Diamonds and Dreams

by Rebecca Paisley

  Jillian closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Ah, Leighwood. That’s one of Marion’s four country estates. Leighwood is where he and I go when we want some private time together. Why? Has he taken you there?” she demanded.

  Goldie couldn’t answer. Memories of the many weeks she’d spent with the man she’d thought was Saber West came hurtling back to her. Oh, how he must have laughed inwardly at her attempts to turn him into a duke! How he must have secretly ridiculed her tremendous ignorance!

  Horrible pain ripped through her, making her feel as if she’d been torn wide open. Tears blinding her, she ran to the door, snatching it open when Jillian stepped aside. “Is there a back way out of the house?” she asked a young maid in the corridor.

  The maid showed her the way. Goldie dashed through the small garden in the backyard, quickly finding the door in the fence. There were no street lamps to light her way as she fled down the narrow path that ran parallel to the backs of the row of town houses. Tall trees shrouded whatever moonlight might have helped guide her steps.

  She stumbled, falling face-down. Her cheek began to ache, and she realized she’d cut it on something sharp. She lay there for a moment, remembering the things Jillian had said.

  He goes to extravagant lengths to entice women into his bed. Your relationship with him will come to naught.

  Goldie felt as though her heart had been snatched from her breast. Staggering to her feet, she continued on until she’d run as far away from the Chittingdon house as her legs and lungs would allow before heading for the front street.

  Marion Tremayne would never stoop so low as to actually care for a girl of your background.

  Hot humiliation burned into her very soul. Sobbing, she reached the street, spotting a cab immediately. Tears, blood, and dirt staining her face, she yanked off her topaz necklace, holding it up for the driver to see. “I need to get to the corner of Pickerin’ and Landon as fast as you can take me, but I don’t have any money,” she choked. “Will you take this instead?”

  The man examined the jewelry carefully, recognizing its value. “Get in.”

  No sooner had she pulled herself inside and shut the door, than the coach jerked forward. Unprepared for the sudden jolt, Goldie pitched out of the seat and fell to the floor. She struggled to rise, but fell again as the coach hit a rut in the road. On the floor, she lay her head on the seat, her tears staining the upholstery.

  I imagine he plied you with honeyed words, didn’t he? Jillian had guessed. He told you how incredibly beautiful you are, and made you believe that everything about you is exactly what he wants in a woman.

  “Yes,” Goldie whimpered. “Yes, he did all those things.”

  Trust me, Goldie. Trust me.

  She heard his voice. It came from the air. From nowhere.

  I love you, poppet.

  “Saber,” she moaned, her fist at her mouth, her body quaking as her agony pounded through her. “Lies. So many lies. You must have laughed at me...just like all the others. I thought—I thought you were different. You made me believe. For the first time—I trusted—I loved—Saber, I loved you.”

  Broken. Her trust in the man she loved. Her heart.

  All her diamond dreams.

  She’d been allowed to touch them. Hold them for a time before they were snatched from her. But everything was gone now. Over.

  Just like always.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  When Saber arrived at the doorway of the parlor, he knew he was witnessing his own nightmare. Goldie’s pad of paper lay ruffled on the floor. Goldie herself was gone.

  And Jillian was sitting on a velvet settee, her brow raised high, a smug grin tugging at the corners of her red mouth.

  “She left,” Jillian purred, smoothing a slender finger across the top of one of the pale breasts straining from within the tight confines of her scarlet gown. “I doubt seriously that you will ever see her again.”

  Saber stopped breathing. He was numb with rage, regret, and an all-consuming fear that Jillian spoke the truth.

  “You belong to me, Marion,” Jillian continued, licking her lips. “You have for almost four years, and you always will.”

  Saber heard the roar of his pumping blood in his ears. He clenched his jaw, his fists. His entire body went rigid. “You sicken me, Jillian.” Fury turned his voice into a low and frightening growl.

