Grasso, Patricia (7 page)

"For the past two weeks, you've been avoiding the snickers at court," Willis teased. "The longer you stay away, the harder it will be to return."

"The queen's financial interests have kept me busy of late," Richard said.

Willis smiled and couldn't quite contain his chuckle of amusement.

"Losing one's dignity is no laughing matter," Richard added. "And if you value that handsome face, you'll refrain from repeating the story again. Burghley mentioned that you've been telling anyone willing to listen."

"I'm sorry," Willis apologized, wearing an unrepentant grin.

"The owners of the Rooster are friends of my sister Brigette," Richard said, changing the subject. "Bucko passes along whatever he overhears the city's merchants discussing."

"A countess befriending tavern keepers?" Willis echoed, surprised.

Richard shrugged. "Years ago, Brigette quarreled with her husband, ran away to London, and found temporary employment here as a serving wench until they reconciled."

Willis burst out laughing. "Even better. A countess masquerading as a tavern wench?"

"As I recall, Iain wasn't laughing at the time," Richard said dryly.

"Your brother-by-marriage shares a trait with you," Willis remarked.

Richard raised his copper brows at the other man.

"No sense of humor."

"Apparently, you possess enough good humor for both of us," Richard said. "Besides my humiliation, what's the latest gossip at court?"

Willis paused a long moment as if thinking and then said, "Rumor has Lady Morgana Talbot and you almost betrothed."

Richard rolled his eyes. "You would do well to follow my example. Find yourself an heiress. What else is happening?"

"A certain Signor Fulvio Fagioli, recently arrived from Italy, is creating havoc with the ladies," Willis told him. "Muscles and charm make an irresistible combination, you know. Fagioli brought a new device with him from Italy. It's called a fork, and—"

"Here we are, my lords," a woman said, setting two bowls of steaming stew in front of them on the table.

"Greetings, Marianne," Richard said, looking up at the proprietor's wife. He reached for her hand and kissed it in a courtly manner.

Marianne giggled. She was a handsome well-endowed woman with warm brown hair, shot throughout with strands of pale blond and gray. Shrewd intelligence shone from her hazel eyes.

"Madame Jacques, I present Baron Willis Smythe," Richard said, making the introductions.

Taking his cue from his friend, Willis kissed the woman's hand and said, "The pleasure is mine, ma-dame."

"Breedin' does tell, don't it?" Marianne said, clearly impressed. "We've not seen ya for a while. How's that sister of yours?"

"Brie's well," Richard answered, "but she's been cursed with a daughter as temperamental as she."

Marianne smiled and shook her head in sympathy. "I can't laugh too hard at Brie's misfortune. My own daughter Theresa mostly makes me miserable."

"My condolences," Richard replied. He lowered his voice and said, "I'm here to catch two thieves and need your help. Are two men of gigantic proportions staying at the Rooster?"

"You mean the ones with that violet-eyed woman?" Marianne asked.

"A violet-eyed woman?" Richard echoed, surprised. The only person he'd ever met with that unusual eye color was the Duke of Ludlow.

Marianne nodded.

"Their names?"

"Glendower, I think. Or Lloyd."

"Dumb
taffy,"
Willis muttered.

"The swine robbed me along the road to Ludlow Castle," Richard told Marianne.

"Snatched the boots off his feet and stole his horse," Willis added. "The earl walked barefoot all the way to Ludlow Castle."

Marianne burst out laughing. Willis Smythe joined her.

Richard struggled against an embarrassed blush but lost, one of the disadvantages in being born a redhead. People had been laughing at him ever since he'd run into those two giants in Shropshire, and he didn't like it one bit. The stinking Welshmen would pay dearly for his humiliation.

"Want me to call the Watch?" Marianne asked.

Richard shook his head. The Watch would see the villains hanged at Tyburn, but exacting his own revenge would be much more satisfying. Besides, Richard didn't want to see the woman hanged, in the unlikely event that she proved innocent of her companions' crime.

"How did you know they were here?" Willis asked him.

"Those blockheads sold my horse to my man, Jennings," Richard answered.

Willis grinned. "They stole your horse and then sold it back to you?"

"Precisely."

