Destiny Lies Waiting (22 page)

But this odious wench was making this the tightest spot he'd ever found himself in. He feared he was in more trouble than the time he'd set up separate dalliances with King Louis' two daughters, and they'd both arrived in the garden at the same time! He'd nearly shriveled to a prune hiding in the fountain behind a trio of marble cherubs.

He broke out in beads of cold sweat. Oh, why couldn't he be as calm a fibber as Richard!

"Well, are ye goin' t' tell me the truth, white knight, or shall I report ye to 'er 'ighness the Queen?"

"Kat, I was simply..." He tried to appeal to her by using her name. "I'm not trying to hurt anyone. You know how much I respect the King and Queen."

This frump was as revolting as Dove was beautiful, and he tried to conjure up her visage, but his imagination ended where this woman's chins began.

"Tell me what you're doin', then."

"Simply on a mission for the King. It seems our good Queen mislaid the privy seal, and the King needs me to fetch it for him. But she would be a mite miffed if she knew the King sent me here, so do promise you won't tell her I was rummaging about her personal effects?"

Kat gave him a withering look. "Privy seal my hairy arse. 'Twas a good try, though."

"But 'tis true!"

"I bet you're sneakin' round for your mate The 'Og. I seen the two o' you diddlin' together so much, methinks you're queer for each other or some such."

He'd heard those of low birth referring to Richard as "The Hog" from his emblem, the White Boar. No one of nobility would dare refer to him this way—except maybe the Woodvilles.

"Per'aps if you take me mind elsewhere, I'll forget I ever seen ye 'ere and I won't tell 'er 'ighness ye were 'ere."

"Take your mind off it? Very well then. How about a game of mental chess? I'll go first. King's pawn to king four." He backed away with a congenial smile.

"Nah!" She licked her lips, baring rotted teeth. He found himself involuntarily shielding his privy parts with his left hand.

"How 'bout ye acquaint me body with yours?"

"How about ye acquaint your body with a fresh cake of soap?"

"What I 'ad in mind 'ad naught to do with clean." She made a lunge for him.

He fluidly slid out of the way. Her mole and blackheads came more clearly into focus. Ripples of fat dangled like windblown draperies from her arms. She giggled and tried to bat her eyelashes, but this pathetic attempt at femininity didn't faze him. He was too busy counting her chins.

"Alas, there is naught I can do to pleasure you. I've got a physical defect that has impeded my manhood, as it were. I am not a man in the true sense."

That was easy enough to say at the thought of physical contact with her. He felt a churning in his gut as his bowels threatened to let loose.

"Ye speak the truth, me lord?" Her voice dropped in pitch, and he guessed she was trying to sound sexy. But the combination of Kat and sexy was as appetizing as an apple fritter crawling with maggots.

"Aye, I speak the very truth. I was wounded in the Battle of Tewkesbury, both me and me horse. We rode into battle man and destrier, and came out a pair of geldings."

He reached behind him to smooth the letter, which was bunching up between his cheeks. "The beast soon perished, poor thing. But I...nearly lost it, should I say. Had to have it fairly stitched back on."

"And it don't work no 'ow?" she asked in wonder.

"I can have a wee with it, but naught else," he said with a sigh.

She took a gaping leer at his crotch. "Them bulges look real enough to me and good enough to eat, me lord. Couldn'a been that bad a wound." Her eyes narrowed and she came closer.

He retreated as far as he could go. His back was now pressed against the wall.

She shuffled her feet, thrusting out her breasts in what she probably thought was a feminine gesture. He would have killed for a swig of mead.

Her rancid odor made him want to retch. Not so much for fear of the Queen's wrath, he wanted to escape simply out of regard for his stomach. "Naught was lost. It just ceased to function in the carnal sense."

"Your story warms me 'eart, white knight," she uttered, the hairy arms coming at him, flab swinging like a couple of loose sandbags. "But I wanna see for me self."

She pressed him up against the wall and thrust her pelvis into his. He let out a woof of breath as her bulk hit him and the stench assailed him.

"If ye aren't tellin' the truth, your rooster will. Ye like that, pretty boy?" she urged, her breath quickening as her sadistic excitement mounted. "If ye truly can't prick the garter, ye'll just 'ave to find another way to show me you're a man. You 'ave two 'ands and a tongue."

"Nay, 'tis not quite that simple. I cannot bed a woman, any woman," he protested desperately, swallowing the bile that bubbled at the back of his throat.

"Oh, just me rotten luck! I found me self a bloomin' sheep-shagger!"

"Nay. I'm taking vows. I shall be Father Valentine ere too long, since I shall never sire any heirs. You wouldn't violate sacred vows, now would you?"

He turned his head away from her putrid breath.

She stood quietly for a long moment, then backed away slowly. "Nay. Ye be joshin'."

"Just for entertaining carnal thoughts of me makes me wonder about you now, Kat. I have a few questions of my own to ask of you."

"Go on, ask me 'ow I like it." She cupped his crotch and he cringed as if backing into a wild pig in heat.

"Might you be a witch, Kat? I've heard tales about you weaving an evil spell or two." He gingerly plucked her hand away.

"Nay!" She shrieked as if poked with a hot iron. "Nay, I be no witch, me lord, I be just a common servin' wench, I 'ad no idea ye were...are..."

