Grasso, Patricia (40 page)

"I honestly don't know," Odo answered with a shrug.

"Do you think the wind whispered in her ear?" Hew asked.

"The only wind in this garden was your stinking fart," Odo answered, reaching out to cuff the side of his brother's head.

Hew ducked the blow, saying, " 'Twas a silent one."

"Maybe she
smelled
it," Odo said, "like I did."

Following her usual morning routine, Keely went directly to the study for an early breakfast. She took all of her meals in the study, where she felt the closest to her husband.

The table had already been set with plates for her and the earl. Between the two plates sat the ever-present bouquet of silk love-in-a-mist flowers. Breakfast consisted of eggs in a pastry case, bread, butter, cheese, and a mug of almond milk.

Jennings walked into the study and announced in a formal tone of voice, "His Grace, the Duke of Ludlow, wishes an interview."

As her father brushed past the majordomo, Keely gave a little squeal of joy and flew into his open arms. "Oh, Papa!" she cried. "I've missed you these past months."

Duke Robert planted a kiss on her forehead, then led her back to the table and sat down opposite her. Smiling, he pulled an orange from his pocket and said, "For my grandchild."

Keely smiled and accepted the orange.

"How did you know I would visit this morning?" Duke Robert asked, noting the unused plate in front of him. "Or is this for Henry?"

"Henry never rises this early," Keely answered, giving him an ambiguous smile. "We set a place for Richard at every meal in case—is he well? Do you have news?"

"You have the queen's permission to visit your husband this afternoon," the duke told her.

Keely reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. Unshed tears glistened in her violet eyes. "Thank you, Papa. What made the queen change her mind?"

Duke Robert chuckled. "Richard made several costly blunders with her personal finances. His letters of apology do fault his long separation from you as the reason for his unintentional carelessness."

Keely smiled, dazzling her father with her joy. There existed no more beautiful sight in all the world than a happy pregnant woman.

"Burghley and I have been arguing in favor of house arrest," the duke went on. "I'm positive your husband's unintentional blunders will continue until he's ensconced at Devereux House. At eleven o'clock, I will escort you downriver."

Keely would have spoken then, but Henry barged into the study and drew their attention. With his head hung low, he looked like a bedraggled tomcat after fighting with rivals and carousing with an army of females.

"She was the best piece of arse I ever—" Henry broke off when he saw his father—his furious father.

"Daughter, excuse my crude words." Duke Robert turned on his son and shouted, "Do you want that pecker of yours to tall off?"

"Do you want it to atrophy from disuse?" Henry shouted back, his three months of freedom inciting him to rebellion.

Keely burst out laughing.

"Do not encourage him," Duke Robert said, his right cheek twitching. Slowly, he rose from the table and advanced on his son.

Henry took an instinctive step back.

"Papa!" Keely called, fearing her father would strike him.

"Clean yourself up," Duke Robert ordered, towering threateningly over his son. "Report to my study at Talbot House in one hour. 'Tis past time we discussed several important issues."

Henry nodded and left the room.

" 'Tis my fault for failing to chaperone him," Keely said, drawing her father's attention. "I've been so caught up in my own misery—"

"Do
not
shoulder the blame for your brother's outrageous behavior," Duke Robert interrupted. "His task was to guard you, not the other way around. I'll return for you at eleven."

"Papa?"

Duke Robert paused at the door and turned around.

"Go easy on him," Keely said. "Please?"

"I have no intention of murdering my only son," Duke Robert assured her, a hint of a smile flirting with the corners of his lips. "You may find this difficult to believe, but I was young once too."

Keely stepped outside at the appointed hour and hurried across the lawns to the quay, where her father waited. Anticipation flushed her cheeks, and the life's blood that surged through her body sang the song of her beloved. She had opened her heart and listened to the Goddess, who was now rewarding her for her unwavering faith.

Almost five months pregnant, Keely was beginning to outgrow her gowns. She wore her finest and loosest day dress, fashioned in violet velvet with a modestly high neckline. Over that she wore a lightweight black woolen cloak, and in her hands she carried an enormous tapestry bag filled with the holy objects she needed to protect her husband.

