Love in a Mist

by Patricia Grasso

  Though harboring a grudge went against her nature, Keely nodded to acknowledge his words but did not respond to them. As she stared straight ahead, she realized the earl had been correct. She felt as ravaged as her father sounded. How could she forgive him? And yet how could she not?

  The door opened. Lady Dawn said, “The groom awaits his bride.”

  Without a word to each other, Duke Robert and Keely left the chamber and positioned themselves in the rear of the chapel. Duke Robert reached for her hand to escort her down the aisle, but Keely hesitated and hung back.

  “What’s done is past, and ’twas no intentional fault of yours,” Keely said, raising her tear-filled gaze to his. “Forgive me for the terrible things I’ve said. Papa, I do love you.”

  “Child of my heart,” Duke Robert murmured, drawing her into his embrace. Father and daughter clung together, reluctant to let go now that they had finally found each other.

  The Countess of Cheshire smiled at the heartwarming picture they made and brushed a drop of moisture from beneath her eyes. She heard restless murmurings behind her. The wedding guests were apparently wondering what was preventing the nobody-bride from running down the aisle to marry England’s premier earl.

  Turning toward the crowd, Lady Dawn spied Richard marching down the aisle to discover what had happened to his bride. The countess smiled inwardly to think that the rogue who’d broken so many hearts feared being jilted at the altar.

  In spite of the sacred surroundings, Lady Dawn cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “Patience, Devereux. Ludlow and his daughter are bidding each other farewell.”

  Richard gave no heed to the courtiers, friend and enemy alike, who were laughing at his expense. Seeing his betrothed and her father locked in an embrace, Richard nodded toward the countess and then returned to his place at the altar.

  Duke Robert set his daughter away from him and gave her an encouraging smile. Taking her hand in his, he guided her toward the head of the aisle.

  Keely caught her first sight of the richly decorated Chapel Royal. A thousand candles lit the chapel, casting eerie shadows on its walls. Stars of gold, representing God’s heavenly universe, adorned the domed sky-blue ceiling.

  Keely dropped her gaze to the assembled crowd. A sea of faces stared at her. “I cannot do this, Papa,” she whispered, her panic rising at the sight of all those potential enemies.

  Duke Robert squeezed her hand gently. “You are more worthy and noble than a thousand of them combined.” At that, he started down the aisle, forcing her to either step with him or struggle for freedom.

  At the end of the aisle stood the altar with its mahogany gates, through which Richard and she would pass to kneel in front of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Bouquets of flowers adorned the sanctuary, each one of them the love-in-a-mist that she had admired at the earl’s.

  Keely slid her gaze to the incredibly handsome man who awaited her at the altar. Elegantly attired in a forest green doublet with matching pantaloons and hose, Richard again appeared like the pagan god of her dreams sprung to life—and he was smiling at her. His gaze held the promise of love and gave her the courage to place one foot in front of the other until she reached his side.

  Keely kissed both of her father’s cheeks. Turning to the earl, she placed her hand in his, then heard the courtiers in the first few pews chuckling. Even the Archbishop of Canterbury smiled.

  Richard grinned down at her. “I do believe tradition requires waiting for your father to give you away.”

  “Oh.” Keely tried to pull away in order to start over.

  “Don’t you dare,” Richard said, refusing to relinquish her hand. “I’ve got you now and will never let you go.”

  The Christian wedding ceremony lasted less than thirty minutes. The moment that would forever warm her heart happened when Richard slipped the wedding band of gold on her finger and promised in a husky voice, “Por tous jours. For always, dearest.”

  “Are you ready to begin your new life?” Richard whispered, before turning with her to be presented as man and wife to the Tudor court.

  Keely nodded. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Richard planted a chaste kiss on her lips. “I won’t.”

  “Welcome to Our court, Lady Devereux.” Queen Elizabeth stepped forward first to congratulate them. “Do you swear to be a loving, faithful, and obedient wife to Our dear Midas?”

  Keely curtsied deeply and flicked a glance at her husband. “My vows of loving and faithfulness are registered in Heaven. As for obedience, I can only try.”

