Wild Bells to the Wild Sky

by Laurie McBain

  "No," Lily murmured, but not convincingly this time as she remembered Romney Lee's last words. She understood now his plea for forgiveness. He had asked her not to hate him for stealing this summer from her. Rom, she thought sadly. He had given his life trying to save her. He paid the ultimate price for having loved her. She could not hate him. Never would she hate him, Lily promised herself, trying to hold back the tears that threatened, but one tear escaped to fall onto Valentine Whitelaw's hand.

  "You cry for him? A man who deceived you?" Valentine demanded harshly, unaware that his anger came of a jealousy of this man who had betrayed her, who would have stolen her love, and for whom she now shed tears. "The man used you. He knew you were an heiress, that Highcross was yours. He also knew there was no reason for you not to return there. Of course, by then he would have wed you and he would have been master of Highcross. You are a very beautiful woman, and he wanted you, and he wanted your fortune, and he would have stopped at nothing to get you," Valentine predicted, his jealousy of this man increasing, even though the man was no longer a threat, as he thought of the months Romney Lee had had Lily to himself.

  "And were you any different?" Lily demanded, raising her shoulders proudly. "When you thought I was little better than a gypsy, you wanted to take me for a night's pleasure."

  "Not just a night's pleasure, Lily Francisca," Valentine found himself admitting in a soft voice that held a wealth of meaning, and following his gaze, Lily saw her breasts fully revealed to him, the delicate-hued crests beginning to harden under that gaze. Quickly, she tried to pull the blanket back up, but only half-succeeded, for he still held her wrist.

  "I was never in danger from Rom," Lily defended him. "Indeed, it would seem I was in more danger while in your company than I ever was while with Rom," Lily said, daring him to deny the charge.

  But Valentine would not be baited. "Because of that gypsy, you were in that compromising situation in the first place. I cannot be blamed for admiring a beautiful woman and accepting the seductive invitation in her eyes when she stared at me across the crowd. Little had I expected to find Geoffrey Christian's daughter traveling with a band of gypsies. And because off that gypsy's deception, you, and Tristram and Dulcie, have been in constant danger of some mishap. I am only surprised it did not happen sooner. You very nearly lost your life when that ruffian attacked you by the pool. And he will not go unpunished, I promise you that. I will see that he is tracked down and brought to justice."

  "Ruffian? I know who attacked me," Lily startled him by announcing.

  "You know?" Valentine demanded. "Was it one of the gypsies from the camp? Or perhaps someone who accosted you at the fair?" he asked, realizing too late that the latter description fit himself.

  "No, 'twas Sir Raymond Valchamps who attacked me," Lily said, for until that moment she had told no one of the image she had seen reflected in the pool.

  "Raymond Valchamps?" Valentine repeated the name incredulously.

  "You don't believe me? I know what I saw. And I saw his face reflected in that pool as clearly as I see yours before me now."

  Valentine Whitelaw stared at Lily as if the blow to her head had been more severe than he'd at first thought. "Sir Raymond Valchamps? Are you absolutely certain? I admit that I have little liking for the man, but I do find it difficult to believe that he should wish you any harm. He hardly knows you," he said, but he was suddenly remembering the Turk telling him about having seen Sir Raymond Valchamps at the fair the night the mob had attacked the gypsy camp. Mustafa had said that Valchamps had been paying off two rough-looking men who had been carrying torches and cudgels and who had apparently been involved in the mayhem.

  Valentine's gaze narrowed thoughtfully as he stared at Lily, a strange expression on his face. A girl, one of the gypsies, had been murdered that night, and she had been wearing a gown remarkably similar to the one Lily had been wearing that afternoon at the fair. And Cordelia Howard had been at the fair that afternoon with Sir Raymond.

  "Who was the girl murdered at the camp?" he asked.

  Lily was startled by his question. "Navarre. She was the niece of the leader of the gypsy band we traveled with. Why?"

  "She was wearing your violet gown, wasn't she?"

  "Yes, how did you know? I remember how shocked I was to see it, for a moment, well . . ."

  "For a moment you felt it could have been you lying there dead."

