Diamonds and Dreams

by Rebecca Paisley

  By the time he’d reached the staircase, she was already scurrying through the foyer downstairs. “Goldie!” he screamed, bounding down the steps. “Wait!”

  She was gone as he leapt off the last step. Realizing she would go for Dammit, whom she kept secured in a small shed in the back, he raced toward the kitchen, where the back door was located.

  But as he sped down the narrow hall that led there, Margaret came bounding toward him. She stopped in front of a small closet, yapping and digging at the door. Saber slowed, and heard moaning coming from within. Two distinct voices groaned for help. He knew immediately they belonged to Bennett and Fern.

  Snatching the closet door open, he saw them lying on the floor amidst a pile of damask tablecloths and linen napkins. They were both bleeding from head wounds. “Dear God!” he shouted, bending down to them. “Bennett! Fern! What—”

  “We were taking tea in the kitchen,” Bennett explained, “We didn’t see him until it was too late.”

  “He hit us, sir,” Fern added weakly.

  Saber helped them both to their feet. A battle of desires waged inside him. He longed desperately to go after Goldie, but he couldn’t leave the two servants until he was certain their injuries weren’t severe. Biting back his raging frustration, he led them back through the hall and into the drawing room, assisting them onto the soft sofa.

  With shaking fingers, he examined their wounds, relieved when he saw they were not deep. He knew then Bennett and Fern would be fine. “Stay here,” he ordered them both. “Goldie—I’ve got to find her. She—I’ll be back. Stay here!”

  His race to the kitchen was so fast, he could barely remember the trip there. When he reached the room, he saw the door was wide open. Fear for Goldie still pumping through him, he bolted toward it. The unmistakable click of a gun hammer being pulled back stopped him short. The gun suddenly materialized from the threshold. Held in a stark-white hand, it was pointed directly at his chest.

  The man who brandished it stepped out of the night fog and into the kitchen. Saber stared at him. There was something hauntingly familiar about the man.

  “Good evening, Tremayne.”

  Saber stood riveted, watching the large ruby twinkle at the man’s throat. “Hutchins.” The name left the taste of poison in his mouth.

  “I’m impressed,” Dane said, his lips twisting into a smile. “You remember me after all these years. Where is Diggory Ferris, might I ask?”

  “Dead.” Hatred for Dane ravaged through Saber but his fear for Goldie was stronger. Dammit, she was getting away! She was going to ride through London at night, alone! “Get out of my way, Hutchins.”

  Dane smoothed his free hand across the side of his head. “The mist out there is utterly nasty,” he commented, leveling the gun again. “Why, it’s not even a clean mist! It’s filled with London grime. I fear it has ruined my clothes. I detest the city. I prefer my country estate.” He lifted his pistol a bit higher, aiming it at Saber’s forehead.

  “You’ll not escape, Hutchins,” Saber warned. “I’ve a slew of detectives trailing you, and every one of them knows the extent of your crimes. You may kill me if that’s what your twisted mind tells you to do, but you will still lose all you believe to be yours. And that includes your very life. You’re going to hang.”

  Dane smiled again. “I killed her, you know.”

  Saber’s knees almost buckled. He reached for the kitchen table for support. “Goldie.”

  “Goldie? No, not her. I will though. Yes, I certainly will. But I am speaking of Angelica. Sweet Angelica... It was nighttime. I found her in bed, exactly where I wanted her to be. I explained to her that by visiting her I was doing her an honor. I was going to allow her to share her charms with me, you see. But she refused. She raced out of the room, but I caught her at the top of the staircase. She fought me, calling out your name. I forgave her her ignorance, but I realized then that she would never understand the privilege I offered her.

  “I consider her murder as a mercy killing of sorts,” he continued calmly. “I took pity on her, you see. Given my extreme compassion for her, I could not allow her to marry you. She would have been miserable. And a woman as beautiful as she... Death was infinitely better than a life with you. Wherever she is, I know she’s thanking me for delivering her from such a fate. And now, this is all I have left of her.” He reached up, caressing the ruby nestled within the folds of his milk-white neckcloth.

