Love in a Mist

by Patricia Grasso

  Keely focused on his smile. “Now you have a dirty face too.”

  “Dearest, I’d endure a thousand smudgings for one of your kisses,” Richard said, “I hope ’tis my kiss that put the sparkle in your eyes.”

  “’Tis Samhuinn,” Keely said, inadvertently insulting him. “I love when the autumn frosts turn the grass to gray, and the four winds scatter the fallen oak leaves.”

  His gaze lit with amusement. “You love the harbingers of winter?”

  “How could we revel in the birth of spring without the memory of winter?”

  “Am I betrothed to a poet?”

  “I’m Druid,” Keely answered. “I can commune with those who have gone before and those yet to come as long as the Samhuinn fire burns.”

  Richard suppressed the urge to laugh. His betrothed was adorably, delightfully absurd. “How will you keep it ablaze for three days, sweetheart?”

  “Odo and Hew promised to tend it during the night,” Keely said. “If the fire dies, the enchantment ends, and the veil between the two worlds closes for another year.”

  “What if it rains?” Richard asked.

  “The Great Mother Goddess almost never sends rain during Samhuinn.”

  Her certainty brought a smile to his lips. “You truly believe that?”

  “Don’t you believe in life after death?”

  “Are there others like you?” Richard asked, ignoring her question. “Druids, I mean.”

  Keely shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t actually know.”

  “Would you tell me if you knew?”

  “No.”

  That didn’t sit well with Richard. “Why not?”

  “I can never completely trust any man,” she told him. “Do you still wish to marry me?”

  “Eventually, you will give me your trust,” Richard promised, drawing her into the circle of his embrace. He would have kissed her again, but a voice sounded behind them.

  “Keely, is that you?” Henry called. “We’re going inside to roast the chestnuts.”

  “Coming.” She looked at the earl. “Will you join us?”

  Richard shook his head. “Later, perhaps. I’ve left an unfinished report on my desk.”

  “Why do you always work so hard?”

  “I enjoy working.”

  “More than roasted chestnuts?” Keely asked, feigning surprise.

  Richard grinned. “Save me one, dearest. Give me an hour to finish the queen’s report.”

  * * *

  Two hours after midnight, the blackest moments of a moonless night, Keely sat on the edge of her bed and listened to the silence inside the Talbot household. Outwardly, she appeared serene. Inwardly, her nerves rioted in heart-pounding anticipation of what was about to happen. The thin veil between the Here and Now and the Beyond would part for her mother and her.

  Bred to accept the continuity of life, Keely harbored no fears about the dead. In her philosophy, the act of death was akin to the act of birth. The communion between the two worlds filled her with excitement, and her life’s blood sang the Song of her Ancestors.

  Deciding the hour had arrived, Keely stood and donned her black cloak over the breeches and shirt she still wore. She grabbed the small pouch containing her magic stones and golden sickle and padded on bare feet across the chamber. She pressed her ear against the door and listened, then opened it and stepped into the dark corridor.

  Keely glided slowly down the corridor to the head of the stairs. Reaching the foyer, she paused and lifted her head to listen for any sign of danger. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  Noiselessly, Keely opened the door and stepped into the courtyard. She breathed deeply of the hushed night air.

  Strong hands grabbed her from behind. She tried to scream, but a massive hand covered her mouth.

  “Don’t struggle, little girl.” The voice belonged to Odo. He released her as soon as she relaxed.

  “We didn’t want you screaming the house awake,” Hew said.

  Keely rounded on them. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

  “Waiting for you,” Odo answered.

  “We mean to guard you while you worship,” Hew added.

  Keely was uncertain if her mother’s spirit would appear in the presence of others, and she refused to chance losing the opportunity to commune with her. “Protecting me is unnecessary.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that,” Odo said.

  “He’s right for once,” Hew added.

  “The choice is yours, little girl,” Odo said. “Either we stand guard, or you return to your chamber.”

  “Very well, but do not interfere. No matter what transpires.”

