Grasso, Patricia (42 page)

"You cannot be as incredibly simple as you sound," Willis said. "I plan to snatch your
legitimate
sister. When Richard tries to escape Devereux House to rescue her, Dudley's men will kill him. As Richard's best friend, I'll wed the grieving widow. When your father later suffers an untimely accidental death, I possess the proof that the Talbot fortune rightfully belongs to Keely."

"You cannot get away with that!" Morgana cried, trying to pull away from him. "I'm telling."

Willis whirled her around and pressed her back against the door. "So beautiful," he said, "but so incredibly stupid. Did you actually believe you'd leave this chamber alive?"

"Help!"
Morgana screamed.

With both hands, Willis grabbed her throat and began to squeeze, but her seeming lack of resistance disappointed him. "Even Jane struggled more," he muttered.

Desperate for air, Morgana raised her leg, and with as much strength as she could muster, she kneed his groin. Pained surprise forced him to release her for a fateful moment.

"Help!" she shouted.
"Murder!"

Recovering himself, Willis grabbed her again and squeezed the life's breath from her body. As Morgana lost consciousness, someone in the corridor pounded on the door.

"Open up!" a boy's voice ordered. "Open up, or I'll call the guard!"

"Help me. The door's unlocked," Smythe called, hurrying to place Morgana down upon the bed.

Twelve-year-old Roger Debrett barged into the chamber, saying, "I heard a woman scream."

"Lady Morgana suddenly became ill and swooned," Willis lied, gesturing toward the bed. "Sit with her while I fetch the leech."

Roger hurried across the chamber. He sat down on the edge of the bed and peered at the lady's bluish-white face. "Sweet Jesus!" he cried. "She looks dead. Her throat—"

Wham!
Smythe struck Roger on the back of his head, and the boy slumped unconscious across Morgana's body.

Willis grabbed his satchel and started to leave, but paused in momentary indecision at the door. Should he take the time to finish the job and kill the brat? No. Even now, Richard could be leaving the Tower. He needed to finish his business at Devereux House before Richard returned home. With that in mind, Willis quit the chamber.

Roger swam up slowly from the depths of unconsciousness. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but the room spun dizzyingly, sickeningly around. Roger snapped his eyes shut and waited for the nausea to pass. His head pounded ferociously, but he realized he had to get help. Baron Smythe had murdered Morgana Talbot.

And then Roger heard it—a faint, whimpering moan from the dead woman's lips. He opened his eyes and stared at the lady for a long moment. She wasn't dead at all—only in need of reviving.

Roger rose unsteadily and staggered across the chamber to the table. A full basin of water sat on top of it, and he dunked his face into it, the startling cold water clearing his head. Roger carried the basin back to the bed and poured the cold water onto the lady's face.

Morgana sputtered and opened her eyes. "Smythe tried to murder me," she said in a hoarse, breathless voice. "Find my stepmother!"

"Lady Dawn?" Roger was surprised. He'd never heard this one refer to the duchess as her stepmother. "You mean Ludlow's wife?"

Morgana nodded.

"Rest here while I call the guard and a leech," Roger ordered, starting to turn away. "Afterward, I'll find Lady Dawn."

With surprising strength, Morgana grabbed the boy's wrist and jerked him down on the bed. Nose to nose with him, she rasped, "Listen, idiot child. Smythe is downriver by now. He plans to abduct
my sister...."

"Soon, my daughter," Keely cooed, caressing her swollen belly. " 'Tis ten days to Beltane, and then your father will be home with us.
Por tous jours
—for always."

Following her usual afternoon routine, Keely strolled leisurely around her husband's garden. May and June nagged her to nap, but Keely enjoyed her afternoon walks, loved to witness the seasons passing. Today she roamed the garden's far perimeters and admired the star-ding changes that the month of April had lavished upon the landscape.

Nature's new life emerged wherever she looked. Robins, trailing thin strands of grass from their beaks, flew to familiar haunts in the maples and built their ancestral nests, while bees foraged for nectar within the trees' blossoms. A blanket of purple violets covered the ground beneath the window of the earl's study. Yellow bordering daffodils nodded gaily at their friends, the brilliantly blooming yellow forsythia, in the rear of the garden.

Home.
Like a siren's song, the mountains and the glens of Wales called to her.