  "Yes, I did. In fact, if I hadn't gone to meet you on the riverbank, I would have been in the camp during the attack, and I might very well have been the one struck down and not Navarre. Romney thought it was me, although I knew he would have helped Navarre too, but he fought the attacker thinking the man had stabbed me."

  "But why? I wonder. What reason could Raymond Valchamps have to wish you dead? What threat are you to him?" Valentine spoke his thoughts aloud. "You are certain that it was Raymond Valchamps? There is no mistake? You have no doubts at all?" he questioned, watching Lily's expression closely.

  Lily shook her head emphatically. "I saw his reflection in the pool before I was struck. His is a face one does not easily forget. He has one blue eye and one brown eye, and that pale hair, and . . ." Lily hesitated, shuddering.

  Valentine realized the blanket had slipped again from her bare shoulders and the soft curve of her breast was once again revealed to his gaze. Sighing, he pulled the blanket up higher, his hand lingering longer than necessary against her flesh. "And what?" he said gently, smiling slightly when he saw the wild blush come into her cheeks as her hand slid between and moved his away.

  "You will think me mad. But he was smiling."

  "Had you told me anything but that, I might have remained unconvinced, but that sounds like Valchamps," Valentine said, the smile fading from his face as he thought of what Lily had told him. "Why?" he repeated more to himself this time, unaware that his hand was now caressing her palm while he sat there lost in thought.

  "Maybe he saw the puppet show?" Lily said half-seriously, smiling when she saw Valentine's puzzled expression.

  "We had a puppet show at the fair. The day you came was the first day we didn't put on a show. Our booth was burned to the ground the night before," Lily explained, glancing down at his strong hand, the long fingers now tracing a random design in her palm before moving to entwine with her slender fingers.

  She didn't see the look of interest that entered his eyes when she mentioned the fire that had burned only their booth. "Why should he have been upset at having seen this puppet show? Surely it was harmless."

  "We were very popular with the crowds," Lily admitted. "Sir Raymond, however, probably didn't like it because one of the puppets, a witch, resembled him. When we made them I thought of Sir Raymond. I have never liked him."

  "Nor have I, and I suspect I have injured his pride more often than you have with that puppet, but he was hardly tried to murder me," Valentine said. "Do you still have this puppet, or was it destroyed in the fire?"

  "No, it was the only one that didn't perish. It's in the cart, in my trunk. No, Farley took it to entertain at that farm. He must still have it."

  "Odd, isn't it, that your booth should born down? I would like to see this puppet. What was your puppet show about?" he asked out of idle curiosity.

  "It was a fable about wild white horses. I used to tell it to Dulcie to get her to go to sleep when we were on the island. Actually, 'twas Basil who--" Lily was beginning to say that it had been Basil who'd told the fable to them when there was a knock on the door before it slowly opened to reveal Dulcie and Tristram peeking in; seeing her awake, they both raced in, followed by Raphael and Cappie.

  "Oh, Lily! You're alive!" Dulcie cried, climbing onto the bed and scrambling into Lily's arms. "I was afraid when you slept so long that you might have died. Uncle Valentine wouldn't let me come in to see you. He said I had to trust him."

  Simon Whitelaw, who had followed Dulcie and Tristram into the room, now stood self-consciously near the door, a slightly puzzled frown on his fac
e as he noticed his uncle sitting so close to Lily on the edge of the bed, and he could have sworn that Valentine had been holding one of Lily's hands.

  "I told Dulcie you would be all right," Tristram said, neglecting to say that he had left most of his supper untouched.

  "Tillie said you have a bump on your head as big as an apple," Dulcie said, eyeing her sister curiously.

  "Not that big, Dulcie. More like a walnut, isn't it, Lily?" Tristram corrected his sister.

  Lily managed a smile, even though Dulcie's jump onto the bed had left her head pounding sickeningly. "Thanks to you saving me from drowning, sweeting, I'm at least here to feel it, whatever size it is," Lily said, kissing Dulcie on her forehead. "That was very brave of you."

  Dulcie snuggled closer. "I could swim, Lily, and Fairfax couldn't," she explained without taking any special credit for her act of heroism. "He looked so funny running along the bank. Kind of like a big chicken. I was afraid he was going to bump Tillie into the pool, and no one could have pulled her out."