  With her in the lead, the three of them walked down the path that led through the duke’s garden to the earl’s. Keely halted when they stepped onto the Devereux property.

  “Wait over there near the house,” she said. “Do not interfere. Do you understand?”

  Odo and Hew bobbed their heads in unison like two overgrown children.

  Keely watched them retreat to a position close to Devereux House. Then she pulled the hood of her cloak up to cover her head and walked the short distance to where the birch, the yew, and the oak stood together.

  “Hello, my friends,” she whispered to the three holiest of trees. “Are you enjoying Samhuinn?”

  Opening her pouch, Keely withdrew ten stones. She chose nine black obsidians for positive power and one white agate for spiritual guidance.

  Keely used eight of the black obsidians to make a large circle, leaving only the western periphery open. She entered the circle from the west and closed it behind her with the ninth obsidian. “All disturbing thoughts remain outside.”

  After pulling her golden sickle from her pouch, Keely fused the circle’s invisible periphery shut and walked to the center, the soul of the circle. She turned in a clockwise circle three times until she faced the northwest, the sacred direction of the ancestors. Then she set the white agate down beside her.

  Keely closed her eyes, focused her breathing, and touched her dragon pendant with its sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, and ruby. A ripple of anticipation danced down her spine and made her shiver.

  “The Old Ones are here, watching and waiting,” Keely said into the hushed air. “Stars speak through stones, and light shines through the thickest oak. One realm is heaven and earth.”

  Keely paused a long moment, gathering the proper emotion much as nature gathers its forces. She fell to her knees, opened her arms to implore, and called in a loud whisper, “Spirit of my journey, guide me to hear what the trees say. Spirit of my ancestors, guide me to hear what the wind whispers. Spirit of my tribe, guide me to understand what the clouds foretell.” She dropped her arms and closed her eyes. “Those souls who wish me well may enter this circle. Open my heart that I may see beyond the horizon.”

  Long moments passed. And then it happened, an image floated across her mind’s eye.

  A woman’s face . . . Warm, gray eyes filled with love . . . A serene smile . . . Megan.

  “Mother, I miss you,” Keely said in an aching whisper.

  “Trust the king who wears a fiery crown,” Megan told her.

  “Is the earl the one?”

  Megan smiled. “See who is here with me.” The face of a pretty baby appeared and looked with curiosity at Keely.

  “’Tis my granddaughter, Blythe.”

  “Blythe is my daughter?”

  Megan nodded. “There are others here who will be born to you, but Blythe is the first.”

  Keely smiled. “Many others?”

  “Beware the blacksmith,” Megan warned. “He seeks to murder the king.”

  “His name, Mother?”

  Megan lifted her head and looked away, as if sensing approaching danger. “My time with you is short. On Samhuinn next . . .”

  While Keely was communing with her mother‘s spirit, Richard slipped silently into his garden. He walked up behind her cousins and stood between them. When they turned surpr
ised gazes on him, Richard nodded first at Odo and than at Hew, but he suppressed the urge to laugh at their dumbfounded expressions.

  “I’ve come to guard her,” Richard whispered. “What is she doing?”

  “Talking to her mother,” Odo answered.

  Richard saw only Keely. He flicked a sidelong glance at Hew. “Do you see anyone?”

  Hew nodded. “I see Keely. Don’t you?”

  Richard’s lips quirked. “I meant, other than Keely?”

  Hew shook his head.

  Richard turned to Odo. “Do you see her mother?”

  “’Course not,” Odo answered. “I’m a disbeliever. Only believers can see beyond the horizon.”

  “So you believe Keely sees her mother?” Richard asked.

  “Have you no faith, m’lord?” Hew asked.

  “’Tis the same as the priest changing the wafer and the wine into the body and the blood of Christ,” Odo explained.

  Richard nodded in understanding and turned to watch his betrothed kneeling in front of three trees and talking with someone who wasn’t there. From the corner of his eyes, Richard saw a dark shape crossing the lawn toward Keely. He started forward to intercept whoever it was, but stopped short in surprise when he recognized the person.

