Grasso, Patricia

by Love in a Mist

Keely stared at him blankly. "I've never heard of the man."

  Richard gave her a lopsided grin. "I'm beginning to like you more and more."

  "I like you too," Keely replied, her lack of guile a refreshing change from the women at court. "Could we perhaps be friends?"

  Richard nodded. He wanted more than friendship from this beauty, but he was wise enough to keep that thought to himself. Richard knew with a predator's instinct that unlike the other ladies of his acquaintance, Keely would fly away in fright if he moved too quickly. Besides, he needed time to investigate her part in her cousins' crime against him.

  Feigning nonchalance, Richard stretched his legs out and drew a brandy-colored stone from his pocket. He rolled it around in the palm of his hand and glanced sidelong at Keely.

  "Unique, isn't it?" he remarked, catching her wide-eyed stare.

  She nodded and looked away. "The carnelian stone protects its owner from harm. Where did you get it?"

  "I found it in Shropshire and keep it for luck," Richard answered. Slyly, he added, "Your cousins—"

  Keely visibly jerked into alertness, and Richard realized she knew about the robbery. Before or after the fact? he wondered.

  "Your cousins seem vaguely familiar," he went on. "Yet I cannot place where I've seen them."

  "My cousins rode with me from Wales," Keely replied. "I'm sure you never saw them before that night at the tavern."

  Richard smiled, nodded, and dropped the subject. He didn't want her thinking that he recognized her cousins. "Since you're newly arrived in England, please let me take you on a tour of London's most interesting sights."

  "Without a chaperon, that would be improper," she objected.

  Richard raised her hand to his lips. He gazed into her violet eyes and said in a husky voice, "Your beauty does incite me to impropriety."

  His lips on her hand and his intimate words conspired against her. Keely was neatly caught by his disarming emerald gaze.

  As a devastatingly lazy smile spread across his features, Richard moved closer, and slowly his mouth descended to claim her parted lips. Keely closed her eyes, and their lips touched in what would have been her very first kiss, but—

  Honk! Honk! Honk!

  Startled, both Richard and Keely leaped away from each other. She whirled around and saw a fat white goose with an orange beak waddling across the lawn toward them. Around its neck hung a gold collar inlaid with emeralds and diamonds. Lady Dawn, accompanied by two young boys, walked several yards behind the goose.

  "Hello, Anthony," Richard called, then whispered out of the side of his mouth, "The countess's pet goose."

  Keely stifled a giggle. "The goose is not for supper tonight?"

  "Eat Anthony?" Lady Dawn cried. "Swallow your tongue, child!" She turned to her pages and ordered, "Bart and Jasper, return Anthony to his room."

  As the boys led Anthony away, Richard stood and offered his seat to the countess. He bowed over Keely's hand, saying, "I look forward to our next meeting, my lady." His eyes promised her they'd begin exactly where they'd stopped.

  "Sup with us this evening," Lady Dawn invited him.

  "Unfortunately, I'm obligated to attend the queen," Richard refused. "Perhaps tomorrow?"

  "You're always welcome at Talbot House." Lady Dawn drew Keely to her feet, saying, "The dressmaker is here to take your measurements, my dear. Tally is sparing no expense on your behalf."

  "Enjoy your day," Richard said, turning away. He started across the lawn.

  "The earl gifted me with this orchid," Keely told the countess.

  Lady Dawn chuckled. "In the language of flowers, when a man gives a woman an orchid, he means to seduce her."

  Staring at the earl's retreating back, Keely crimsoned with offended embarrassment. Richard chose that moment to turn around, sweep them a deep bow, and wink at Keely. Then he disappeared down the walk that led to his own estate.

  "Nicely done," the countess complimented her. "Devereux will soon be eating from your hand. At least asking for it in marriage."

  "Marriage?" Keely echoed in a shocked whisper.

  "I do so love weddings," Lady Dawn drawled, hooking her arm through Keely's as they turned to the house. "I've been the bride three times already, but I will especially enjoy planning this one. The marriage of the decade, unless the queen decides to wed."