"Are you going to arrest them?" Willis asked.

"The woman's presence changes my plans," Richard said with a shake of his head. "I'll have Beagan and a few of my men keep them under surveillance."

"Here they come," Marianne whispered out of the side of her mouth. "I'll leave ya now."

"If you dare turn around," Richard warned his friend, "I swear I'll strangle you with my bare hands."

Willis grinned and proceeded to watch his friend stalk his prey with his gaze.

The sight of Keely hit Richard with the impact of an avalanche. His eyes widened, mirroring his shock, as he stared at the petite ebony-haired beauty walking through the tavern with those two giants. Even dressed in common attire, she appeared irresistibly lovely, much lovelier than any of the acclaimed beauties at court.

Richard watched her take a seat at a table across the room. Suddenly, revenge was the farthest thing from his mind....

Safe at last, Keely thought as she entered the tavern. Odo led Hew and her to a table in the corner near the hearth.

Sitting between them, Keely suggested, "Let's forget about supper and go directly to our chambers."

"You haven't eaten all day," Odo admonished her.

"You're too skinny as it is," Hew added. "Besides, I'm famished."

Keely gave in with a nod of her head. She was jumpier than a frog in a pond, her nerves fairly crackling with tension. Keely knew in her Druid bones that something remarkable was about to happen. She felt as if she stood on the edge of a precipice—or possibly even the brink of disaster.

"What'll it be, folks?" Marianne greeted them with a smile. She set mugs of ale in front of Odo and Hew and a goblet of mulled wine for Keely.

"Five bowls of stew," Odo ordered.

"Five is it?"

"We're hungry," Hew said.

Keely reached for her goblet of wine and took a sip. Its warmth soothed her badly frayed nerves. As she set the goblet down, Hew slumped in his chair and his hand tugged at her sleeve.

Glancing up at his horrified expression, Keely realized that trouble had somehow found them. "What is it, cousin?"

"That lord we robbed is sitting over there," Hew whispered.

"Where?"
Odo exclaimed, half rising out of his chair to scan the crowded chamber.

"Don't look," Keely ordered in a loud whisper. Odo and Hew instantly dropped their gazes. "Where is he?" Keely asked.

"The red-haired man, dressed in black, at the table nearest the bar," Hew answered.

Keely glanced in that direction. On the opposite side of the common room at the table nearest the bar sat two English lords. Deep in conversation with his friend, the red-haired Earl of Somewhere seemed unaware of their presence in the tavern.

"What should we do?" Keely asked.

"Sit still," Odo said. "He won't notice us in this crowd."

"That's right," Hew agreed. "As long as we call no attention to ourselves, he won't notice us."

Keely suffered a powerful urge to slide beneath the table and hide. Afraid to look across the room, she fixed her gaze on the wine goblet. Uncomfortably, she felt the lord's intense scrutiny—or was it her imagination?

Unable to endure the uncertainty another moment, Keely summoned her courage and forced herself to look across the room. The lord appeared deep in conversation with his friend, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that he watched them.

Keely's gaze slid to the earl's dark-haired companion. A disturbing image of lurking evil shrouded in dark mist formed in her mind and made her shiver.

When the two men stood abruptly, Keely's lips formed a silent perfect
O.
Odo and Hew were caught and would be hanged. If only she'd been blessed with her mother's unworldly talent, she would have correctly interpreted her vision and her cousins would not be coming to this tragic horrifying end.

The earl stood and called a friendly farewell to the tavern's owner, then turned to follow his companion to the door. His gaze flicked past them and then returned to Keely. She watched in growing horror as the earl changed direction and advanced on their table.

"No weapons," Keely whispered to her cousins. "We'll talk our way out of this."

Though she tried to appear casually unconcerned, Keely was unable to tear her gaze from the approaching earl. His copper hair was the brilliant radiance of Father Sun, and his disarming emerald eyes the green of her beloved forests in springtime. His features were ruggedly, handsomely chiseled and his lips sensuously formed. Walking toward their table, he moved with a hunter's predatory grace. Holy stones! The man was a pagan god sprung to life before her eyes.

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

Keely gave herself a mental shake to banish her mother's prophecy. This was no king, no pagan god, merely a man. And an odious English earl to boot.