  “Forgive me, Megan,” Duke Robert cried, racing toward the enchanted circle. “I did love you more than life.”

  Keely whirled around. “Breaking the circle is forbidden.”

  Too late.

  In his frantic attempt to reach his long-lost love, Duke Robert crashed through the invisible periphery of the circle. Keely turned back to her mother, but Megan’s image had vanished as if she’d never been there.

  “Mother, come back!” Keely cried, and crumpled over on the grass. Her forlorn sobs broke the night’s silence.

  Richard dashed across the lawn to Keely. He knelt beside her and gathered her into his arms. “All will be well, sweetheart. I swear I‘ll set things right. Don’t weep.”

  “I saw Megan,” Duke Robert was saying as if in a daze. “She smiled at me. Keely, she forgives my tragic error.”

  Keely turned within the circle of the earl’s embrace.

  “My mother may forgive you, Your Grace, but I never will. ’Tis your fault I’ve lost her again.”

  She hid her face against the earl’s chest. “God forgive me, but I hate him.”

  In the act of reaching for her when she spoke, Duke Robert flinched and dropped his hand. Tears welled up in his violet eyes, so much like his daughter’s, and streamed down his cheeks. For the first time in his life, the duke saw beyond his own needs to those of his daughter.

  Watching her sob against the earl’s chest, Duke Robert realized the enormity of what he’d done. He had destroyed the lives of the woman he loved and their only child. Especially their child. His oldest daughter, the product of his greatest love, had borne the indignities of false bastardy for eighteen years. A lifetime. While he’d been dancing and feasting and flirting at the Tudor court, his daughter had suffered the vile epithet hurled at her from every direction. In his selfishness, he’d stolen whatever precious time she had with the mother who’d loved her completely and unconditionally from the moment of her conception. How did he dare ask for her trust and her love?

  At a gesture from Richard, the Lloyd brothers helped the duke to his feet. As the three of them walked toward the Talbot House, their voices drifted back.

  “Come along, Your Grace,” Odo said. “Everyone will feel different in the morning.”

  “’Tis natural the girl's upset,” Hew added. “She don’t know what she’s saying.”

  “Keely never hated no one, not even that bastard Madoc,” Odo said. “She won’t be hating you either, once she sees the sun shining in the morning.”

  “What if it's raining?” Hew piped up.

  “Blinking idiot,” Odo said.

  “Well, it could be a cloudy day . . .”

  Richard lifted Keely into his arms and carried her across the lawn to his own house. Awakened by the commotion outside, several retainers stood in their nightclothes and watched the earl pass through the foyer. Jennings, clad in his nightshirt, followed his master up the stairs. When Richard reached the second floor, Jennings rushed forward to open the earl’s bedchamber door. “Would you or your lady care for anything?”

  “Privacy.”

  “Very good, my lord.” The door clicked shut.

  Richard set Keely down on his bed and then lay beside her. He gathered her into his arms and stroked her back. Her uncontrollable weeping tugged at his heart, but he was at a loss as to what would console her. The only female tears he’d ever seen had been feigned and designed to enhance the woman’s beauty as well as manipulate the man.

  “I miss my mother,” Keely was sobbing.

  “You said Samhuinn lasts for three days,” Richard reminded her. “Can you try again tomorrow night? I swear I’ll keep your circle safe from intruders.”

  His offer startled the weeping out of her. Keely gazed up at him through violet eyes swimming in tears. “You’d do that for me?”

  “My love, I’d do anything for you.”

  Keely reached up and placed the palm of her hand against his cheek. Her lips quivered into the ghost of a smile.

  “Promise me you’ll forgive your father.”

  Keely lost her smile. “I have no father.”

  “His Grace loves you very much,” Richard said. “I saw it in his eyes.”

  “You ask too much.” Keely turned her head away from his gaze. “I can never forgive him. Neither for this night, nor for all the other endless nights of the past eighteen years.”

