Saber grinned. “I’m supposed be angry at you right now, Addison. Get out before I decide I like you again.”
“As you wish.” Addison made a low, exaggerated bow, and then looked Saber in the eye. “But do ponder the things I told you, Saber. They came from a friend, not an enemy.” With that, he quit the room.
When he was gone, Saber removed his robe and sank into the tub of steaming water he realized Addison must have ordered for him. Lying back, he closed his eyes and dwelled on Addison’s accusations.
Your life is boring and uneventful.
The indifferent air, the authority...your shields against caring.
Opening your heart means taking another chance on life, and you might lose again.
You’ve loved and lost so many times...
Saber remembered each charge. They were true. All of them.
But there was nothing Addison or anyone could do to change them, he knew. Addison was daft for hoping a fortnight in the country was the answer to such unsolvable problems. “For hoping for a miracle,” Saber whispered, bathwater lapping at his lips.
A miracle. Saber shook his head at the absurdity. No help from heaven had ever come to him, and nothing miraculous whatsoever was going to occur at Leighwood either. The fortnight would end and then he could come back to London and get on with...
Get on with what? he asked himself. With his life?
He didn’t have one.
Chapter Three
Big wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and surveyed the surroundings. “I have no idea where we are,” he said in answer to Goldie’s question concerning their location. “For all I know we’ve journeyed in a perfect circle, and Hallensham is right over on the other side of this water.”
Goldie watched the ripples dance on the clear, clean pond they’d found hidden in a dense thicket, and breathed deeply of the crisp woods-scented air. “Big, we’ve been travelin’ for days. Hallensham is a long way away from here.”
He threw her a sour look. “I’m going to go see if I can snare some kind of supper for us. Don’t you dare wander off while I’m gone.”
As soon as Big left, Goldie pulled a sliver of soap from her dress pocket, shed her clothes, and waded into the fresh water. “Maybe when Big gets back, he won’t be such an ill-box,” she commented to the big gray mongrel, who sat watching her from the sandy bank. “It really set him off when I gave you all our food the day I found you. But what was I supposed to do, Itchie Bon? You were lost and starvin’. ‘Course, now Big and I are lost and starvin’ too,” she added.
Itchie Bon barked loudly, his wagging tail sending sand flying in all directions.
“Well,” Goldie continued, “I thought for sure we’d come across some town where we could get more food. It’s not my fault these English people didn’t build villages along the route we’re takin’.” Rolling the soap in her hands, she examined the pretty and peaceful place they’d come to. “I wonder which route we are takin’?”
She shrugged and lathered up her body and hair. Tossing the soap bar to shore, she watched as it landed beside her claymore, then waved to Itchie Bon before submerging to rinse. While beneath the shimmering surface, she remembered “Mermaids,” a game she and her friend used to play. Keeping her legs tightly together, she moved them as a mermaid would her tail and propelled herself through the water. After coming up for a breath, she splashed and squealed loudly before diving again, her “tail” beating the water with powerful flapping motions.
Opening her eyes as she swam deeper, she watched the water plants flow. They looked like long, green fingers conducting an underwater orchestra. The pond pebbles, smooth, colorful, and illuminated by the strong sunlight that touched them from above, twinkled up at her from the sandy bottom. A silver fish swam past her. She chased it, thinking to catch it with her bare hands, but just as she reached for it she heard a loud splash. Before she could investigate it, something very strong and unyielding grabbed her from behind.
For a moment she froze, unable to understand what was happening to her. But as whatever had her tightened its hold about her waist and began pulling at her, she struggled to escape. Reaching for the pond creature, she closed her fingers around it and sucked in a mouthful of water.
It was a man, she realized, terror spinning through her. And it wasn’t Big. It was very large, extremely strong man, and he was trying to drown her! She squirmed violently, managing to get her mouth near his upper arm.