  "We will have to find some special way to reward you and Tristram," Valentine said, tickling her under the chin while she giggled.

  "I wish I'd been there earlier," Tristram said from his perch on the foot of the bed. "I would have caught your attacker, Lily," he told her, thinking he hadn't done anything special in jumping in the pool to help Dulcie out, for he'd done that most of his life, especially when they'd been on the island.

  "I understand we have you to thank, Simon, for coming in search of us in the first place," Lily said, noticing the tall thin figure standing near the door.

  Simon Whitelaw smiled, stepping forward eagerly when she held out her hand to him. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed from his uncle and took her hand, pressing a gentlemanly kiss against it much to Valentine Whitelaw's astonishment.

  "I think I aged a lifetime when we rode up and heard the screaming, then saw you and Dulcie disappearing in that black water," he said with a rueful look. "I hadn't thought I could be more frightened than when I visited Highcross and discovered you'd run away. I very nearly became the one to kill Hartwell Barclay that day," Simon admitted, and glancing over at Valentine, he was startled to see his uncle's expression and, rather belatedly, he realized he was still holding Lily's hand with both of his.

  He flushed uncomfortably and stood up. "I know you must be tired, Lily. I'm so pleased to see you and know that you are going to be all right. I don't think I've slept in days worrying about you--and Dulcie and Tristram, of course," he finished lamely.

  "You probably won’t get any sleep tonight either," Tristram said. "We've got Cisco in our room."

  Simon looked bewildered until he realized Tristram was referring to the parrot, and he laughed, for he wouldn't mind losing sleep to that parrot since he knew it meant Lily was sleeping peacefully in the next room. His gaze drifted to where she sat in the bed, her long hair cascading over her bare shoulders, and as Dulcie moved into a better position in Lily's arms, Simon's mouth opened and he gulped as he caught sight of the curve of a creamy breast.

  "Where were the Odells when you left them?" Valentine asked Simon rather sharply, not having missed his nephew's admiring gaze.

  "Down in the taproom. I've never seen anyone drink as many tankards of ale as that one."

  "Fairfax?" Tristram said. "He holds the record in all of the shire," Tristram said proudly.

  "No, the other one, the short one. Farley. Don't know where he's putting it," Simon puzzled, his eyes still lingering on Lily. Although she had pulled the blanket higher, he had never seen a more breathtaking sight than this woman with her hair flowing free over bare shoulders.

  "Do you think Farley would remember where he put that puppet?" Valentine asked, rising from the bed and coming to stand by his nephew's side, effectively blocking Simon's view of Lily.

  "I'm not certain he even remembers his name," Simon said, trying to glance around his uncle. He'd never before realized quite how wide Valentine's shoulders were, and irritatingly so, he thought.

  "Why don't we go down and see if he does before the inn runs out of ale?" Valentine suggested. "I'm curious about that puppet."

  "The one from our puppet show. The evil witch!" Dulcie squealed, sending Cappie beneath the pillows.

  "Well, if he doesn't, I bet Tillie will know," Simon suggested. "All of the trunks and things from the cart are in the Odells' room."

  "Where is Tillie? Lying down?" Valentine asked, for he'd never seen a woman so alarmingly pregnant.

  "No, she hasn't left the table since we arrived, except to help Lily into bed. I've never seen a woman eat so much," Simon remarked, remembering the innkeeper's expression when the woman had asked for another meat pie after the two she'd put away practically by herself.

  "Now that I know you are feeling better, Lily, I think I might go and get myself a couple of tarts before Tillie finishes that meat pie," Tristram said worriedly, feeling hungry now.

  "Can I bring you something, Lily?" Simon inquired solicitously.

  "Thank you, but Tillie is going to bring me something later."

  Tristram glanced back, his expression conveying doubt that there would be anything left in the kitchens. "I'll save you a tart, Lily," he offered generously.

  "I hope when we return to London--and after everything has been settled at Highcross--that you and Dulcie and Tristram will come to visit me at Whiteswood, Lily," Simon said shyly. "Mother and Sir William have Riverhurst now, so . . . well, I'd like to show you around the house and the lands. I know you'd love it."