  Saber never knew such wild dread existed! If Dane escaped tonight, the man would, indeed, go after Goldie. He would succeed where Diggory Ferris had failed. “I won’t let you do this, Hutchins,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “Do you hear me, you murderous bastard? I won’t let you take anyone else away from me!”

  “Allow me to commend you on your courage, Tremayne,” Dane taunted. “There you stand quite defenseless, and here I am, pointing a gun at your head.”

  Saber did not respond, but only continued watching the barrel of Dane’s pistol, waiting for the opportunity to overcome the deranged man.

  “You always had everything, didn’t you, Tremayne?” Dane continued.” I hated you from the first time I saw you. As a baby, you were swaddled in silk and lace, as a little boy, dressed in the finest clothes your father’s money could buy. The pony you rode cost more than everything I owned put together. My small house was sparsely furnished, and day after day I saw you taking fine and expensive things into that cursed tree house the villagers built for you. Silver candlesticks! They were worth more than several months of my wages! And yet you had them in your tree house! It wasn’t fair, Tremayne. It was wrong. I knew that. Knew in my soul that the estate and everything on it was supposed to be mine.

  “Heaven as my witness, if you hadn’t left Ravenhurst when you did, I would have killed you. Twenty years have passed since that day, but as I look into your eyes, I know my loathing for you hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s increased, and I realize now that only your death will bring me the peace I deserve. You have to die, Tremayne. And once you’re dead, I’ll find that little bitch who dared to try and spoil my dreams. She’ll go to Hallensham. I know she will. She’ll go to collect her uncle and dwarf friend. Oh, how I will relish punishing her for trying to ruin my life.”

  The thought of Goldie in Dane’s hands filled Saber with fury. Before he even realized what he was doing, he hurled himself at Dane, taking his opponent off-guard. He heard the gun drop to the floor before he smashed his fist into Dane’s jaw and heard the crack of breaking bone. He then lunged for the pistol.

  So did Dane. They fell upon it at the same time, each of them getting a firm hold on it. Rolling on the floor, they struggled for sole possession of it.

  The explosion of gunfire ended the fight. Saber became motionless, feeling no burn, no pain. He pulled away from Dane, his eyes drawn to the crimson stain blossoming on the front of the man’s snow-white shirt.

  “Lord Tremayne!” Tyler Escott raced into the room, followed by several of his detectives. He stopped short when he saw Dane’s body. “What—”

  “Tyler!” Saber jerked to his feet, grabbing the detective by his shoulders. “Did you see her anywhere? Did you see Goldie?”

  Tyler frowned. “She’s not here?”

  “Dammit!” Saber dragged his fingers through his hair. “Tyler, I’ve got to find her!” He flew toward the door.

  “Lord Tremayne, wait!” Tyler shouted. “Listen to me. We got Doyle. He—”

  Tyler’s sentence died unfinished in his throat. He watched as his distraught client disappeared into the thick mist outside.

  * * *

  The cold fog defied Saber’s efforts to find Goldie. Mounted on Yardley, he rode down street after street, but the heavy haze prevented him from seeing more than a few feet ahead of him. He might very well have come within yards of her, never noticing her, he raged.

  As he searched on through London, he tried to convince himself that wherever she was, she was all right. His heart refused to believe otherwise.
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  But his mind, his intellect, reminded him repeatedly that she was wandering around in a city that fairly oozed with perils. Even if she managed to find her way out of London, the countryside was rife with danger. Assuming she’d found him, Itchie Bon would be her sole source of protection.

  She would head for Hallensham, he knew. But even on a superb mount, the journey was a three-day ride away. Dammit would need twice that to make it, provided the old horse was able. Moreover, Goldie had no idea how to get there.

  He realized his only recourse was to go to Ravenhurst and wait for her, for he knew he’d never be able to find her this way. But dear God, there was no telling where she’d end up or what would happen to her before she arrived.