"You are aware of the fate of witches," he replied, slipping the gold crucifix from around his neck and dangling it on its chain before her. "Must I reel off a list of tortures they've been known to endure when found out?"

"I said I ain't no bloomin' witch!" She was backing out of the alcove now with obvious alarm. The air became more breathable with every step she took.

"Perhaps you are the one I should be telling Queen Elizabeth about. Just what were you doing up here anyhow?"

"Cleanin' the palace! Scrubbin' the bloody privies! Look at me 'ands! Look 'ow raw they be from scourin'!"

"Cease!" he commanded, and she froze.

"What's that I see on your left hand? Be that a witch's mark?" He forced himself to approach her and grabbed her clammy hand.

"Nay! 'Tis but a mole, me lord!" She snatched her hand away, then quickly hid them both behind her back. 'Tis naught, I ain't a witch, please..."

She was sobbing now, and he was beginning to feel sorry for her. By now he was convinced that her fear adequately precluded any tattling about this incident.

"Then be gone lest I demand you remove your chemise and prove you've not an extra teat!"

"Nay! I be gone, I..." she backed away, crashing into the opposite wall, then turned and fled, disappearing in a cloud of body odor and kitchen grease.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked both ways before removing to his own chambers, where he ordered a bath and scrubbed every inch of his body.

He lit a small fire and burned the letter. He didn't dare keep it in his possession, or return to Elizabeth's chambers to put it back.

"Oh, Dove, what I wouldn't do for you!"

A painful longing for her made his heart ache worse than his loins. But he prayed that what he had learned would bring him one step closer to winning her.

CHAPTER THIRTY

A couple of days later, Valentine entered the gatehouse at the ancient and elegant Pomfret Castle, dismounted, and handed the reins to a stable boy. A page led him to Richard's chambers, where he was conferring with his council.

After a few moments, Richard dismissed them and greeted his friend. "Val, what took you so long to arrive? I thought you'd changed your mind and decided to join the court on progress."

"Nay, progress is too much like battle with none of the glory. I needed to attend to an important task before I joined you."

"Well, I'm glad to see you. You may lodge within if you wish."

"Nay, I'll return to London."

"I thought you would."

They walked out of his council chamber and Richard led him to the courtyard. The gentle breeze played with Valentine's hair.

Taking a deep breath of the fresh country air, he closed his eyes and let the twittering birds serenade him in this moment of peace.

"Sounds like a monumental task if it took nearly a week," Richard said.

"'Twas indeed," Valentine replied, realizing how long the journey had been and how hungry all this fresh air was making him. "Is there anything to eat?"

Richard laughed, and nodded. "Come on."

After Valentine enjoyed a hearty repast of roast quail breast, wings of swan, plus mussels, whelks and cockles, along with several slabs of buttered freshly-baked bread, a bowl of strawberries and a handful of almonds washed down with ale, they headed back outdoors.

"Don't say we're heading for a graveyard."

Richard smiled and removed his hat, stroking the feather thoughtfully. "Nay, we'll just sit here on the mound and enjoy the fresh air."

As soon as they were seated, he said, "So what delayed you, and why are you so keen to get back to the capital when you've only just arrived?"

"I'm helping Dove find her real family, Dickon, but she doesn't know it. 'Twould be a thrill and a reward to know I've helped her in her quest. It may even help to capture her heart, but that's not my only motivation."

Richard gave a tight smile. "I know that, Val. I know how much you care for her. But I beg you, do not get too caught up in her fantasy of another family. That is a part of Dove that you will find enchanting and at the same time exasperating. The way she builds entire fictional realms round herself.

"If a situation doesn't exist to her liking, why, she just fixes it in her head, even if it is not real. And it is difficult, if not impossible, to tell her otherwise. Even if she is right about what she thought she heard when she was seven years old, it could have been Elizabeth displaying her customary cruelty in toying with Dove's emotions. Playing up to her wistful and imaginative nature. Should this not come to fruition, even you may not be able to console her."

"Ah, but I'll make up for it. She dreams of family, love, laughter. I can give her all those things, if only she'll let me. Besides, I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it."

Richard laughed. "I knew you would take a fancy to her once you met. In the beginning when you thought I was palming you off on some frumpy old cow, you wanted to jump on a ship and sail to the ends of the world."

Valentine nodded. "Aye, but I never planned to welch on my lost bet. But despite what you say about her great imagination, I'm not so sure she's wrong. Let's just say, well, I found a letter from someone mentioning her. Someone out west, where she has decided to start her search."

"I see." Richard frowned again.

"Her life is very fraught because she is so mistrustful of the Queen and does not want to end up as her pawn in yet another arranged marriage scheme."

"I don't blame her," Richard said with a moue of distaste. "That last one nearly cost us both everything."

"So if I help her find her family, it will be all the sooner that she will be willing to marry me. Wouldn't a double ceremony have been grand!"

"Now you sound like more of a dreamer than she!" he shook his head. Nay, Anne and I needed to be married immediately under a cloak of secrecy. I couldn't afford the luxury of a leisurely courtship like yours."

"Leisurely? Indeed!" Valentine laughed. "Pursuing this minx takes so much of my energy, I'll be lucky to stay awake on the wedding night!"

His old friend laughed. "I doubt that very much. Valentine, breaker of hearts, thy very name speaks of love."

"I want to live up to that promise, but with Denys, my Dove. But we can't move forward, until we all put the past behind us."