Wild Bells to the Wild Sky

by Laurie McBain

  Lily had questioned Valentine further, wanting to know how he suspected Don Pedro would be lying in wait for them at the island. Valentine had said that he'd been warned that Don Pedro had been watching his movements for some time, and he'd suspected that this voyage would be reported to him. His worst fears, however, had been that their destination would have leaked out, and then, as indeed happened, Don Pedro had already arrived on the island by the time the Madrigal anchored beyond the reefs. He had been expecting trouble, but not quite so soon. And he had not been surprised to discover the Estrella D'Alba in command, for Don Pedro was the only one who knew the location of the island. He would also have been eager to even the score between them, and knowing something of Don Pedro, he had known the Spaniard would not have sailed alone.

  Before setting sail from England, had had spoken with several of his captain friends. Under the pretext of sailing to Alexandria, they'd set sail within hours of the Madrigal's sailing. They'd been given the location of the island, and when the Madrigal had made port in Falmouth, they'd sailed on and had arrived in the Indies just a day or so ahead of the Madrigal. Staying out of sight, they had waited.

  Simon had still been answering questions an hour later when Valentine had returned from Penmorley Hall. It was then that Lily had learned to her indignation that Valentine was not going to take her with him to London. She was to remain at Ravindzara. She had tried to convince hi to change his mind, but now that the journal was in his possession she had lost her bargaining power.

  Hiding her deep disappointment and her growing fears, she had gone with Tristram and Dulcie to the garden's edge to watch as Valentine had walked away. Simon was returning to Whiteswood, after stopping off at Riverhurst to reassure Lady Elspeth and Sir William that he had returned ho safely. He and the Turk would be accompanying Valentine and his crew when the Madrigal sailed. Just before entering the parkland, Valentine had paused for a moment, turning to see the three of them standing there watching him. Then he'd waved to them before disappearing beneath the trees.

  Lily had stood there, her arm raised in farewell, the remembrance of his kiss warming her lips. When walking through the gardens, he had sent the others ahead, and leading her into one of the shadowy rose arbors he had pulled her into his arms, his mouth seeking hers hungrily. It had been too long since they'd touched, since they'd known the warmth of each other's bodies, for they'd not been lovers since the island.

  Once aboard the Madrigal, Valentine Whitelaw had kept his distance from her, treating her as he had before their brief, passionate interlude on the island. Lily could still remember the wry smile that had crossed his face when she'd asked him in an uncertain voice if he had grown tired of her. She had even gone so far as to tell him that she would not make any demands upon him, that what had happened while on the island could all be forgotten once they returned to England. They had been alone in his cabin at the time. He'd been sitting at the small table making entries into the Madrigal's log book. He'd seemed stunned, then angered by her remark, and before she'd realized his intent, he'd drawn her down onto his lap, his arms holding her against his chest while his lips had left a trail of fire across her face before finding her mouth. His searing kiss and the caress of his hands against her breasts and hips had left her in no doubt of his ardor, and when she'd felt the hardness of him against her thigh where she sat across him, she had known he still desired her. Holding her face captive in his hands, he had spoken bluntly.

  While he was captain of this ship he owed his men the same respect he expected from them, and he would not insult them by having a woman in his bed while they returned to their cold berths each night. Nor would he have any of his men, or others once they returned to England, calling her his whore. She was to be his wife and he would have her treated with the respect she deserved, no matter how he ached to have her lie with him during the voyage.

  It had been a long journey to that embrace in the gardens of Ravindzara, when he had whispered words of love against her lips. For an instant he had held her so tightly against him that she couldn't breathe, then he'd released her, staring down into her face as if memorizing every feature.

  "Will you trust me, Lily?" he had asked. "As long as I know you await me here at Ravindzara, I will always return here."

  Lily sat down on the tapestried cushions of the window seat, curling her silk-stockinged legs beneath her as she continued to gaze upon the wild heath to the west, where it stretched toward the sea. She reached up to touch the ring of Spanish gold she now wore in one ear. Valentine had taken it from his own, and, removing the delicate pearl she'd been wearing he had placed it in his ear instead and stated with a grin, "Now I have something else of yours to bring me good luck."