  Dear God. The words echoed through his mind, heart, soul. Dream Giver. Saber stopped Yardley and peered up at the heavens. He could see nothing of them, the fog spitefully veiling his view. “Are You there?” he demanded loudly, his throat aching from so many hours of screaming Goldie’s name. “Don’t let it happen again! Don’t take her from me! And Goldie—She thinks You believe her to be unworthy! Haven’t You let enough heartache happen to us already? Let me give her her dreams! Do You hear me? Are You listening? Dammit, are You there?”

  His eyes and soul strained to detect some sort of answer. When none came, he knew he was completely alone.

  “Goldie,” he murmured, staring down at the reins in his trembling hands. He remembered every single thing about her. Her fresh scent, sweet, bubbly voice, and the profound allure of her beauty.

  But mostly he recalled her character. Her simple way of looking at things. Her determination to deal with her own pain so as not to burden others with what she thought she could handle herself. Her outrageous ideas and the deep faith she had in them.

  Her dreams. All her innocent and beautiful diamond dreams. He’d made none of them come true for her. Instead he’d hurt her. She’d wept, and now she was alone, cold, and without a shred of protection. His agony was so sharp, he felt as though a sword were slashing into his heart.

  “Poppet,” he whispered, pain clutching his throat. “My poppet called Goldie.” His eyes stung. A tear rolled down his cheek. Another joined it. And another. He watched them splash onto his hands, the reins, and Yardley’s mane. A loud moan escaped him as he leaned over his horse’s neck, memory after memory sweeping achingly through him.

  His head bowed, he rode on, never seeing the momentary parting of the fog. Through the patch of clear sky it revealed, one lone and brilliant star smiled down upon him.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  With only Dammit, Itchie Bon, and sorrow for company, Goldie looked down the long, winding dirt road stretched out before her. Surrounded on both sides by vast, windswept fields, she could see no end to it.

  “Do you think that man was lyin’ to us, Itchie Bon?” she asked the panting mongrel. “He said Ravenhurst was right over the hill, but where the hell’s the hill? Lord, we’ve been wanderin’ around lost for so many days that I’m beginnin’ to think we’ll never find Hallensham.”

  She felt tears coming, but stubbornly held them back. Upon leaving London, she’d sworn never to shed another tear over her misfortune again, and she’d succeeded. She would not break her oath now.

  Her shoulders sagging, she closed her eyes, reliving the past ten days. Ten twenty-four-hour nightmares were what they’d been. Her small bag of belongings had been stolen from her before she’d even found her way out of London. She’d thought to fight to get it back, but when she’d seen the gaunt and filthy face of the child-thief, she’d lost the heart to do battle with him.

  Without money, she’d been unable to buy anything. She’d slept outside, huddled next to Itchie Bon for warmth. If not for the few compassionate peasants she’d met during her journey, she would have starved. But even so, the food she’d been given had barely been enough for five days, much less the week and a half she’d made it stretch out over. She shared it with Itchie Bon, who added bugs, reptiles, and rodents to his half. The loyal dog had even offered her a freshly killed field mouse two days ago.

  Thank God the countryside itself fed Dammit, she mused, smoothing her hand down his coarse mane. She mashed grass, roots, seeds, and water together for him. But though he’d eaten well, his gait slowed by the hour, each step a real struggle for him. Her breath caught in her throat as she dwelled on the efforts the old, stouthearted horse had expended for her sake.

  That in mind, she slipped to the ground, deciding to walk a bit. Without Dammit’s warm flesh next to her legs, she shivered. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she felt hunger gnaw at her belly. Her entire body trembled with exhaustion.

  But cold, hunger, and weariness were nothing compared to the ache in her heart. In fact, she welcomed the discomforts. Anything was better than the horrible pain thoughts of Saber brought.

  She lifted her chin, looking down the endless road again. With a gentle tug on Dammit’s reins, she began to walk. “I won’t think about him,” she murmured to her animals. “I won’t. I can’t. I’ll think of dandelions. They don’t stay smashed down. Crush ’em, and they spring right back. We’ll get to Hallensham, get thrown out, and then we’ll go somewhere else. It’ll be all right. I’ll make it be all right. I will. I will,” she vowed. “And I’ll never think about him again. Never.”

