Diamonds and Dreams

by Rebecca Paisley

“You said you weren’t.”

  “So you believe me now?”

  Goldie wrinkled her nose. “Say Daddy’s honor you aren’t.”

  “Daddy’s honor?” Saber felt totally bewildered. The girl certainly used some strange expressions. “Is Daddy somehow related to Miss Agnes and Mildred Fickle?”

  Despite her wariness, Goldie smiled.

  Her smile made Saber feel like grinning back. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to discern what it was about the girl that made him feel so attracted to her. She was quite unpolished. Certainly not the sort of woman with whom he’d ever taken up company.

  “What self-respecting dreaded English highwayman would be without his sword and black cape?” he queried, still feeling that urge to smile at her. “As you pointed out, I have neither. Now, if you weren’t drowning, what were you doing in the water? I was riding through the woods and saw all your splashing, heard you screaming, and I was sure you—”

  “It’s none of your damn business what she was doing in the water!” Big exploded. “Get out of here!”

  Saber stiffened, anger curling through him. The little man was actually trying to throw him off his own land! “Sir, you will cease ordering me about. I am—”

  “You’re a dead man if you don’t get out of here!” With that, Big made fists and began prancing around. “Go ahead! Put ’em up! I may be little, but dammit, I’ll—”

  “I will not fight you,” Saber informed him. Good God. Imagine the Duke of Ravenhurst engaging in fisticuffs with a belligerent dwarf! The thought was utterly absurd.

  “Why won’t you fight?” Big taunted. “Afraid?”

  Again, Saber dismissed the man. He looked back down at Goldie. “If you weren’t drowning, miss, what were you doing in the water?”

  “I was playin’ ‘Mermaids.’” Goldie let her stiff shoulders relax and dropped the sword. Her hunger and exhaustion were making her shaky, and she sat on the ground, bringing her knees up so they touched her chest. Looking at the man looming above her, she decided he wasn’t a dreaded English highwayman and felt relieved she didn’t have to kill him. “Big, put your fists down. This man’s not the ravishin’ kind. If he were, you’d be knocked out, and I’d be ravished already.”

  Sullenly, Big complied. He planted his feet directly behind Goldie, curled his hands around her shoulders, and kept his gaze centered on the black-haired giant’s face.

  “Gladys Shoat and I used to play ‘Mermaids’ all the time out in Ninny Creek back in Weaverville, Georgia,” Goldie explained. “I heard the creek got its name because so many girls went skinny-dippin’ in it, showin’ their ninnies to anyone who came wanderin’ by.”

  “Ninnies?” Saber felt amusement bubble in his throat. He’d never heard a girl say that word before. He sat near her, but not too near, for the dog she called Itchie Bon was watching him with shining black eyes, and the expression on her diminutive guardian angel’s face was equally ferocious. “I see. Weaverville, Georgia, you say? Interesting name.”

  Goldie sighed deeply. “That’s where my beloved is. Fred Wattle. He never loved me, but I loved him with my every breath. He kissed me once, but later I found out he only did it to win a bet with his friends. He broke my heart. But he was the handsomest fella in Weaverville, and I didn’t really deserve—I mean...I—He was in love with Velma Wiggins anyway. She was tall. Tall and so purty. I still think about Fred though.”

  Saber hadn’t missed what she’d almost said. Did she think she didn’t deserve the handsome Fred Wattle? And was it really possible that Velma Wiggins was prettier than this golden imp?

  “You didn’t have to pull my hair so hard,” Goldie said quietly.

  “What?” Big roared. “He pulled your hair? Put ’em up!” he ordered the huge man and made fists again. “Nobody touches her and gets away—”

  “Big, stop that,” Goldie said. She twisted and took hold of one of his fists. “I’m all right, Big. Nobody ever died from gettin’ their hair pulled.”

  Saber watched the little man return to his guard post behind the girl. “I apologize if I hurt you,” he said softly, and felt genuine remorse. He stared at the riotous mass of flaxen curls shimmering around her face and had to suppress his odd urge to touch them. He’d never seen such wild hair allowed such freedom. Most women he knew would have taken drastic measures to tame it. They’d anchor it down with a hundred pins if necessary.

  He found himself glad this girl didn’t do that, and then noticed she wore only one earring. “I fear you’ve lost your left earring. Perhaps it slipped off in the pond?”

