Diamonds and Dreams (15 page)

He refused to let the childish game
continue. “Goldie, this has gone on far enough. You dirtied me, I
dirtied you, and that’s the end of it. Now drop that mud
immediately and we’ll go tidy up.”

She paid him no mind. Quickly, she patted
her mud into a pie. Drawing back her arm, she aimed carefully.

“Good God!” Saber yelled when the pie
slapped into him. “Goldie!”

She screamed loud and long when she saw him
racing toward her. She knew if she ran, she’d never escape him.
Instead, she picked up the bucket, having every intention of
sloping its contents all over Saber when he arrived.

But the bucket was heavy, and she dropped
it. Mud sloshed all over the ground. Her eyes widened when Saber
flew into the puddle. As he slipped, one foot caught hers, causing
her to fall with him. He splashed down on his back; she landed
directly on top of him.

They were nose to nose, chest to chest,
almost mouth to mouth. Both were still for a very long moment.

Saber couldn’t ignore the feeling of her
breasts pressed against him. Nor was he impervious to the way the
mound of her femininity burned into his belly. A special heat moved
through him, and the cold mud in which he lay didn’t seem so chilly
anymore. “Goldie.”

The odd sound in his voice when he said her
name gave her a deep sensation of something wonderful. She was well
aware of the feel of him beneath her. He was so hard. Ridges and
valleys of muscle covered him all over. She could only take half
breaths. “I—Saber—Isn’t this fun?” she whispered, wondering where
her voice had gone and why she couldn’t think of anything else to
say.

He read her emotions in her eyes and heard
them in her whisper. Smiling, he reached out and pulled a soggy
dandelion from one of her mud-caked ringlets. As he played with the
curl he struggled with desire, and thought about his situation. The
Duke of Ravenhurst was covered with mud. Not only that, he was
lying in it as well. He contemplated many things at that moment.
The smell of dirt. His black fingernails. The stew. The stirring
stick. The mud fight. If not for Goldie and her dandelions, he’d
never have remembered how much fun those things had been. There was
nothing in his life to
cause
him to remember them.

“You know, Goldie,” he said softly, watching
that sparkle in her eyes, “you’re right about dandelions. They
aren’t weeds at all. They’re very special.”

Just like you
, he told her silently.
Just like you.

From the threshold of the library, Saber
watched her.

The little person called Goldie, he mused,
liking that description of her. She was sitting cross-legged on the
floor, leaning over the large book in her lap. Her hair fell around
her face, shielding her expression from him, but he knew her eyes
were bright with whatever it was she was feeling at that moment.
Delight, worry, excitement, anger, sadness...she could hide
nothing. He liked that, too.

Chuckling quietly, he reached up to his
head, patting the wig Addison had found in the closet of one of the
unused rooms. White powder floated all around him. He slid a fine,
pearl-handled cane through his fingers, absently thinking about the
insulting commoners of the world. Smiling, he wondered what his
teacher would say when she saw him. It occurred to him that he was
anxious for the sweet giggle and bright grin she’d probably give
him. Hers was a beautiful smile, and it never failed to make him
want to smile back at her. “Do I look like a duke?” he asked.

Her head snapped up, her curls bobbing. “Oh,
Saber,
look
what I found!” She held up the book, scrambled
to her feet, and began running toward him.

Saber watched her coming. A footstool sat
directly in her path, and he could tell she didn’t see it. He
dropped the cane and bolted out of the doorway, reaching her just
as she tripped over the stool.

She fell into his arms. “Put me down, Saber,
and let me show you what I found!” She tried to squirm her way to
the floor.

He grinned when she showed no gratitude for
his heroic rescue. She hadn’t noticed his wig either. She was
simply too excited over her book. Chuckling, he set her down.
“Don’t I deserve some praise for saving your life the way I just
did?”

“Savin’ my life? Great day Miss Agnes,
Saber, if I’d fallen, I’d only have gotten the breath knocked out
of me. People don’t die from that, y’know.”

He pretended to be insulted, exaggerating a
woebegone expression.

Goldie relented. “Thanks for catchin’
me.”

His expression became sadder.

“Thanks for keepin’ me from gettin’ the
breath knocked out of me.”