  Keely looked at the bouquet of orange blossoms in her hand. Technically, her bridal privilege ended the moment she became a wife. On instinct, Keely offered the bouquet to the queen.

  “Thank you, child,” Elizabeth said, sincerely touched by her gesture. In a wistful voice heard only by Richard and Keely, she murmured, “Mayhap these bridal blossoms shall be the only ones I ever carry.” Without another word, the queen whirled away and led the procession out of the Chapel Royal.

  Inside Hampton Court’s great hall, Keely sat between her husband and her father. Lady Dawn sat on the duke’s left while the queen sat on Richard’s right. Beyond Elizabeth were the Archbishop of Canterbury, Louise Devereux, and Uncle Hal. Morgana and Willis Smythe, much to their irritation, sat at a lower table along with Henry, who could not have cared less where he sat.

  As tradition demanded, Richard fed Keely the requisite quince, which represented female fertility. She ate the yellow apple to the loud applause and wild cheering of the courtiers who’d begun drinking as soon as they’d entered the hall.

  The servants entered with course after course of their wedding feast, the likes of which Keely had never seen. All manner of fish arrived first, including salmon in wine sauce and her husband‘s Colchester mussels. Next came roasted pheasant, followed by a variety of meat dishes. There were braised sides of beef, broiled venison in pepper sauce, and pork roast with spiced wine. Cheshire cheeses, fruit pies, rose pudding, and pine nut candy arrived last, along with a spectacular wedding cake created in the image of two swans whose necks curved to form a heart shape.

  “I do not see Odo and Hew,” Keely whispered, leaning close to her husband.

  “Your cousins sit in the rear of the hall,” Richard replied.

  “Who put my family in the back?” Keely glared at him.

  “Sitting with May and June was their choice.” Richard kissed her lips and warned in a whisper, “Be careful, dearest. That lovely face of yours will freeze into an ugly grimace. Then what will you do?”

  “I’ll refrain from looking into mirrors,” Keely said, the hint of a smile touching her lips. “The important question is, what will you do?”

  “’Tis simple,” Richard parried, his courtier’s wit coming to the fore. “I’ll snuff the candles before I futter you.”

  Keely gasped in offended surprise, and her face flamed with scorching embarrassment. No man had ever spoken so crudely to her.

  Richard took pity on her innocence. He drew her into a sideways hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’m teasing. Are my lips burned from touching your face?”

  Keely couldn’t quite suppress her smile.

  While the courtiers consumed everything in sight, musicians circulated throughout the hall and entertained on their pipes and lutes. The dancing began when the feasting ended.

  Proud of his bride, Richard escorted Keely around the hall and introduced her to the other courtiers. Keely felt confused by all the unfamiliar faces and names, and conspicuous as the center of everyone’s attention. The males swarmed about her, their interested gazes inviting her to seek their company at a later date. The females, especially the younger ones, smiled politely, but their sullen gazes spoke volumes and reflected their unvoiced envy.

  “Dearest, would you care to dance?” Richard asked when he managed a minute alone with his bride.

  Keely froze in a near panic. She didn’t know how to dance, but she’d rather ea
t pork than admit she lacked that cultured skill. “The wine made me dizzy,” she said. “Would you mind if I didn’t?”

  “Of course not, sweetheart. I do owe an obligatory dance to the queen. Let me take you to Lady Dawn.”

  As Richard and Keely crossed the hall, they passed a group of young females that included the Ladies Morgana, Sarah, and Jane. Keely cringed inwardly as their conversation reached her ears.

  “She’s my father’s penniless bastard,” Morgana said, her voice louder than necessary.

  “Why would Basildon stoop to marry a bastard?” Lady Sarah asked. “He could have had any woman in England.”

  “She’s uncommonly beautiful,” Lady Jane answered, eyeing her rival for the earl’s affections.

  “Any of us would have better suited him,” Morgana said. “My bastard sister played the harlot for the earl and contrived for my father to find them. He forced the earl into this unwanted marriage.”