Keely closed her eyes and imagined the woodlands and the meadows of her native land, her own ancestral nest. White bloodroot blossoms and red miliums would even now be greeting the spring as the scent of lilacs wafted across the crisp clean air. The recently born lambs would be frolicking together in the meadows beneath the sun's warming rays.

Keely sighed. Someday she would take her children to visit the land of her birth, that special place called home.

Wandering across the garden, Keely stood at the sacred sight where the birch, the yew, and the oak conversed. What the earl needed was a sanctuary garden, and this appeared the perfect spot for it. Come next spring, she would plant a garden to honor the Goddess for gifting her with the daughter she carried within her body. Lady's slipper, maidenhair fern, and moon vines—flowers revered by the Goddess—would grow here.

Keely smiled to herself and pictured the scene in her mind. Each day, no matter the season or the weather, Keely would sit here with her daughter and teach her the Old Ways, pass the Golden Thread of Knowledge to her.
Exactly as Megan had done.
Thus the spiral circle of life would continue through all of eternity.

Other daughters and sons would surely follow this one; each would be special in her or his own way. Lovingly would she share the knowledge she possessed. Her single worry stemmed from her pragmatic husband. Keely prayed that the earl's inability to see beyond the horizon wouldn't be too negative an influence on their children.

"Countess?"

Startled, Keely gasped and whirled around. Willis Smythe stood there, his dark presence blocking the sun like an angry storm cloud. Aye, Baron Smythe was dark and dangerous—and something even more sinister.

"I do apologize," Willis said, an easy smile touching his lips. "I never meant to frighten you."

"No man frightens me," Keely replied stiffly, unable to mask her dislike of him. "Being yanked out of my meditation makes me uneasy."

"Meditation?"

"I've been contemplating nature's glory," Keely said, gesturing at the garden. "Do you not see the beauty surrounding us?"

Willis flicked a quick glance at the grounds. "Very pretty, indeed," he said.

"From where did you come?" Keely asked, cocking her head to one side. She hadn't heard his approach, nor had Jennings announced him.

"Hampton Court," Willis answered, misunderstanding her question. "My barge docked next door at the dowager's quay."

"Is aught wrong with Richard?" Keely cried, panic rising in her breast, her hands protectively touching her swollen belly.

"Richard is well," Willis assured her. "Though I do carry an urgent message concerning him."

"Come into the house."

"No. 'Tis best we avoid any possible eavesdroppers."

Keely cast him a puzzled, questioning look. The baron's presence made her uneasy. The familiar aura of untimely death again surrounded him like a shroud, and the black cloud that hovered above his head seemed larger and more threatening than ever. In a flash of total awareness, Keely knew the baron was a walking corpse. Death would soon embrace Willis Smythe.

Willis lowered his voice and said, "Richard plans to escape the Tower this evening—"

"Escape?" Keely exclaimed. "How? Why?"

"Please, madam. Your questions do waste precious time," Willis said, putting the proper amount of sternness into his voice. "Will you listen to me without interrupting?"

Keely nodded. She didn't want to endanger her husband.

"Several days ago, Richard transferred his lodgings from Beauchamp Tower to Cradle Tower," Willis explained. "Built to accommodate the direct hoisting of boats up from the river, Cradle Tower is lower than the other towers. Under cover of night, the earl's men from Basildon Castle will approach on a barge, dock at the wharf below the tower, and throw him a rope. Then the barge will take Richard upriver, beyond the gates of London and Devereux House, where a fast horse provided by his parents will be waiting."

Keely couldn't fully credit what he was telling her. Why would England's favorite son destroy his future at court by escaping the Tower and thumbing his nose at the Crown's justice? Elizabeth would never forgive him.

She opened her mouth to question the baron, but he hurriedly spoke up. "Meanwhile, you will accompany me to Smythe Priory," Willis went on. "I have horses waiting in the dowager's garden. Richard will rendezvous with us in Shropshire. From there, your husband and you will travel to Monmouth, where one of his ships waits to carry you to France. Your mother-in-law is French, you know. One of her brothers will harbor Richard until Elizabeth recovers her senses and the danger has passed."

Keely doubted such a plan could work. Would her husband truly endanger his firstborn by demanding she travel to France? But what alternative did they have? If the queen kept him locked in the Tower, their daughter would never know her father.