Saber hung his head.

“Oh, all right, I owe you my life.” Goldie
knelt and pressed her lips to the toes of each of his boots.
“There,” she said, rising. “I’ve kissed your feet. Satisfied
now?”

He laughed loudly. “Goldie—”

“Saber!” She reached up, giggled, and
touched his wig. “Oh, Saber, you look so dukish! And...and so
ridiculous
! Take that thing off.”

There they were, he mused. That giggle and
that smile. They made him feel so content. “I thought you
wanted
me to wear a wig.”

“I do, but not until we get to Hallensham.
Why, you look an old lady with it on! Oh, Saber, look what I
found!” She picked up his hand and laid the book in it.

He looked down at it. It was Shakespeare’s
works. But before he could ask her what was so all-important about
the volume, she snatched it out of his hands and flew to the
settee.

“Saber, this man, Shakespeare, really knew
duke stuff. I was kinda worried about how dukes talk, but I’m not
anymore.”

“Oh?” Saber asked suspiciously. “And why is
that?” He removed the wig, tossed it to a table, and joined her on
the love-seat.

“Because Shakespeare wrote just like dukes
talk. I’m sure of it. He uses words like ‘thee,’ ‘thou,’ ‘dost,’
‘hath’—”

“But Goldie, Shakespeare lived over two
hundred years ago. People don’t talk like that anymore.”

“Dukes do. Saber, trust me,” she begged,
looking up at him. “I know more about this than you do.”

Saber tried to look serious. With all his
might, he succeeded in keeping more laughter at bay. That this
little American was so sure she knew more about aristocrats than
he
did...well, it was quite the most amusing thing he could
think of. “Very well, Goldie. You have my trust.”

He spoke so softly, she thought dreamily.
His velvet voice reached out, caressing her. She forgot about her
book, and became lost in thought. Ever since they’d played in the
mud, Saber had claimed nearly every notion that entered her
mind.

And it was happening again, now. Her eyes
fluttered closed. Warmth settled around her, hugging her. Images
took shape in her head. Saber was near. He was coming closer to
her. He held her tenderly, kissing her, whispering the sweetest
things...

“Goldie?”

“Saber,” she answered, her eyes still
closed.

“Goldie, are you falling asleep?”

Her eyes flew open. Hands shaking, she
opened the book in her lap, trying to concentrate on the words. But
they were nothing but black blurs spread across the page. She could
dwell on nothing but Saber’s nearness, his wonderful scent, the
tender way his voice touched her. Bittersweet longing seized her.
Never had she been attracted to any man the way she was to Saber.
“It’s just never hit me this hard before,” she whispered.

“What hasn’t?”

Her gaze widened.
Great day Miss Agnes. I
talked aloud!
“Uh, nothin’. I—Saber, Shakespeare added ‘eth’
and ‘est’ to the end of words. You don’t
walk
, you
walketh
. Think, I reckon, is
thinketh
or
thinkest
. Kiss is
kisseth
. Love is—”

She broke off, horrified at what she’d
inadvertently said. Now Saber was going to think she wanted to kiss
him. That she was falling in love with him. He’d laugh at her...or
maybe, like Fred Wattle, he’d play her along first,
then
laugh.

Humiliation and dread smothered her. She
didn’t know what to do or say. Her fingers turned white around the
black cover of the book.

Saber saw her distress instantly and was
completely bewildered by it. One minute she was about to burst with
excitement, and the next she was nervous. Almost afraid.
“Goldie—”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m sure dukes talk like
this!” she blurted, pointing to the page. “I’ll leave this with
you. Read it, Saber. Learn how to put all those ‘tweres,’
‘hithers,’ ‘wilts,’ and ‘henceforths’ into your vocabulary.” She
stood, pushing the book into his hands. “We’ll practice together
tonight after supper.”

She knew she had to leave the room. She was
on the verge of tears and had no wish for Saber to see them.
Turning, she crossed to the door, but stopped when she reached the
upside-down footstool. As she righted it, she spied a woven circle
of dandelions lying nearby, and realized it must have fallen out of
her pocket when she tripped. Picking it up, she returned to Saber
and placed the wreath around his head. “It’s a crown,” she said. He
was so handsome, she thought, a catch in her throat. So handsome,
so sweet...so very wonderful. His eyes were full of softness. “I
meant to give it to you earlier, but I forgot.”