“Blast it!” Saber shouted underwater, his voice a loud, gurgling sound. “Don’t bite me!” Bubbles made by his yelling rose around his face and irritated his eyes. He grabbed a handful of her long hair and yanked her head away from his arm. Her watery scream made him let go immediately. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but she was going to drown him too if she didn’t cooperate with her own rescue! They were about a foot from the surface, and it would only take a few seconds to reach it if she would only stop fighting him! “Stop!” he tried to tell her.
Goldie understood nothing of the man’s gargled shouts, but took full advantage of his loosened hold. She twisted suddenly, and brought her right foot up behind her as forcefully as she could. The water slowed her kick, but she did manage to find her mark successfully.
Again, Saber groaned. His arm was still smarting where she’d bitten him, and now his groin was on fire from her well-aimed kick. The pain radiated up to his belly, and he clenched his teeth against it. Very well, he thought angrily. He’d tried to be gentle with her, but she wouldn’t let him. So now he would just have to save her life with brute force.
Goldie felt what little breath she had left rush out of her when the man crushed her to him. Her lungs felt as though they were going to burst. She panicked, knowing with absolute certainty that if she didn’t get away from her would-be killer, she was going to die. She struggled against the hard, thick arms wrapped around her, but lightheadedness set in, weakening her.
The girl in his arms went limp just as Saber broke through the surface. With strong, sure strokes, he swam to the shore, pulling her with him. He carried her to the warm leaf-strewn bank and knelt down beside her. His eyes grew round in astonishment as they took in her full length. He’d already realized she was nude, but had been under the impression she was no more than ten or eleven years old. She’d felt so slight, so very tiny while fighting him in the pond. The sight he had now, however, proved she was by no means a child, but a fully grown woman.
He stood, raking his fingers through his dripping hair. “Miss?” he inquired loudly, unable to decide if he should look at her or not. After all, she was naked. Still, she was half-drowned too. She wasn’t dead; he could see her chest rising. But it worried him that she wouldn’t wake up. “Miss, are you all right?” he asked again, carefully keeping his gaze centered on her face. “Can you open your eyes? Speak? Miss?”
A low growl made him spin around in the sand. For a moment he saw nothing, but in the next instant, his eyes widened. “Good God!” he yelled when a great, gray beast came charging toward him.
The huge, ugly mongrel took a flying leap, hurling himself directly at Saber. Saber lost his balance immediately and landed flat on his back, the dog’s body lying full-length upon him. He tried pushing the beast away, but its weight and violent contortions prevented success. While Saber rolled in the sand, the dog clinging to him, tufts of stiff gray hair poked him in his eyes, and long sharp claws dug into his midriff. But by far the worst thing about the attack was the dog’s hot, sour breath. Accompanied by furious growling, it blew onto Saber’s face in great, moist puffs.
“Get him, Itchie Bon! Great day Miss Agnes, get him!”
Saber, still battling his canine assailant and trying his best to keep from being bitten, twisted and saw the girl. She was standing only a few feet away, the hilt of a huge claymore in her hands, its point stabbing the ground. “Get him?” he yelled at her. He’d saved her wretched life, and she wanted him dead! he raged, groaning when the dog nipped his shoulder. As hard
as he tried, he couldn’t seem to get the mongrel off long enough to stand. God, he fumed, if he didn’t get away from here, he’d either be torn to bits by the dog or slashed to pieces by the girl’s huge, silver blade.
Summoning strength, he finally managed to grab the growling animal. Rising, he staggered to his feet, and tossed the dog into the pond. No sooner had the furry beast left his hands than the girl came at him, dragging her claymore behind her. When she reached him, he watched her face contort as she struggled slowly and shakily to raise the point of the great sword.
God, Saber thought. The evil, foul-smelling dog, the naked girl, the huge claymore... Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, and he didn’t know how to react. Panting, he said, “Miss, kindly lower your weapon. I am—”
“Make one more move, and I’ll run you through,” Goldie warned, her gaze traveling down his tall, muscular form. Taking in his black breeches, the black boots thrown behind him, and the black horse pawing the sand nearby, a terrifying thought came to her. She trembled so violently, the heavy sword she held made it difficult for her to keep her balance. But she refused to drop her weapon, and for a few moments she staggered and stumbled around, her claymore leading the way. She finally righted herself and glared at the huge man before her. “You’re one of those dreaded English highwaymen Mildred Fickle told me about, aren’t you?”
