Wildblossom

by Wright, Cynthia

  "It's a shame there are so many flies," Susan was saying as she fanned herself.

  Worry about Benjamin joined with the oppressive late afternoon heat to fray Maddie's temper. "I think I'll go outside and call him. Almost anything could happen to such a little boy. If Father were home more, I'm sure Benjamin wouldn't be so quick to misbehave!"

  Susan sighed as she watched her granddaughter hurry out of the kitchen, skirts raised against the very thought of dust, every modest curl pinned neatly in place. Madeleine was certainly right about Stephen. Ever since they'd arrived, he'd been away more and more. Two days ago he'd announced that he had to leave Deadwood, muttering about mining supplies. Who knew when he'd return? The situation outraged Susan. What if she hadn't come with the children? And even so, this was not the sort of town where an old woman, a beautiful girl, and a scamp of a boy ought to be left all alone to fend for themselves.

  * * *

  It was cooler outside and there was a faint scent of pine up here above the town. Gazing down the path, Maddie saw no sign of her brother and knew a sharp pang of worry. She called his name in a high voice that sounded foolishly inadequate. Her face felt warm.

  Then came the sound of hoofbeats against packed mud.

  Maddie made out the roan first, turning past the stand of pine trees, then the familiar sight of Benjamin's pale, freckled face and spiky hair. When she looked at the big man who held him captive in the saddle, she immediately felt a tightness in her breast.

  Never in her life had she seen a more appealingly, overwhelmingly masculine man.

  The details were blurred: he was tall, lean but brawny, deeply tanned with an approachable white smile. Bearded, yet possessed of a ruggedly chiseled face. His eyes were a saturated blue, like a mountain lake. His hands were large, strong, long-fingered.

  "What are you doing with my brother?" Maddie demanded as he drew near. "I must insist that you release him and identify yourself!"

  Dan looked bemused. "For God's sake, lady, I'm doing you a favor!"

  When Benjamin fought to scramble down from the saddle, Dan let him go and the boy nearly landed face first in the mud.

  "Maddie, he practically kidnapped me! He just grabbed me up on his horse! Isn't that against the law? He could've sold me to the Injins or something!"

  The man found Benjamin's last bit of business extremely amusing. When he stopped laughing and looked down, he met the flashing green eyes of the most exquisite woman he'd seen west of Washington, D.C. "My young friend has a flair for melodrama," he said, "honed perhaps during visits to the Green Front...."

  "The... Green Front?" Maddie repeated, wrinkling her brow. "What is that?"

  "Well, it appears to call itself a theater, ma'am."

  Thoroughly confused and alarmed, Madeleine looked down to find that Benjamin had scurried behind her. "But, surely you don't mean to imply that my brother was in... that part of town!"

  "We've reached the point where I ought to speak to the boy's father." Dan swung down from Watson's back and stood towering over her. "This really isn't a matter for your delicate sensibilities."

  "I've no doubt that you are correct, sir—"

  "Please, call me Fox... Maddie." He felt like Fox now, comfortable in the name.

  Before she could reply, his strong dark hand reached out and lightly captured her slim fingers. To her dismay, his touch caused her heart to beat harder and her hand seemed to tingle in his. Instinctively, she pulled free.

  "You may address me as Miss Avery," she replied primly then glanced down at Benjamin. "Go into the house and wait for me, young man." When the door had slammed behind him, Maddie lifted her chin and met Fox's compelling gaze. "My father is away and I must deal with Benjamin in his absence. I will be honest with you... Mr. Fox. We are new to Deadwood, recently arrived from Philadelphia. I am quite out of my element."

  Cocking an eyebrow, he said laconically, "You're a city girl? I never would have guessed."

  "Of course you are in jest, but humor is quite inappropriate at this moment. I don't know who you are, sir, or why you took it upon yourself to bring my brother home, but I am grateful. Now you must tell me exactly what it was that he was doing in that... area of town."

  "I couldn't possibly speak of it to a lady, Miss Avery."

