When the Splendor Falls

by Laurie McBain

  The chestnut-haired beauty of his dreams, the long strands of her unbound hair now twisted into a prim braid that hung down her back, was riding back through the glade toward the meadow, the retrieval of her blue silk stocking the only thing on her mind.

  Leigh lightly touched her bare heel to the mare’s flank to hurry her along the shadow-dappled path, thinking of Blythe and Julia waiting impatiently for her back on the road. She had only discovered her stocking missing after they’d reached the road and she had stopped to put on her stockings and slippers.

  It was Adam Merton Braedon’s fault, Leigh thought, a glint in her eye as she thought of evening the score with him. If he hadn’t planted that snake in their picnic basket, she wouldn’t have scattered her clothing, losing her blue silk stocking when Julia had screamed. And that he was behind the prank, she had no doubts, although Blythe had seemed a bit too innocently shocked, for seldom had she seen a snake with a ribbon tied around its middle. And Adam had returned to Royal Bay just last evening, well in time to try his hand at mischief. Adam could not have borne the disappointment had they thought the snake had accidentally slithered into their picnic basket. He took great pride in his pranks—and in taking credit for them. Indeed, he might even have been hiding in the trees during the whole episode, and laughing uproariously, just as Julia had predicted earlier, Leigh realized, glancing around.

  It was then that Leigh became aware of the strange horses grazing in the meadow. Halting Damascena beneath the trees, she hopped down, leaving the mare waiting patiently beneath the branches.

  Moving cautiously, Leigh approached the two horses. Although the one horse, the bay, was unknown to her, its bloodlines were not. It was from the stables at Royal Bay. She would recognize one of their bays anywhere. And from its color and blaze on its forehead, she’d bet its dam was Royal Blaze.

  Curious, a suspicion gaining strength in her mind, Leigh kept to the edge of the meadow, just within cover of the trees, as she approached the stream. Reaching the blackberry brambles, where only an hour earlier she’d been picking berries, she halted, staring in amazement at the stream, where not more than half an hour past, she’d been swimming.

  As she watched, a dark golden head disappeared beneath the surface of the deep pool near the opposite bank. Reappearing, the man gave a shake to his longish hair and flexed his wide shoulders, as if banishing the tiredness from his body.

  With a widening smile on her face, Leigh carefully backed away, moving stealthily along the outside of the brambles, where she wouldn’t be seen from the stream.

  She had recognized that golden head, and Adam was in for a big surprise, she vowed as she neared the tree where they’d had their picnic. Beneath the tree, in an untidy pile, were Adam’s clothes. Cupping her hand across her mouth to smother her laughter, Leigh hurried over and quickly gathered up his clothing. Keeping watch on the stream, where Adam was still bathing with his back to her, Leigh carefully backed away, hurrying back to her hiding place in the blackberry brambles.

  Glancing down at the clothing held close against her rapidly beating breast, Leigh knew an instant of surprise as she stared at the buckskin. Odd, she’d never seen Adam wearing anything so strange. In fact, it was hard to imagine Adam looking anything but the well-dressed gentleman. He had always taken pleasure in the fashionable cut of his trousers and the mother-of-pearl studs for his fine linen shirts. And the last time she’d seen Adam, he’d played continually with the fancy fob chain dangling from his silk waistcoat. No, this did not seem like Adam at all, Leigh began to doubt, looking down at the rough buckskin beneath her hand. Of course, Adam had been away, and now fancied himself a seafaring man, so she should not be surprised to find Adam wearing such clothing, she reassured herself.

  Reaching the blackberry brambles, Leigh suddenly froze, the sound of a twig snapping beneath her foot echoing like a gunshot in the quiet glade. Leigh crouched down, unwilling to have Adam discover the prank too soon. It would hardly be amusing to be caught in the act of stealing his clothes. How much more amusing to have him believe that a common thief had sneaked into the bushes with his finery, Leigh chuckled, determined to win the hand and have the pleasure of surprising Adam for once.

  She would have her revenge against him for planting that snake in their basket, Leigh vowed, prepared to savor it as she peered through the leafy branches that effectively hid her from view—her gaze seeking the dark golden head of her enemy.

