“Trust the king who wears the fiery crown and possesses the golden touch . . .”
Had Megan seen Richard in her vision? Keely wondered for the hundredth time since leaving him in the foyer. Had her mother meant she’d find acceptance and happiness with him? Did he possess the strength of character to ignore the whispered murmurings of bastard when the queen’s courtiers learned of her questionable background?
Keely walked into the great hall and stopped short. A hundred ducal retainers and men-at-arms lingered there, awaiting her arrival. Betrothals, like weddings and christenings, were joyous occasions. Catching a glimpse of the happy event appeared to be foremost on everyone’s agenda that evening.
Across the hall, Richard and Duke Robert sat in the two chairs in front of the hearth. With their backs turned to the hall’s entrance, they were unaware of her arrival. The countess perched on the arm of His Grace’s chair.
Turning her head as the hall’s occupants quieted, Lady Dawn spied Keely. “Here she is.”
Richard rose from his chair and turned around. His emerald-eyed gaze wandered appreciatively over her curvaceously petite form.
Keely felt like swooning as his smoldering gaze fixed on hers and then dropped to peruse her body. A high blush stained her cheeks. The earl was undressing her with his eyes.
His gaze never wavering from hers, Richard sauntered across the hall. He lifted her hands to his lips and whispered in a husky voice, “You look good enough to eat.”
Keely stared at him blankly.
“I’ll explain what that means after the wedding,” Richard said, and escorted her across the hall to her father and the countess.
Duke Robert rose from his chair and kissed her cheek. “You are breathtakingly beautiful, my dear.”
“Good enough to eat?” Keely asked. “’Tis what the earl said.”
Duke Robert glanced at Richard, who had the good grace to flush. Lady Dawn chuckled throatily.
“The contract only needs our signatures,” Duke Robert said as he led her to the table. He signed first and passed the quill to the earl, who signed with an exaggerated flourish. Keely took the quill from his hand but hesitated.
“Do you mind if I glance at it first?”
Richard inclined his head. “Be my guest, sweetling.”
Keely perused the document. Though she could read the individual words, the meaning of all those legal terms was lost on her.
“I would like something added,” she said. “Is that possible?”
Richard gave her a puzzled smile.
Duke Robert, unused to less-than-obedient females, explained in a slightly irritated tone of voice, “The document is already drawn, child. We cannot—”
“’Tis such a minor thing,” Keely persisted. “We could squeeze it in here at the bottom.”
“What would you like, dearest?” Richard asked.
“I want this document to stipulate that Odo and Hew are forever free of the hangman.”
Richard cocked a copper brow at her. “Your cousins cannot possibly enjoy immunity for uncommitted crimes. I am agreeable for past deeds only.”
Keely nodded. “’Tis fair.”
Richard made the necessary addition to the agreement and initialed it so there would be no chance of misunderstanding in the future. He handed the quill back to her.
Keely took a moment to peruse the added clause. Instead of signing, she twirled the quill in her hands and worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Sign the agreement, dearest,” Richard prodded.
Keely cast him an apologetic smile and then turned to the duke. “Your Grace, may I have a private moment with you?” She flicked the earl a glance and added, “I promise I’ll sign the document afterward.”
Duke Robert and Keely walked five paces away. Standing on tiptoes, Keely whispered into his ear but kept her gaze fixed on the earl.
Watching them, Richard felt certain she was stalling. Even if he had to grab her hand and force her, the little minx would sign the betrothal contract before she left the hall.
Duke Robert’s face split into a broad grin. He nodded once and escorted his daughter back to the earl. “Devereux, my daughter has called my attention to something we men would consider insignificant,” the duke said. “Yet, ’tis an important matter to every prospective bride.”
“What might that be?” Richard asked, suspicious.
Duke Robert cleared his throat and struggled to keep from laughing. “Keely believes you haven’t properly proposed marriage to her. She’d like you to do so now—with sincere emotion.”