  Holy stones! Keely thought in growing dismay. She'd only been at Talbot House for one confusing day. Already the earl had her bedded, and the countess had her wedded to him. How would she ever survive this land of eccentrics?

  One hour at a time, an inner voice whispered. Or else you'll go mad within a week.

  Chapter 5

  Keely tossed and turned on the stormy seas of worry and awakened before dawn from the fitful sleep that had finally overtaken her. Autumn's chill nipped the air inside her chamber, but she ignored it. Instead of stoking the embers in the hearth, she wrapped herself in her white ceremonial robe and padded on bare feet across the chamber.

  A steady rain drummed rhythmically against the window. Keely's head pounded in time with the beating of the rain. Worrying about Odo and Hew was literally making her sick. She couldn't live indefinitely with this danger threatening her cousins.

  The earl knew he'd seen them somewhere. It was only a matter of time before he remembered the specifics.

  Honesty is the best policy, Keely thought. The earl had said he'd never intentionally hurt her. Hanging Odo and Hew at Tyburn Hill would certainly cause her a great deal of pain. Should she confess to the earl and beg his mercy? What if he arrested her cousins? How could she live with that on her conscience? This was all her fault. If Odo and Hew hadn't been concerned for her welfare, they would never have resorted to robbery, would never even have journeyed to England.

  Keely decided she would ask the Great Mother Goddess for guidance. If she envisioned a suitable ending to her confession, she would speak without delay to the earl.

  Using her magic stones, Keely made a makeshift circle in the center of her chamber and left the western periphery open. She entered from the west and used her last stone to close the circle, saying, "All disturbing thoughts remain outside."

  Keely fused the invisible periphery shut with her golden sickle and then turned in a clockwise circle three times until she faced the west again. She dropped to her knees, closed her eyes, focused her breathing, and touched her dragon pendant.

  "The Old Ones are here, watching and waiting," Keely whispered. "Stars speak through stones, and light shines through the thickest oak. One realm is heaven and earth."

  After pausing a moment to gather the proper emotion, Keely opened her arms and implored, "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. Hearken, spirits, to my call. Open my heart that I may see beyond the horizon."

  And then, it happened. Images floated across her mind's eye....

  A warm room filled with books. An even warmer smile on the earl's face. The warmest feeling of security... strong, comforting arms. Welcoming arms. Protecting arms...

  The image faded and dissolved into the reality of her bedchamber.

  Opening her eyes, Keely touched her pendant and prayed, "I invoke the power of my mother's love, living inside this dragon, to protect me and mine. I thank the Goddess for passing her wisdom through me."

  Keely walked to the western periphery, lifted the magic stone, and broke the enchanted circle. She removed her ceremonial robe and folded it, then went back to bed and yanked the quilt up to her chin.

  Keely's path was clear. She would visit the earl that day and beg his mercy for her cousins and herself. Somehow, they would make restitution.

  An hour before noon, Richard sat at his desk in Devereux House's richly appointed study and frowned at Willis Smythe. Richard's head pounded from the deadly combination of too late a night and the frustrating financial records he'd wasted the morning pori
ng over. The thought of the reports due the queen by the following day staggered his mind.

  "Why do you squander your money?" Richard asked, irritated. "Whoring and gambling produce no profits. I'll gift you with a two percent share in my Levant Trading Company, but the profit on only one percent will be paid to you. I'll reinvest the other percentage for a greater yield."

  How generous, Smythe thought snidely as he relaxed in his chair and stretched out his legs. He took a healthy swig of his ale and remarked, "My father and my brother always saved. Both died before they could enjoy the fruits of their labor."

  Richard recalled Burghley's warning to him at Kenilworth Castle: "Untrustworthy... involved in his father's and his brother's deaths... squandered the inheritance." Richard gave himself a mental shake. Willis and he had fostered together and were as close as brothers. Unless proven wrong, Richard refused to give credence to those slanderous rumors.

  "Should I toil from sunrise to sunset and die without any pleasure?" Willis was asking.

  Richard cocked a copper brow at him. "Pleasure-seeking is your vocation, Will. Are you so determined to leave nothing for your son?"

  "I have no son."

  "My point is that you will father a son one day."