  Leigh Alexandra Travers gasped. Never had she been so surprised in her life, for the man staring intently at her hiding place was not Adam Merton Braedon—the man was a complete stranger!

  Leigh swallowed hard. She couldn’t understand her mistake, she thought in disbelief. She would have sworn it had been Adam swimming in the stream. The sun shining down on this stranger’s head had turned the dark gold of his hair to the same burnished shade as Adam’s, but it also made the hawkish-featured face all the more forbidding. Never had she seen such a harsh and unforgiving expression. With a sinking of her heart, Leigh wondered how she could ever explain her actions. He might even believe she was a thief who had been rummaging through his clothes in search of valuables.

  Suddenly there seemed incredible strength and power in his muscular arms as he swam ever closer toward shore, his narrowed gaze seeming to penetrate through the brambles to capture her where she crouched like a frightened rabbit cowering beneath a hawk’s shadow.

  Like that rabbit, Leigh was too frightened to move. If she did, then he would surely spot her, for she doubted he could really see through the thicket to where she remained safely hidden, she comforted herself with the thought. However, if he came out of the water…

  Leigh closed her eyes in growing embarrassment before opening them again to look down at the buckskin breeches she clutched so tightly. Leigh risked another glance at the pool, her worst fears realized as she watched the stranger slowly wade from the pool. Water was dripping from his broad-shouldered frame, down the bronzed chest rippling with muscle, where the golden hairs were thickly matted, to trickle along the tapering leanness of his naked hips, before disappearing into the water that was now low enough on his body to reveal his bold maleness and thighs hard and sinewy.

  Whether she revealed herself or not, she couldn’t remain where she was any longer, Leigh decided, suddenly determined not to wait another second before fleeing. Fearing more for her threatened modesty than her safety, she found the courage to move.

  But before Leigh revealed herself to the searching gaze of the man, a loud crashing noise sounded directly behind her, causing her to glance around in fear. Losing her balance, Leigh fell to her knees as Capitaine raced out of the trees behind her, his playful neighing masking her cry of surprise. Intent on being naughty, he galloped past, his tail waving like a streamer, his hooves sending clumps of dirt flying. Breaking through the bushes, he startled the man as much as he had Leigh only seconds before.

  But Leigh did not wait a second longer, and still under cover of the brambles, she crawled through them, then raced as fast as she could into the safety of the trees while Capitaine kept the man’s attention turned away. Praying the man was not in hot pursuit, she nevertheless ran faster than ever, oblivious of the branches and tangles slapping against her face and grabbing at her ankles, and forgetting about the buckskins she still held in her arms.

  Reaching the tree where she’d left Damascena, Leigh’s skirt caught on a bramble; losing precious seconds, she freed the snagged material, then pulled Damascena after her through the trees. Halfway down the forest path, Leigh stopped and quickly mounted, the buckskins nearly dropping from her grasp as she pulled herself onto the mare’s back.

  Only then did Leigh rather belatedly realize that she still had the man’s clothes. She could hardly ride up to Blythe and Julia with a pair of man’s buckskin breeches in her possession. With considerable reservation, she quickly stuffed the buckskin breeches and shirt beneath her skirts, tucking them securely between her legs and the mare. At least
she wouldn’t have to answer any embarrassing questions from Blythe and Julia. She would return the clothes to the pool the first opportunity she had, Leigh promised herself. She was no thief, despite what the man might be thinking right now. Of course, from the condition of the buckskins, he did not look as if he were a man of great wealth. How could she possibly steal anything from him—except his clothes? He must be furious, especially if he had nothing else to wear, and it was beginning to grow chilly. With an uncontrollable smile beginning to curve her lips, Leigh sadly thought of the man’s predicament.

  Hearing a crashing sound in the bushes, Leigh looked back, dread filling her, certain she would see the naked man come racing down the path. Relieved, Leigh laughed, for it was just Capitaine, tired of his game and trotting back to find them.

  Leigh patted the colt’s back. “Thank you, little one,” she said softly, urging the mare down the path and away from the stream.

  In the woods, standing beneath the tree, Neil Darcy Braedon was cursing his own stupidity. He knew there had been someone there, watching him, he’d felt it, but when the colt had shot from the trees he had allowed himself to believe there hadn’t been anyone after all, just that frisky colt. And it had proved just as elusive as its mistress.