  “Listen to me.” With one finger, Richard turned her head to face him and waited until her gaze locked with his. “Your heart is gentle, dearest. Refusing your father’s love will hurt you as much as him.”

  Richard lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was long, slow, and earth-shattering. And healing. Sorrow and loss and the need to feel loved made Keely yield to his advances. His hands caressed her body, while his tongue explored the sweetness of her mouth. Keely sucked in her breath as a thousand airy butterfly wings fluttered through her belly, little knowing that what she felt was desire. Falling beneath the spell cast by his masculine nearness and gentle touch, Keely gloried in the exquisite feeling of him exposing her naked breasts to his heated admiring gaze and warm caressing hands.

  Lowering his head, Richard captured one of her dusky nipples between his lips, drawing and suckling upon it. A bolt of molten desire shot through her body to her secret woman’s place between her thighs.

  Keely melted against him and moaned low in her throat. “Kiss me more.”

  Controlling his own need with difficulty, Richard closed her shirt and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. Keely opened her eyes and stared in a daze of passion at him.

  “I’ve waited this long, and I refuse to dishonor you before we speak our vows,” Richard said, then smiled at her disappointed expression. “’Tis a supreme compliment, dearest, for I’ve never concerned myself with a woman’s honor before this. Besides, Elizabeth’s courtiers will inspect our marriage bed for the telltale stains of your virginity. You do want your virginity verified by those gossips, don’t you?”

  Keely lifted her head as if listening. Richard opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a “shh.”

  Keely pulled away from him, leaped off the bed, and rushed across the chamber to the window. “It’s raining! The Samhuinn fire has died.”

  Richard was at her side in an instant and carried her back to his bed. “You’ll speak to your mother next year,” he consoled her. “I promise I’ll build a damn roof to protect the fire from the rain.”

  Chapter 12

  Keely stood in a tiny candlelit chamber off Hampton Court’s Chapel Royal. With her were Duke Robert and Lady Dawn, but she paid no attention to them. In growing trepidation, she stared straight ahead at the unadorned wall and worried what the next forty
years held in store for her.

  In a very few minutes Duke Robert would escort her down the aisle and give her in marriage to Richard Devereux. Why the earl insisted upon this union was beyond Keely’s ken. A nobody from the misty mountains of Wales, Keely knew she could never fit into this confusing English society.

  Her husband-to-be savored his reputation as a polished courtier, an insider, and one of the queen’s personal favorites. When his wife became an embarrassment, the earl would despise her. How could she survive all the days of her life with a man who despised her? Was she forever doomed to play the outsider, the outcast? Why wasn’t there a place for her in God’s universe?

  In spite of her troubled thoughts, Keely appeared serene and regal as she stared without expression at the wall. She looked like a princess of yore, in a wedding gown that had been created in cream-colored satin and adorned with hundreds of seed pearls. Its form-fitting bodice had a square neckline. Narrow tight-fitting sleeves puffed at the shoulders.

  Any resemblance to a proper English noblewoman ended there, and the more primitive side of her nature reigned over her appearance. In spite of the countess’s protests, Keely let her thick ebony mane cascade to her waist in pagan fashion. She’d left her head uncovered and her face unveiled in defiance of English tradition. The splashes of color were her gleaming dragon pendant and her jeweled betrothal ring.

  Keely had decided that she was who she was. She would neither hide her origins nor apologize for them.

  As was her maiden’s privilege, Keely carried a bouquet of orange blossoms. The fragrant white flowers represented her virginity and served as a fertility charm because the blossom and the fruit appear simultaneously on the orange tree.

  “I’ll see if they’re ready,” Lady Dawn said, breaking the strained silence in the chamber. The door clicked shut.

  Keely sensed the duke’s presence beside her, but she refused to acknowledge him. In fact, she hadn’t spoken a single word to him since that night in the earl’s garden.

  “I regret the pain I caused you on Samhuinn and all the other days and nights of your life,” Duke Robert said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I cannot fault you for hating me, child, but know that I love you with all of my heart.”