Saber stared at her, so many observations running through his mind, he couldn’t decide which one to concentrate on. She was an American. Her speech told him that. She looked ridiculous holding the claymore. It was almost as tall as she was, and he knew it weighed more. She’d lifted it up to the height of his groin, and the thought of her running him through there was highly disturbing. She’d accused him of being a highwayman. He, the Duke of Ravenhurst, a common thief! She’d spoken of one Mildred Fickle as if he were supposed to know the woman.
But by far the most interesting observation he made concerned the girl herself. She was the tiniest woman he’d ever seen, and he knew if she were to stand in front of him, the top of her head would barely reach his chest. But as small as she was, her body was flawlessly proportioned, and he could make that observation quite correctly since she was still naked.
Her hair fell just past her shoulders, and although it was still wet, a few strands were beginning to form soft, gold ringlets around her face. Her thickly fringed eyes were large, round, and tawny. Right now they were filled with anger and fear, but he suspected they twinkled brightly when she was happy. He didn’t understand why he’d come to that conclusion, but there was just something about her that made him think it. Her nose, small and pert, was covered with freckles, as were her delicate pink cheeks. Her mouth was a deeper pink and pushed out into a slight pout, as if she were on the verge of tears. He decided it was definitely a mouth made for kissing, then immediately wondered why he’d thought of that.
His gaze caressed her slender throat, and slid to her breasts. They would fill his cupped palms perfectly. Though they were little, they were full, supremely shaped, and crowned with delightfully proud and rosy nipples. Her waist was so small he was sure he could wind his hands around it with room to spare. Her hips, too, were slim, but nicely rounded. There was a slight matting of curls as blonde as her hair at the apex of her dainty, white legs, and her feet were so small he wondered if she had to wear children’s shoes.
She was beautiful, but that didn’t really describe her. She was so golden. So tiny. She reminded him of a delicately painted figurine. She really was quite...lovely. No, that wasn’t the right word either.
His gaze took a delightful journey down her body again. He felt himself grow hard. Hot, deep waves of desire shot through him, and he was astonished at his strong and immediate reaction. It had been a long, long time since any woman had affected him the way this freckled, claymore-wielding elf did. Not even Jillian made him feel the way he did now.
He shuffled his feet in the sand. His tight riding breeches were wet, making them cling to him all the more, and he knew she would soon notice what was happening to him. Any sudden movement on his part might frighten her into thinking he was going to assault her, and if he shielded himself with his hands he would only succeed in drawing attention to his problem. Not knowing what else to do, he decided to explain himself in the most genteel manner he could. “Miss, I apologize profusely for...for—That is to say, I don’t mean to stand before you with such obvious—I’m—It’s certainly not your fault. But miss, you are without clothing, and I didn’t get you that way.”
Goldie gasped. In her attempt to protect herself, she’d forgotten to put on her dress! Her cheeks grew warm; she leaned forward a bit, closing her elbows together in attempt to hide her front. “Get your eyes off me, you...you woman-drownin’ ravisher-highwayman! Big! Big, where the hell are you?”
Saber kept a wary eye on the dog who’d just emerged from the pond. “Miss, I am no ravisher of women,” he informed her sternly. “I am—”
“You are so!” Goldie shouted, her hands turning white around the hilt of her sword. “If I didn’t have my claymore, you’d be—”
“I would not!” Saber exclaimed. “I—”
“Oh, Lord!” Big yelled, running into the clearing and seeing Goldie’s bare body. “What’s happening here? Who is that man? Why are you naked with him? What—”
“Big, find my dress! I can’t get it and hold my sword at the same time! Great day Miss Agnes, I forgot I was naked, and this dreaded English highwayman is turnin’ into a ravisher right before my eyes!”