  He had been wrong, he thought in disgust as he stared down at the place where his clothes should have been. Nothing.

  Stolen.

  Damn, he thought again, wishing he could get his hands on the thief and wring his treacherous neck. Gone. His clothes had been stolen. And, it was gone too. The soft leather pouch that he wore suspended from a rawhide thong was missing—and inside that pouch his most treasured possessions. And most prized of all, the delicate silver dagger—his talisman.

  A good luck charm to ward off evil spirits? Perhaps he believed in its power—perhaps not. But it was one of his few possessions from another time and he cherished it. Almost everything else from those seven years of captivity had been destroyed by his father.

  Neil Braedon glanced around in distaste at the golden shadows of the glade. Only a short while ago it had seemed so enchanted. And for just an instant, he had let down his guard and allowed himself to dream. And that had been when something very precious had been stolen from him. Neil cursed himself for the fool he had been as he pulled out the clothes he’d planned to wear after his bath. He hadn’t wanted to arrive at Royal Bay dusty and disheveled, and looking half the savage in his buckskins.

  But now…now he would wait…and he would search the glade and beyond until he found the thief who had stolen from him. He would take infinite pleasure in the punishment he had planned. But even as Neil savored that thought, he couldn’t quite banish the image of the girl with the long chestnut hair glistening in the sun, and he found himself wondering again about the color of her eyes.

  Four

  Blue, darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.

  Robert Southey

  Reaching Travers Hill had been far easier than Leigh had anticipated. Still breathless from her escape, she had rejoined Blythe and Julia on the lane, the stolen buckskins safely tucked beneath her damp posterior, and none-too-comfortably since something sharp kept stabbing her tender flesh. But not one suspicious glance or question had come from the two busily chatting occupants of the cart. And neither of them had noticed Leigh’s frequent backward glances, but since the road behind had remained empty Leigh hadn’t seen the need of informing them that they might be in serious danger of having their maidenly innocence compromised by the sight of a naked man.

  The situation, however, had become slightly more difficult as they’d neared home. Upon reaching the curving drive leading up to the front of the house, Leigh had seen most of her family sitting on the veranda. Under the guise of stabling Damascena and Capitaine, and changing into another pair of stockings, Leigh had ridden around back unobserved. Blythe and Julia, reclining as if seated in a royal coach-and-four, had been pulled up to the front of the house by the shaggy little pony trotting as fast as his short legs could step, a wreath of flowers adorning his proudly held head. The pails of blackberries, and Julia’s overly excited and extremely exaggerated version of the afternoon’s activities, would guarantee her family’s interest long enough, Leigh had hoped, for her to enter the house and hide the buckskins with no one being any the wiser. Then, changing into a dry pair of pantalettes and chemise, she would join her family on the veranda as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred on this warm summer’s afternoon.

  Leaving Damascena and Capitaine in the hands of a capable groom, who seemed to see nothing odd in the bundle of buckskin tucked beneath the young lady’s arm, Leigh had hurried along the flagstoned path from the stables. She passed the kitchen gardens with hardly a glance, nor did she give much attention to the washing hanging on the line on the other side of the path. Her goal had come into sight: the half-opened door to the scullery, which would give her access into the kitchens, pantry, larder, and laundry. Once inside, all she would have to do is hurry along the covered passageway between the kitchens and the big house, avoiding the open stretch of yard, where she might easily have been seen from her mother’s bedchamber window. Every afternoon, about this time, her mother would sit at her small slant-front desk next to the window, her spectacles perched low on her nose as she went over with Jolie in the minutest detail the menus and lists of chores for the following day. And Jolie standing ever vigilant at her mistress’s shoulder had a clear view of the yard below and observed all who came and went.

  It was on the thought that she would have to be especially careful when passing by her mother’s bedchamber door that Leigh came to a sudden standstill. Standing in the middle of the kitchen yard, a tall, thin, coppery-skinned woman stood surveying her small kingdom, and the busy maids laundering the family’s linens.

  Jolie!

  Leigh sighed at the hopelessness of it all. To have come this far without detection, and all for nothing—because nothing, beast or human, would get past those narrowed, strangely tinted yellowish-brown eyes.