Early spring teased the world with clear blue skies, radiant sunshine, and gentle breezes. The sun's rays warming her shoulders and the gentle breeze tickling her face brought with them the most pleasant of memories—her husband's lovemaking. Keely suffered the urge to kick her boots off and feel the grass between her toes.

At the quay, Duke Robert hopped onto the barge and then helped her to board. Father and daughter sat together as the ducal barge glided downriver.

"What do you carry in the bag?" he asked.

"A few necessities for Richard," she answered, an ambiguous smile turning the corners of her lips up. "How fares Henry?"

"Repenting his sins." The duke cast her a sidelong glance. "Shall I produce his warm breathing body?"

Keely touched his forearm, and when he turned to her, she looked him straight in the eye. "I trust you, Papa," she said.

Sudden tears welled in the duke's violet eyes, so much like his daughter's. Duke Robert put his arm around her and planted a paternal kiss on her forehead. "Thank you, child," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I've been waiting to hear those words."

"On my wedding day, I told you I loved you," Keely reminded him.

"True, but a world of difference lies between loving and trusting," Duke Robert replied. "Sometimes the one we love proves untrustworthy. Now, before you remark upon how sage I am, remember that advanced age brings a bittersweet wisdom."

"You're still young," Keely insisted. Then: "Papa, tell me about Megan and you."

The duke's eyes clouded with remembered pain. "Once the danger to your husband is past, I will answer all of your questions," he promised. "Can you be content until then?"

Keely smiled and nodded. Duke Robert was all that she had ever wanted in a father, everything she'd thought would make her happy, and now the world had spun upside down. Her happiness hinged on her husband. If only Richard were freed... If only she belonged in his world...
If only he loved her.

Their journey downriver took longer than usual. The world of men had recently awakened from its long winter's slumber, and the traffic upon that great street of water called the Thames proved horrendously congested. Though inconvenienced by the crush of barges, the boatmen seemed carefree and called greetings to friend and stranger alike. The ducal barge slipped beneath London Bridge and passed enclosed ship basins, from which the mingling scents of spices, grain, and lumber wafted through the air.

Soon Keely saw the pepper-pot turrets and forbidding gray walls of the Tower of London. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and wondered in what condition she would find her husband. How would Richard greet her after all these months? Had he missed her? Had she even fleetingly crossed his mind?

Their barge docked at the Watergate of St. Thomas Tower, also known as Traitor's Gate. Built in the 1290s by Edward I, the Watergate had become the most dreaded portal in all of England. Such notoriously dangerous criminals as Anne Boleyn and her daughter, Queen Elizabeth, had passed through it. Some had returned to the world of men; some were never seen again.

Keely stared up at St. Thomas Tower but saw a hideous glaring monster, its gate the mouth that had swallowed her husband. "Tormented souls have passed through this gate," she said as her father helped her disembark.

"Aye," Duke Robert agreed, guiding her toward the Lieutenant's Lodgings. "Thinking about them will mar the babe, though."

"Did they bring Richard—?"

"Lingering upon past sorrows is futile," Duke Robert interrupted. "Your husband enjoys the best of health. He's a bit bored with his confinement and a trifle irritated about losing so much gold."

"You mean, the blunders on the queen's accounts?"

"No, child." Duke Robert chuckled. "Losing games of chance to one's jailers is expected of a man of your husband's august rank and reputation. 'Tis expedient to do so. A bribe of sorts. He loses at cards and dice, and the constable sees that he enjoys the best of everything. Why, 'tis one of England's oldest traditions."

Keely stopped walking and looked in surprise at him. "You mean, I've been losing sleep over a man who's been gambling for three months?"

"A man can only read so much," her father replied.

Duke Robert led Keely through the Lieutenant's Lodgings to the grassy inner courtyard on the other side of the building. Keely recognized the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula on the far side of the green, where Richard and she had once attended services.

The atmosphere inside the Tower Green was eerily hushed as if the Tower's stone walls trapped unearthly silence within. A cool stillness pervaded the air.