Big threw down the rabbit he’d snared and panicked when he didn’t see the dress. “Where is it?” he screamed desperately, charging all around the bank of the pond as he looked for it. “Oh, good Lord, I can’t find it anywhere, and that man is going to—”
“I am going to do nothing at all,” Saber tried to assure them. “Miss, if your performance in the water is any indication of your fighting abilities, I wouldn’t attempt to ravish you even if you paid me to try.”
Goldie let the point of the claymore drop. “Paid you?” Her eyes misted.
At the sight of her sudden tears, Saber was thoroughly confused. He couldn’t understand why she was crying, why he felt an almost desperate determination to mend her wounded feelings. “Miss,” he said gently, his hands outstretched, “I’m—”
“Where the hell is that damn dress?” Big shrieked. “Where did you throw it?”
Goldie’s gaze never left the huge man before her. “Do you really think I’d have to pay a man to ravish me?” she sputtered. “That’s the meanest thing anyone’s ever said to me. If I’m ugly, just say so. You don’t have to taunt me like that. Get him, Itchie Bon,” she instructed her dog.
Saber tried to shield himself from the shower of water Itchie Bon shook on him. “I didn’t say you were ugly. I only meant that—”
“You didn’t say it, but you did mean it.” Goldie said.
Saber shook his head in dismay. The Duke of Ravenhurst certainly didn’t ravish women on pond banks, but since he’d never had to convince anyone that he didn’t resort to such behavior, he found himself lacking the right words. “I meant nothing of the sort. I was merely trying to convince you that I won’t hurt you. That’s all.”
Goldie sniffled and dried her eyes with the back of her hand. “Never mind all that. I might be ugly, but I’m a kind person inside. At least I try to be. But sometimes things set me off. Gettin’ ravished is somethin’ that would really set me off. Where’s your black cape? Did you lose it in the water?”
Saber’s mind whirled. “Cape?”
“Mildred Fickle said dreaded English highwaymen ride black horses and wear black capes and boots. Your black horse and boots are over there, but you’re missin’ your cape. I don’t see a sword either. Are you just startin’ out in the dreaded English highwayman business? Is that why you don’t have all the necessary equipment yet? And why were you tryin’ to drown me? Mildred Fickle didn’t say anything about dreaded English highw
aymen doin’ their dirty work in ponds. I thought they only did it on dark, deserted roads. Big, where the hell are you and my dress?”
Saber sighed in exasperation. “I’m not a highwayman, and I wasn’t trying to drown you. I was trying to save you from drowning, but you—”
“Save me?” Goldie yelled. “I—”
“I found it!” Big hollered, running to her. “Here,” he said, and handed her the dress. He moved in front of her, shielding her from the towering man who stared at her. “You may have gotten an eyeful, you great big bastard, but that’s all you’re getting!”
Saber clenched his jaw. No one had ever insulted him in such a fashion. “Sir, you—”
“I didn’t need to be saved,” Goldie announced, her voice muffled as she pulled the dress over her head. “I—”
“You may be five times my size,” Big continued to the giant in front of him, “but I’ll fight you to the death if you try to lay one paw on her, you horny wretch, you...you lustful hooligan!”
“Great day Miss Agnes, I been swimmin’ since I was little!” Goldie finished explaining as her dress fell into place. “I learned when I was—”
“You take my warning, Mr. Two-Ton Tom cat?” Big demanded.
Saber decided to ignore the feisty dwarf. The Duke of Ravenhurst did not engage in verbal battles concerning rapes that weren’t even going to happen. With practiced ease, he dismissed the little man from his mind and concentrated on the girl instead. “If I may ask, who is Miss Agnes?”
Goldie frowned. “Who is she? Well, how the hell should I know? I didn’t make up that expression.” She stepped around Big and heard him mutter a profanity.
“Then who is Mildred Fickle?” Saber asked.
Goldie blinked at him. “The question, I think, is who are you?”
“Yeah!” Big blasted, peering out from behind Goldie.
Saber kept his gaze directed at the girl. “I thought I was a dreaded English highwayman.”
Diamonds and Dreams Page 5