Secrets Vol 1

by Hamre-Gaines-Landon-LeGendre

  62 Bonnie Hamre

  "Impossible."

  "You shall keep your independence, I swear."

  She laughed. "And how shall I do that if I am married?"

  "Do we agree that we are both imaginative, intelligent people?"

  She nodded cautiously.

  "Then, if we both agree to live in a certain way, who is to say us nay?"

  "I don't understand."

  "It's simple, my lady duchess-to-be. We shall agree, in a marriage contract if you wish it, that what you now possess shall be yours alone, to do with as you please."

  Her green eyes opened wide. "You would do that?"

  "I would," he stated. "And more."

  "More? How could you do more?"

  He cleared his throat. "Well, I admit it will take a considerable amount of adjusting on my part, but then, it's in a good cause."

  "What are you saying?"

  "If you had a husband who did not demand obedience, but instead requested agreement, would you still be adverse to marriage?"

  "That is unheard of."

  "But not impossible," he countered.

  "Rather than have to answer to a husband's every whim, I am to be consulted and my wishes considered?"

  He reflected. "Perhaps the proper theory is compromise. A husband and wife ought to be able to agree on the important decisions, wouldn't you agree?"

  "I would," she said, cautious again.

  "And if they agreed, in advance, that there were certain decisions only one would make, and the other agree to without argument, do you think that would work?"

  "I think your imagination is running away with you, your grace.'

  "Dougal," he corrected. "Now, if this same couple had the agreement I mentioned, they should get along famously."

  "Of course," she agreed with an airy gesture. "So long as she made the decisions such as what to serve for tea and which polish to use on the staircase, and he made all the other decisions—"

  A LADY'S QUEST 63

  "You malign me, Antonia. I am speaking of a partnership."

  "A business partnership?"

  He winced. "I wouldn't like to think it was a cold business partnership, with hereafters, wheretofores and penalties."

  She stroked the frown from his forehead. "What would you call it then?"

  "A loving partnership between two people who want only the best for each other."

  "Could there be such a thing?"

  "We shall make it so."

  "I fear you are too optimistic. What about the first time I overspend on gowns?"

  "If you don't wish to pay for them yourself, I shall do so gladly."

  "May I have that in writing?" she inquired politely.

  He roared with laughter and pulled her closer to him. They settled back, resting comfortably. Antonia fell into a light sleep. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts about Antonia. "What is it?"

  Clarry poked her head through the half-open door, "Begging your pardon, your grace, but it's gone seven and—"

  He pulled a sheet up over their nakedness. "And what, Clarry?"

  "Well, it's the footmen, you see. They're wanting their supper."

  He laughed. Nothing could daunt his good humor, not disrespectful servants nor recalcitrant ladies. "You may congratulate yourself, Clarry. You have done well."

  "It's over, then?"

  At his nod, Clarry entered the bedchamber, closed the door behind her and approached the bedside table with a fresh candle.

  "Do not wake her ladyship," he warned as the light fell over Antonia.

  Humph, she sleeps like she's exhausted. You did right by her?"

  Sutherland blinked. "You might say so." I could hear the two of you in here. Had to send the footmen below."

  "Very discreet of you, Clarry."

  "I see to her, you know."

  64 Bonnie Hamre

  "And very well indeed. There'll be a little something extra for you. Is everything ready?"

  "It is, but it's so late—"

  Antonia opened her eyes and stretched. "What are you two talking about?"

  "It's time to get up, my love. Your servants are hungry."

  Antonia glanced at the window, at the dusky light coming in through the gap in the draperies. "Oh, we shouldn't have slept so long!"

  "Just out of curiosity, you understand, but are we going to let the servants' stomachs govern our lives?"

  "Your lives?" Clarry asked, her eyes growing big.

  "Her ladyship has consented to be my wife, Clarry. You may be the first to wish us well."

  Clarry bustled closer and swept Antonia up into her arms. "Oh milady, this is wonderful news." She sent Sutherland a severe warning glance. "I hope you will be very happy."