And then Keely remembered the Goddess's revelation: Richard and she would be together forever on Beltane. What the Goddess foretold had come to pass.

"Fetch the horses," Keely said, turning away. "I'll tell Odo and Hew to prepare themselves."

Willis grabbed her forearm. "Your cousins cannot accompany us. Shall we announce our intentions to the world by parading out of London?"

"I see what you mean," Keely agreed reluctantly, the prospect of traveling alone with him troubling her. "Fetch the horses while I pack a change of clothes."

"We haven't the time for that."

"I cannot leave without my pouch of magic—I mean, my valuables."

"Make haste," Willis said. Giving in required less time than arguing. "Share our plans with no one."

Keely hurried inside the house. She saw no one and, gaining her chamber, packed two changes of clothing and her pouch of magic stones into her satchel.

Before leaving the chamber, Keely paused and touched the dragon pendant she always wore. "Mother, protect my husband and my unborn child," she whispered, then fled out the door.

When she returned to the garden, Baron Smythe stood between two horses. "I'll help you mount," he said, stepping forward.

"I cannot ride this horse," Keely insisted. " 'Tis sidesaddled."

Willis opened his mouth to argue with her, but Henry Talbot chose that moment to appear in the garden. Smiling like a satisfied tomcat, the boy sauntered toward them.

"Henry, run to the stables," Keely called before Willis could warn her to silence. "Tell Odo or Hew to bring me my saddle." As an afterthought, she added, "Baron Smythe is entertaining me today with an afternoon ride."

Henry glanced at Willis, then dropped his gaze to the satchels. Hiding his alarm behind an unwavering smile, he called, "I'll be back in a minute."

"Each second we delay endangers Richard's life," Willis snapped, knowing the two Welsh giants would never let her out of their sight. "Get on the horse, and be quick about it."

Keely worried her bottom lip with her teeth and nodded. Danger threatened all of them, else the baron would not be so nervous.

Smythe helped her mount and then leaped onto his own horse. Together they left Devereux House and rode west in the direction of Shropshire.

"Keely!"
Odo raced into the gardens in front of Henry and Hew. "Where are you, little girl?"

"Son of a flat-chested bitch," Henry cursed. "He's got her!"

"Maybe the baron did offer to entertain her with an afternoon ride," Hew said.

Odo reached out and cuffed the side of his brother's head. "Packed for traveling, you blinking idiot?"

"Why would Keely send me to fetch her own saddle and then disappear with Smythe?" Henry asked. "She harbors no fondness for the baron, and I don't trust him."

"How will we ever find our little girl?" Hew whined, turning to his brother for guidance. "We don't even know which direction they went. And there's four of them but only three of us."

"Four what?" Odo asked, confused.

"Directions!
North, east, south, and—" Odo's slap silenced Hew.

"If his intent is evil, the beast will take her to his lair," Henry said.

"Where's that?" Odo asked.

"Smythe Priory, in Shropshire."

"Saddle the horses," Odo ordered Hew. "I'll gather supplies."

"Saddle three horses," Henry said. "I'm going too." When the two Welshmen turned to him, he insisted, "I
am
her brother."

"His Grace—"

"His Grace isn't here to approve or to disapprove," Henry interrupted Odo.

The giant grinned and said, "Make haste, my horny young marquess. Our little girl needs us."

Twenty minutes later, the two Welsh giants and the fledgling marquess mounted their horses and rode west toward Shropshire.

"Welcome home, my lord," Jennings said, a warm smile of greeting upon his usually solemn face. "Thank you, Jennings."

Richard grinned at the man as he crossed the foyer. Behind him walked Duke Robert and Hal Bagenal, his stepfather.

"Send my wife to the study," Richard instructed his majordomo, "but don't tell her who's here. I want my homecoming to be a surprise."

Jennings nodded and started toward the stairs. At this hour of the day, his mistress either napped or sat near the window in her bedchamber to gaze at the changing sky.

Richard led his father-in-law and stepfather into the study. The two older men sat down in the chairs before the hearth, but Richard remained standing, facing them and the door. He wanted to see the expression of surprised joy on his wife's face when she walked into the room. All morning he'd been anticipating the coming night in each other's arms, and now the moment was almost upon them.