Grasso, Patricia (22 page)

Richard closed his eyes against her incredible stupidity and shook his head in disgust. When he looked at her again, contempt had etched itself across his features.

"Knowledge without common sense is a dangerous thing," he told her.

Keely opened her mouth to protest his insult, but Richard grabbed her chin in his hand and ordered, "Keep your mouth shut, and listen to me."

Like a general before his troops, Richard paced back and forth in front of her and delivered a stinging lecture. "You are the most foolish woman I've ever met—even sillier than my sisters—and lacking common sense enough to insure your own survival. Do you know how many people believe in witches?
Do you?
Thousands! Why, even the queen believes in the supernatural. Do you realize you could be burned at the stake?
Do you?
Frightened people always act first and ask questions later."

Keely gave him a serene smile. "My lord, none of us really dies. Our souls pass into the Great Adventure."

More stupidity, Richard thought. His words were falling on deaf ears. He needed a different approach.

Richard crossed the chamber to his desk and poured himself a dram of Scots whisky, then downed it in one long gulp. Now he understood why his brother-in-law enjoyed the drink. Like nothing else in God's universe, it fortified a man when dealing with that illogical creature called woman.

Richard turned around and returned to where Keely still sat, too nervous to move. He knelt on one bended knee in front of her and warmed her hands with his own. "Dearest, I do fear for your safety. Believe what you will, but flaunting yourself before an unforgiving society can be fatal."

Keely couldn't credit what she was hearing. "Do you mean you accept my beliefs?"

Richard forced himself to nod. "Most in this land are dangerously intolerant. Your beliefs must remain secret."

"Very well," Keely agreed. Both Megan and she had always carefully avoided offending others.

Richard visibly relaxed.

"What were you doing outside so early?" she asked.

"I wanted to watch the sunrise because I knew you'd be watching it too," he admitted.

That tender admission brought a smile to Keely's lips.

"I never imagined you'd be cavorting in my garden and chanting incantations," Richard added, making her giggle. He stood and offered her his hand, saying, "I'll walk you home."

Relieved that she needn't keep her secret from him, Keely placed her hand in his. Together, they walked outside and headed down the path toward Talbot House.

"Now, then. I'm taking you on a tour of London this morning," Richard informed her when they reached the courtyard. "Be ready to leave at ten."

"I don't think—"

"Would you prefer passing the day in Morgana's company?" he asked, arching a brow at her.

"I'll be ready at nine," Keely said, and disappeared inside.

Richard turned to leave but spied the duke walking up the path from the stables. Blood and dirt soiled the ducal shirt and breeches, but the man was smiling.

"My favorite mare has foaled," Duke Robert announced. He glanced at the door through which he'd seen his daughter disappear. " 'Tis awfully early to be calling upon Keely," he remarked.

"I found my sweet betrothed cavorting around the trees in my garden," Richard said, watching for the other man's reaction. "She was mumbling incantations."

For one brief moment, Duke Robert seemed at a loss for words but quickly recovered. "Sleepwalking," he lied, his gaze skittering away from the younger man's.

"Sleepwalking, my arse." Richard gave him a lopsided smirk and shook his head with disapproval. "You know, don't you?"

Duke Robert nodded.

"How can you allow Keely to endanger herself? Forbid her—"

"I had no part in her sorry existence for eighteen years," Duke Robert interrupted. "Megan instilled her own strange—
but harmless
—beliefs in her daughter. We cannot change the past, Devereux. We can only look to the future."

"You're her guardian now," Richard reminded him.

"Would the pope renounce the Church of Rome?" Duke Robert countered. "I think not. Neither will Keely renounce what's been ingrained in every fiber of her being. My daughter would prefer death to straying from her chosen path. You know the Welsh have always lacked expediency. 'Tis their custom to die for what they believe in their hearts."

"Those who are different at court do attract attention," Richard said. " 'Tis a fact that can be deadly as well as disgraceful."

"Keely needs a husband strong enough to keep her safe, even from the queen," the duke replied. "If you aren't capable of the task, step aside. I'll find another who is."

Richard bristled at the insult but said nothing.

"Is the wedding on or off?" Duke Robert asked.

"On." Without another word, Richard turned and marched back the way he had come.