“An oversight easily attended.” Richard looked at Keely. “Come, my lady. Let us sit in front of the hearth.”
Turning to guide her across the hall, Richard realized that a hundred pairs of curious eyes watched their every step. Never in his wildest imaginings had he ever thought he'd be proposing marriage to a beautiful but eccentric half-Welsh woman for the pleasurable edification of an audience of ducal servants.
Richard cast Keely a sidelong glance. She appeared to be enjoying her moment of glory. Let her have her way in this. After they’d spoken their vows, all moments of glory would belong to him.
Keely sat in one of the chairs in front of the hearth and looked at him. Richard knelt on one bended knee and smiled to hear the many female sighs elicited by the picture they presented.
Clasping her hands in his, Richard said through clenched teeth, “I ought to box your ears.”
Keely’s violet eyes widened at the threat. She couldn’t quite control the horrified giggle bubbling up.
“If you dare laugh,” Richard said, “I’ll take you across my knee and give you the spanking you deserve for putting me through this.”
Keely regained her composure.
“Lady Keely, a few people like yourself have greatness thrust upon their shoulders like a mantle,” Richard said in a voice that carried to the far corners of the hall. “Dearest lady, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and my countess?”
Resounding applause erupted inside the hall. Keely’s own moment of embarrassment had arrived. Unable to find her voice, she nodded in acceptance.
“Speak the words, dearest,” Richard said. “These people await your answer.”
“I will,” Keely whispered.
“Louder.”
“I will!”
Another round of applause erupted in the hall.
Ignoring their audience, Richard arose and offered her his hand. When she stood, he yanked her into the circle of his embrace. His lips swooped down and captured hers in a long, slow, soul-stealing kiss. The Talbot men-at-arms and retainers went wild, cheering and applauding and whistling their approval.
Richard gazed with budding love at her dazed expression. “’Tis time to sign the agreement.”
Keely affixed her name to the document and then glanced at the earl. For better or for worse, she would become his wife.
Richard withdrew something from his pocket. “Your betrothal ring, beauty.”
Keely gasped at what she saw. The exquisite ring was a gold band adorned with a row of eight priceless gems.
“What a beautiful trinket,” Lady Dawn gushed.
“Well done, Devereux,” Duke Robert said in approval.
Richard had eyes only for Keely. “The jewels spell the word dearest: diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire, and topaz.”
Richard slipped the ring onto her third finger. “Por tous jours.”
“What does it mean?”
Richard cupped her chin in his hand. “For always.”
Keely placed the palm of her hand against his cheek. She surprised him by planting a chaste kiss on his lips.
“Will you walk with me to the door?”
“You’re leaving?”
“I regret I must attend the queen,” Richard told her. “I leave within the hour and will be gone for two weeks.”
“Two whole weeks?”
Richard smiled. “Thank you, dearest.”
“For what?”
“For that incredibly disappointed expression. Knowing you’ll miss me cheers my heart.”
“I won't miss you,” Keely said.
“Yes, you will. And you’ll long to feel my lips cover yours. Like this—” Richard kissed her soundly, leaving her yearning for more.
Chapter 8
She missed him and longed to feel his lips on hers.
Two weeks passed excruciatingly slowly for Keely. On the fourteenth day after Richard's departure, she sat on a stone bench in the duke’s garden.
All around her, autumn was ripening. Though the afternoon sparkled with blinding sunshine, the wind’s crisp bite foretold of the season’s passing.
Keely pulled her cloak close around her shoulders and stared in the direction of Devereux House. Would the earl return home that day as promised? Or would her watching be in vain? What was he doing at that precise moment? Whom had he seen at court, and to whom had he spoken?
Those questions and a hundred others tormented Keely and stole her peace of mind. Anticipation fluttered like butterflies’ wings inside the pit of her stomach, and the thought of Richard sauntering across the lawns toward her fanned the embers of desire that had lain dormant since his departure.
