveled to Loch Loland Castle. Each night of the year’s passing, Faris’s head lay on her pillow, her eyes closed as she reminisced upon her chance meeting with the fascinating rogue. Over and over, she dreamt of his broad shoulders, strength of body, and tantalizing kiss. Many were the evenings she had ventured to the Tanglewood Meadow at night—hoping, praying for another chance meeting with the dashing Highwayman. In vain she had hoped and prayed for it: she had never seen him again. Though the Highwayman of Tanglewood continued to battle the corrupt noble and wealthy, though his legend thrived as fast and as strong as the ivy clinging to the outer walls of Loch Loland Castle, it seemed Faris was doomed never to see him again. At least twice a week the Highwayman of Tanglewood was seen riding over the countryside—seen by others, but never again by Faris. Having stopped a rich man’s carriage or waylaid a corrupt nobleman, the Highwayman of Tanglewood continued to strip greedy and dishonest men of undeserved gold and riches—gold and riches taken by means of inflated rent charged to struggling tenants or by other equally treacherous means. Such pompous men, dishonest or not, were outraged at the very existence of the Highwayman of Tanglewood—furious at being bested by a common thief. Many deserving victims had hired men of questionable character to track down and detain Tanglewood’s famed Highwayman. All failed. The Highwayman of Tanglewood remained free, roaming Tanglewood and the surrounding countryside, championing the bitterly oppressed and unfairly abused.

  Adjusting one fragrant sprig of lilac, Faris sighed, pleased with the results of her labors. Miss Lillias would find her chamber sweet-scented and brightened by the arrangement of lavender loveliness. Faris was happy in knowing she had contributed to the young woman’s being comfortable. Satisfied she had adequately finished with Miss Lillias’s chambers, Faris made her way down the hall to the abandoned, yet ever maintained, chambers of Miss Lillias’s brother, Lochlan.

  Upon arriving at Loch Loland, Faris had been charged with the maintenance of three sets of chambers, as well as various other duties pertaining to the efficient running of the household. She had been flattered as well as humbled when Lady Rockrimmon had charged her with the bedchambers of both her children, and Faris maintained them well. The third chamber in her charge was the empty rooms across the hall from Miss Lillias. Having finished the empty chamber and then Miss Lillias’s, Faris opened the door and stepped into the large rooms of the absent Rockrimmon heir.

  It was understood that Lochlan Rockrimmon—sole heir to the Rockrimmon titles and fortune—had been laboring far away managing his father’s affairs. It was nigh unto two years since the young heir had quit Loch Loland at his father’s bidding, yet Lady Rockrimmon begged his chambers be kept in readiness of his eventual return. At times, Faris thought her efforts to keep the young master’s room futile. Yet each time Lady Rockrimmon would thank Faris for her efforts, Faris’s heart would swell with contentment at having pleased her lovely benefactress.

  “Shall I tidy your chambers today, young master of the manor?” Faris said aloud to herself as she looked about the lifeless chamber. “Has yesterday’s dust settled as yet?” Running one index finger across the water basin table nearby, she smiled. “Ah!” she said. “I see dusting is, indeed, in order.”

  “Faris! Faris!”

  Faris startled only slightly at the sound of Lillias calling her name. It was quite a common thing—Miss Lillias scurrying through Loch Loland Castle in search of Faris. Faris smiled, happy in knowing the young miss often sought her advice and assistance.

  “Oh, there you are, darling!” Lillias exclaimed, bursting into the chamber, eyes bright with excitement.

  “Yes, Lady Kendrick,” Faris greeted, sending Lillias’s eyes to even brighter illumination.

  “Oh, how I love that you call me that, Faris!” Lillias giggled, green eyes lit pure with delight. “But you must not let father hear it. It does upset him so.”

  “Because he loves his only daughter and is already missing her,” Faris said. She smiled.

  Lillias Rockrimmon was the perfect image of youthful beauty. Eyes like soft green opal, hair as nut-brown as any chestnut, rosied cheeks, rubied lips. In short, Lillias Rockrimmon was the loveliest young woman Faris had ever seen. Her heart was good and kind as well. Lord Kendrick could count himself very fortunate indeed. Faris’s smile faded slightly—a wish flitting through her mind that she were such a beauty.

  “Hush, Faris,” Lillias said.
“You’ll well my eyes with tears, and I shall look a fright.” Lillias paused, looking about the room. “I do not know why mother insists you keep Lochlan’s rooms at the ready. It is yet two months before the wedding. He will not return until the very last possible moment.” Lillias smiled at Faris, reached out, and clasped her hands in her own. “But it is not Lochlan’s room that concerns we two at this moment.” Lillias looked about the room as if expectant upon finding they were not alone. Lowering her voice, she said, “The Highwayman of Tanglewood has been seen! Only an hour ago—in the broad light of day!”

  “What?” Faris exclaimed in a whisper. Her heart increased the pace of its rhythm, for indeed it was an unprecedented event. “Surely not, miss!” Faris added. “He has never been seen in daylight before! Surely it would be too perilous for him to appear so!”

  “Indeed! Yet it is true! Graybeau saw the Highwayman himself, as did two of Lord Tremeshton’s stablemen,” Lillias explained in an excited whisper.

  “Lord Tremeshton’s men?” Faris asked.

  Lillias laughed, her opal-green eyes flashing. “Yes! He’s done it again, Faris! Our beloved Highwayman has bested Lord Tremeshton once more. And in the bright light of day.”

  Faris giggled, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle the delighted sound.

  The arrogant Kade Tremeshton had fallen prey to the tricks of the Highwayman of Tanglewood once before. Bested at swords and fists, Kade Tremeshton had known the humiliation of being beaten by the Highwayman some months earlier. Lord Tremeshton had fallen ill and died only months after Faris had left Tremeshton Manor. His arrogant son, Kade, had inherited his title and wealth, as well as his greed. In his ravenous gluttony, Kade had more than doubled the rent he demanded from his tenants and had even begun to tax their livestock. How Faris had delighted in listening to the telling of the Highwayman of Tanglewood’s besting Kade Tremeshton. Now it seemed she was to enjoy another tale of Lord Kade Tremeshton’s humiliation at the Highwayman’s hand.