Diamonds and Dreams (17 page)

Addison realized he was being dismissed.
Ordinarily, he might have stayed to drag more information out of
his friend. But Saber had revealed much already. More than he ever
had before. He left quietly.

Saber heard the door close. But inside him,
another opened. He stood at the window for a long while
daydreaming, reliving memories he’d forgotten.

* * *

“I suppose it never occurred to you to
help
me, did it?” Big blasted. “I’m not a cook, dammit!”

Addison and his companions looked at Big,
then at each other, and then at the charred meat on their
plates.

“
We
provided the meat,” Winston
reminded him.

“
We
provided the meat,” Big mimicked,
achieving just the right degree of haughtiness in his tone. “So
what! Anyone with a gun and a halfway steady arm can shoot ducks
sitting on the water!
Cooking
them is an entirely different
matter!”

“Big is right,” Saber announced, strolling
into the dining room. “If you boys think you can cook any better,
why haven’t you?”

“But he didn’t even remove all the
feathers,” David said, picking up a wing and showing Saber the
burned feathers still sticking out of it. “Isn’t there anything
else to eat, Big?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is,” Big
assured him. Turning, he waddled to the sideboard, returning with
two platters.

The men looked at a pile of black lumps on
one dish, and a hunk of something even blacker on the other.

“What is that?” Kenneth asked.

Big slammed the platter covers onto the
table. “Bread and potatoes!”

“Oh,” Kenneth said. “How terribly stupid of
me not to see that with my own eyes.”

“Look,” Big snapped, “I’ve been listening to
the four of you gripe for almost two weeks, and I’ve had just about
enough—”

“Big,” Goldie called as she walked into the
dining room, Itchie Bon loping beside her, “what’s got you into
such a huff?” She stopped when she saw Saber. Her breath escaped
her on a ragged sigh. As if he might disappear in the next instant,
she took her fill of him.

He wore snug buff trousers. They hugged his
lower half, leaving very little to her imagination. The muscles in
his thighs were evident. He had long legs. Thick. Full of strength.
The thought made her feel weak.

She lowered her gaze. Shiny boots encased
his calves. The black leather provided a striking contrast to the
pale ivory rug. They were only boots, but they looked so elegant on
him.

She looked up a bit. A bit more. When she
realized where her gaze had stopped, she blushed. Great day Miss
Agnes, she’d never stared at a man
there
before. Shed never
even been tempted. But with Saber... Her gaze flew upward.

His white shirt was as well-fitting as his
pants. It stretched tightly across his chest, and was opened
slightly, creating a vee, giving her a glimpse of...more muscle,
she mused, flustered.

His hair, dark and wavy, touched the top of
his snowy white collar. Chandelier light shimmered through those
midnight-black locks. It looked to Goldie as if he wore hundreds of
tiny stars upon his head.

She saw he was watching her, too. Those eyes
of his, she thought tenderly. So green. So beautiful. So filled
with something she wished she could name. It was the same look he’d
given her when she’d placed the dandelion crown on his head. It was
that softness. She wished she could capture it and put it into her
pocket to keep for always.

She reached up, touching her hair, hoping he
would understand her silent gratitude for allowing her to borrow
the brush. He didn’t answer, but his eyes told her he understood.
Her knees went shaky when he inclined his head toward her.

“Goldie, did you hear what I said?” Big
demanded, stomping his foot.

“What?” She looked at Big. “What are you
carryin’ on about?”

“They’re complaining about the dinner I
slaved away cooking for them! Goldie, haven’t you heard a word I’ve
said?”

She stole one last glance at Saber before
turning her attention to the black foodstuffs on the table. “It
doesn’t look any different than what you’ve been cookin’ since we
got here.”

“And they’ve been whining since we got
here!”

“Well now, Big, that reminds me of somethin’
I’ve been meanin’ to ask you. Do you cook these meals of yours in
the kitchen or in the fires of hell?”

“Well!” he blustered. “If that’s all the
thanks I get for—”

“You won’t make those pork ribs and that
beef stew like you made these ducks, will you?” she hinted.

His anger faded at the sight of her gentle
smile. “No. Of course not.”