  She trudged onward. The wind smoothed across the fields, causing the long grass to sway. Goldie couldn’t help noticing how green it was. Green as fresh seaweed.

  Her traitorous memory summoned recollection after recollection. She saw him.

  Saber.

  His image, like a bolt of lightning, seared into her mind, stubbornly refusing to leave. It remained, so real to her that she felt as though she could reach out her hand and touch him.

  She pushed her shoulders back and quickened her pace. A large blackbird sailed overhead. Black as coal. Just like his hair.

  Saber.

  She shook her head, trying to clear it of all memories. Running her hand down Dammit’s neck, she forced herself to concentrate on how soft his coat was. “Soft as silk,” she told him. “Just like silk sheets.”

  She could smell him. Sandalwood. Warm, silk sheets. And something simmering.

  Saber.

  A breeze floated past her, picking up her curls. As if the gentle wind carried the song of his voice, she could hear him. Trust me, Goldie, he whispered to her. Trust me.

  The words he’d told her with such sincerity continued to waft through her, despite her best efforts to forget them. She walked on. Faster, as if she could leave all the memories behind her. An hour passed. The memories followed.

  He was with her. She saw him, smelled him, heard him. He stayed with her every step of the way, and it had been so since she left him in London.

  She dropped the reins and began to run. Trust me, Goldie. Trust me.

  “Saber,” she moaned, her legs aching and trembling as she struggled up a high hill.

  She didn’t see the rut in the road until she felt herself falling. Down she rolled, sharp stones and sticks bruising her every inch of the way.

  When she finally stopped she opened her eyes. She was at the bottom of the hill lying in a soft bed of dandelions. The bright yellow blossoms made a pillow for her head and caressed her face. Their fresh scent filled her with yet more memories, more heartache. She could hold her tears back no longer. In a great flood, they escaped her, and she lay amidst the butter-soft, golden flowers, drenching them with all her pain, and mourning all her broken dreams.

  * * *

  Asa looked up from the armful of firewood he carried. Like he did every day, every hour on the hour he swept his gaze over the countryside, searching in vain for some sign that his Goldie had returned. He saw nothing. Nothing but old, gnarled trees, hedgerows, and never-ending fields. His heart heavier than the tremendous stack of wood in his arms, he turned toward the cottage.

  As he reached the yard, he heard a distant sound. Facing the field again, he searched inten
tly once more, spying a stray dog. The barking mongrel raced toward the village, stopped, then turned to yelp at something behind him. Curious, Asa continued to observe him.

  A horse plodded into view and began pawing the ground. Asa watched the dog run in a circle around the horse then speed out of view, all the while barking. The horse turned its head and let out a long, loud whinny. Asa then saw the dog return.

  By its side was a person. A little girl, Asa mused, noting how small the child was. He squinted, trying to see the distant form better. Sunlight glinted off her hair. Her hair of bright gold.

  Asa’s heart began to bang. His load of firewood crashed to the ground. “Goldie,” he whispered, joy surging through him like a rush of cool water upon parched earth. “God Almighty! Big! Big, it’s Goldie! She’s back!”

  Big almost killed himself trying to get through the front door of the cottage. As he scurried into the yard, he looked every where for Asa, finally spotting him running into a field. “Goldie,” he murmured, spying the tiny, yellow-haired girl in the distance. A mixture of relief, happiness, and excitement scampered through him. “Goldie! Goldie! Gold—Saber! Good Lord, I’ve got to tell Saber!”

  Spinning around, he looked at the manor house. His short legs moving as fast as they were able, he raced toward the mansion, shouting the news of Goldie’s return to all he passed, and waving frantically at the field in which she could be found.

  The people spilled out of every building in the village. Shouts filled the air, men, women, and children alike cheered the return of the girl who’d somehow coerced Lord Tremayne to come back.

  Vaguely, Asa heard the cheering, but could concentrate on nothing but the sight of his Goldie. Tears streamed down his freshly shaven cheeks as the years fell away, and he saw her as the little girl who’d been given into his keeping. “Goldie!” he screamed, his long legs pumping to get him to her.