When that insidious monster called insecurity reared its frightening head, Keely wondered if the earl might be regretting his betrothal to her. She looked at her betrothal ring with its row of precious jewels, and the sight of it cheered her flagging spirits.
“Por tous jours,” he’d said. “For always.”
Keely closed her eyes and tried to recapture his passionate kiss. It was no use. Reliving the past, however recent, was impossible. A world of difference lay between remembering the kiss and actually feeling his warm lips pressed to hers.
Still, Keely kept her eyes closed and contented herself by conjuring the earl’s handsome image. By now, his bruises would be healing, and—
“Hello, darling,” the Countess of Cheshire called from across the lawns.
Keely opened her eyes and stared at the four people walking toward her. Along with Duke Robert and Lady Dawn walked the blond-haired angel from Ludlow Castle, her half-sister, and an adolescent boy, probably her half-brother. Steeling herself against the expression of hatred on the blonde’s face, Keely rose from the bench and waited for them to approach.
“Henry and Morgana, this is your sister Keely,” Duke Robert announced. “Keely, here are your brother and your sister.”
Because he’d done her an act of kindness by sending that message to her, Keely turned first to fifteen-year-old Henry, who’d inherited his father’s ebony hair and had his sister’s blue eyes. When he grinned at her, Keely returned his smile.
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Henry said.
“My feelings mirror yours,” she said.
Unable to delay the inevitable, Keely turned to the glaring blue-eyed angel who'd had her thrown out of Ludlow Castle. “I’ve always wished for a sister,” she said with a tentative smile. “I do hope we can be friends.”
“Sneaky slut,” the angel hissed, the vehemence in her voice forcing Keely to step back a pace.
“Mind your tongue, Morgana,” Duke Robert warned, “or I’ll banish you to your chamber.”
“I refuse to share my home with your bastard,” Morgana said. “Get rid of her.”
And so it begins, Keely thought as humiliation stained her cheeks. Bastard echoed through her mind. It appeared that the earl would be forced to face his folly sooner than she'd expected. “I shan’t hesitate to send you back to Shropshire,” the duke threatened his daughter. “I’d suffer no qualms about locking you up until you’re too old to wed.”
“She’s stolen my gown,” Morgana cried, stamping her foot.
“I apologize for borrowing your clothing,” Keely said. “His Grace and the countess insisted I wear them. I’ll change immediately and return it to you.”
“Do you think I’d wear it now that you’ve touched it?” Morgana asked, her voice oozing contempt.
“Your sister is here to stay,” Duke Robert said. “Guard your viper’s tongue, and practice those genteel manners that I paid Ashemole to teach you.”
“Give over, Morgana,” the countess drawled. “Keely will be leaving us in less than a month.”
“I look forward to the day,” Morgana shot back. “And, of course, to your own departure as well.”
Duke Robert reached out to give his daughter a well-deserved shake, but the Countess of Cheshire stayed his hand. “Our dear Keely has managed to capture the Earl of Basildon’s eye,” she purred, “and they will marry next month at Hampton Court. ’Twill be the marriage of the decade.”
“You’ve stolen my intended?” Morgana shrieked.
“Your intended?” Keely echoed looked at the duke for confirmation, but he was busy frowning at the countess.
“Conniving witch,” Morgana screamed. With her bejeweled hand, she lashed out at Keely and slapped her hard.
The force of the blow sent Keely reeling backward. She landed on the ground beside the stone bench. When the other three rushed to her aid, she turned her head away. “I’m fine.”
“Your lip is bleeding,” Henry told her, offering his handkerchief.
Keely glanced sidelong at the linen and then at him.
“I haven’t used it.”
That remark brought a tremulous smile to her lips. Keely accepted his handkerchief and pressed it against her mouth.
“Shall I help you up?” Henry asked.
Keely shook her head and without turning around said, “I’m very sorry, Lady Morgana. I never intended to cause you pain.” That Richard had courted her sister hurt Keely more than her bleeding lip.