“Pork ribs and beef stew?” Saber repeated.
“Can you make those dishes without burning them, Big?” he asked,
unable to keep his hope from his voice.

Big nodded. “Yes. I can, and I will.”

Saber’s stomach growled. “Tonight?”

“No, not tonight! I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean
to yell. No, I can’t make them tonight.”

“Saber and I will make another dinner
tonight,” Goldie announced. She removed Big’s apron, tying it
around her own waist. “I would have been cookin’ all along, but
what with Saber’s duke lessons, I just haven’t had time. Now, Big,
go feed Dammit his mush. I already mixed it up, and it’s waitin’ in
the barn. And take Itchie Bon with you. Y’all go keep Big company,”
she told Addison, Winston, Kenneth, and David. “I know you’re all
hungry, but it’ll be a while before another dinner’s ready, and
you’ll just have to wait until it is.”

Saber was amused when his four friends, who
also happened to be four earls, jumped from their seats and
followed Big out of the room. He wasn’t surprised though. Goldie
had a way about her that made people do what she wanted. She wasn’t
forceful; she was sweetly persuasive.

He himself, however, was capable of
remaining immune to her compelling charms. He’d never cooked a meal
in his life, and had no plans whatsoever of doing so tonight. If
Goldie wanted to cook, fine. But he would merely watch.

* * *

Saber stirred the soup and looked at his
hands. They were covered with flour. The Duke of Ravenhurst, he
mused, had made a loaf of bread. Furthermore, His Grace was anxious
to know how it would turn out. It smelled right; like bread was
supposed to smell. “Goldie, are you sure my bread hasn’t been in
the oven too long?”

“I’ll check it if you ask me in
Shakespeareez.”

“Shakespeareez?”

“The language of Shakespeare.” Looking up
from the pie dough she was rolling out, she blew a curl out of her
eye. “I told you we’d be practicin’ tonight.”

He smiled. “Goldie, are thee sure my
bread—”

“No, I think you should say
sureth
.
“

“Are thee sureth my bread hasn’t been—”

“No, Saber. Say, ‘Are thee sureth my bread
hast not beenest in the oven too longeth?’”

“
Beenest? Longeth?
Goldie, that
sounds ludicrous.”

“Soundeths. It soundeths ludicrous.”

He bent over the pot of soup, laughing. “You
soundeth
like you have a lisp! Or should I say
lispeth
?”

She paid him no attention whatsoever. “And
I’ve found several ugly names in those Shakespeare books, too. In
case one of the Hallensham villagers dares to insult you, you—”

“I know. I bangeth him overest the head with
my caneth.”

“Well, yeah, but then you call him a
scullion
. Or a
rapscallian
. Or a
fustilarian
.
I don’t know what those names mean, Saber, but I’m sure they’re
real bad. Saber?”

He was so amused that it was a moment before
he could answer. “What?” he finally managed to reply between
chuckles.

“I been meanin’ to ask you somethin’. The
villagers are always talkin’ about blood. Why do English people
talk like that?”

“They talk about blood?”

She filled the pie crust with apples,
raisins, nuts, and sugar. “Yeah. They say things are either
‘bloody’ or ‘bleedin’. The way they talk, you’d think the whole
damn country was runnin’ red with the stuff.”

Saber let go of his stirring spoon, laughing
so hard, his belly cramped. But pain or no pain, he could not
control his laughter. He fairly choked with it.

When Goldie saw him doubled over, she raced
toward him. “Great day Miss Agnes, Saber, what the hell’s wrong
with you? You swallow somethin’ that went down the wrong pipe?” She
pounded him on the back.

Saber grappled for a chair and sat down.
“Goldie, don’t say anything more for a few minutes.” He looked up
at her and couldn’t resist adding, “I bloody well need to catch my
bleedin’ breath.” His own joke sent him into another wild fit of
mirth.