Advancing on Beauchamp Tower, which perched above the Green and the menacing scaffold, Keely peered over her shoulder at the Lodgings. She scanned the area beneath its windows but saw no sign of the queen's restless spirit.

The chaplain royal awaited them at the entrance to Beauchamp Tower. "Are you ready, Your Grace?" the minister asked, unmistakable glee sparkling in his eyes.

"Aye, but I feel unlucky today," Duke Robert replied, shaking the other man's hand.

The chaplain nodded at Keely and then led the way up the stairs to the second floor. Keely walked behind him, and her father followed her.

Keely wet her lips, gone dry from nervous apprehension. For three long months, she'd yearned for this moment, but a sharp feeling of insecurity now swept through her and her step slowed. What if her husband wasn't glad to see her? How could she endure the pain?

And then, Keely reached the top of the stairs. Almost reluctantly, she walked into the chamber.

Richard stood there. When he saw her, he smiled and opened his arms. With a cry of relieved joy, Keely threw herself into his embrace and burst into tears.

Richard crushed her against the comforting planes of his muscular body and planted a kiss on the crown of her head. "Don't cry, dearest," he soothed, stroking her back. "I thought seeing me again would make you happy."

Keely gave a watery chuckle. She gazed up at him through fathomless pools of violet. Placing the palms of her hands against his cheeks, she said, " 'Tis the babe. She makes me emotional."

"Does
he?"
Richard countered with a soft, teasing smile.

Keely recognized the gleam of desire glowing in her husband's emerald eyes. She stood on her tiptoes, hooked one arm around his neck, and gently drew his smiling face closer.

Mesmerized by the siren's call in her expression, Richard lost his smile. His mouth hovered above hers for the merest fraction of a second, and then his warm insistent lips claimed hers in an earth-shattering kiss.

An urgent and demanding desperation to join their young bodies and to become one overpowered them. That single devastating kiss melted into another. And then another.

Duke Robert cleared his throat loudly, and the other two men in the room chuckled. With herculean effort, Richard broke the kiss and grinned at his father-in-law.

"Come, dearest," Richard said, removing her cloak and handing it to the duke.

Refusing to relinquish her hold on her husband, Keely looped her arm through his and caught her first glimpse of his prison. Though far from luxurious, the chamber was well-lit, airy, and clean. Built into one wall was the hearth, and in the center of the room stood a table with three chairs.

"Good day to you, sir," Keely greeted the constable.

"You're looking well, my lady," Kingston replied.

"I do appreciate your taking good care of my husband," she said.

"The pleasure belongs to me, my lady."

"I'll show you my chamber upstairs," Richard said, taking her hand in his.

Clutching her tapestry bag, Keely blushed and smiled at their audience of three, then accompanied her husband to the spiral staircase in one corner of the chamber. At the top Richard opened a door and led the way into his third-floor bedchamber.

Keely stopped short at the surprising sight that greeted her. His prison in the Tower appeared more comfortable than her old bedchamber in Wales.

Against one wall stood a four-poster bed, complete with draperies and fur coverlet. Beside the bed was a small table that bore a silver tray, containing a wine decanter, two crystal goblets, a hunk of bread, and an array of cheeses. A cheerful fire glowed within the hearth, before which sat a comfortable-looking chair. Two windows allowed the afternoon sunlight to filter into the room.

With a smile of amused confusion lighting her expression, Keely turned to him. "Why, you haven't been suffering at all," she said.

"Living without you is the worst torture imaginable," Richard replied, drawing her into the circle of his embrace. "Come to bed, dearest."

"Patience, my lord," Keely said. "We must do this correctly if we want the Goddess to protect you from harm."

Richard cocked a copper brow at her. He'd waited three long months to see her. Was she now going to play the coy maiden?

"Please, place the coverlet on the floor in the center of the chamber," she said.

While he hurried to do her bidding, Keely opened her tapestry bag. She pulled two ceremonial robes out as well as her pouch of magic stones.

"Disrobe and put this on," she ordered, handing him one of the robes.

Richard gave her a skeptical look.