  "As happy as I can make her," he assured Clarry.

  Antonia returned Clarry's hug. "Not so fast, you two. There are a number of questions to which I want answers, and I want them now."

  "You could wait until we get home, milady, all cozy like," Clarry suggested.

  Antonia watched the glances fly between Clarry and Sutherland. "Now. And don't leave anything out."

  Clarry kneaded her skirt.

  "Do not blame Clarry, my love. If you wish to cast fault at any

  one, sling it at me."

  "You shall have your share, I promise you that.'"

  He laughed at the threat. Plumping the pillows behind them, he lay back with her in his arms. He didn't seem to mind that Clarry gawked at his naked chest. "I am properly abashed."

  She glared at him. "Get on with it, then."

  "Well, you will recall that I told you I wanted you?"

  At her wary nod, he continued, "I enlisted Clarry's help. The long and short of it is that she agreed to let me pose as another applicant."

  "Did she now?" Antonia slanted a long look at her maid.

  A LADY'S QUEST 65

  "Only for your own good, milady," Clarry hastened to explain.

  "Indeed." Antonia turned to gaze Sutherland.

  He gave her a bland look in return. "So, you see, all is explained."

  "Not quite."

  "What is left to resolve?"

  "A simple matter. How could you be here in the afternoons with me and then bedevil me at night?"

  "With the greatest difficulty, Antonia." He leaned closer. "You have had your revenge, and all without knowing it."

  "I have?"

  "Aye," he whispered. "I all but expired from the ache of wanting you."

  "A fitting punishment," she announced, though she couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "Are there to be any more of these surprises?"

  "Perhaps one," Sutherland admitted. "A small one," he added.

  Clarry coughed and hurried over to the armoire. Keeping her back turned to the couple on the bed, she removed Antonia's clothing.

  Narrowing her eyes to see through the rapidly failing light, Antonia said, "Those are not the clothes I came in."

  "I know milady. I thought you'd be wanting fresh."

  "But, Clarry, that's my cream satin. Why now?"

  "Just thought you'd like something pretty, milady."

  Antonia started to protest again.

  Sutherland silenced her with a kiss. When he moved back, Clarry had finished laying out Antonia's clothes and left the room. "She'll be back to help you dress, my love, but I imagine she thought the rest had better come from me."

  "Rest of what?" Antonia asked suspiciously.

  He glanced at the gown, then back at her. "If you agree to marry me immediately, those will your wedding clothes. I shall dress in the next room. No doubt my valet is also wanting his supper," he added, attempting to lighten the frown that wrinkled her lovely forehead.

  "Wedding, valet? Your grace, what is going on here?"

  "Dougal." He rose from the bed. "We could be married as soon as you dress."

  66 Bonnie Hamre

  "Impossible!"

  "Not at all. The minister is waiting in the other room. I have a speci
al license with me."

  "But why the rush? I mean, what if I want a proper wedding?"

  He hesitated. "Do you?"

  "Well, no," she said after a moment. "I had all that with Blair-Sutworth, and look what it got me."

  "Good. There is another reason for the haste, you know."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Surely you don't think I would change my mind after being so uniquely coerced into saying yes?"

  He drew on his trousers and his shirt before he bent down and kissed her again.

  "What?" she gasped when he let her up to breathe.

  "You may already be pregnant, my love. I want no one counting on their fingers when my heir is born."

  She could say nothing. She'd never thought of it, but of course he was right. Once more, she was reminded of his thoroughness.

  "I shall leave you now to dress. If you come through that door wearing that gown, you shall leave these rooms as my wife."

  She watched the door close behind him. For a moment she couldn't move, stunned by all that had happened in the last few hours. She, Duchess of Sutherland—it wasn't to be believed!

  She lay still, allowing herself time to become accustomed to the

  idea, then all at once energized, she rose and called for Clarry. With

  her help, she bathed in the warm water Clarry provided and then

  dressed in her elegant cream satin.

