Bessie (21 page)

His lips reached her ear. The sensitive skin all about it. And the platform seemed to careen in another direction.

“Tell me to halt. Tell me I mustn’t. Go ahead, tell me.”

“My lord?”

“I’m not your lord. I’m your lover. Admit it. You were made for me. Just as I was fashioned for you. Admit it!”

“You’d have me dishonor...my husband?”

He sucked in breath, tossed his head back to send a deep cry into the air about them, and then he brought his head back down. And he didn’t look anything like the lover of a moment before. She spent a seemingly endless span of time just looking at him before scrunching her eyes shut. When she spoke, it was in a broken whisper.

“You would turn me into a-a harlot. And...think nothing of it.”

“I think on it all the time, love. It consumes me.”

“I can’t, I tell you! No matter how much I want to. I cannot betray...everything. I just...can’t!”

Devon was silent for so long, she had no choice but to see why. She opened her eyes on an expression she was almost afraid to view. It started another round of tremors. Deep within her. Where no one would ever know. She’d never seen such tenderness. Nothing about his emerald green eyes looked cold. He had his eyebrows lifted, a line across his brow, and his lips contorted to hide what might be a smile, or just as easily a grimace.

“Very well. You win.”

He set her down and stepped back to the other edge of the platform. The wood they stood on looked painfully small, and yet heartrending large. Water mist surrounded them, putting a sparkle to the air. A sheen of coolness permeated everything, tempering what had been rampant and passionate. Heavy. Heated. Bessie wrapped her arms about herself against the sudden onslaught of chill. Reaction. And a vicious case of shivers.

  “I will finish showing you the ponds. And then I will take you back.”

Bessie didn’t answer. She was trying not to notice where Devon was adjusting and straightening the crotch area of his tights. He gave her a sidelong glance. And appeared to redden.

“Are you enjoying my torment?”

His words were brusque. Harsh. Cold. Bessie moved her gaze to his. His expression matched the words. Actually, she decided he looked even angrier than his tone implied.

She shook her head. He pulled at his tunic hem, gathering the material into a wad at the front before settling his belt over it. His actions were mystifying. And completely intriguing. And then he turned to her, caught her watching, looked quickly away, and reddened even more.

“I’m ready. Take my hand.”

Take his hand?
Was he dense? She was afraid to touch him.

“I don’t think...I should.”

“These timbers are slick. You will slip otherwise.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’m used to walking atop moss-covered logs.”

“How could they be covered in moss already? They were built but this week.”

“True enough, but the water is full of moss. It clings to everything. I should know. I’ve been laboring here, remember? The water is also cold at times. Which has come in handy lately.”

“It has?”

“You know very well what you do. You can stop laughing.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“There’s a smile to your face, and your eyes are merry with something. If it isn’t laughter at me, what is it due to?”

Bessie tried to lose every expression. If Devon read merriment, it was his own imagination. She was simply trying to follow along in a conversation she felt absolutely witless in. It was a horrid feeling.

“Give me your hand.”

“I already told you I wouldn’t.”

“Do you wish me to carry you again?”

“No.”

Devon leaned on one hip, folded his arms and looked heavenward for an instant before returning his gaze back to her. “Do you want my promise again? Is that it?”

“What promise?”

“Not to do anything more than you ask.”

“I...don’t think it will work this time.”

“Why not?”

“Because I might be asking.”

Devon pulled back in surprise and then he grinned. And Bessie’s heart gave her all kinds of trouble over it.

“Does this mean you admit it, finally?”

“Admit what?”

“That you care for me.”

“I never said that.”

“You inferred it. Come along, play fair. I have already said as much.”

“What did you say?”

“You paid no attention when I spoke of love and lovers?”

“L-love?”  The word stumbled.

“Exactly.”

“I...think you used the word to make me do as you wished. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“I’ve about decided to allow you to risk your neck. How dare you say such?”

“Because you say it to every woman.”

“I don’t have other women! Look about. Do you see any?”  He tossed his arms wide as if the empty landscape about them validated his words.