  Richard stopped short and started to turn around. Keely touched his forearm and turned a pleading gaze upon him.

  “Do not mar today’s beauty by calling undue attention to her lies,” Keely said. “’Tis spite that rules her tongue. Morgana believes I’ve usurped all that was meant for her. Mayhap I’d feel the same in her position.”

  Richard nodded in understanding. “You are a saint who never has a bad word for anyone.”

  “I did for my father on Samhuinn.”

  “You were upset.”

  “And so is Morgana.”

  While Richard danced with the queen, Keely stood in the company of his mother and Lady Dawn, but her thoughts centered on her husband instead of the conversation swirling around her. Watching him, Keely wished she possessed the skill to partner him on the dance floor. She’d escaped with her ignorance undetected this time—but what excuse would she use on all the other nights of her life?

  Richard returned to Keely‘s side and led her away on the pretext that he wanted to introduce her to someone across the hall. Nonchalantly, he guided her around the perimeter of the chamber, but when they neared its entrance, he yanked her outside. “And now, my lady, run.”

  As they raced through the maze of corridors, Keely asked, “Why are we running?”

  “Those bawdy drunks will strip us naked,” Richard answered without breaking stride. “I’ll share the sight of your beauty with no man.”

  His words made Keely run even faster, which brought a smile to his lips. He never would have imagined a pagan wench would be so modest.

  Reaching the safety of their chamber, Richard slammed the door shut and bolted it. Within minutes, they heard loud banging, men's voices slurred with drink, and female giggles. “Devereux, you cheated us,” shouted Willis Smythe.

  “Disperse,” Richard called, “or I’ll pauper every last one of you.”

  As the voices and the laughter drifted back down the corridor and faded away, Richard turned around to stare at his bride. Keely dropped her gaze to the floor.

  My beautiful bride fears what comes next. His own knowledge extended only to the experienced and willing. How could he best make her relax and enjoy herself? And then it came to him.

  Richard unbuckled his belt and dropped it on the floor. His doublet followed that.

  Keely refused to look up. She did, however, know what he was doing, as evidenced by the becoming blush that stained her cheeks.

  Richard smiled. He removed his shirt and tossed it at her feet.

  Staring at it, Keely felt like crawling into a hole. What was she expected to do? She closed her eyes against what she knew was coming next—his pantaloons.

  “Look at me, dearest.” His voice was a soft caress.

  Ever so slowly, Keely lifted her gaze from his boots, to his well-muscled pantalooned thighs, to his magnificently bared chest. She let out a peal of laughter.

  There stood the renowned Earl of Basildon with his upper arm muscles dancing to the beat of a silent tune. He grinned and opened his arms, inviting her into his embrace.

  And Keely went to him. She walked straight into his embrace and pressed herself against the hard muscular planes of his body. The last thing she saw before his lips captured hers was his devastating smile.

  Richard kissed her slowly and lingeringly. He knew he needed to take his time with his bride and coax her into doing his bidding willingly. Only then could he find his own satisfaction.

  “My beautiful bride,” he whispered, caressing her silken cheek.

  “What about your tongue touching the tip of your nose?” Keely asked.

  “I lied about that,” Richard admitted without the slightest trace of remorse. “To impress you.”

  Keely gave him a wry smile, and her violet eyes sparkled like amethysts. “I was very impressed, but your honesty impresses me even more.”

  “’Tis good of you to notice my finer points of character, dearest,” Richard said with mock solemnity, keeping their conversation light lest he frighten her. “If you turn around, I’ll play the tiringwoman for you.”

  Exhibiting the practiced skill of a man who has unfastened dozens of women’s gowns, Richard completed his task within mere seconds, but his expertise was lost on his innocent bride. He traced a finger down the delicate column of her spine and then nuzzled the side of her neck with his lips.

  Keely shivered at the sensations he created. She felt hot and cold at the same time.

  “Cold, dearest?” Richard asked, gently turning her around to face him. “Shall I stoke the fire?”