Saber watched openmouthed as she spun on her
heel and fled from the room. There had been the glitter of unshed
tears in her eyes. He felt an overwhelming longing to follow her,
take her into his arms, and kiss away her odd melancholy. Kiss her.
Deeply. A passionate kiss that would tell her how he felt about
her.

How he felt about her?

Anger spiraled through him. This was the
second time he’d wondered about his feelings for her. No! he raged.
What in God’s name had he been thinking of by imagining himself
holding Goldie? By kissing her with all the emotions she evoked in
him?

There were no emotions. She was a special
person, yes, but only because she was so different from anyone he’d
known before. Unique. But that didn’t mean he felt anything deeper
than friendship for her. She was only a girl he knew, and that was
the extent of it.

There was no time left for embraces, kisses,
or feelings anyway, he reminded himself. The time at Leighwood was
over. Tomorrow morning they would leave.

He stood, looking down at the book and
noticing a wet spot that stained one word on the page. It was
Goldie’s tear. He knew it to be so, and touched his finger to it.
His heart longed to know why she’d shed it. His mind dismissed
it.

He looked at the page more closely. The
tearstained word was love.

Love. The cause of every heartache he’d ever
had.

He tossed he book to the settee and left the
room.

* * *

“You’ve been crying,” Big said. He left the
doorway of Goldie’s bedroom, ambling to her bed, where she was
sitting. “Has Saber done something to upset you?”

Her gaze touched everything in the room but
Big. “He had on a white wig a little while ago. He looked just like
a duke.”

Big leaned against the bed. “You’re evading
my question. What has he done? He... Goldie, he hasn’t tried to
touch you, has he?”

If only he would
, she answered
silently. “Big, Saber and I are just friends. Why would he touch
me?”

Big saw her eyes were brimming with pain.
“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

She slid off the bed, crossed to the mirror,
and began brushing her hair with her fingers. “I don’t know what
you’re talkin’ about.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re good at many
things, Goldie Mae, but the one thing you can’t do well at all is
lie. Every single thing you feel or think shines from your eyes.
Did you know that? You like Saber, and you want—”

“I told you we’re just friends.”

“But you’re dreaming of it being more than
that. I’m not blind, Goldie. I’ve seen the way you look at him.
Yesterday you spilled tea all over your dress when he
smiled
at you! Imagine spilling your drink on account of some ridiculous
grin.”

“His smile isn’t ridiculous. It’s beautiful.
And I only spilled a few drops. It was just as well. I don’t like
tea.”

“Well, these English people can’t live
without it. Lord, I can’t even count how many pots of the mess I’ve
brewed since I took over the kitchen. Me, I like my coffee. Now,
shall we get back to your tears? You were crying over that man,
weren’t you?”

She shook her head.

Big tapped his foot. “Daddy’s honor?”

She looked at the floor. She’d never been
able to hide anything from Big, and she couldn’t now either. “He’s
so handsome, Big. So strong. Sometimes his grin is crooked. He
looks like a bad little boy when he smiles like that. I never
thought I’d meet a man I’d like better than Fred Wattle, but
Saber... He teases me and makes me laugh. And he treats me so nice!
He always gives me the softest chairs. In the parlor he helps me
into ’em. In the dinin’ room, he pulls ’em out for me. He does a
lot of nice stuff with chairs. He’s smart too. He’s known all my
new words for the day. He probably hears Addison say ’em. And
there’s somethin’ about him. Somethin’ real special, Big. Like he
knows exactly what he’s gonna do next and has no doubt at all that
it’ll turn out right. He’s real sure about things.”

“Conceit,” Big huffed.

“Well, sorta, but not really. It’s somethin’
else. It’s different from conceit. He does and says things real
fast, like he doesn’t even have to think about ’em. He just
knows
. “

“He has an air of authority.”

“Yes! Yes, an air of authority.”

“And no right to it. Goldie, the man was
destitute before his cousin Addison began assisting him. We know
that. Yet he acts as though all the power in the world spins in his
palm. He—”