  "Worry about fathering your own son," Willis shot back. "Getting that tour of duty in Ireland is impossible without one. By the way, how goes your courtship of Morgana Talbot?"

  "After spending a week in her company at Ludlow, I realized that marrying Morgana would be too great a sacrifice," Richard replied. "Unless, of course, misery excited me."

  "An heiress is a possession I could use," Willis said. "Mind if I try my hand with her?"

  "Be my guest," Richard answered, inclining his head. "The duke's other daughter interests me."

  "Talbot sired only one daughter."

  "As of a couple of days ago, His Grace claims two."

  "How can that be?"

  "Do you recall the woman with those two thieving Welshmen at the Rooster?" At the other man's nod, Richard went on, "That wench is actually a lady, albeit His Grace's by-blow from a Welsh gentlewoman. He's acknowledged their relationship, and I mean to pursue her."

  "A bastard?" Willis exclaimed, then hooted with derisive laughter. "Imagine, England's wealthiest earl courting a bastard! Elizabeth will never consent to the marriage. Why not take her as your mistress? Better yet, let's both take her as our mistress. Consider the pleasurable hours—"

  Richard stood so abruptly, it startled the other man into silence. "I can handle Elizabeth," Richard said. "If you don't mind, Willis, I have a mountain of reports due the queen tomorrow morning. I won't be futtering any woman if I lose my head. No pun intended."

  Oblivious to his friend's anger, Willis rose from his chair. He reached out to shake Richard's hand just as a knock sounded on the door.

  Jennings, the earl's majordomo, entered and said, "My lord, Lady Glendower wishes an interview. Will you see her?"

  A surprised smile appeared on the earl's face. "Escort Lady Glendower here."

  "You have the Devil's own luck," Willis remarked.

  "Luck has nothing to do with success," Richard told him.

  And then Keely stepped into the study. She wore a gown created in rose cashmere, enhancing the bloom on her cheeks. A matching shawl covered her more interesting charms. Alluring yet simple.

  "Welcome, my lady," Richard greeted her. The two men started across the study toward her.

  Keely smiled as winsomely as she could and flicked a glance at Willis Smythe. "I'm sorry to intrude," she said, losing her nerve. "I can return another day."

  "Lady Glendower, I present Baron Willis Smythe," Richard made the introductions. "Will was just leaving."

  The baron smiled at her; Keely felt a ripple of fear dance down her spine. When he bowed over her hand, she nearly shrank back. Oh, why hadn't she foreseen his dark threatening presence?

  Smythe turned to Richard. "I'll see you at court," he said, then quit the chamber.

  Keely heard the door click shut behind her. As she stood five steps inside the room, her gaze appraised the chamber.

  The study reeked of masculinity. Near the windows on one side of the room sat an intricately carved desk fashioned from sturdy English oak. Rows of books lined two walls from floor to ceiling, and the fourth wall sported a hearth where a fire crackled. Perched in front of the hearth were two comfortable-looking chairs.

  Almost hesitantly, Keely looked at Richard. The earl, dressed severely in black, appeared the picture of casual elegance as he watched her through his disarming emerald eyes. His black silk shirt conspired with his form-fitting breeches and boots to give him a rather dangerous look. The only splashes of color in his appearance were his fiery red hair and his emerald green eyes.

  Holy stones! Keely thought, dropping her gaze. She'd never seen such a sinfully magnificent man. Had coming here been a mistake? Too bad she needed his mercy instead of his arrogance. He seemed to possess plenty of that.

  Good God! Richard thought as he stared at her. Never had he seen such an adorable creature. Though she was a penniless commoner, she did possess the bearing of a countess. Did His Grace know she was here? Richard doubted it.

  Long silent moments stretched between them. Disturbed by his intense presence, Keely kept her eyes downcast and wished he would say something.

  Taking a deep breath, Keely gave the earl's chest a tentative smile which brought an answering smile to his lips. She tipped her head back to look up at him, for at six feet and two inches, the earl was more than a foot taller than she.

  "What do you have to say for yourself?" Richard asked by way of a greeting.

  "I—there is a matter of some importance that we need to discuss, my lord."

