Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (32 page)

Lily grasped Tristram's arm, surprising him by the coldness of her hand. "I know, Tristram. But listen, I don't think we should tell anybody about that," she warned him, not quite understanding the reason for caution herself, but she knew she was right not to say anything.

"Why?"

Lily frowned. " 'Tis a secret, that's why," she suddenly said. "Basil didn't want us to say anything about our cave, or the journal. Remember?"

"Yes, but the witch doesn't have anything to do with that, Lily," Tristram said in confusion.

"I don't know. But maybe it does, Tristram. That was a special story Basil told us. He said it was our secret. I remember now, Tristram, an
d we mustn't say anything about
the witch. Besides, if he is the witch, then he could hurt us. He might steal Dulcie," Lily said, more loudly this time as she started even to scare herself with such thoughts.

"The witch could put a spell on her, Lily!" Tristram said, his voice rising shrilly.

"A witch?" Simon Whitelaw repeated curiously as he caught the one word. Glancing over his shoulder at the two who were whispering secrets, he said, "I know all
about
them. You want to be careful when around them. You don't want even to meet one, or make one mad. They can put the evil eye on you."

Lily and Tristram exchanged knowing glances.

"Do not let Sir Raymond Valchamps frighten you because he looks like a witch with those eyes. Some people might think that he really is a witch, but he is not. I can understand how little Dulcie,
my
sister, was scared," Simon told them, surprising both Lily and Tristram by his use of the word sister when talking of
their
sister, Dulcie. Seeing their shocked expressions, he said almost defensively. "Well, she is my sister. Basil was my father. He was Dulcie's father, too. Your mother was her mother. She is, therefore,
our
sister," he explained, suddenly reminding both Lily and Tristram of Basil trying to explain some finer point to them and they started to giggle.

Simon frowned, halting in his tracks. He did not like being laughed at and was about to say as much when Lily said, "He's just like Basil, isn't he, Tristram?"

"I am?" Simon said.

"Exactly," Lily told him honestly,
knowing
in that instant that he would become her friend.

"Well," he said awkwardly, feeling ten feet tall all of a sudden, "I am pleased to hear that. Now, what was I saying?"

"The witch. You were telling us about witches," Tristram urged him, despite Lily's warning glance, for although they might be related, it was still their secret.

"Oh? Oh, Sir Raymond Valchamps. Yes, even though he does have those odd eyes, gives me the shivers, he's not a witch. He's a knight. He even saved Elizabeth's life," Simon informed them, pleased to see that he had managed to impress the two, for they had looked at each other in amazement.

"There, you see, Lily. He's not the witch," Tristram whispered thankfully, for he had not looked forward to confronting the man, which he suspected Lily might think their honor would demand.

"Then he would never hurt the queen?" Lily asked, for although she was relieved to hear Simon's reassurances, her dreams had been with her for too long to be completely forgotten now.

"Hurt Elizabeth?" Simon asked incredulously. "Never. Sir Raymond Valchamps is one of her favorites," he said, increasing his pace as he appreciatively sniffed the aromatic smells drifting down the corridor.

But Lily's steps continued to drag behind. She could not forget the sound of Basil's voice when telling them the fable about the wild white horses and the witch with one blue eye and one brown, and how important it was for them to return to England and save the queen. But there was something more that was bothering Lily. She knew with a certainty that she had met Raymond Valchamps before. She had not recognized him merely from the fable or her dreams. Basil had never fully described the witch in the fable, except for the eyes. and the spectral figure in her dreams had always remained slightly blurred, except for the eyes. But she had known Raymond Valchamps. She had seen not only those eyes before, but his face and silvery hair. She could not remember where, but the meeting had left an impression in her mind that she would never forget.

Simon had not misled them, and with Tristram's stomach no longer protesting, they followed Simon into the gardens. Lily kept glancing back over her shoulder as they left the house, but there was no one there, watching. Still engrossed in her thoughts, Lily accompanied Simon and Tristram to the river's edge. But soon she tired of watching the boats sailing up and down the river, and, after her cheeks had flushed with embarrassment for the third time because of some ribald remark from an appreciative lad catching sight of her, she left Tristram and Simon to amuse themselves as best they could.

Lily had more important things on her mind than worrying about whether Tristram or Simon could skip his stone the farthest across the river. When she saw the tall, lean figure leaving the house and walking toward the gardens, she made up her mind.

She could not forget Raymond Valchamps. If it had been just a fable Basil had told to amuse them, or if her nightmares were unfounded, no more than childish fears, why did Raymond Valchamps watch her? Valentine would know, Lily had decided. She did not think that Basil would have objected to her sharing their secret with Valentine. She had to tell someone. And the only person besides Tristram and Dulcie she could trust was Valentine Whitelaw.

Lily's steps quickened as she hurried along the brick path through the gardens. The heady fragrance of lilies and roses filled the warm afternoon air as she ran past neatly clipped yew hedges and box-edged gardens resplendent with spring flowers. Water bubbling from a stone fountain muffled her steps as she approached the arbored entrance to one of the small gardens enclosed within brick walls.

It was there that Lily found Valentine Whitelaw.

He was sitting on a carved seat in the cool shade of the wall, and wrapped in his embrace was Cordelia Howard. As Lily watched, Valentine's lips touched Cordelia's. His hands caressed her as he pulled her closer against his body.

"I have missed you, my love," he murmured against her lips, unable to resist tasting them again as his mouth found hers in a long kiss.

"And I have missed you," Cordelia said breathlessly, her fingers sliding through his hair as she pulled his head down to hers again, not satisfied as she kissed him, her lips clinging to his, and she wished they had more privacy than the garden allowed.