“You have as many as you want, my lord. They fawn about you with little thought of themselves. Or your wife. Or honor. Or even your mistress, if you have one.”

“I haven’t, but I’m agreeable. Are you available?”

Now she knew what heart pain truly felt like. Any prior pangs were but warnings. Bessie narrowed her eyes to keep it to herself. And make him harder to see. And then she hardened her voice. The pain that was radiating with every heartbeat actually helped. “Find a different woman.”

“From where?”

“Anywhere! Look about you. Women lurk behind every tree and under every rock when it comes to you.”

“If they do, I hadn’t noticed.”

“They will try to tempt you every day of your life!”

“Why would they do that?”

“Why? Because you are so very gifted. So manly. So...beautiful.”  Her voice went to a whisper of sound that probably revealed every bit of her emotion. “And because it is so very easy to catch your eye. Just as I did.”

Bessie brushed past him and stepped onto the log before she thought it through. She danced across to his horse, her eyes so filled with tears, she couldn’t even see it. She didn’t have any trouble with moss. It was Devon who fell into the water.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Devil’s blood, but that’s cold! Blast and damn! Everything! And everyone!”

Devon started cursing the instant he surfaced. He was waist deep and slamming his hands into the surface, spraying even more water about him. Bessie laughed until her eyes watered and her sides hurt.

“Damn! Damn! And double damn!”  He shook off chilly water. “And cease that laughter. It’s not that blasted amusing!”

He was wrong. It was more hilarious than she’d thought possible. It didn’t last. Bessie’s amusement started fading as he waded through the water toward her. By the time he reached the other side and stepped out, she’d even stopped smiling.

“I didn’t even bring a change of clothing.”

“Here.”  Bessie offered him her shawl.

He glared at her. Any urge toward joviality vanished. With his hair plastered to his head, his eyelashes dripping water, and his tunic, jerkin, and breeches clinging to every part of him, he wasn’t the least bit amusing. He was absolutely awe-inspiring. No portrait painter could do him justice.

She only hoped it didn’t show. She pulled in one side of her cheek and started sucking on it.

“Unless you’ve an entire closet-full of shawls at your disposal, keep it. I’d nearly forgotten how cold it is. Especially in the morning. No. That’s not quite true. It’s just as chill if you fall in the evenings.”

He pulled his jerkin off. Bessie’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. He couldn’t possibly be doing what it looked like, and she shouldn’t be staring. He wrung the garment before tossing it to the ground. Bessie told her entire body to turn about and cease looking.

“I thought you said you walked on moss-covered logs all the time.”

“I didn’t say I was an expert at it.” Devon kept his eyes on her as he unclasped his belt, and let it drop.    

“Lucky for me I didn’t allow you to carry me, I would say.”

“And lucky for you, I fell in.”

He crossed his arms as he reached for the hem of his tunic. Bessie hadn’t any time to speak before he yanked the garment right over his head. And then he twisted it, wringing water from it, too, before slapping it open and placing it on the ground. Her mouth wouldn’t have found words, anyway.

“On second thought, hand your shawl over. I’ll use it to dry what I can. Give over.”

Bessie held it at arm’s length and he snatched it from her. She watched in fascination as he tossed it atop his head and started rubbing. She was grateful he wasn’t looking. He had a pale scar scoring his belly, more bulges and bumps than a worm field, and every bit of it was sun-kissed and jaw-dropping. Her body was giving her trouble. Everything was alert and tingling. And completely annoying. Bessie folded her arms across her breasts and tightened her thighs to stop it. Or, at least hide it. She needed to find something else to look at. Her gaze flitted about, catching the glint of sunlight on the pond, the rainbows above his waterfalls, and the sway of the marshes at the feet of his hip boots. But it kept returning to him.

“Not much, but better. My thanks.”

“Think... nothing of it.”

She may have been speaking in a whisper before, but this one came out hoarse. Terse. Almost snappish. Devon stopped his fluffing motion about his head, parted the shawl, and peered out at her. Bessie touched her eyes to his and then glanced away.

“I think you have a bit of explaining to do, too. Black-Heart!”  At the name, his horse stood up and shook himself, sending dried grass and weeds that flickered in the sunlight.