Watching his retreat, Duke Robert smiled with satisfaction. "Pups like you think you know everything," he said to the empty courtyard. "Devereux, you're about to learn a hard lesson. When a woman pricks a man's heart, his independence and peace of mind become ancient history."

Autumn wore its prettiest expression when Keely stepped into the courtyard at the appointed hour of ten. Vanquished by the radiant sun, the early morning mists had evaporated, and a gentle breeze tickled her face and flirted with the bottom edge of her cloak.

Keely wore a violet wool skirt and white linen blouse beneath her black wool cloak. Her ebony hair had been parted in the middle, woven into one thick braid, and then knotted at the nape of her neck.

"Good morning again," Richard greeted her with an easy smile. "Your beauty does brighten my day."

Keely blushed and returned his smile. From beneath the thick fringe of her sooty lashes, she admired his stark masculine appearance. Dressed completely in black, the earl reminded her of a handsome bird of prey, much nobler than those rouged peacocks at court.

"You shouldn't be riding astride," Richard said, lifting her onto Merlin's back. "English ladies ride sidesaddle."

"We Welsh are not simpering Englishwomen," Keely replied. "I do love the feel of Merlin between my legs and would be unable to ride properly otherwise."

Richard flushed. Though spoken in innocence, her arousing words hardened his manhood. He stared at her, but Keely only gave him her ambiguous smile. Did she realize how graphically suggestive her words were? No woman of eighteen could be that naïve—could she?

Turning their horses northeast, Richard and Keely rode at a leisurely pace down the Strand. Londontown lay to the east.

"Your lips look much better today," Richard remarked. Then: "Did you know Merlin is a female?"

"Yes. What is your horse called?"

"The horse has no name."

"Every creature needs an identity," Keely insisted. There was no mistaking the censure in her voice.

Richard flicked a sidelong glance at her. "You name him, dearest."

Keely looked at his handsome black horse while she considered the matter and then said, "Pepper."

Richard chuckled. "Pepper is no fitting name for an earl's horse."

"You require a name suitable for a man?"

Richard nodded.

"Let me see. How about Stupid?"

Richard snapped his head around and saw her mischievous smirk, then gifted her with that sunny smile of his. "Black Pepper, it is."

As they rode down the length of the Strand, Richard pointed to its places of interest. On the left stood Leicester House, separated from Arundel House by the Milford Stairs. On their right sat Durham House, where both Edward VI and Jane Grey had lived at separate times. Up ahead rose Westminster Hall and Abbey. Old King Henry lay there beside his beloved queen, Jane Seymour.

Richard and Keely veered to the right at Charing Cross and rode into London proper. Here the crowds of Londoners grew increasingly larger, forcing them to pick their way carefully down the narrow twisting lanes.

Many of the passersby paused to stare as they rode past, and Keely felt distinctly uncomfortable. She stole a peek at the earl, who appeared unaffected by the curious stares of London's commoners. In fact, he seemed oblivious to their very existence.

"Good health to Midas," one bold man shouted.

Richard flashed the well-wisher a smile, tossed him a coin, and called, "God save the queen."

Reaching St. Paul's Cathedral, Richard and Keely turned right onto the Old Change. At the end of that street, they went left onto Thames Street. Keely had no idea where they were going but followed the carl's lead.

"Our first destination lies just east of London proper," Richard told her. "The White Tower is England's most famous landmark. 'Tis a combination palace, garrison, and prison. Because the Tower reminds her of unpleasant days, Elizabeth never keeps court there. Though honoring tradition, she did sleep there the night before her coronation. I was very young at the time, but my parents attended."

At the end of Thames Street, the palace of White Tower loomed before them. Richard halted his horse and gazed at it, saying, "My own father stayed in Beauchamp Tower when Bluff King Hal became irked with him."

"He lived to repeat the story?" Keely asked, surprised. Even the backwoods Welsh had heard horrifying tales of the English monarchy and its fearsome Tower.

Richard smiled at her ignorance. "Dearest, the Tower has neither dungeon nor torture chamber. 'Tis exceedingly easy to escape if you possess the coins to bribe the guards or the courage to leap into the Thames."

"Your father escaped?"

Richard shook his head. "My father walked out the door, once Henry's anger had passed."

"What was his crime?"