  "I brought your pearls, milady, and I thought your hair down—"

  "I am not a blushing virgin, Clarry."

  "Maybe not, but I think the duke brought a blush or two to your face." she sighed. "Ah, he's a fine figure of aman. He'll keep you happy.”

  "I hope so." Antonia's legs felt weak. She sat unsteadily. Clarry picked up the silver backed hair brush and began brushing Antonia's hair.

  "Oh, Clarry, am I doing the right thing? All along I've said I would never marry again and here I am preparing to go out there and —"

  "Now don't you be getting all nervy on me, milady. The Duke is

  A Lady's Quest 67

  a fine man, and he'll make you a fine husband."

  "But, Clarry, all I wanted was a lover!"

  "And didn't you get one?" Clarry's face settled into a wide, self-satisfied smile. "Couldn't ask for a better end to this foolish plan of yours."

  "It seems to me that I had some help with it," Antonia reminded her.

  Clarry went on brushing. "It was all his idea, I swear. He came to see me and invited me to sit down, all proper like, and we had such a nice chat."

  "About me?"

  "Well, of course about you. Why else would the duke be sitting in your parlor chatting with me?"

  "It makes me feel faint to think of it," Antonia murmured.

  "Do you need your vinaigrette?" Clarry asked, a worried expression on her face. "I didn't think to bring it."

  "No, no, I'm quite all right. Are you finished with my hair?"

  Clarry fidgeted with one last tendril before pronouncing herself satisfied. "Now I am."

  "Go and tell them I'm ready. I'll be out in a moment."

  Clarry eyed her. "You make a beautiful bride. First time, you were all innocent and nervous, now you know what to expect, and you're like a blooming rose."

  They hugged and Clarry left the room.

  Antonia stood and paced slowly through the sumptuously appointed bedchamber. The room had served her well, but now the furnishings seemed overblown and somewhat tawdry. She glanced at the bed, still undone, with sheets and pillows strewn to the floor and the aroma of heated passion still lingering in their folds.

  The room had been perfectly prepared for sex and seductions, but it suited her no longer. Now that she had found love, she wanted all we furnishings to be fresh for the two of them. She wondered what Sutherland's bedchamber was like, and what he would say when she informed him that they would not be sleeping apart. Would she need to change the furnishings?

  Maybe all the furniture in his bedroom was old and meaningful to

  68 Bonnie Hamre

  his family history. She reflected on that. Would she be able to sleep in a bed in which the first six dukes and slept? Wouldn't it be awfully lumpy by now?

  She smiled at herself. She was procrastinating, she knew, postponing the moment when she would go through that door and face a new life. For just a few more minutes she wanted to relish the successful completion of her quest, with a reward far greater than she had ever expected.

  For all that Dougal had promised her that she would remain independent and his partner, she knew that the promise could never be fully kept. While a small part of her regretted that, the greater part of her, her heart and mind and soul, loved him. She loved him for listening to her, for caring enough to make that pledge to her.

  She threw open the door and advanced to meet her bridegroom, Dougal MacDonald, the masterful, exciting, utterly virile seventh duke of Sutherland.

  About the author:

  Born in Ecuador and raised in Chile, Bonnie Hamre was educated there and in the United States. She has also lived in Italy, England and Scotland, where she gained an appreciation for her Scots heritage. She now makes her home among the coastal redwoods south of San Francisco. Published also in book-length women's fiction, Bonnie finds there is nothing as satisfying as an emotionally gripping tale of two people making a commitment to each other. She writes with sensitivity, with passion and with the tough of humor that makes sensuality fun.

  71

  THE SPINNER’S DREAM

  BY ALICE GAINES

  To my reader:

  The most romantic worlds are the ones that live in your imagination. I've created One here, and now I can share it with you.

  Solitude and contemplation. Cool fog and the shade of giant trees. The goddess-mother's balm for a fire in the heart. It should have been enough.