Stopping at their table, Richard ignored Odo and Hew and gazed down at Keely, who stared through large violet eyes back at him. Richard smiled then and turned the fall force of his charm on her.

"My lady," he greeted her with a slight incline of his head. Taking her hand in his, he bowed low over it and said without taking his gaze from hers, "Like a siren's song, your rare beauty called across the chamber to me."

Keely blushed furiously. She didn't know whether to be flattered by his outrageous compliment or insulted by his arrogant boldness. No man had ever spoken such intimate words to her—and no man had ever possessed a smile as radiant as his.

"Richard Devereux, the Earl of Basildon, at your service," Richard introduced himself, gazing deeply into her violet eyes, fully aware of his effect on her. "And who might you be?"

That smile could light a whole castle, Keely thought as she stared into his incredible emerald eyes. She couldn't seem to find her voice.

"My lady?" Richard prodded.

"I am—" Her voice came out in the high-pitched squeak of a nervous soprano. Richard grinned.

Keely blushed and cleared her throat. "I am Lady Keely Glendower," she finally managed to say.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Keely," Richard said. He glanced at Odo and Hew who, certain they were about to be arrested, squirmed in their seats. "I sincerely hope, my beauty, that neither of these gentlemen claims you as his wife."

"My cousins," Keely replied. "Odo and Hew Lloyd."

Richard shook hands with each of them in turn and then remarked, "You do seem vaguely familiar. Have we met somewhere before?"

"Impossible," Keely spoke up, drawing his attention from her cousins. "We've only just arrived from Wales."

"Are you in London for business or pleasure?"

"Neither. My cousins are escorting me to my father's home. You see, my mother recently passed on to the Great Ad—" Keely broke off, shocked at what she'd almost revealed. "I'm to live with my father in London."

"Who is your father?" Richard asked.

"An Englishman."

Richard's lips quirked. "I gleaned as much. I only ask because I might know him."

Keely forced herself to smile as winsomely as she could. "Many Englishmen crowd London's lanes."

Though he considered himself an expert at prying information out of people, Richard realized with a start that she hadn't actually answered his question. He tried again, asking, "Will you be staying long at the Rooster?"

Keely shook her head. "In the morning I will present myself to my father."

"Lady Keely, your uncommon beauty has given me great pleasure," Richard said, bowing over her hand. "I'm quite certain we shall meet again." Without another word, the earl quit the tavern.

Keely stared at his retreating back—his magnificently masculine back. For her cousins' sake, she sincerely hoped they'd never meet again. And yet—

Keely sighed. Dreaming about things that could never be was useless.

"He's gone," Odo said.

"We're safe," Hew added. "You can stop shaking now."

Keely managed a faint smile. Though she hadn't eaten since the previous evening, the sight of the stew set before her made her stomach churn. "I don't feel well," she said. "I'm going upstairs. Enjoy your supper."

Clutching her satchel, Keely stood up and made her way through the crowded tavern. On shaking legs, she climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked the length of the corridor, then entered her chamber.

Without bothering to light a candle, Keely crossed the dark chamber to the cot and pulled her ceremonial white robe out of the satchel. She wrapped the hooded robe around herself as if it could offer her protection.

Keely looked at the cot and sighed. Between the earl's unnerving appearance and the frightening prospect of confronting her father, Keely knew that sleep would elude her that night.

She lay down on the cot anyway, and her thoughts traveled through space and time to Wales. Memories of her childhood and her wonderful mother crowded into that tiny chamber. Keely recalled that, no matter the season of the year, Megan and she would wander the woodland surrounding the Lloyd estate and study the special divinity of nature. Each afternoon they would sit together beneath the mighty oaks where her mother passed the Golden Thread of Knowledge to her.

Tears welled up in Keely's eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Surrendering to her sorrow, she wept until sobbing exhaustion put her to sleep.

Keely awakened during those hushed magical moments before dawn. Her chamber held the crisp bite of late September's early morning chill. Wrapping herself in her white ceremonial robe, Keely wandered to the room's tiny window. The eastern horizon blazed with orange light as dawn quickly approached.