Grasso, Patricia (9 page)

"I'll see you out," Duke Robert said, drawing the earl's attention.

Before leaving, Richard smiled at Keely. "I'm certain you'll be feeling better soon," he said.

"What about my cousins?" Keely called as the two men reached the door. "Odo and Hew need me."

"Your cousins will enjoy my hospitality for as long as they wish," Duke Robert assured her.

Keely's gaze slid from her father to the earl, whose expression had become unreadable. She nodded once and lay back against the pillows.

"Keely is well. 'Tis only hunger that made her faint," Duke Robert informed Odo and Hew, who still waited in the corridor. "Return to the hall, and Meade will provide you with a meal and a place to perch."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Odo said, his gaze fixed warily on the earl.

"Aye, 'tis kind of you," Hew added. "I mean, considering the fact you're English and all."

Odo cuffed the side of his brother's head and apologized. "He's an idiot and don't know any better, Your Grace."

"I understand," Duke Robert replied, struggling against a smile as the two Welshmen hurried away. Turning to Richard, he said, "You will excuse me, Devereux? I want to sit with my daughter while she eats."

Richard nodded, glanced at the closed bedchamber door, and asked, "May I have your permission to call upon Lady Keely?"

Duke Robert chuckled and slapped his shoulder in camaraderie. "I had the same reaction the first time I set my eyes on her mother," he said. "However, I know of your reputation with the ladies. Are your intentions honorable, boy?"

"I never toy with unmarried innocents," Richard replied. "I must marry and sire an heir, and a blood bond between the Talbot and Devereux families appeals to me."

"Then I suppose you'll soon be asking for my blessings on your impending nuptials to her," Duke Robert said, only half joking.

" 'Tis a bit premature for that." Richard cocked a copper brow at the older man. "Keely looked at my face and fainted, but I may be able to persuade the lady to change her opinion of me."

Duke Robert snaked out his hand and grabbed the earl's arm. "I warn you, Devereux. If your intentions prove less than honorable, I shall be forced to kill you."

"I understand, Your Grace." At that, Richard retraced his steps down the corridor and disappeared downstairs.

Duke Robert paused before entering the bedchamber, and a grim expression appeared on his face. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned back against the wall.

What the bloody hell am I to do now?
Duke Robert wondered as remorse wove itself around his aching heart.
Which of the three children I love do I destroy?

His firstborn, the miraculous product of the greatest love of his life, believed herself to be a bastard; but possessing a knowledge that no one else shared, Duke Robert knew otherwise. Megan Glendower and he had been legally wed, albeit in secret. Keely was his legitimate heiress.

And therein lay the problem. Though he longed to atone for the pain of the first eighteen years of Keely's life, Duke Robert couldn't bear the thought of naming his only son a bastard.

Duke Robert straightened away from the wall and squared his shoulders. Henry was innocent of his father's unintentional bigamy and would not be punished for it.

With grim determination etched across his features, Duke Robert decided he would do whatever he could for Keely. He'd acknowledge her publicly, present her at court, and make the best possible match for her. Keely deserved a husband who would make her happy, and the wealthy Earl of Basildon appeared to suffer no qualms about her alleged bastardy.

Duke Robert relaxed. He would do whatever he could to further the match. With the Countess of Cheshire's assistance, he would see Richard and Keely wed before the bells rang the new year in.

Chapter 4

"Good morning, my dear."

At the sound of the faraway voice, Keely swam up from the depths of unconsciousness and opened her eyes. Is this a dream? she wondered, focusing on the unfamiliar chamber.

" 'Tis time to awaken."

Keely turned her head toward the voice. Standing beside the bed, Lady Dawn smiled at her.

"Good morning, my lady." Keely pushed her ebony hair away from her face, rubbed her eyes, and stretched. "What time is it?"

"Twelve o'clock."

Keely's gaze slid to the windows. Dim light filtered into the room. "Too bright to be twelve o'clock," she said.

"Twelve noon on a mostly cloudy day."

Keely snapped her gaze back to the countess. "That's impossible. I never sleep through the dawn."

"As you can see for yourself," Lady Dawn said, "there wasn't one today."