  Lily frowned, wondering what else he possessed of hers? She glanced down at the leather-bound book she held on her lap, her hand caressing the grainy cover lovingly.

  It was the log book of the Arion, and across its yellowed pages was her father's impatient scrawl, for he'd never been one to sit still for long. But a conscientious captain he had been, and daily observations and occurrences had been recorded in detail. The Arion's position each day had been duly logged and the leagues journeyed from noon to noon, as well as allowances for leeway and the heave of the sea. The distance high land could be seen from seaward had been noted, along with finely sketched drawings of the islands and lands the Arion had sighted. There were also beautifully drawn ships, of all types and flying the flags of many countries. Fish, birds, plants, and all manner of exotic creatures and places had been painstakingly reproduced in the ruled spaces beneath the columns where he'd made his notations on each page.

  Lily shook her head in amazement. She'd never seen this side of her father. He had always been so boisterous and forceful, full of a daring that had made him a dangerous enemy. Oaths had scorched the air when he'd been angry or defiant, but his laughter had always come quickly. The man who had drawn these beautiful sketches had a sensitive, quiet side to his nature, and only a man of great patience could have captured with pen and brush the images that had filled his mind.

  Lily still found it hard to believe that these drawings had been penned by her father's bold hand. But when she saw her own eyes staring up at her from a little girl's face, with a delicate lily and a loving inscription beside it, she knew that these sketches had been the work of her father. She'd found several more portraits that she would always cherish. One had been of her mother, and Lily's breath still caught in her throat when she saw the warmth and beauty of the face that had become a memory. Two other portraits had fascinated her, for they'd been of her Spanish grandmother and grandfather. The one of Basil, wading out of the surf without his clothes, a fish held protectively before him had startled her, but then there'd been another one of Basil, the profile of a thoughtful man, and that had held Simon's attention the longest when she'd showed it to him.

  But it had been one very special entry that had left her laughing with joy. Valentine had lifted her clear of the deck, swinging her around when she'd hurried into his arms, his laughter mingling with hers. He'd already read the passage and had placed a red flower from the island between the pages for her to find.

  She opened the log to the page, staring down now at the last part of the entry for the day the Arion had set sail from Santo Domingo never to return to England:

  . . . . Wonderful news. Magdalena is with child. She told me upon my arrival from a bit of raiding along the Main (quite successful-wait 'till I tell Drake what he's now referred being kin to in Rio de la Hacha). My happiness knows no bounds, although I did tell the dear woman that my Lily Francisca was handful enough for Maire Lester; however, she would think to please me more by giving me another child--a son this time. Already she tires me out with ponderings of a proper name. She would call him Francisco, after her father, but I have told her it might not be seemly for an English lad, especially if he inherits my fairness, to answer to a Spanish name. We have decided on the name of Tristram, which does my E
nglish soul good, for 'tis a proud name of a noble knight of King Arthur. However, if a girl . . .

  Tristram Francisco Christian was rightful master of Highcross and no one, especially Hartwell Barclay, could deny him his place as Geoffrey Christian's son. Over ten years later, her father had claimed for his own a son he'd never even seen and given that lad his name and inheritance, banishing any doubts other would harbor that this boy was not his son and rightful heir to Highcross.

  Lily could still remember Tristram's face after she'd showed him the log when they'd arrived at Ravindzara. He'd stood so proud knowing that his father had known of his coming and had selected the name he bore.

  The only thing that still puzzled her was the page that preceded that entry; it was missing. It had been ripped from the log. When she'd asked Valentine about it, he had looked away, unwilling to deny or confirm her suspicions that he might have torn the page from the book.

  Lily sighed, wondering if Valentine had confronted Sir Raymond Valchamps and the other man. Lily glanced back out the window, her eyes gazing at the sea. It looked molten now, with the sun sinking lower on the horizon. Soon the first star of evening would appear.