  She touched the bit of tin and colored glass hanging from her right ear. “This is the only one I’ve got. I don’t wear it all the time, though. If I do, it turns my earlobe green. Y’see, one time I read that Indians pierce their ears. I’m not an Indian, but I kinda liked the idea of piercin’ my ear. Heaven must have read my thoughts because I soon found this earring. I pierced this ear all by myself. Used a needle and a potato. See, you gotta put somethin’ behind your earlobe when you stick the needle through or else the needle might shoot into your brain, and then you wouldn’t be able to think anymore. Bertie Snide told me that. I was real brave when I pierced my ear.”

  Saber nodded in all seriousness. “Bertie Snide sounds like quite the intellect. And please allow me to commend you on your courage in the face of such a delicate operation.”

  “You’re allowed. Go ahead.”

  “But I just did.”

  “You did?”

  “I—Yes. I said—Well, no matter,” Saber stammered, amusement continuing to rise. “And what of your other ear? It’s not pierced?”

  “Why would I have pierced both ears when I only had one earring?”

  “I—” He broke off. He’d been going to argue, but her question made perfect sense. “What are you doing here?” he asked instead. “Leighwood is private property, and by the looks of that dead rabbit over there, you’ve been hunting here. Did you know that’s against the law?”

  “Leighwood?”

  “That’s what this estate is called.”

  Goldie glanced at the rabbit and realized Big had been successful in finding their supper. “And that’s a Leighwood rabbit?”

  “I’m quite sure it is.”

  She paused to think about that. “So you’re sayin’ that if Big had chased it off Leighwood, it wouldn’t have been a Leighwood rabbit? Or does this law of yours say that once a Leighwood rabbit, always a Leighwood rabbit?”

  Saber automatically opened his mouth to answer her, but no explanation came forth. Her question made him smile instead. It was a moment before he realized he was grinning, and he wondered what he thought was so funny. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” he asked, noticing how she kept looking over at the fat rabbit.

  Goldie nodded. “A little tired too. Big and I have been travelin’ for days lookin’ for my duke. Two days ago, I gave all our food to Itchie Bon, my new dog. Big’s been miffed at me ever since. You still mad at me, Big?”

  Big grunted a swear word. “Goldie, I think it’s time we were on our way. Get your sword, call Dammit, and let’s go.”

  “Dammit?” Saber asked.

  “He’s my horse, and he’s about a thousand years old,” Goldie informed him. “I reckon he’s piddlin’ around somewhere with Big’s mule, Smiley Jones. Big calls his mule that because the dumb thing likes to eat briars. When he eats ’em it looks like he’s smilin’. I don’t know where Big got the ‘Jones’ part from, though, Where’d you get the ‘Jones’ part from, Big?”

  “I just liked it,” Big answered, and gave the giant another well-aimed glare.

  “And I call my horse Dammit because I say ‘dammit’ a lot when I’m ridin’ him,” Goldie continued. “See, since he’s so old it takes him a long time to get goin’. I don’t mean to cuss at him though. It just sorta slips out. So I named him Dammit. That way, he thinks I’m sayin’ his name instead of cussin’ at him. I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelin’s. I’
ve only had him for a few weeks. Found him wanderin’ near my village. Smiley Jones was with him, and Big and I took ’em in. Dammit and Smiley Jones are best friends. Do you know what pusillanimous means?”

  “Pusillanimous?” Saber’s mind spun as he tried to keep up with her. “Uh...lacking courage. Without resolution. Why do you ask?”

  She gaped at him. “It’s my new word for the day. I find a new one every day in my dictionary. You’re the first person I ever met who already knew my new word for the day. Where’d you learn it?”

  Saber smiled again. “I don’t know, really. I guess I just heard it somewhere.” God, she was an amusing bit of female, he thought. But try as he might, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was about her that he found so funny.

  “Did y’know that Itchie Bon means ‘Number One’ in Japanese?” Goldie asked. “I knew a Japanese man once. Met him in South Carolina, but I can’t remember which town. I can’t remember his name either. It was a funny name, as I recall. He was tryin’ to make a livin’ by sellin’ fish. He didn’t do well though because he didn’t cook it. Served it up raw as raw could be, and folks thought he was crazy. He’s the one who told me what Itchie Bon means. I thought it was a good name for my dog. Big and I didn’t mean to break any laws, mister. You think we should find the owner of this Leighwood estate and apologize for killin’ his rabbit? I could offer him half of it as a peace offerin’. ‘Course then there wouldn’t be much left for Big and me.”