  Kareth sa-Damil selected an arm's length branch of wood from the dwindling pile and tossed it onto her small hearth-fire. The wood in the forest was plentiful. With no other human soul living in this part of the forest, Kareth had no competition for the abundance of downed timber that lay everywhere. Even if that weren't true, she was young and healthy enough to take the ax from its hook on the wall, find a log, and split it. But the perpetual chill suited her one-room cottage far better than a raging fire.

  Some might choose sun and heat to burn their sins away. Kareth had run instead to the silent company of ancient trees and swirling mists. The goddess guided her here to purify herself. Why did she still ache inside?

  She sat, cross-legged at her hearth and envisioned the fog seeping under her door, around the window pane, through cracks in the walls to envelope her. Cool, detached, dispassionate. She closed her eyes and sighed. Dendra take me, school me. I am yours.

  A crashing sounded nearby—as someone raced through the underbrush just outside. Then wood slammed against wood, as her door flew open and banged against the wall. Kareth opened her eyes and found the cause. A man stood on the threshold, not much more than a silhouette in the shadows—a large figure, filling the doorway with shoulders, arms, legs—but indistinct nevertheless. She scrambled to her feet to confront him.

  74 Alice Gaines

  "So, there is someone here," he said. "With the meager smoke from that fire I couldn't be sure."

  "Who are you?" she gasped.

  He stepped into the room, a long woolen cape swirling around him, and shut the door. "I should think that would be obvious."

  And suddenly it was, from the glint of metal around his throat. Nothing gleamed quite like a churl's collar—slick and smooth and inexorably attached to the poor soul who wore it. This man's owner had chosen brass and sapphire blue to mark his property.

  "What do you want?" Kareth demanded.

  The man looked at her then, really looked at her, his eyes flashing emerald fire from under brows the color of sun-bleached sand. "There are eight or ten catchers close behind me. What I want is to kill a handful of them and escape the rest."

  "Y
ou'll not kill anyone here."

  "Without a weapon, I won't." He glanced around him, and his gaze fell on the ax. "Ah, this will do."

  He headed toward the wall where the ax hung, but Kareth blocked his path. "No," she said, staring upward into his face. "You'll not kill anyone here."

  "And who's to stop me?"

  "I will," she answered. "Dendra will."

  "Dendra," he repeated. He slipped a finger under the chain around her neck and pulled the amulet from inside her bodice. His fingers toyed briefly with the crescent-cut crystal. "A priestess."

  "A novice," she corrected.'

  "All the same. Only a true believer would be stupid enough to live in a wilderness like this."

  From outside came shouts and the sounds of people blundering through the forest—branches breaking, ferns being trampled underfoot, a flock of curo-curas rising up on noisy wings and cackling out their alarm.

  "Blast." The man grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the window. "What do you see?"

  She glanced outside. As he had said, nearly tenmen were making their

  The Spinner 's dream 75

  way toward her home, hacking a path through the trees and ferns with long, ugly knives. They came to within several yards of the cottage and stopped. A large, barrel-chested man at their head motioned the others to fan out, and the rest of the party disappeared back into the woods to encircle the cottage.

  "You're right," she said quietly. "Catchers, a whole patrol of them."

  "Get me that ax."

  "No."

  "Curse you, woman. Do it."

  She glared up into the murderous green of his eyes. "No," she repeated.

  He dropped her arm and ducked low to crawl under the window. He made his way to the far wall and grabbed the ax from its hook. He took a wide stance, the ax handle clutched in his fists, the blade gleaming in the flickering firelight. "Let them in," he snarled. "One at a time."

  "I'll not let you kill anyone."

  He stared at her, his eyes wide, as much from terror as exertion. "Do you know what they'll do to me?"

  She did. Dendra guide her, she well knew those knives weren't used only to cut the forest apart. They also served to slice through flesh and even to cleave bone. No wonder he wanted to carve the catchers to pieces before they could do the same to him. And from the look of desperation in his eyes, he'd do it, too. She had to find some way to save him without allowing bloodshed in her sanctuary. She held up her hands to him in a gesture of reassurance. "I'll send them away."