She stared at him, deciding he’d lost his
mind. Maybe she’d been working him too hard. “Saber, you just sit
there and rest a while. I’ll finish supper.” After patting his
shoulder, she returned to the pie. “Yeah, English folks talk real
strange,” she continued, picking up the subject again. “For
example, take the word
calf
. The way English people say it,
it sorta sounds like cough. The day I got to Hallensham a farmer
with a baby cow to sell came up to me and asked, ‘Will you be
wantin’ a cough, miss?’ I’ll swannee, Saber, when he said that, I
thought he was tryin’ to warn me that I was fixin’ to get sick. I
kept tellin’ him that I’d take care of myself so I wouldn’t get a
cough, but he only—”

Saber howled. Bent over the kitchen table,
his shoulders shook as laughter rumbled through him.

Goldie stared at him. No doubt about it,
Saber was on the brink of madness. He definitely needed a day off
from the duke lessons. She strolled to the oven and removed the
bread he’d made. “Turned out perfect, Saber.” She took it to the
table, then returned to the oven to slide in the pie.

“Addison says strange things too,” she
continued, taking Saber’s place at the soup pot. “The other day, he
commented on all the beggar’s velvet under the chairs in the
parlor? Well, I didn’t know what the hell he was talkin’ about. So
he showed me. He knelt and picked up some lint.
Lint
.
Addison calls it ‘beggar’s velvet.’ Is that what you call lint too,
Saber?” When he didn’t answer, she turned and saw him slicing the
bread. “Saber, it’s not even cooled off yet!”

He didn’t care. He held a piece of the
steaming loaf, and stared at it.

Goldie left the stove to join him. Saber was
examining the bread so intensely, she thought that maybe there was
something wrong with it. But it looked all right to her. She
brought her face closer to it. It still looked all right.

“I made this,” Saber said quietly. “All by
myself.”

She tilted her head and looked up at him,
noting awe in his eyes. Amazement so great, it bordered on
reverence. Great day Miss Agnes, it looked like he was
worshipping
the bread.

“With my own hands,” he added.

She wrinkled her forehead. “Well, how the
hell else would you have made it? With your feet?”

“I...I’ve never made bread before.”

She saw his pride. It was so great one might
have thought he’d just performed some kind of miracle. The thought
made her think of a Bible story. “Wonder what you could do if you
had some fishes to go along with that bread of yours?”

He continued admiring his bread.

“You did a real good job, Saber,” Goldie
cooed, laughter edging her voice. “That’s the purtiest bread I
believe I’ve ever seen. I wonder how it tastes?”

As if he’d forgotten he could actually
eat
the results of his hard work, Saber’s eyes widened.
Quickly, he handed her a piece, then popped some into his mouth. He
closed his eyes.

Goldie chewed her bread. It tasted like
bread. But Saber was relishing it as if it were some kind of rare
delicacy. “It’s good,” she told him.

He opened his eyes and cut another slice.
“It’s more than good,” he corrected her.

She stepped away from him, watching him make
quick work of his second slice. “All right, it’s real good.
Wonderful. Mouth-waterin’. It’s—”

“Savory.”

“Yeah, that too. Saber, you made such an
absolutely luscious loaf of bread, that if I had a medal I’d pin it
to your shirt.”

He finally realized she was teasing him. He
realized also that he was fawning over a simple loaf of bread. But
he couldn’t help it. He really
was
proud of himself. Whoever
thought Marion Westbrook Saberfield Tremayne, eleventh Duke of
Ravenhurst, had culinary skill?

And he realized he felt happy too. The
evening with Goldie had been a cozy one. The fire in the corner was
dancing merrily and crackling occasionally. The kitchen smelled of
good things. He and Goldie had chopped onions and boiled a chicken
together. Pared apples and made dough. They’d talked, teased, and
laughed. They’d done a lot of simple things tonight. Things in
which he rarely, if ever, indulged.

He felt a sudden rush of tenderness for her
and did nothing to hold it back. They’d part tomorrow, so he
decided to enjoy their last night together to the fullest. What
harm could one embrace, one kiss cause, especially if they never
happened again? In truth, he wanted both and could find no will to
dismiss his desire.

His gaze drifted down her body, then back up
again, his own body responding. God, she was so lovely. So
irresistible to him. He could barely wait to touch her.

“Goldie,” he whispered. “Come here.”

She heard something odd in Saber’s whisper.
Something promising. She wanted whatever it was he offered, but
hesitated to trust it was real.

He saw the wariness in her eyes and made the
decision for her. One long step was all he needed to reach her.