Feeling his hand moving over her breast, she said, "I do not think you have missed me that much or you would not persist in leaving England every few months on this adventuring of yours. I get lonely, and the winters are cold when you are away, Valentine. Never forget that I am a woman who needs constant companionship," she warned him,
purposely
allowing her mouth to part from his.

Valentine smiled. "I am with you now, and I will not be returning to sea for some time," he told her, his mouth stealing her breath away as he kissed her deeply.

"I suppose I should be thankful for at least these few moments of your time," Cordelia said impatiently, for she longed to have him in her bed again.

"What do you mean?"

"With that foolish child clinging to you all of the time, I scarcely could catch your eye all day. She is like a puppy yapping at your heels. Faith, but I expect to see her appear any moment. However did you manage to lose her?" Cordelia said, laughing.

"Lily?" Valentine asked in surprise.

"If that is the redheaded one's name, then yes, Lily."

Valentine laughed. "Don't tell me you are jealous of that child?"

"That child, my dear, is fast becoming a woman. Another few years and you will not even recognize her, except perhaps for that unfortunate red hair. And then, my roguish one, you had better keep on your guard, or you may find
yourself
married to the chit," Cordelia warned with an unpleasant glint in her eye.

"Don't be ridiculous, Delia."

"If I remember correctly, you said you had a penchant for red hair," she reminded him, pleased to see him frowning over her words. "I suppose, however, that only a queen could manage to receive compliments with hair that color," she added cattily.

"Lily is just a child. No different than Dulcie."

"I seriously doubt that she looks upon you as she would a brother or father," Cordelia said, thinking of the stable hand who had become her first lover when she had not been much older than this young girl.

Valentine stared at Cordelia as if she were mad. "Lily was the daughter of my very good friend. I could never think of her in the manner in which you seem to think. I feel responsible for Lily's welfare, that is all. I could never fall in love with her. I am very fond of Lily, but she is a child, and always will be in my eyes," he said again, this time with a mocking laugh. "Lily Christian means nothing to me beyond being the daughter of a friend of mine," Valentine said more harshly than perhaps he intended, but he was determined to end Cordelia's speculations concerning Lily Christian.

Hearing his laughter, which was joined by Cordelia Howard's, Lily turned away and ran. Tears blinding her, she did not see the figure that stepped out of the shadow of the hedge and grabbed hold of her as she ran.

Halted abruptly, Lily stared into Raymond Valchamp's narrowed gaze.

"You are certainly in a hurry. Why? Not spying on people, are you?" he asked, his fingers tightening punishingly around her upper arms. "You seem to make a habit of being where you have no business being."

Lily felt her breath coming raggedly. "Let me go!"

"Do I frighten you, little one?"

Lily continued to stare into his eyes, mesmerized by them.

"I won't hurt you. Why don't you come with me now? We can walk along the river. It is very peaceful down there where the current runs strongest," he said, smiling down into her wide eyes.

"N-no, I must go."

"No one is waiting for you, Lily Christian. No one cares where you go. Come with me. Come with me. Come with me, Lily. My Lily. I've waited for you for so long," he said softly, and Lily felt her feet starting to move despite her resolution to stay rooted to the ground. Closing her eyes, unable to resist the soft sound of his voice, she moved
through
the garden.

Suddenly Lily could hear the busy sounds of bees buzzing in the flowers. She opened her eyes, startled to find herself standing alone-
-
except for the Turk.

He was standing before her,
blocking
the path by which Raymond Valchamps would have led her down to the riverbank. Lily continued to stand where she was, her eyes held by those dark eyes that she had once thought so cruel and unfriendly, and she wondered how she could ever have been so mistaken.

The expression in the Turk's eyes was warm and understanding. He no longer seemed the fierce adversary she had been so mistrustful of, especially when he held out his hand, stepping aside to allow her to pass by in safety. Lily held his gaze as she walked by him. He nodded slightly, then Lily heard him following as she entered, she tried to force her lips to smile, but the Turk had already disappeared back into the gardens.

Raymond Valchamps paced back and forth before the balustrade of the terrace. So close. He could have ended right then any possible threat the girl might have been, except for that damned servant of Valentine Whitelaw's. He had been alone with the girl in the garden. It would have been so easy to have led her down to the river. She had been scared to death of him. He had felt her fear, and it had given him a strange sense of power. It had excited him, knowing that he could have killed her in that instant. He would have thrown her into the river, then stood there and watched her drown.

Raymond Valchamps smiled. Then his smile
faded as he thought of that demo
ned turbaned fellow's interference. He hadn't like the look the heathen had given him. As if the man had known what he was about to do. But he couldn't have, Raymond Valchamps reassured himself. When he had become aware of the man standing there watching, he had quickly pretended to say something to the girl, as if he'd been guiding her back to the house. But next time, next
time
there would be no escape for her.

And there would be no escape for Elizabeth the next time either, he thought, his smile returning. Strange, that his attempt to murder Elizabeth should result in his being knighted for saving her. It had been his sword tip that had struck Elizabeth's horse. He had kept his horse racing wildly with hers, but when he had seen her personal guard almost about to catch up to them, he had turned his failure into triumph. Instead of being arrested for her attempted murder, he had been praised as a hero.

Raymond Valchamps's smile widened. Even if the girl did remember him, who would believe her word against his? He was a knight of the realm. He had saved Elizabeth's life. He was a hero. She was just a child, with a child's vivid imagination. No one would believe her. But, he would not rest easy until he was certain that she never spoke of having seen him in Santo Domingo.