  Still partly hidden by the long line of washing, Leigh stayed where she was, trying to decide the best course of action. She couldn’t reach the house without being seen, and Jolie would be certain to spy the bundle of buckskin. And she couldn’t retrace her steps now, because Jolie had moved to the far end of the yard, where she had an unobstructed view of the stables across the greensward. And there was no place to hide either herself or the buckskins, Leigh thought as she eyed the freshly turned earth of the newly planted herb garden adjacent to the stone wall that paralleled the path. She was trapped. Leigh looked down at the buckskins in her arms, wishing she could toss them over the wall, but it was too far away. Hearing Jolie’s voice moving closer, Leigh knelt down, the buckskins hugged close against her breast. Gradually, she became aware of the almost overpowering odor of leather, horses, and sweat that permeated the man’s clothes—there was also the faint fragrance of lavender and roses from where she’d sat on them in her damp pantalettes.

  Leigh grimaced, damning the buckskins even more as she stood up, but holding them at a fastidious distance from her person now. Glancing back into the yard, she wished she could drop the offending buckskins into a tub of soapy water. She had forgotten the washing would be done today instead of tomorrow, the usual day, since there was so much cleaning and baking to be done this week in preparation for Blythe’s birthday party. As long as she stayed hidden behind the gently swaying row of clean drawers and lacy chemises, Jolie might not see her, but she couldn’t stay behind the wet laundry forever, Leigh fretted. She heard giggling, followed by hastily hushed whispers, and glanced between the frilly legs of a pair of pantalettes.

  Spread out across the yard were various-sized washing tubs. Each had a washerwoman bent over its rim, arms elbow-high in soapy lather as the piles of soiled clothes were being meticulously scrubbed of stains before being rinsed several times in another tub of clear water. Finally placed in the big copper furnace, the linens would be boiled to a pristine
whiteness before being wrung and hung out to dry. It was an endless chore that came all too soon every Monday, and the whole household was in an uproar as Jolie gathered her troops and tracked down all of the dirty linens and clothing, then sorted and counted and checked every piece for spots and stains and mending chores. And tonight, Leigh knew that half of the maids would be standing over the ironing boards in the laundry pressing the intricate ruffled collars and cuffs and frills on the finest garments.

  The mistress of Travers Hill was very particular about the family’s linens and clothing. Although some articles might have been mended many times over, never would a guest discover a soiled and torn, unpressed sheet on a bed, or a family member be allowed to wear a garment that hadn’t been properly laundered. Perhaps a person might be clad in darned stockings and mended cuffs, but they still had their pride, Beatrice Amelia was fond of reminding her family.

  Slowly, Leigh moved along the path, staying hidden behind the wet clothes. Once or twice she risked another glance, but Jolie seemed to be everywhere, and constantly eyeing everything. Leigh was still standing indecisively behind a pair of her father’s drawers, when one of the youngest laundry maids came walking around the far end of the line of washing, a big basket heavy with dripping linens balanced on her hip. As Leigh watched, she began to hang the assorted collars, cuffs, handkerchiefs, and stockings, carefully secured with wooden pegs, along the length of flaxen line.

  “Jassy,” Leigh said softly, glancing over the pair of drawers to where Jolie now stood beside a harassed washerwoman, the cuffs she’d been scrubbing apparently not meeting Jolie’s high standard of excellence.

  Jassy gave a small cry of surprise, then smiled when she recognized the young mistress. “Oh, Miz Leigh, you scared me so! It’s that Jolie, sneakin’ up behind me, I was thinkin’. Don’t want no more of her pinches. I worked harder this day than I ever have. An’ still that ol’ Jolie comes a-pinchin’ an’ a-slappin’ an’ a-puttin’ that evil eye of hers on me. An’ now, I’ve finished this batch, an’ then she’ll give me a bigger batch to do, an’ I’ll never get dinner tonight, ’cause I’ve the ironin’ to do an’ then the foldin’ an’ then the puttin’ up, an’ it’s Sunday an’ we have biscuits, an’ maybe some fried catfish. Dan’l an’ Sweet John been fishin’, Miz Leigh. That Jolie, she’s a mean one. It’s that savage blood from her papa, I reckon.”