Grasso, Patricia (21 page)

" 'Tis an unfit topic for the table," the duke informed his daughter. Turning to his son, he added, "We'll discuss this later."

"Now, Tally," the countess drawled, coming to the boy's defense. " 'Tis natural for boys to—"

"Chessy, the last thing I need is a castle filled with my son's b—" Duke Robert broke off. As far as the world knew, his own bastard sat at the table with them.

Morgana broke the uncomfortable silence that followed. "What made you decide to marry our dear, lamentably illegitimate sister?" she asked the earl.

"Devereux wanted her so badly," Henry blurted, "he tricked her into a compromising situation."

"How difficult could that have been?" Morgana sneered. "She probably inherited her mother's wanton habits."

As the duke reached out to slap his daughter, Keely leaped out of her chair so quickly, it toppled over. Glorious in her fury, she placed the palms of her hands on the table and glared with murderous intent at her sister.

"Heed my words," Keely warned the other girl. "I can and will bear the insults you heap at my feet, but speaking ill of my mother is quite another matter. Megan was the gentlest woman who ever walked upon this earth and would forgive whatever you said; however, Englishness taints my blood, and I am decidedly less forgiving than she. If you even whisper her name, 'twill be your final earthly act, for I will kill you. Understand?"

Shocked, Morgana could only stare at her.

"Answer my question," Keely shouted. "Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yes," the blonde stammered, bobbing her head up and down.

"Your continued good health depends upon your remembering that," Keely threatened. Then with her head held high, she quit the chamber.

Richard saw the tears that welled in Keely's eyes as she turned to leave the chamber. "Bloody hell," he muttered and went after her.

Slowly and deliberately, Duke Robert rose from his chair. His gaze never wavered from Morgana's as he walked around the table. Grasping her upper arm, the duke yanked her out of the chair and dragged her out of the chamber.

"More leeks, baron?" Lady Dawn asked with a feline smile.

His lips quirked. "No, thank you, my lady."

"Tell me, darling," she said, her gaze sliding to the younger Talbot. "However did you become interested in flittering maids?"

Henry choked on his wine....

Richard caught up with Keely in the foyer as she was about to run up the stairs. He reached out and grabbed her upper arm to prevent her flight.

"Leave me a—" Keely broke off when she saw who it was.

Richard flicked a meaningful glance at the curious servants, who understood his unspoken command and dispersed. "You mustn't let Morgana upset you. Spitefulness rules her tongue," he said once they were alone.

"The other courtiers will assume a similar attitude,"

Keely told him, her violet eyes glistening with unshed tears. She started to slip the betrothal ring off her finger.

"Don't you dare!" Richard ordered, staying her hand.

"Marrying me is a terrible mistake," she said.

"I'll be the judge of that." Richard drew her into the protective circle of his embrace and traced a finger down the side of her silken cheek. "You're merely upset with Morgana at the moment, and 'tis understandable."

Keely sighed and relaxed against him. "My lack of patience worries me as much as what she said. How can I ever atone for that sin?"

"You needn't worry about atoning for sins, dearest. You're a saint."

Keely gave him a lopsided smile. "Perhaps you'll add a chapter about me in
Lives of the Saints?"

Richard planted a kiss on her cheek. "Go to bed, dearest. Remember, if you should execute Morgana, Queen Elizabeth is an intimate friend of mine...."

Meanwhile, Duke Robert pulled Morgana down the corridor in the opposite direction from the foyer and kicked the library door open with his booted foot. Shoving his daughter into the chair in front of the hearth, he snarled, "Move, and I'll beat you within an inch of your life."

Duke Robert grabbed an old Bible from a bookshelf and thrust it into her hands, ordering, "Read this and reflect upon the error of your ways." Without another word, he stormed out of the chamber.

How humiliating to be treated so crudely in the baron's presence, Morgana seethed. This is the bastard's fault. She's stolen my gowns, my intended husband, and even my father's love.

Frustrated beyond measure, Morgana flung the Bible onto the floor. An old yellowed parchment fell from between its pages and fluttered to the floor. Without much interest, she picked it up and glanced at it.