“Keely did nothing wrong,” Lady Dawn said. “’Twas the earl who demanded the match. Devereux adores her, probably because of her gentle manner.”
“I cannot believe this is happening,” Morgana whined, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Go to your chamber,” Duke Robert ordered. “Do not show your face until supper, or I’ll take a belt to your backside.”
“You’re siding with her?” Morgana wailed. “She’s poisoned my own father against me?”
“Do as I say.” The duke’s stern voice held a final note of warning that the irate girl failed to heed.
“I suppose the bastard couldn’t wait to tell you how l had her thrown out of Ludlow,” Morgana sneered.
“You threw her out of Ludlow?” Duke Robert roared, his face mottling with rage.
“I—I d-didn’t think you’d want to be bothered with one of your by-blows.”
Without warning, Duke Robert slapped his daughter. He grabbed her upper arm and dragged her toward the mansion. Morgana’s loud pleadings for mercy could still be heard after she disappeared from sight.
Henry chuckled, tickled that his sister had entrapped herself. The Countess of Cheshire cast him a feline smile and then headed back to the house.
Keely wasn’t smiling. She leaned against the bench as tears brimmed over her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
“Are you certain you’re uninjured?” Henry asked, helping her to rise. He sat beside her on the bench.
Wallowing in misery, Keely stared straight ahead. She struggled but failed to maintain her composure. A heart-wrenching sob escaped her throat. And then another. Finally, she hid her face in her hands and surrendered to her tears.
“Would you care to use my shoulder?” Henry asked, uncertain of what to do.
His chivalrous offer caught Keely by surprise. She stopped weeping, cast him a sidelong glance, and tried to smile. “I’m very happy that you’re my brother,” she said, and hiccoughed. “Thank you for the message you sent me.”
Henry grinned. “Foiling Morgana’s plans brings me so much pleasure.”
“Is my lip still bleeding?”
Henry slid closer and inspected her lip. “Press the linen down hard.”
Keely did as he instructed
.
“Tell me, sister,” Henry asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “how did you ever trap the elusive Earl of Basildon?”
“Brother, you’ve the gist of it wrong,” Keely answered. “That arrogant rascal trapped me.”
“How did Devereux manage that?” he asked.
Keely related the events of her downfall that culminated in their father’s unexpected entry into the earl’s bedchamber. “How His Grace knew what was happening is beyond me,” she ended her tale. “Only Lady Dawn knew where I’d gone, and even she had no idea the earl would be abed when I arrived.”
“Never underestimate the Countess of Cheshire’s intelligence because of the size of her—” Henry broke off. “You saw how skillfully the countess engineered Morgana into that revealing rage.”
“No one can goad us into negative action unless we allow it,” Keely said. “Each soul bears the responsibility for its own fate. If she’d responded with kindness to my offer of friendship, Morgana would be enjoying this glorious autumn afternoon instead of weeping alone in her chamber.”
“I’m positive Ashemole is consoling her.” Henry pulled her hand away from her face and inspected her lip. “The bleeding stopped.” Then he added, “Devereux must want you badly.”
“I cannot credit that. I’m a Welsh nobody.”
Henry gave her a lopsided gin. “Any mirror will tell you his reason.”
“Thank you for the compliment, brother.”
“Where are those giants of yours hiding?”
“Odo and Hew feel more comfortable at the stables,” she answered, starting to rise. “Come with me, and I’ll introduce you.”
“Later,” Henry said, touching her forearm to prevent her leaving. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I lived at my stepfather’s holding in Wales,” Keely said. “When my mother passed away, I journeyed to England to find my natural father.”
“Not only did you find Papa, you found Devereux, and the rest is history,” Henry said. “What are the wedding plans?”
Keely shrugged. “The Countess and, I suppose, the earl have it planned. All I need to do is attend. Did you know there are men at court who rouge their cheeks?”
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