  Apprehension writhed through her like a slithering snake. “You don’t love her, Marion. You’re merely intrigued by how different she is. That will pass. She is only the second woman you have looked at since Angelica’s death, but remember, Marion, it was into my arms you fled after that tragedy. It was my attention you sought, and my loving ways that helped you to mend. You will come to your senses and realize that I am the only woman who could ever be the Duchess of Ravenhurst. I am gentlebred. I am a true lady, my darling diamond duke.”

  “You were but a willing body. Someone into whom I could pump my frustration and rage. You were a temporary and physical remedy, Jillian. And if you were really gentle-bred...if you were a true lady, you never would have done what you did tonight. You are no lady, Jillian. You are little more than a fortune-hunting doxy. A bitch who will spread her legs for any man wealthy enough to satisfy your boundless greed.”

  Molten rage sluiced through her. “If I cannot have you, no other woman will either. I swear to destroy any future relationship you might ever hope to have with anyone else.”

  Saber drew himself up to his full height. “There will never be anyone else for me but Goldie. And you, Jillian Sommerset, are not fit to utter her name. God willing, I’ll find her tonight and mend what damage you have done. And if I am successful, you will never have the opportunity to hurt her again. I am going to use every possible means at my disposal to make certain that you are immediately and permanently banned from society. You will never be welcome among the nobility again. And don’t doubt for a moment that I cannot do it, for you know full well that I can.”

  His sharp gaze crucified her to her seat. She couldn’t move. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, horror stealing her voice.

  “Consider it already done.”

  * * *

  Goldie pounded on the front door, but Bennett failed to open it. Confused, yet desperate, she raced to the back, finding the kitchen door wide open. Taking not a second to ponder the oddity of that, she flew upstairs to her bedroom and ripped off her gown and underthings. She found her old brown frock wadded up in the back of her closet and hastily put it on. After slipping into her old slippers, she dragged out her tattered bag from beneath the bed, stuffing her dictionary and spare dress into it. For a brief moment, she wondered where her Aunt Delia’s diaries were before remembering Saber had taken them.

  “To learn more about bein’ a duke,” she choked, feeling a fresh wave of mortification break over her. Staggering into the corner, she retrieved her claymore. As she passed the dressing table, the rich gleam of the gold brush caught her eye. Her broken heart couldn’t bear the memories the sight of it brought, but recollections, like a raging river, flooded through her nevertheless.

  “The dandelion stew,” she murmured, pain weaving through every part of her. “The bread. The maze. Eyes like dancin’ coins, and freckles painted on by cherubs. The first kiss. The softness in your eyes. The—”

  A torrent of tears escaped her. “Lies! All lies!” Sagging against the table, she willed the veil of memories to lift and disappear, but knew in her soul they never would. Like phantoms, they’d haunt her forever.

  With what strength she could find, she swayed toward the door, the heavy claymore slowing her considerably. “Itchie Bon!” she called to her dog. “Itchie Bon!” When he didn’t respond, she realized he and Margaret had taken advantage of the open kitchen door. She prayed she’d find her dog somewhere outside.

  A sudden noise in the hallway startled her. Believing it to be Bennett or Fern, she rushed toward the staircase before either of them could see and try to stop her. Just as she reached for th
e banister, a foul odor caught her attention. A putrid mixture of stale sweat, urine, and something rotten, it made her gag. Foreboding skated down her spine; instinct shouted that she wasn’t alone.

  Someone was watching her.

  Her skin grew clammy, her mouth went dry. Slowly, she turned, her eyes wide, her lungs burning for the breath of air she couldn’t draw.

  “Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya ain’t, chickabiddy,” Diggory Ferris declared as he stepped out of the black shadows of the corridor. “I been waitin’ fer ya, an’ I don’t like ter be kept waitin’. Jest fer that, yer goin’ ter suffer a while afore ya die.”

  At the sight of the glittering dagger in the man’s hand, Goldie screamed so loud, she felt the sound rattle her own bones. Her bag and sword dropped from her hands, both plunging down the staircase.

  The man stepped closer to her. So close she could see the dirt-filled pockmarks on his greasy face and the red streaks in his small, lashless eyes.

  She watched in stunned terror as he raised his blade to her throat, and knew then that not only had all her dreams come to end, but her life had also.