  "Can we really, Lily? When?" Tristram demanded, winning looks of appreciation and irritation from the respective younger and elder Whitelaws.

  "We'll look forward to that, Simon," Lily responded.

  "Shall we go, Simon?" Valentine requested, his hand closing around his nephew’s bony elbow to speed him to the door.

  "Good night, Lily," Simon managed to call over his shoulder, catching one last glance before being hustled from the room.

  "I'll have the innkeeper prepare you something light," Valentine said before he followed Simon's lanky figure from the room.

  "I won't forget the tart, Lily," Tristram promised, hurrying out as Valentine remained holding the door, a less than patient look on his face.

  "Lily? Will you tell me a story?"

  "What do you want to hear?" Lily asked.

  "I want to hear about the dancing stars. Then, I want to hear about the wild white horses," she requested, settling herself more comfortably, while Raphael took the opportunity to jump up on the foot of the bed, his soulful glance begging not to be sent from the comfort of the soft mattress and blankets; after all, he'd loyally followed his mistress far from home.

  "Very well," Lily said, resting her chin on top of Dulcie's head. "Once there was a twinkling star that loved to dance and there was this little girl who was born under it, and she loved to dance, too . . ."

  Valentine Whitelaw wasn't gone more than fifteen minutes. He had managed to leave the others downstairs, slipping away unnoticed while Simon had been trying to engage a bleary-eyed Farley Odell in conversation, and had returned with a light repast for Lily. He now stood just inside the door and listened to her soft voice telling the mythical tale. Lily hadn't heard him enter and was continuing uninterrupted with the story of the wild white horses led by Prince Basil and Sweet rose. Valentine Whitelaw's heart missed a beat when Lily described the witch's treachery in abandoning Prince Basil on the island in the Indies and of the plot to assassinate the queen.

  Dulcie was sound asleep, her dark head resting against Lily's should, when Lily finished the tale. Lily had just rested her head against the pillows when she became aware of Valentine's presence near the door. She glanced over her eyes widening in surprise.

  "You startled me. I did not hear you enter."

  "I didn't want to disturb you."

  "I see you found the puppet," Lily commented, spying the ugly creature's face tucked beneath his arm.

 
"Yes, I found him," Valentine said, his arm tightening around the puppet's neck. "I wanted to hear the end of your tale. Where did you learn that story, Lily?" he asked in a conversational tone.

  "It was one that Basil told us while on the island."

  Valentine Whitelaw placed the tray and the puppet down on the bedside table and stood staring down at Lily, his turquoise eyes glowing with excitement. "You don't realize that truth yet, do you? My god, I wish I could have seen Valchamp's face when he heard the tale. He must have been stunned watching your not-so-innocent little puppet show revealing all of his secrets for the whole world to hear. I'll wager 'twas he who burned down your booth so no one else would learn the truth."

  "Learn what? It is just a fable Basil told to amuse us. I've heard it since I was seven."

  "That is why you never understood. You always thought it just a fable, a story Basil made up, but don't you see, Lily? Were it anyone else but Basil who told you this tale, I would think it mere fantasy. But Basil never did anything, Lily, without a reason. He knew exactly what he was doing when he told you that tale. He was giving you some very important information, but he was also protecting you, or so he thought, by the manner in which he told you. The story parallels what happened to all of you on that island and explains why you were on that island, Lily. By having the jinni unmasked as the witch, and by having that witch resemble Sir Raymond Valchamps, Basil was sending the warning that Sir Raymond is a traitor. He is plotting to assassinate the queen. I've always suspected that Basil was aboard your father's ship because he'd been sent by Lord Burghley and Walsingham. I am certain he must have been gathering information for them about Santo Domingo and whatever else he could learn on this journey. Somehow Basil discovered Sir Raymond's involvement in a plot to assassinate Elizabeth. I wonder now if Sir Raymond was not in reality trying to murder Her Majesty the day he claimed he was trying to save her life," Valentine speculated, still disbelieving the enormity of the plot he'd just uncovered. "Basil knew the truth, Lily. He suspected he would never live to reveal it to Lord Burghley and warn the queen of the danger she was in. So he told you an innocent fable, hoping that one day you might be rescued and the tale would be heard.