"Oh, my lord," Morgana gasped in horrified shock. Hiding her face in her hands, she wept uncontrollably.

The library door opened. Willis Smythe crossed the chamber, glanced indifferently at the Bible on the floor, and knelt beside her chair. Putting a comforting arm around her, he said, "Don't cry, sweetheart. If you would only try to be civil to—"

"You don't understand," Morgana sobbed. " 'Tis scandalous. Oh, whatever shall I do?"

"Once Lady Keely's wed to Devereux, no one will dare—"

"I don't give a fig about her!"

"Then what has brought you to this sorry state?" Willis asked in a soothing voice, his blue eyes shining with sincerity. "Trust me, gentle lady."

Morgana passed him the yellowed parchment and studied his expression as he perused it. Bewilderment crossed his face first, and then recognition.

" 'Tis a marriage document," Willis said as he read. "That Duke Robert wed Lady Keely's mother upsets you?"

"Her mother is only recently dead," Morgana whispered, unable to meet the censure she was certain she'd see in his eyes. "Keely is my father's legitimate heir, while Henry and I—" She broke off, unable to voice the horrible truth.

"His Grace will never jeopardize Henry's inheritance," Willis assured her. "Your tragic secret is safe with me."

"Burn it," Morgana ordered.

"We dare not destroy it here," Willis replied, folding the parchment and putting it into his pocket. He drew her into his embrace. "Trust me to take care of it," he said.

Willis's mouth swooped down and covered hers in a passionate kiss. Then he pressed her head against his shoulder and stroked her back soothingly.

Never again would he be forced to scrounge for a coin, Willis thought. The means to insure his good fortune sat folded in his pocket.

"Trust me, dear lady," Willis whispered against the blond crown of her head. "Your best interest is my sole concern."

"I do trust you, sir," Morgana said, relaxing against the comforting solidness of his masculine frame, "with all of my heart."

Chapter 9

I do love him with all of my heart.

That staggering thought hit Keely with the impact of an oak tree falling on top of her.

"Por tous jours,"
she whispered. "For always."

Keely stared out the window in her bedchamber and waited for sunrise. She shivered with the early morning chill, but duty was more important than physical discomfort. False dawn brightened the eastern horizon, heralding the sun's impending appearance.

When had the English earl become so important to her? Keely wondered. He'd weathered the previous evening's storm, but she knew better than most that a man's affection is as constant as the fickle moon. Would his tender regard for her survive the tempest at court?

Keely didn't trust him. Yes, the earl had kept his promise regarding her cousins, and he even appeared unashamed of her less-than-honorable beginnings. But Megan had trusted Robert Talbot and suffered for it.

"Trust the king who wears the fiery crown and possesses the golden touch...."

Richard Devereux wore a fiery crown, and the queen called him Midas in honor of that legendary king with the golden touch. Was the earl the one whom her mother had seen? What if she gave him her trust and he proved unworthy? Would her life be endangered or merely her heart?

The turmoil in Keely's mind and heart made her yearn to sneak outside and feel the rising sun as well as see it. Keely needed a favor from nature's forces. She would ask the Mother Goddess to bolster the earl's inner strength.

Ignoring the poisonous tongues set against her would require patience and fortitude.

The solemn sanctity of that rare holy place in the earl's garden would insure a successful intercession. Where the birch, the yew, and the oak conversed dwelled powerful magic.

Without bothering to change out of her nightshift, Keely grabbed her ceremonial robe and wrapped it tightly around herself, then padded on bare feet across the chamber to the door. Excitement coursed wildly through the life's blood in her body. She hadn't properly worshipped since the evening before she'd met her father. No wonder her mind seemed cloudy and her heart heavy.

Pressing her ear against the door, Keely listened for footfalls in the corridor. There were none. She opened the door a crack and peered outside. No one was about, the hour still too early for the servants to rise. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she stepped into the corridor and closed the door noiselessly.

Hugging the wall with her back, Keely glided down the dimly lit corridor and then started down the stairs. Reaching the bottom, she saw that the path across the foyer to the door was clear. Unless an early riser loitered in the courtyard, she would escape outside undetected.