  Lily smiled, touching her lips with her fingertips. The last night on the island, they had slept beneath the stars. She had gathered up the driftwood and started the fire, must to his surprise, she remembered, until she'd reminded hi that she'd lived such an existence for many years on this same isle. He had smiled, taking himself off to hunt for their dinner, but by the time he'd returned, empty-handed, she'd already cooked the sweet mean from a conch and the stone crabs she'd caught, the aromatic bland of herbs she'd collected from the forest adding to the flavor. She'd found fruit to add to their feast, as well as cool water from a small, bubbling spring nearby, leaving Valentine to feel rather helpless for the first tine in his life, especially when he saw the bower of sweet-smelling grasses and fragrant flowers she'd made high on the sands.

  Lily shivered delicately, her pulse quickening when she remembered that night of love with the stars shining so brightly above, while the sea lapped gently against the sands. Lying naked in each other's arms, their desires reaching a feverish peak and threatening to consume them both, they had formed a bond of such intimacy, of such sharing, that Lily would always feel a part of Valentine Whitelaw.

  That evening they'd watched the sun set in a glorious blaze of burning copper, the clouds floating above the waves gilded against a deepening purple sky. The following morning, their bodies bathed in a golden light, they'd watched the sun rising from the sea, the sky aflame with the scarlet of flamingos taking wing.

  "Someday, I would like to return," Lily said aloud.

  "Buss us a nice one, sweeting! Lift a leg! Prraaack!" Cisco said from his perch in the corner of the room, ruffling his feathers to draw Lily's attention from the window. "I'll truss him up prettier than m'lady's hat! Prraack!"

  "Prraaack, yourself, silly Cisco," Lily said with a laugh, and digging into the picket of her skirt, she withdrew and almond for Cisco's delectation. He caught it easily in his beak when she tossed it over to him, flapping his wings with pleasure as he giggled.

  "Oh, there you are, my dear," Quinta said from the doorway. "I thought I heard someone in here laughing."

  Lily's smile tightened imperceptibly when she saw the graceful figure entering the room behind Quinta's tall form.

  "Honoria very kindly made a special trip to let me know how Artemis is faring. She also brought over some smoked sausages from the Hall's smokehouse. Quite famous throughout the county, and which we will find most enjoyable, I am sure," Quinta said, gesturing for Honoria to take the comfortable chair nearest the hearth while she perched on the hard settle against the wall.

  "And gooseberry tarts--I do confess to making a rather fine one," Honoria reminded her hostess with a complacent look around, her chin lifting haughtily when she saw Lily sitting curled up in the window seat.

  "Yes of course, however could have forgotten, your goose--" Quinta apologized when interrupted by a rude noise.

  Honoria drew in her breath indignantly and turned a suspicious eye on Quinta Whitelaw, as if she were guilty of some indiscretion.

  "Lift a leg there, my fine one. Ooooooh, naughty, naughty girl," Cisco crowed, eyeing the outraged woman's flushed face with an unrepentant yellow eye.

  "Well, really! What a horrible creature," Honoria Penmorley said, returning the parrot's gaze with one of dislike.

  "Goose us one, then! My, aren't we the pretty one. Prraaack! Ease it over here, sweeting! Let's have a look."

  Honoria Penmorley's mouth dropped open most unbecomingly as she stared at the parrot in horror. "Can it fly?" she asked weakly, thinking the creature might fly to land on her shoulder.

  "Most definitely," Lily said, uncurling her legs from beneath her and smoothing down the green velvet of her skirt before she walked across the room to give Cisco several more almonds to keep him quiet while Honoria Penmorley was there.

  "A pity," she murmured, taking her seat again before the window.

  " 'Tis a lovely day, not to cold yet. I found the ride over from Penmorley quite enjoyable. We really must do something about the lane, however, since we do visit so often now and perhaps will even more in the future," Honoria rushed into speech as she took her seat, glancing down at her folded hands, and leaving both Quinta and Lily to wonder what she had intended by her casual remark.

  "When is Sir Rodger to return to the Hall?" Quinta asked, wasting no time on the pleasantries.