  Self-conscious in her modesty, Keely clutched the bodice of her wedding gown to her breasts and stared at him. “I’m fine.”

  Richard smiled with tenderness and gestured with a slight incline of his head. “You can change behind the screen over there.”

  Keely crossed the chamber to the refuge of the screen. She stepped out of her wedding gown and placed it across a stool, then removed her undergarments and donned the nightshift that had been made especially for this night.

  Keely looked down at herself in the gauzy nightshift. The damn gown was transparent. For all that it covered, she might as well have worn nothing at all. She lingered behind the screen in nervous indecision.

  “Perhaps we should send for May and June,” Keely called, stalling for time.

  “Do you need my help?”

  “No.” She answered too quickly.

  Richard smiled at that.

  “I mean, the gown might wrinkle,” Keely amended.

  “Do you plan to wear it in the morning?” Richard asked, laughter lurking in his voice.

  “No, perhaps a daughter of ours . . .” Keely broke off, aware of how absurd she sounded.

  Richard did chuckle then. “Do you possess some minor deformity of which I am unaware?”

  “No.” Still, Keely refused to step from behind the screen.

  “Are you a coward?” Richard challenged, hoping she’d respond to that.

  Keely stepped from behind the screen. She kept her gaze glued to the floor, but a telltale blush stained her cheeks.

  Richard stared at his bride through eyes that gleamed with desire. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her beauty, and his manhood stirred with anticipation. Petite and curvaceously slim, she was even lovelier than he’d imagined.

  Richard admired her shapely legs, the alluring curves of her hips, and the enticing duskiness of her nipples, visible through the gauzy transparent silk. Good Christ, all that he saw now belonged to him. In a few short moments he would bury himself deep within his beautiful bride and possess her body and—he hoped—her soul. The high blush coloring her cheeks reminded him that he needed to proceed slowly with her initiation into the joys of marital intimacy.

  “Have you lost something on the floor?”

  Keely snapped her head up and nearly swooned at the incredible sight that greeted her. The earl wore an emerald silk bedrobe. While she’d been undressing behind the screen, he’d been undressing too. She hadn’t expected that. Keely knew he wore nothing bene
ath that bedrobe—and she didn’t need her Druid’s instinct to tell her so.

  Ignoring her fascinated stare, Richard suppressed his smile and lit the incense inside the brass urn on the bedside table. Almost instantly, the delicate perfumed fragrance of jasmine permeated the air within the chamber. Then he poured a goblet of wine and sat on the edge of the bed.

  Richard looked at her and patted the edge of the bed beside him. “Sit with me. We’ll share the wine.”

  His invitation moved her into action, but it wasn’t the one he'd expected.

  “I need something,” Keely said, and hurried across the chamber in the opposite direction.

  Keely rummaged through her belongings until she found what she wanted—two dried roots with stems. Turning around, she walked toward the bed like a felon going to the gallows.

  “’Tis dragonwort,” Keely said, holding one root up before she tucked it beneath the pillows. She blushed, adding, “Dragonwort promotes conception.”

  His gaze softened on her. “And the other?”

  “Yarrow.” She dropped it inside the brass urn to mingle and burn with the jasmine. “’Tis known for keeping couples happily married.”

  Richard smiled then, but Keely never saw it. Instead, she whirled around and scanned the chamber in growing desperation. She searched her mind for something—anything—that would prevent her from having to sit beside him on the bed.

  Knowing she was stalling, Richard watched her with tender amusement lighting his eyes. “Dearest, look at me.”

  Keely turned around slowly. Filled with an emotion she was unable to identify, his emerald gaze mesmerized her.

  “Sit with me?”

  Keely cast him a wobbly smile and sat on the edge of the bed. She stared straight ahead, as if frozen in stone.

  Richard reached over and with one hand gently turned her face toward him, then waited patiently until she summoned the courage to lift her gaze from his throat to his eyes. “Keely, I am the man who sat in a garden and promised never to hurt you,” he said. “I am also the man who willingly suffered a public humiliation by proposing marriage on bended knee in a hall filled with listening servants. Why are you afraid of me?”