  Richard cocked a brow at her. "My lord?" he teased. "I thought I was merely a lord."

  Embarrassed, Keely dropped her gaze and reminded his chest, "You already accepted my apology for that rudeness."

  "So I did," Richard agreed, then glanced in the direction of his desk. He just had to finish the queen's reports, and if he insisted that the young lady wait to speak with him, she'd be in his company that much longer.

  "Unfortunately, you've arrived at a bad time," Richard told her. "I'm obligated to finish the reports on my desk. The queen expects them in the morning. If you don't mind waiting, why not dine with me?"

  "I'd like that," Keely accepted, glad for the reprieve. An English earl with a full stomach should be more amenable.

  "Do you read?" Richard asked, gesturing toward the book-lined walls.

  Lifting her chin a notch, Keely said, "We Welsh possess many fine talents."

  With a smile Richard said, "Sit in front of the hearth, and I'll bring you a few books."

  While Keely settled herself in one of the chairs, Richard selected several books on various subjects. He set them in a pile on the floor and handed her the one on top, saying, "This is a particular favorite of mine called Lives of the Saints."

  "Trying to instill moral fiber in me?" Keely quipped, taking the book from him.

  Richard gave her an easy smile. "If it bores you, choose another."

  Keely rested the book on her lap and opened it. Holy stones! she thought in surprised dismay. Lives of the Saints had been written in a foreign language—and she could barely read English. Was this his idea of a joke?

  Unamused, Keely flicked a sidelong glance at the earl, who now seemed oblivious to her presence. If he'd intended to enjoy a laugh at her expense, she was going to disappoint him. Keely decided she would pretend to read.

  She tried to give her full attention to the gibberish in her lap but cast an occasional glance at the earl. Her occasional glances lengthened into appraising stares. Keely unconsciously surveyed his charms—fiery copper hair, emerald jewels for eyes, handsomely chiseled features.

  Keely sighed. The earl was a maiden's dream and infinitely more interesting than Lives of the Saints.

  Resting her head back against the chair, Keely
closed her eyes. Anxiety for her cousins had taken its toll. Warmth and safety enveloped her and lulled her into a peaceful sleep.

  "Bloody shit," Richard muttered, flinging the quill down in disgust. He'd just tallied the same column of numbers for the tenth time and reached his tenth different total. He looked at his guest. It was her fault. Her presence was as distracting as hell.

  Deciding he needed a break, Richard poured himself a whiskey, a gift from his Scots brother-in-law. He sipped it, then grimaced against its potent taste and coughed to alleviate the burning sensation. How Iain actually enjoyed this rot was beyond him.

  With cup in hand, Richard stood and wandered across the chamber to stare at his sleeping guest. Lady Keely was an enchanting puzzle, and learning her secrets was an irresistible challenge.

  Richard tried to imagine Morgana Talbot cuddled into his chair but couldn't. All he saw was Keely with her shining ebony mane, thick fringe of sooty lashes, and flawless ivory complexion. God, he wanted her—badly.

  Richard glanced toward his desk. Duty called—no, screamed—for his attention. He needed those figures totaled by the time he reported to the queen in the morning.

  Lifting the discarded book from Keely's lap, Richard struggled against a shout of laughter. His guest had been reading Lives of the Saints upside down. Apparently, reading Latin was not numbered among her many fine talents.

  Reluctantly, Richard returned to his desk and the troublesome column of numbers. Whenever he glanced in Keely's direction, he felt a chuckle of laughter bubbling up. Imagine, the saints and their lives turned upside down.

  As dinnertime neared, Jennings knocked and entered. Before the man could utter a word, Richard gestured for him to be quiet and pointed at the chair where Keely slept.

  "Should I hold dinner back, my lord?" Jennings whispered.

  "Give me a couple of minutes to awaken her," Richard said. "Set a table up in here." Jennings nodded and left.

  Richard crouched beside Keely's chair and whispered close to her ear, "Time to awaken, my lady." When her eyelids fluttered open, Richard felt as if he were drowning in those glorious pools of violet. Like a delicate but heady wine, her beauty intoxicated his senses.