"He married my mother without the king's permission."

Riding through the Middle Tower's gates—the castle's main entrance—Keely felt a chill of apprehension dance down her spine. " 'Tis cursed here," she announced. "The Conqueror mixed dragon's blood with the mortar."

Richard cast her an amused look. "Dragons do not exist, except in lively imaginations like yours, dearest."

Richard dismounted and then assisted Keely, who stayed close to his side. An uneasy feeling of oppression pressed down on her. In spite of what the earl said, Keely knew in her bones that the cursed castle housed restless souls who were doomed for all of eternity. Who among these Christian English had the knowledge and the courage to help those poor lost souls find their way to the other side?

When two scarlet-clad yeomen rushed forward to attend their horses, Richard tossed each a coin. "We'll be attending the chapel service," he told them. "We require no escort."

An unearthly growl rent the air behind them. Keely panicked and threw herself into the earl's arms, crying, "Angry spirits haunt this place!"

Richard chuckled, though his arms did encircle her protectively. The yeomen looked at each other and smiled.

" 'Tis the lions in the Queen's Menagerie," Richard explained. "We'll view them on our way out."

Taking Keely's hand in his, Richard led her down the passage to the Lieutenant's Lodgings. "We'll go in here," he said, guiding her toward the door.

Keely did not hear him. Her attention had fixed on a gate a little farther down the passage. "What's that entrance?" she whispered.

" 'Tis known as Traitor's Gate."

Keely shivered. Bleak desolation overwhelmed her senses, and she resisted the earl's gentle pressure on her hand. "I cannot abide this place of hopelessness. Take me away from here."

"Dearest, only traitors need fear the Tower," Richard said with a reassuring smile. Apparently, the Tower's reputation had reached Wales. " Tis a castle, nothing more nor less."

"Each place has a spirit," Keely insisted. "I am more sensitive than you, and the souls trapped forever within these stone walls cry out to me. Ignorant Englishmen never see beyond the horizon."

"Dead is dead," Richard snapped, becoming irritated. "No one can speak to us from the grave."

"How wrong you are, my lord."

"Are the Welsh ruled by unreasoning fear?"

"I am
uneasy,"
Keely corrected him. "Lead the way. Perhaps I can guide a few of them along the path to the Great Adventure."

"Do
not
start chanting those infernal incantations," Richard ordered as they cut through the Lieutenant's Lodgings to the grassy inner courtyard on the other side of the building. When they emerged from the Lodgings a moment later, he said, " 'Tis called Tower Green. That building ahead of us is the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula. The chaplain royal celebrates mass each day at eleven."

The atmosphere inside Tower Green was eerily hushed. The gray stone walls surrounding the inner courtyard seemed to trap silence inside, and a cool stillness pervaded the air.

Keely felt as though she'd stepped into another world; the noisy humanity crowding London's narrow lanes seemed a million miles away. A prickly sensation made the wispy strands of ebony at the nape of her neck rise. Peering around, Keely saw a dark-haired woman pacing back and forth outside the Lieutenant's Lodgings' windows.

"Who's that?" she whispered, looking up at the earl.

Richard glanced over his shoulder but saw no one. "Of whom do you speak?"

"That wo—" Keely looked over her shoulder. The woman had disappeared inside the Lodgings. "Never mind."

Passing the simple cobbled square, Richard debated telling Keely its sordid history but decided against it. His betrothed didn't seem to be enjoying their excursion, and he was beginning to regret taking her there.

King Henry VII had commissioned the chapel, and it had been built in the early Tudor style. The floor was flagstone, and the pews a polished wood. Diffused sunlight streamed into the sanctuary through the windows and shone on the gleaming brass accoutrements. Above their heads, the ceiling was a rich Spanish chestnut.

The eleven o'clock hour boomed. Keely jerked to attention in alarm and looked around.

"Relax, dearest. There's naught to fear," Richard whispered. What in God's holy name disturbed her? he wondered. Since they'd ridden into the Middle Tower, Keely had been as nervous as a fledgling warrior in the midst of his first battle. Did her unease have anything to do with her strange religious beliefs? Richard fervently hoped not. At court, Queen Elizabeth required her nobles to accompany her to mass. He could make plausible excuses for his wife once or twice, but every day was simply out of the question.