  Fox had removed his hat and held it with the same sun-roughened fingers that had clasped her hand. Maddie noticed now that his hair, a rich shade of dark chestnut, curled luxuriously over his collar. All in all, he was so intensely male—and so self-assured—that she took an involuntary step backward. The young men she had known socially in Philadelphia, intellectuals with proper manners and clean fingernails, had been nothing like this.

  "I appreciate your consideration, Mr. Fox, but—"

  "Just Fox will do."

  After a moment's hesitation Madeleine sighed and continued, "I understand... Fox, that there are many aspects of life here in Deadwood that may shock me deeply, but circumstances dictate that I become aware of them if I am going to protect my brother. I must insist that you enlighten me accordingly." Was she phrasing her thoughts too formally for this earthy man? Smiling politely, she added, "Do you understand what I've said?"

  "Just because I'm not wearing a paper collar and a Prince Albert frock coat doesn't mean I'm slow-witted," Fox replied with a short laugh. He rubbed his eyes then, suddenly aware of the exhaustion that was seeping into his bones. "You know, I've just arrived in Deadwood after a long journey myself, and—"

  "I would certainly invite you in, sir, were it not imperative that we speak in private. I must shield my grandmother as much as possible."

  "Of course." Never in his wildest dreams would he have expected to find such an incongruous female in the Black Hills. One side of his mouth quirked slightly as questions surged up in him and he pushed them back down. "I appreciate that pretty speech, Miss Avery, but we both know that I'm hardly the sort of person you'd invite in for tea. Come to think of it, it may be a while before you find anyone worthy in these parts. But, that's another matter. You wanted to know about the Green Front, and Benjamin..."

  "Yes, please." Flushing, Maddie looked down and fussed with the taffeta ruching that encircled her left wrist.

  Fox took a breath. Part of him was enjoying this scene. "Are you familiar with the mating rites of men and women, Miss Avery?"

  "I beg your pardon!" she cried with a little gasp.

  "You insisted that I be forthright. Shall I repeat the question?"

  "No!" Her face burned. "I cannot imagine how this—this indecent subject could possibly have any bearing on— Oh, for heaven's sake! Naturally, as an unmarried woman, I am not personally familiar with the act you named. However, I am educated... if you take my meaning."

  "I admire your delicacy, miss." His eyes were dancing. "I assume, then, that you're aware that all unmarried women are not chaste like yourself. And, as it happens, a whole lot of those fallen women are right here in Deadwood. In fact, this town is bursting with sin."

  Maddie's heart was pounding harder. "What on earth could that possibly have to do with Benjamin?"

  "He's just curious, which is natural, but when I saw him in the badlands I thought he might be learning a little more than he needed to at—how old is he?"

  "Nine," she said faintly.

  Fox shook his head. "Well, it may be too late, but let's hope he still has a little innocence left. You see, the Green Front, along with most every establishment in the badlands as far as I can tell, has—uh... ladies of the evening..."

  "I am familiar with the term, but I hardly think that Benjamin would know what such women do if he happened to pass one on the street, or whatever it is you're implying."

  "I'm afraid there's more to it." He was losing patience with this careful, circuitous conversation. "In one of the alleys, there are a couple of curtained booths built into the Green Front's outside wall... for men who don't want to bother with... the usual formalities. Your brother was sneaking around next to one of those curtains
, listening to the noises, trying to get close enough to peek inside. "

  "No!" The blood drained from Maddie's face; even her lips were pale. She was shocked to hear herself exclaim, "You're lying!"

  "The hell I am. Listen, lady, I've been as polite as I know how to be about this! I was only trying to help, but if you're going to insult me, I'm more than happy to go. There are a dozen places I'd rather be than here."

  "All in the badlands, I surmise!" she accused, infuriated, numb with shock. How could this be happening?

  "Not that it's any of your business, but yes! I'm thirty-two, not nine, and if I want to indulge in a few pleasures of the flesh, that's my choice. So, if you're done attacking my character..."