“What...do you mean?”

“You say such words and then walk away? I was intent on reaching you, not watching where I stepped. So. Tell me. Do you truly think me as you said?”

He didn’t seem intent on her reply. She watched him take the few steps to Black-Heart, lean against the horse’s side, and then pull one of his boots off. She would have smiled as Devon tipped the boot and let the water run out of it, except he wasn’t watching what he was doing. He was focused entirely on her.

“Well?” he finally prompted, as the water slowed to a trickle.

“What was it...I said?”

He’d finished with one boot, twisted his face into a scowl as he put it back on, and then lifted the other foot. And he really should put more material on, if he expected her to answer. His chest was rippling and moving with every move, demonstrating a muscular frame that was difficult to look away from. No wonder he’d fascinated the queen.

She shut her eyes, but it was too late. The sight before her was the same one making her nights an endless span of tossing and turning. She was lucky he hadn’t stripped off his breeches. His hair was starting to dry, too. It had looked to be mid-back in length, but was shortening to his shoulders as it curled.

“You called me manly. Beautiful. Or did I hear it wrong?”

Bessie opened her eyes. He had both boots back on, his arms folded across that expanse of chest, and his legs crossed in front of him as he waited. Black-Heart turned his head toward her, as if expecting an answer, too. Bessie lifted her chin. Narrowed her eyes.

“You know you are,” she told him.

“But, you think it?”

“Every woman thinks it.”

“I didn’t ask that. I asked if you think it.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you do it to me every moment I know you’re in the world and yet out of reach! Answer me.”  

“Yes! All right, yes! I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. I’m not blind. I’m awed. And...I am afraid.”

Bessie was now certain she should have pretended to be a deaf-mute when she first met with him. She looked at the ground and waited for him to reach her. She knew he was coming, too.

“I do not understand. You’d rather a man was pock-marked and ugly? Better yet, if he was spindly and weak? This is what a woman looks for?”

“No. Yes. How am I supposed to answer that?”

“With a straight-forward reply. Is it so difficult?” 

His hand entered her range of vision. Bessie watched it in silence.

“Here. Take my hand.”

“I...shouldn’t.”

“Must you argue everything? You’re worse than my wife, and you evade giving answers just as she does. Please. Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

“So I can hold to it. Please?”

Bessie put her hand in his. A rumble of sensation shot from her fingertips all the way through her. She looked up at him instinctively. She didn’t dare name the emotion behind his expression. It resembled the ones he gave Lizzy. It felt like her heart swelled, becoming an obstruction that blocked her throat.

“Now. Will you tell me what frightens you?”

Bessie swallowed. Took a breath. And told him. “You. And your beauty.”

“I don’t understand. Why would that frighten?”

He wasn’t touching anything but her hand, but he didn’t have to. Her breasts were giving her trouble again. And her legs. She started trembling, and knew he felt it as his fingers tightened.

“I am just one woman, my lord. One. In a world full of them. And all of us...have eyes. We all find you handsome. And desirable.”

“I think you overestimate my charms. My own wife detests me.”

“That could be...because she knows your nature.”

“My nature? What have I done to deserve such accusations?”

“Said loving words to me. Held me in your arms. Kissed me. Tried to seduce me. Interest wanes, my lord. How long will I pique yours? How long will I be the woman receiving your words of love and your caresses before a replacement comes along to intrigue you?”

“That’s what you think of me?”

“You are here. With me. Betraying your wife. What should I think?”

She almost got the entire words out before tears filled her eyes and affected her words. There was no way to hide them, so she didn’t. She simply watched him through a wash of moisture.

Devon lifted her hand to his lips and touched a kiss to her fingertips. Bessie shuddered and blinked the moisture into existence down her cheeks and waited.

“Come. I will take you back.”

He let go of her hand and turned back to his horse. Bessie pushed both palms into her eyes to hold the sobs in.

But it only worked because he didn’t turn about.

~ ~ ~

“You are very quiet, my lord.”

“I’m thinking.”

“May I ask of what?”