  * * *

  Saber nearly tore the coach door off, trying to get it open as the conveyance came to a rattling halt in front of the house. He bolted out and flew up the steps. The door was locked, and Bennett did not respond. His hands shaking, he fumbled with a ring of keys, infuriated when he couldn’t find the one that would open the door.

  “Dammit, Bennett, open the door! Bennett—”

  Another shout cut him off. Goldie! Her screaming turned his blood to gel and his mind into a seething mass of fear and horror.

  Adrenaline spinning through him, he took a step away from the threshold. Drawing up his leg, he kicked the door with every shred of might his body possessed. He heard the crack of splitting wood, but the door remained shut. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he braced himself and rammed his shoulder into the door.

  It cracked loudly, then gave way with a splintering crash. He dashed madly inside, utter panic whipping through him when he saw Goldie at the top of the staircase. A brawny man had her crushed in his arms, restraining her with a knife poised at her slender throat.

  Saber, Goldie tried to say, her voice subdued by her riotous terror.

  Her plea remained soundless, but it fairly thundered in his heart. Fury such as he’d never before known slammed into him when he saw the barbarian drag her into the dark hallway. He charged up the stairs, slowing only to snatch Goldie’s claymore from a step. When he reached the upper landing, Goldie and her captor were nowhere to be seen. His fist wrapped tightly around the hilt of the great sword, he moved cautiously, silently through the dim corridor, every fiber in his body straining to hear the smallest of noises.

  As he passed his own bedroom, he saw a silver stream of moonlight on the dark blue carpet. A shadow slithered across the pale pool of light. The point of the claymore leading his way, he stepped into the room, every nerve in his body pulsing with apprehension.

  The door suddenly banged shut behind him. Spinning, he heard Goldie’s choking sob and a low, guttural laugh. His stomach knotted, immense waves of panic passed over him. The man who held Goldie captive was now pressing the tip of his dagger into the soft swell of her left breast. Her neck was bleeding. The crimson smear on her pale flesh almost sent Saber to his knees.

  “Ya shouldn’t orter ’ave come up ‘ere, guv,” Diggory sneered, giving his blade a slight twist when Goldie tried to move. “Tender’earted bloke that I am, I was goin’ ter stick ’er away from where ya could see. Now yer goin’ ter ’ave to watch.”

  Saber held the claymore steady. “How much do you want for her life?” he demanded, sweat pouring from his brow. “Whatever your price, I’ll pay it.”

  Diggory snickered, his smile revealing blackened teeth. “So yer another flamin’ nob, eh? Be ya richer’n the one wot ’ired me ter do this job? ’E’s some sorter nobleman, ’e is. Makes me call ’im ‘milord.’ Wears a ruby at ’is throat wot’s almost as big as me bleedin’ fist.”

  A ruby. A ruby. Angelica’s engagement ring. Her ruby ring. Saber’s mind whirled with sudden comprehension. “Dane Hutchins is not a nobleman! He works for me. I am Marion Tremayne, Duke of Ravenhurst. Let the girl go, and I’ll give you—”

  “Ya thinks me balmy?” Diggory blasted. “I’m Diggory Ferris, an’ there ain’t nobody ’ere in London-town wot can outwit me! Ya ain’t no duke! The bluebloods ain’t in this part o’ town!”

  Saber sucked in a ragged breath when the ruffian pushed the knife further into Goldie’s chest. Horror permeated every inch of his rigid body when he saw a spot of blood seep through her dress. Her pain-filled groan tore at his very soul. “Dammit, I am who I say!”

  Diggory spat a long stream of spittle on the floor. “Prove it then, guv. Show me the kind o’ wealth wot only a bleedin’ duke would ‘ave. Iffen it strikes me fancy, I’ll give ya the girl.”

  Saber knew the man called Diggory was lying. He knew the bastard would kill them, steal everything of value from the house, and then collect whatever payment Hutchins had promised him. Desperate for some sort of scheme, he watched Diggory intensely, taking note of the light in the man’s eyes. Saber recognized it immediately. It was greed. If he could play on it, he might just stand a chance of saving Goldie.