"Dawn always follows night," Keely replied.

"I suppose it does," the countess said, then chuckled throatily. "I cannot be certain, however, because I always sleep through it."

"Dawn is the most inspiring time of day," Keely told her, sitting up. "Would you like me to awaken you tomorrow morning to see it? Which chamber is yours?"

"The duke's chamber is mine," Lady Dawn answered, watching for her reaction.

"Then where does His Grace—?" Keely blushed scarlet.
"Oh."

Lady Dawn swallowed a chuckle at the girl's embarrassment. "Does it bother you that I share your father's bed?" she asked baldly.

If possible, Keely's blush deepened even more. "Do you love him?"

"Very much."

"In that case," Keely said, "sharing his bed doesn't bother me at all."

"I do believe we shall become great friends," Lady Dawn exclaimed, pleased to have one ally in the Talbot household. "Here's a tray on the table, and the chamber pot is behind the screen over there. As you can see, the bath in front of the hearth is steaming. I'll return shortly with a gown."

"Please, do not trouble yourself on my account," Keely said.

"Nonsense." The countess turned to leave. "I'm delighted you're here."

Alone, Keely decided to invoke the power of the gods to protect herself. She was, after all, a stranger in this household. Who knew what unseen forces were at work here?

Slipping her chemise off, Keely walked to the window. She closed her eyes and pressed the palm of her right hand to its pane in an attempt to get closer to nature's forces outside.

"Great Mother Goddess, fierce guardian of all your children, I do need your protection," Keely implored softly. "Join with me and make me bold. Blessings to all spirits who rush to my aid. Between us then is this bargain made."

After bathing and donning her chemise, Keely wrapped herself in her white ceremonial robe and dragged a chair close to the window. She sat down and watched the clouds break apart. Sunlight kissed the earth below.
A good omen?

Keely decided to concentrate on Odo and Hew. Her cousins needed someone to protect them from their own lack of judgment, but each time she tried to visualize them, her powers of concentration failed her. Instead, the Earl of Basildon's handsome image flitted across her mind's eye.

In spite of the threat he presented, Keely felt strangely safe. She knew with her Druid's instinct that he'd never harm her. It was there in his disarming smile and the gleam in his eyes. If he'd wanted to see her cousins hanged at Tyburn Hill, the earl would have done so already. Unless... dared she hope that her forgetfulness spell had worked?

Keely's thoughts drifted to the earl's physical attributes. His fiery copper hair resembled a blazing sunset, and his emerald eyes reminded her of the forests in springtime. Like a pagan god sprung miraculously to life, the carl's perfectly proportioned physique more than pleased the eye. As long as she lived, Keely would never forget her first sight of him walking toward her in that tavern.

Without thinking, Keely caressed her lips with her fingertips. How would his sensual lips feel if pressed against—?

Holy stones!
Keely jerked herself up straight, shocked by where her thoughts had roamed. The earl was a dangerous, despicable Englishman. Anathema to her. Wasn't he? Keely knew she wasn't as sure about that as she would have been a few days ago. Brooding about her uncertainty, she stared out the window.

Lady Dawn returned a few minutes later. In her hands she carried a violet and gold brocaded gown with matching slippers.

Keely had never seen so fine a gown in her life. "Those aren't mine," she said.

Lady Dawn smiled. "The gown and slippers belong to Morgana, your younger half-sister."

"I can't wear another's clothing," Keely refused, though she was unable to hide the longing in her expression as she stared at the beautiful gown.

"Your father bade me choose something pretty for you to wear," the countess told her.

"Won't Lady Morgana be angry that I've borrowed her gown?" Keely asked.

"Of course. That's what makes this whole affair so enjoyable."

"Then I couldn't."

"Your father is trying very hard to please you," Lady Dawn said, giving her a reproving look. "Would you repay his kindness with churlishness?"

Keely sighed. His Grace had invited her into his home. In good conscience she could hardly rebuff his intended kindness.

"The violet in the gown almost matches your pretty eyes," the countess coaxed. "Besides, the Earl of Basildon plans to call upon you today."