  Still smiling, Saber shook his head. “I don’t think he’ll miss one little rabbit, but I caution you against hunting anywhere else. You can get yourself into very serious trouble.”

  “These English estate owners must be a selfish bunch. I wonder if Mildred Fickle knows that?” she mused aloud, then looked at Big. “Go on and skin it, Big. I’d help you, but y’know how guts make me sick. There’s a knife in my saddlebag, but you’ll have to find Dammit to get it.”

  “But this son of a bitch—”

  “Big,” Goldie intervened, “I told you he’s not a dreaded English highwayman-ravisher, and I don’t think he’s a son of a bitch either.” She looked Saber straight in the eye. “You’re not a son of a bitch, are you, mister?”

  Saber threw back his shoulders. “I should say not!”

  Goldie frowned. “You should say not? Just what the hell does that mean? Are you sayin’ you aren’t sure you should admit you’re a son of a bitch? You may as well tell the truth right now, mister, because we’ll find out whether or not you’re lyin’. Sons of bitches can’t hide their true natures for long, y’know.”

  Saber felt irritation and amusement at the same time. “I am not a man you need to fear.”

  Goldie nodded. “I’ll be safe with him. Big. Daddy’s honor, I will. Go on and skin supper.”

  Mumbling more profanities, Big walked out of the clearing, the rabbit swinging in his hands.

  Goldie dug her bare toes into the cool sand. “I just can’t take the skinnin’ part of huntin’. I can’t do the killin’ either. All I can take is the eatin’ part. I can catch fish though. I don’t know why, but catchin’ fish isn’t as bad as shootin’ runnin’ animals or flyin’ birds. Maybe it’s because fish don’t scream. ‘Course I don’t reckon it feels too good to have a hook stuck up in the roof of your mouth. You ever go fishin’?”

  Saber picked up a twig and began flicking sand around with the point of it. After a moment, he tossed the stick into the pond. As he watched it splash into the water, he recalled that the last time he’d fished was when his father was still alive. A forgotten memory came to him. He remembered catching a really big fish. His father had been so proud. Delia had cooked it that night. What a wonderful evening that had been, sharing his catch with his mother and father. He hadn’t thought of that night in many years. “I haven’t fished in a very long time,” he said quietly.

  Goldie saw the wistful look on his face and thought he would have liked to go fishing. “It’s a damn shame we don’t have any poles, huh? I’m a good fisherwoman. The secret is the bait, y’see. Most people use worms, but not me. I use cheese. You wouldn’t believe how much fish love cheese.”

  “How fascinating,” Saber said, thinking about all the many things she’d told him in the ten minutes she’d been talking. “You mentioned a duke. Your duke, to be specific. Who is this duke?”

  Goldie sighed again. “Duke Marion. I thought it was gonna be so easy, but we haven’t found anyone who looks like him. They all had something that wasn’t right. My Duke Marion’s gotta be tall and strong like you. His eyes have to be green...like yours. His hair...black. Strong jaw, high cheekbones...long, straight nose...” Her voice trailed off as she studied him more intently. On her hands and knees, she crawled toward him, stopping only when her face was a mere inch away from his. “Great day Miss Agnes!”

  Before Saber could react, she’d thrown her arms around him and planted a kiss right on his mouth.

  Instantly, Goldie drew back. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss you like that. I—It’s just that—” She took a moment to regard him, and when she saw that he didn’t look angry, her excitement returned in full force. “I’ve never kissed a strange man before, but I reckon I kissed you because I’m so happy right now that I just couldn’t help myself! The fact of the matter is that you’re only the second man I’ve ever kissed. Fred Wattle was the first. You know anything about duke stuff? I’ll swannee, I can’t believe I’ve been talkin’ to you for so long and didn’t see how much you look like ole Duke Marion! You just can’t believe how desperate I was to find you, and now here you are!”

  “I—Did you say Marion?”