  That in mind, he strode to his dresser, his eyes never leaving Diggory’s. His hand folded around the top of a large wooden box. With a jerk of his wrist, he threw it to the floor. It crashed at Diggory’s feet, scattering its contents in wild disarray.

  Diggory’s eyes widened at the sight at his boots. In the wan moonlight, gold, silver, and diamonds glittered. He saw pearls. Emeralds. He’d never laid eyes on such an awesome fortune. “Gorblimey, ya weren’t lyin’, ya weren’t,” he whispered in amazement.

  “There’s more.” Saber tossed a huge wad of bills atop the shining heap of jewelry. He watched the man tremble, knowing that greed would keep the bastard mesmerized for a long moment.

  A moment. It would be all he had to save Goldie’s life.

  He took full advantage of those precious seconds and lunged toward her. Grabbing her arm, he tore her out of Diggory’s clutches and threw her well away. As his left hand released her, his right hand tightened around the hilt of the claymore. Then he drew the great sword up with one swift, powerful motion.

  Diggory never understood what happened when the blade impaled his heart. He made no sound at all, only fell, his body twitching for a few moments before it became still.

  Huddled on the floor by the bed, Goldie stared at her captor’s corpse, unable to take her horrified gaze away from it. Revulsion crawled through her.

  “Goldie.”

  She looked up. “You’re the duke,” she whispered raggedly. “Marion Tremayne.”

  He took a step toward her.

  “Don’t,” she murmured, her tears dripping to the carpet. “Don’t come near me.”

  He stopped. “You’re hurt,” he said, his voice breaking. “Your cheek and breast... Goldie, you’re bleeding.”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “Let me—”

  “No.” Clutching the bedpost, she pulled herself up. Part of her yearned to be in his arms, where she would be safe and warm. She longed to hear him tell her sweet things, and wished she could see that special softness in his eyes just one more time.

  But another part of her ached, the part his betrayal had wounded and made bleed... She swayed with grief and pain. “Now,” she began, trying in vain to moisten her dry lips, “I understand. It’s—It’s all so clear. You...would have been ashamed to be seen with me. That’s why—That’s why you never wanted to take me anywhere. That’s why you kept me hidden away in this house. It’s why you made me stay in the coach.”

  “You’re wrong. Goldie—”

  “Last night,” she whimpered, choking on a sob before she could continue. “It was Jillian’s perfume I smelled on you. You were with her. You—”

 
; “I was with her because I—”

  “And when I asked you what we would do about Uncle Asa—You had no answer. You didn’t answer because you knew my problems would never be yours. And when you sighed... Right before I left your room last night, I—I hinted at marriage. You sighed. Deeply. You sighed with revulsion, didn’t you? You—The duke. Marry me...I’m only a commoner. I’m not fit to breathe the same air as you.”

  Saber’s heart lurched. “No! Goldie, that’s not—”

  “I trusted you,” she whispered, her body quaking. “So much so that I gave you the only thing of value I’ve ever had. And when I did, I became your whore. But—But—I didn’t know!”

  Saber had never seen such profound sorrow on anyone’s face. Her agony poured from her huge, golden eyes, and shook her slight form. That she believed such terrible things about him made him want to die. Every muscle he possessed coiled with the readiness to go to her and enfold her in his arms. But he hesitated. She would fight him. She’d be a wild thing in his embrace. He knew she would. Dammit, he had to make her understand! “Goldie, listen to me. Let me tell you the reasons for—”

  “I trusted you,” she told him again, edging toward the door. “You—You made me believe you loved me. I loved you back. All my dreams...you made them seem so true. You offered me every diamond dream I ever had. And then... When I touched them—When I allowed myself to believe they were really mine—They weren’t real,” she sobbed. “They weren’t real, Sabe—Your Grace!”

  When she flew out of the room, Saber followed her. But his chase was delayed as she turned and knocked over every piece of furniture she passed. The corridor was littered with fallen tables, chairs, paintings, small shelves, and knickknacks. Saber stumbled several times in his haste to catch her.