They were almost back to the patch of rosemary. Devon wasn’t holding her in a loving embrace. Perhaps he wished to spare her from his damp clothing, but it felt more like he was trying not to touch her at all. He hadn’t said one word the entire ride. The day had darkened, too, somehow reflecting the change. At the long pause her question caused, she began to wish she’d not asked it.

“I am thinking of my wife...and how to best approach her.”

“Your wife?”

“She’s fond of playing games. I believe it due to her upbringing. I thought she played one. I was wrong. I have even received several clues...but I was too thick-headed to catch them.”

Bessie looked down at her hands holding to Black-Heart’s mane. She was grateful she sat in front of him. The joy spreading through her would have been impossible to miss. It turned the sunlight to rays of glittery gold. Took each new breath to intoxication level. Altered the field of weeds to a vivid array of color. She was amazed her voice didn’t carry it.

“And...now?”

“Oh. That is between her and me. Here. This is where I found you. You may dismount.”

“You are not going to assist me?”

“Very well.”

Devon put his hands about her waist and pulled her off his horse. He didn’t wait for her feet to land before letting go. Bessie stumbled and almost fell into the bushes. “Why, you—!”

“Save your anger for your husband. He deserves it. I leave you now. I’m going to go find my wife. I’ve some explaining to do.”

He moved before he’d even finished speaking. Bessie watched him with wide eyes, her jaw slack. What she’d not thought possible was actually happening! He was choosing his wife over the redhead. He’d as much as said so. He was on his way right now, to find her and explain.

Oh dear!

That’s when she remembered the obvious. She was his wife. Devon was on horseback. She couldn’t possibly overtake him. Bessie held in a screech. She mustn’t waste breath on such a trifle. She had a husband to meet with.

She grabbed two handfuls of skirt and started running.

~ ~ ~

“Augusta! Help...me!”

Bessie couldn’t get two words out without panting. She held to the wall and tried to suck in breath. She’d never run so far and fast in her life. The courtyard in front of her spun, her legs sagged, and then she slid to her knees.

“My lady? What has happened? Have you been overtaken by brigands? I’ll call out the guards!”

Bessie shook her head. And then Regina rushed up.

“Oh, my! You’re her! I mean, she’s you. I mean—I can’t believe this! Does Devon know? Of course, he doesn’t. If he knew, he’d not be away at the swamp. At least, I don’t think he would be. He doesn’t know, does he?”

“You are not to go telling him, either, young lady. I’ll not have it.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I promise. I do. I won’t tell a soul. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to tell them, anyway.”

“You are in good company, then.”

“Why is she pretending to be a servant? I don’t understand.”

“Now Regina. There are some things we are not meant to understand. One is the workings of the heart. Love can sometimes be a difficult thing. You’ll find out when it’s you. Don’t look at me that way. I know what I speak of.”

“She’s pretending to be someone else...because she is in love?”

“Exactly.”

“Now, I truly don’t understand.”

“My lady doesn’t wish to be one of your brother’s...ah, how can I put this delicately? She doesn’t want to be one of his...other interests. Do you know what I speak of?”

“I am fifteen, you know. I am not a child. It’s not at all clear, though. If she’s a servant, what does she expect from him? He couldn’t be more than a lover, could he? And wouldn’t that make her one of his interests?”

Augusta’s eyebrows rose clear to the brow line of her red wig. “My goodness! You are right. You are definitely not a child.”

“I just told you I wasn’t, and you’re not answering me.”

“I’m covering over my shock, Regina, love. You’ve a blunt way of talking that can be off-putting, to say the least. Let me explain. Where to start? Let me see. Court. Yes. That’s it. Your brother was apparently quite the heartbreaker at Queen Elizabeth’s court. Bess here, didn’t wish hers broken. So...she’s been testing him. That boy is a sly one, too. He’d many an assignation with those ladies-in-waiting when he wasn’t attending to—.”

“Augusta!”  Bess interjected. “Please! You’ve got...to help me. Both of you! I need...to get to my room...and quickly!”

“I’m sorry, my lady. My tongue was getting away with me for a spell. We’ll just have you up the stairs in no time.”