  "Any day now, I should imagine," Honoria replied. "I had thought he might return with Valentine aboard his ship. I am certain he will wish to return as soon as possible."

  "I did not know Sir Rodger was away," Lily commented politely, feeling she should contribute something to the conversation.

  "Yes, he traveled to London to fetch the doctor. The closest doctor is in Truro, and I must say I have not been overly impressed by his skills. Rodger expects the best possible care for his firstborn. A London-trained doctor will, of course, be quite suitable. We cannot have anything happen to the heir," she said.

  "No, we certainly wouldn't wish any harm to come to either mother or child," Quinta responded. "Would you care for refreshment, Honoria? We've some fine claret wine, perhaps with a roast apple in it to add a bit of tartness?"

  "How kind, but I really would enjoy a posset to take away the chill," she replied. "But please, do not trouble yourself."

  "No trouble at all, Honoria. Lily?"

  "No, thank you, Quinta."

  "Some hot spiced wine, although you've color enough in your cheeks already. Sweet thoughts of someone dear, hmm?" she added, her comment causing Lily's cheeks to brighten even more. "Like a wild rose," Quinta said, smiling thoughtfully as she noted Honoria's tight mouth and the narrowed gaze fixed on Lily's beautiful face.

  "That would be lovely," Lily replied, wondering what Quinta was up to.

  "Oh, it has just about slipped my mind. We've received word from this Maire Lester. She wrote to me, not knowing where to contact you. She says she is now free to leave her sister's farm, since the woman has returned with her daughter and son-in-law and apparently the whole family, and a rather large one from the sound of it. I gather she's been asked to leave. She says, if it is still our wish, that she will be happy to travel to Cornwall and take over whatever chores we might find for her if we already have a nursemaid. Sounds a reasonable enough request. From what Tristram and Dulcie have said of her, I think I might find this Maire Lester quite an interesting woman. I never spoke with her much when we visited Highcross."

  "The children will not be staying here permanently, will they?" Honoria asked, her nostrils looking pinched.

  Quinta Whitelaw raised an imperious eyebrow. "I really cannot say, that will be something for Valentine to decide. 'Tis a family matter. If you will excuse me, now," she said, "I'll prepare that posset for you. Young Millie never beats the eggs enough. Always comes out too thin."

  H
onoria Penmorley glanced toward the fire, allowing Lily a wonderful view of her classical profile. The firelight glinted over her, softening her features in its golden light.

  "Artemis and I were just discussing last eve the importance of being a proper wife, and mistress of one's husband's home. A woman must be well accomplished in all of the skills and graces of being a lady and a gentleman's wife. One must be an asset to one's husband, not...a hindrance. Naturally, for instance, the wife of a man of Valentine Whitelaw's wealth and influence would have to be a gentlewoman of exceptional qualities, for I am certain Valentine Whitelaw will one day become a knight of the realm.

  "A certain standard of respectability would be expected of his wife. Her reputation must be beyond question, her deportment never faulted. She would, of course, be an accomplished needlewoman, well versed in the art of lace-making, silk-spinning, and fine embroidery. For entertaining, she would indeed have to be a competent singer and musician, well skilled with lute and virginal. But, most important, she should have a working knowledge of the household, for she would be required to handle the affairs of the family and staff at all times. It would be of special importance for the wife of Valentine Whitelaw since he would often be away on a voyage of some duration.

  "Yes, 'tis quite a serious matter, matrimony. One must think of one's suitability before accepting a proposal. A mésalliance is so unfortunate for all parties concerned," she said with a sigh. "You must agree with me, being a young woman who has, I am certain, been taught not to spire to a position she does not belong in. Naturally, my dear, considering your circumstances, especially now that the boy will inherit Highcross, you might think to better yourself. You must guard yourself against such ambitions. I would think it most tragic, for both of you, if you mistook Valentine Whitelaw's intentions as being more than a sense of responsibility toward you. But I am assured that you would never take advantage of his kindness. Well, enough of that, for I am sure we understand one another.