On tiptoes, Keely scurried across the foyer. In one swift motion she opened the door and flew outside. The courtyard was deserted.

Keely glided like an angel of the night through the heavy mist that clung like a lover to the earth. She stopped once to verify that no one watched her progress, then slipped down the path that led to the earl's estate.

Holy stones! Keely thought, stopping short. She'd left her golden sickle and magic stones behind. Keely glanced over her shoulder but then decided that forward was the only way to go. The duke's servants would be rising by the time she reached her chamber and retrieved what she needed. She'd never make it back here without being seen.

Towering above the mist, the three holiest of trees stood together like old friends. Keely smiled at the shining whiteness of the sacred birch, the dark evergreen spikes of the sacred yew, and most sacred of all, the majestic oak.

Keely pulled the hood of her robe up to cover her head and advanced on the holy place. Worshipping at nature's sacred shrine made her feel like the most fortunate of souls. As she walked toward the trees, Keely chose eight common rocks at random.

Casting the enchanted circle, Keely set the rocks in their proper places: northwest, north, northeast, east, southeast, south, and southwest. She entered the circle from the west and closed it behind her with the last rock, saying, "All disturbing thoughts remain outside."

Reaching the center of the circle, Keely turned in a clockwise circle three times until she faced the east, where the sun was beginning to reach for the world. She closed her eyes and focused her breathing.

"The Old Ones are here, watching and waiting," Keely spoke into the hushed dawn air. "Stars speak through stones, and light shines through the thickest oak." In a louder voice, she called, "One realm is heaven and earth."

Keely paused to gather the proper emotion, then opened her arms and implored, "Spirit of my journey, guide me to hear what these trees say. Spirit of my ancestors, guide me to hear what the wind whispers. Spirit of my tribe, guide me to understand what the clouds foretell.... Myrddin, greatest of Druids, open my heart that I may see beyond the horizon."

Long moments passed. And then it happened— Strong hands grasped her upper arms in a steely grip and whirled her around. Keely's hood fell off in the movement, revealing the ebony mane that cascaded to her waist. At the same time, her eyes flew open and focused on the earl's angry face.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Richard growled, giving her a rough shake.

"Breaking the sacred circle is forbidden!" Keely cried. "You've ruined my—"

Richard's expression mirrored his shocked disbelief. Without warning, he scooped her into his arms and carried her across the lawns.

"I can walk," she protested in a small voice.

"Shut up," he snapped.

With Keely in his arms, Richard marched past his sleepy-eyed servants, carried her into his study, and slammed the door shut with his booted foot. He set her down in front of a chair and then shoved her into it.

"Why were you spying on me?" Keely demanded in the sternest voice she could summon.

"I'll ask the questions," Richard shot back. "Remember, my lady. You trespassed onto my property."

"Why, of all the—" Intent on escaping, Keely started to rise.

"Sit," Richard ordered, pressing her back on the chair.

Keely wisely stayed where she was.

Richard stared hard at her for an agonizingly long moment. "Are you some kind of witch?" he asked finally.

"Surely you do not hold with such absurd superstitions," Keely replied.

"What I believe is unimportant," Richard snapped. "I want to know what
you
believe. Were you practicing witchcraft on my property?"

Keely looked him straight in the eye and answered honestly, "No. I would never do that."

His emerald gaze narrowed on her. "What exactly do you believe?"

"Has the Inquisition landed in England?" she countered.

"Answer my question."
Or else
was left unspoken.

"I—I was baptized a Christian," Keely hedged, dancing around the truth.

The lady is cunning, Richard concluded, but not quite as cunning as he. "You haven't answered the question, my dear. What are you?"

Realizing she had no choice but to tell him the truth, Keely lifted her chin a notch and met his emerald gaze unwaveringly. She uttered one word, a single word that sent shock waves crashing throughout his entire being.

"Druid."

"Good Christ, I'm betrothed to a pagan!" Richard exploded.

"I do have certain knowledge," Keely boasted, her voice filling with arrogant pride.