  Madeleine felt as if she were drowning in a sea of unreality. Her mother... dear Lord, what would her mother say or think if she knew how her little son was passing his time? How could Maddie hope to control him in this wicked town, short of locking him in the house? A sense of powerlessness surged through her, taking with it the last vestiges of her strength. She felt cold in the July sunshine, then dizzy and weak.

  Fox noticed the beautiful burnished lights of Maddie's hair when she tipped her head down, and then he heard the rustle of her taffeta gown as her knees gave way. Startled, he realized that she was fainting—and managed to catch her just before she tumbled into the mud.

  Cradling her slim yet satisfyingly curved body against his broad chest, Fox couldn't suppress a wry smile. It looked like he was going inside her clean and proper house after all....

  If you enjoyed Wildblossom, page forward for an excerpt from

  Of One Heart, the story of Geoff's look-alike ancestor, the third Marquess of Sandhurst!

  Excerpt from

  Of One Heart

  St. Briac Novel #2

  by

  Cynthia Wright

  And wilt thou leave me thus,

  And have no more pity

  Of her that loveth thee?

  Helas! thy cruelty!

  And wilt thou leave me thus?

  Say nay! say nay!

  —Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542)

  In 1532 France, Aimee and St. Briac from YOU & NO OTHER are concerned for their lovely friend Micheline Tevoulere after her husband is killed in a joust. Micheline doesn't know that Bernard had been flagrantly unfaithful to her, and Aimee is determined to help her find happiness again. They take her to Fontainebleau to winter with the court...

  Chapter 4

  Chateau de Fontainebleau

  December 16, 1532

  Late-afternoon sun gilded the great trees of the forest. Oak, hornbeam, wide-girthed chestnut, and birch had shed their autumn finery to begin the long rest through winter. Naked gray branches arched toward the sky, impervious even to the thundering hooves of horses, packs of tired hounds, and fine-looking gentlemen riders returning from yet another successful hunt.

  Bursting from the forest, the hunting party made for the palace gates, above which shone imposing high-roofed sandstone pavilions set in rhythmical order, their ornaments, pilasters, and capitals decorated with Francois I's bold F.

  The king's horse galloped first through the gateway, hooves clattering over the cobbles of the magnificent Oval Courtyard. As grooms rushed forward to relieve the men of their horses, the king stole a private word with his old friend Thomas Mardouet, seigneur de St. Briac.

  "That was a fine hunt, mon ami, but I am dusty and drenched in sweat. Let us have a cold plunge before we sup."

  St. Briac had been craving the company of his wife, but one look at the bold, determined profile of the king made him sigh inwardly and reply, "I am at your service, sire." To guard their three-decade-old friendship, Thomas had always taken care never to accept favors or rank from Francois, yet the fact remained that one did not refuse the king when he made requests in a certain tone of voice.

  They walked leisurely across the cobbled courtyard toward the arched doorway that would lead them into the new appartements des bains. The Chateau de Fontainebleau was in the midst of a series of elaborate transformations. Ever since the king had decided, several years earlier, to spend more time near Paris, this once-modest hunting lodge had been the focus of dramatic changes. Much of the time Fontainebleau was noisy and dirty, filled with scaffolding and workmen, but slowly the grand new Fontainebleau was emerging.

  A new wing had been added to the keep, and so far housed the king's dreamed-of baths and sweating rooms. Upstairs a long, splendid gallery was being constructed, and Francois had already begun to recruit the finest artists from Italy to ensure its perfection. He was extolling the virtues of Rosso and Primaticcio to Thomas when a familiar figure appeared on the stairway next to the entrance to the appartements des bains.

  "You go on, Thomas," the king murmured. "I'd like a word with Madame Tevoulere."

  St. Briac arched an eyebrow, but left his friend alone to greet Micheline.

  When she reached the bottom step, Francois exclaimed, as if surprised, "If it isn't the loveliest lady in all France! How do you fare this afternoon, madame?"

  "Very well, Your Majesty." Micheline flushed slightly and dropped her eyes. Clad in a simple gown of dark blue silk which was properly modest for a widow, she nonetheless felt his hazel eyes sweep the curves of her body. Eager for distraction, she produced a book from the folds of the cloak she carried. "I hope you won't mind, sire. I took you at your word and borrowed this from your splendid library. I thought I might read in the garden."