"But why would he wish to do that?" Keely gasped, surprised.

"Apparently, Devereux is quite taken with your beauty," Lady Dawn answered. "Your father gave him permission."

"Well," Keely hedged, gazing longingly at the offered gown and slippers. "If you really think I should—"

"I do," Lady Dawn said. "I'll even help you with your hair."

"A countess shouldn't perform such a menial task."

"Consider me an aunt," Lady Dawn said expansively, then frowned. "No, that won't do. I'm much too youthful to have an eighteen-year-old niece. Think of me as your older and wiser sister."

Suppressing a smile, Keely donned the gown and then slid her feet into the matching slippers. With joy lighting her face, she looked at the countess and said, "I cannot believe it. They fit perfectly."

"What a beauty you are," Lady Dawn said with an approving smile. "Would you like to see yourself?"

Keely nodded, eager as a young girl.

Lady Dawn opened the chamber door and beckoned her to follow. They slipped into a chamber two doors down the corridor. Leading her charge across the chamber, the countess said, "This is your father's chamber."

Richly appointed, the enormous chamber sported Persian carpets covering the floor and colorful tapestries decorating the walls. Filtered sun lit the room through the high windows. Behind a screen stood a pier glass.

When Keely stepped in front of it, her mouth dropped open in surprise. Was that beautiful young woman really her?

The brocaded gown had a form-fitting bodice and a low-cut square neckline. Its long tight sleeves ended in a point below her wrists.

Keely looked
and felt
like a princess. Her smile was pure joy until her gaze touched the exposed swell of her breasts above the most daring neckline she'd ever worn. The dragon pendant glittered against the flawless ivory of her skin and drew attention to the crevice between her breasts. Uncertainly, Keely worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

Lady Dawn chuckled at her expression. "I'm quite certain Morgana never looked that lovely."

"Perhaps my own clothing would suit me better," Keely said. "The bodice is too bold, don't you think?"

" 'Tis virginal by court standards," the countess disagreed. "Come, my dear. Your father wishes to speak with you."

Pleased that she needn't wear her own drab clothing, Keely followed her out of the room. They retraced their steps down the corridor and went downstairs.

"Thank you, my lady," Keely said before entering the deserted great hall where her father awaited her.

The countess gave her an affectionate hug and then left her there.

Seated in front of the hearth, Duke Robert stood at her entrance. His gaze swept over her from the top of her head to the tips of her feet. Then he started across the hall to greet her.

Disconcerted by his stare, Keely dropped her gaze and enchanted her father with the perfect picture of demure femininity. She looked up shyly when he reached her side.

"You are as lovely as your mother," Duke Robert said, his voice husky with remembrance. "Sit over here with me.

"Thank you for the loan of the gown, Your Grace," Keely said, placing her hand in his.

Duke Robert noted her formality but ignored it. Instead, he escorted her to one of the two chairs in front of the hearth and then sat down in the other.

Keely folded her hands in her lap and stared at the floor. She felt awkward. For eighteen long years she had yearned for a father, but now that she had him, she didn't know what to say. Her father was a stranger to her.

Keely stole a glance at him and caught him staring at her. Breaking their silence, she said, "And thank you for inviting me to stay here last night."

"This is your home," Duke Robert said.

"A house is not a home," Keely replied, gazing at the crackling fire in the hearth instead of at him. "A home is people who love me and whom I can love in return."

"I love you," he told her.

"You cannot possibly love me," she disagreed, daring a sidelong glance at him. "You don't even know me."

"You are the seed that sprang from my loins," Duke Robert replied, his words making her cheeks pinken. Good Christ, how many years had it been since he'd seen a sincere blush color a woman's complexion? "When you become a mother, you'll understand how I dare profess my love so easily."

"If you say so, Your Grace," Keely mumbled, staring at the hands she was wringing in her lap.

An awkward silence descended on them. Though it hurt her to do so, pride made Keely refuse the duke's offer of love. He'd abandoned her mother and her. Erasing a lifetime of pain proved impossible.

"I understand your reticence, child," the duke said. "I ask you, as your father, to grant me the opportunity to earn your love."