  “Y’know anything about dukes?” she asked again. “Maybe you’ve been near one, one time? The more y’know about dukes, the easier it’ll be on all of us, y’see. But if you don’t know anything, don’t worry. I’ll teach you. I’ve got the diaries. Even though there’s a bunch of water spilled all over ’em you can still read parts, and I guess at what I can’t read. And I remember everything Mildred Fickle said. And everyone knows some stuff about dukish men. A lot of it’s just plain common sense. For instance, y’know those canes dukish men carry? Not all dukish men are crippled, so y’want to know why they all carry canes?”

  Saber couldn’t keep up with her quicksilver chatter. “Why?” he asked absently.

  “Well, if some common person dares to insult a dukish man, the duke man uses his cane to bash the commoner over the head. That’s the kind of thing everyone knows about dukish folks. We’ll get you a cane as soon as we can. And when Big gets that rabbit ready, the first thing I want to see you do is sniff each bite of it. It’s not really poisoned, but you have to get a good whiff of it anyway. Think you can remember to smell your food every time you eat?”

  Saber frowned. “Whiff of it? Poison? Uh, did you say Marion?”

  She nodded, her curls bouncing every which way. “Mister, my name’s Goldie. I don’t know what your name is, but from now on, you’re His Royal Highness Lordship Duke Marion Tremayne. I know it’s a ridiculously long name, but you need to learn to respond to it. See, my Uncle Asa got drunk and told the villagers that we know the duke personally. If I don’t cover up his lies and bring back Duke Marion, the villagers are gonna throw Uncle Asa out of town. They said they didn’t want any lyin’, troublemakin’ drunks around. I haven’t had a real home since my mama and daddy died, and I’m hell-bent on stayin’ at the one I’ve got now, so no matter what ole Dora Mashburn says is gonna happen, I’ve got to make this work. Big says Dora’s just jealous, but Big’s all the time sayin’ dumb stuff like that. Dora. Sometimes I call her Dora Squash-scorch. Get it? Mashburn—Squash-scorch.”

  “Squash-scorch,” Saber mumbled. “Yes, I...uh, get it.”

  Goldie closed her eyes for a moment, picturing Hallensham. “It’s so purty there in the village. So green, so open. There’s a bed of dandelions growin’ right by my front door. But I can’t stay there without Uncle Asa though,” she explained and opened
her eyes. “He’s...the only real family I have left in this whole wide world, and I—He’s got a good heart inside. Once he gave me a new dress. He’s only testy when he’s drunk, and since he’s almost always drunk—” She broke off, swallowing painful emotions. “I—Well, anyway, I’ve been searchin’ all over for a man who looks like Duke Marion, and you match his description.”

  Saber could hardly believe what he was hearing, however mangled it all was. “Goldie—”

  “I wish your skin was whiter though. I kinda get the feelin’ that dukish folks are pasty-white. You’re tanned. But you’ll do, I reckon. You’ll be the duke, and if you stay out of the sun, maybe your tan will fade some. I’ll pay you. The only things you have to do are learn duke stuff and come to Hallensham for a few hours. After that, I’ll give you the money, and you can be on your way.” She drew away from him and looked into his wide, green eyes. “Say yes?”

  Saber stared back at her. He remained silent and incredulous as her words reverberated in his mind. Bash people over the heads, she’d said. Sniff each bite of food. Learn duke stuff and go to Hallensham. She had a lot of big ideas, this little person called Goldie. And the most outrageous of them all was that she was willing to pay him to impersonate himself!

  The thought made his lips twitch. The corners of his eyes crinkled. A great burst of something he’d forgotten he could feel exploded inside him.

  Quite unable to help himself, Lord Marion Westbrook Saberfield Tremayne, eleventh Duke of Ravenhurst, threw back his head and laughed.

  Chapter Four

  A soft breeze mussed Winston Alders’ thick brown hair. “I wonder where Saber has gotten off to?” he asked, slowing his horse as they entered the woods.

  David Clarkston leaned sideways in his saddle and peered into the underbrush. “He’s hiding, no doubt. He knows very well that he’s to clean our tack and polish our boots after we finish our ride, and he’s trying to escape the chore.”

  Kenneth Lynnly pushed a lock of red hair out of his eyes, and chuckled. “Just as he’s tried avoiding everything else we’ve commanded him to do. It’s really a good thing he was born into the aristocracy. He’d starve if forced to be someone’s servant.”