  "Mind? Have I not told you that all I have is yours for the taking?" Francois grinned at his own subtle wit, then leaned forward to read the title of the volume Micheline had chosen. "Roman de la Rose! An inspired choice, my dear. 'Twill do you good to read of romance. I've worried that you might have forgotten such pleasures!"

  Micheline hardly knew how to reply. When the king reached for her hand and kissed it, the uneasy flush in her cheeks intensified. "I mustn't keep you from your bath, sire. Au revoir."

  Francois watched as Micheline walked under the archway leading to the elaborate gardens. The sight of her hair, gleaming in the sunlight, and the gentle sway of her hips made him sigh. Finally he turned and went to join Thomas inside the bathing room. Quickly the two men shed their sweaty garments and walked down the flight of wooden steps that led to the great square pool. It was five feet deep, with two spouts that provided hot and cold water. Priceless paintings and statuary decorated the perimeter of the room.

  "Ah!" exclaimed the king. "Could heaven itself be sweeter?"

  St. Briac ducked his head under the water and emerged to shake the cool droplets from his hair. "I must agree, sire, that God Himself would doubtless be content here."

  Servants appeared with jeweled goblets of strong red wine and plates filled with crusty bread, oysters from Cancale, strawberries from the king's greenhouses, and tempting little wedges of Auvergne cheese. The men, hungry after their exercise, ate contentedly.

  “I feel that life is finally settling into place after the changes of recent years,” Francois reflected.

  St. Briac watched him plunge into the water and swim across the pool. Indeed, there had been changes. Two of the king’s young sons, who had become hostages to Emperor Charles V in place of their father, had been ransomed in 1529 after three years. The negotiations for their release had been effected by two women, one of whom was Louise de Savoy, the king’s mother. “The Ladies’ Peace” ended years of war, but in return for the safe return of his sons, Francois had to reconfirm his marriage by proxy to Charles V’s sister Eleanor.

  Francois had paused to rest against the gilded edge of the pool beside his friend.

  “The death of my mother continues to grieve me,” he said suddenly.

  “Yes, sire. But it has only been a year, and she was your trusted advisor. You continue to adjust.”

  At length, Francois remarked more jauntily, "I do find myself intrigued with this subject of change. How boring life would be if nothing ever changed. Take women, for instance...." />
  Biting back a smile, St. Briac waited, knowing what was coming.

  "Here at court," the king continued between bites of strawberry and cheese, "the women change like the seasons and most are forgotten. A few, however, stand out like roses in a field of daisies."

  “Ah. Yes.”

  "One lady in particular…"

  "Micheline?" he wondered innocently.

  "Oui!" Francois averted his eyes, and took a long drink of wine. "Micheline has made an entrancing change in the court. Apparently you lust after your wife alone, my friend, but even you must admit that Madame Tevoulere is a female of exceptional loveliness." He sighed, smiling. "Most astonishing, however, is her mind. I can discuss even Roman history with Madame Tevoulere! My own complaint is that she continues to maintain a certain level of reserve when in my company. Could it be possible that she is immune to my charms?" He laughed at such a ludicrous notion, but his tone took on a low urgency. "Thomas, couldn't you speak to her? Assure her that I only wish to know her better?"

  St. Briac's amusement waned. "Sire, if you imagine that I can intercede, I must dispel that notion. Aimee is trying to help Micheline recover from the shock of her husband's death, to learn to enjoy life again. She would not want her heart broken, even by her king."

  "How can you suggest that I could harm so glorious a creature as Madame Tevoulere?" Francois protested in outrage.

  "It might be a matter of circumstances more than intention, sire." Suddenly the water felt cold and tiresome and he longed to be elsewhere. "You know as well as I that you are married. For my Aimée, that would be obstacle enough, but there is also the matter of Anne d'Heilly, who has been your favorite for many years. It would not be an easy matter to displace her, even if you wanted to, and I doubt you truly could want that."