Diamonds and Dreams (23 page)

Angrily, she made two braids, each beginning
directly above her ears. But her hair was so thick, so untamable,
the braids wouldn’t lay down. They stuck straight out on either
side, as if she’d been shot through the head with a gold arrow. If
Saber saw her like this, she knew he’d have every right to laugh,
just as all other boys she’d ever known had done.

“But Saber,” she whispered achingly, still
staring at her reflection, “isn’t a boy, Itchie Bon. He’s a
man
. He’s big and...and real solid with muscles. Y’know, I
bet one of his legs weighs more than my whole body. And he probably
likes girls who come up to his chin. The way Velma Wiggins’ came up
to Fred’s. I barely come up to Saber’s chest. Hell, if I were just
a tad shorter than I already am, my nose would just about fit into
his belly button.”

She loosened her braids and felt suddenly
weary, her despondency weighing her down. Her chin on her chest,
she turned and shuffled to the bed, dragging her toes across the
carpet as she walked. Set on a dais, the bed was so high, she could
hardly get her knee on the mattress. Grabbing hold of the bedpost,
she began to pull herself up, a feat she had to perform every time
she got into the big princess bed. But she didn’t realize she also
had hold of the lace canopy. It loosened from its attachments on
the four posts.

Like a thick, languid snowfall, it floated
down just as she’d settled herself in the middle of the bed.
Dismayed, Goldie watched it gently wafting toward her. “Great day
Miss Agnes, Itchie Bon, I broke the bed.”

Well, there was little she could do about
it, she sighed. She wasn’t tall enough to reach the tops of the
posts and therefore could not reattach the canopy. Wondering if
Saber was going to get even angrier at her than he already was, she
closed her eyes against both her distress and the sight of the
pearly material drifting downward. When the delicate fabric settled
over her, she realized she should get up and fold it so it wouldn’t
wrinkle. But she couldn’t make herself do it. The lace felt so
lovely upon her bare skin. It touched her all over, yet barely at
all. She’d never felt anything so sheer and fragile against her
body.

And she never would again, she remembered.
Lace and princess beds, gold-framed mirrors...and tall,
dark-haired, handsome men...they were the stuff of dreams. And like
dreams, she could have and enjoy them for a while, but then she’d
wake up and they’d be gone. It’d had been like that with every
dream she’d ever had.

She sighed, her puff of breath moving the
lace that covered her mouth. “Self-pity doesn’t do much but make
you feel worse, and I don’t usually feel so sorry for myself,
Itchie Bon,” she informed the gray dog, who was still wagging his
tail for her. “But then, I’ve never met anyone like Saber. Not even
Fred Wattle made me feel the way I do with him. When he gets that
softness in his eyes—Itchie Bon, it makes me feel all wobbly. My
stomach sorta sinks. I can’t swallow. No, ole Fred Wattle, as
handsome as he was,
never
took my swallowin’ away from
me.”

She curled into a tight ball, the lace still
covering her. “It’s no use, Itchie Bon. Even though Big’s gonna
help me with the romance, there
is
no romance. I’m foolin’
myself, dreamin’ of Saber. I’m settin’ myself up for heartache,
just like I did with Fred. I’m likin’ him more and more every day.
I try to see him just as the man who’s gonna help me get out of the
mess Uncle Asa got us into, but y’see, my heart and my mind, they
aren’t workin’ together on this. I know from experience nothin’s
gonna happen between us, but deep down I keep hopin’ that maybe
this time it’ll be different. That maybe this time...

“He held me last night,” she remembered
aloud. “And kissed my wrist. Oh, Itchie Bon, you just can’t know
what that felt like. His body’s so big, so warm, so strong. He
smells so good. His lips were like dandelion puffs on my wrists.
They touched me, but hardly at all. I couldn’t decide whether to
laugh from the tickle, or faint dead away from the pleasure. And
today he held my hand. But then—Then he didn’t want to go ridin’
with me. He even acted sorta mad.”

Staring through the lace at the beautiful
room, she tried to think of what good thing was coming from her
heartache. It was a very long time before she thought of one. “A
warnin’,” she mumbled, her voice edged with sorrow. “A warnin’ that
nice things—They just aren’t for me. I better guard my heart before
it breaks, just like Big said, Itchie Bon.”

She swallowed hard. “I gotta hurry up with
all these duke lessons, boy. Then I’ll get Saber to London.
We’ll—Lord, I still haven’t told him about goin’ to London, so he
thinks we’re leavin’ for Hallensham from here. I wonder if he’ll
mind spyin’ on dukes? He didn’t want to wheeze or do the wiggle
walk, so he probably won’t want to do any duke-spyin’ either.
Wonder how I should bring up the idea without him gettin’ mad about
it?”

She could come up with no ready answer, but
felt sure she would soon. “And then from London,” she continued
softly, “we’ll hurry on to Hallensham. The sooner he’s done playin’
Duke Marion in the village, the sooner he’ll be gone, and...and the
sooner my heart will be safe from breakin’.”

She lapsed into deep thought. Yawning, she
closed her eyes again. “I wonder what he’s thinkin’ about,” she
whispered groggily, “Wonder if he’s still mad at me. Saber.
Saber.”

When slumber claimed her, his name still
lingered on her lips, and his image drifted into her dreams.

* * *

Saber stormed into the house. His three-hour
ride through the country had done nothing at all to keep his mind
off Goldie. On the contrary, he’d thought of nothing but her since
galloping out of the barn.

He’d hurt her feelings, and that fact made
him feel sick. “Goldie!” he called, frustrated when she didn’t
answer immediately. Blast it all, why didn’t she come when he
called her? “Goldie!”

Big emerged from the parlor. “What are you
yelling—”

“Have you seen Goldie?”

Big snorted. “No, and I think you can change
your own sheets from now on. I’m not a slave, you know.”

“So she didn’t help you change them.” He’d
suspected as much.

“No, she didn’t, and she’s not a slave
either.”

Saber frowned, throwing back his shoulders.
He was in no mood to fence with the churlish little man. “Big, I’m
well aware that you have taken it upon yourself to do all the
cleaning and cooking, but I do not find it necessary. There are
many women in the nearby village who could—”

“Goldie said you didn’t have any money.
Without money, you can’t even buy food! The only reasons we won’t
starve soon are because the pantry is well-stocked and I’m a good
aim with a gun. Now, how could you pay those women to come up here
and work?”

“I—” Saber broke off. He was supposed to be
Addison’s needy cousin, he recalled. Too, he remembered that the
villagers knew who he was.

At the dismay in Saber’s eyes, Big softened.
“Saber, being poor isn’t anything to be ashamed of. You ought to
count your blessings. Your cousin Addison is a generous man. He’s
the one who had the pantry filled this morning. He went to that
little village and had all the food brought up here. I appreciate
your offer about having the women come, but I’ll do the cooking and
the cleaning. You and Goldie have a lot of work to do, and you must
complete it quickly. Goldie and I have to get back to Hallensham.
Asa—Lord, there’s no telling what that man has done in our absence.
Anyway, you and Goldie have no time for anything but the duke
lessons, so leave everything else to me. I won’t like the work,” he
added firmly, “but I’ll do it. I’ll even change your sheets.”

Saber felt suddenly humbled, realizing that
beneath Big’s surly exterior, there existed a kind and
understanding man. “Thank you,” he said, thinking about how odd
that sounded. He’d never before thanked anyone for serving him. It
wasn’t necessary. Servants did their duties, received their wages,
and that was that.

But Big was gaining nothing at all in reward
for his servitude. He was doing it out of love for Goldie. The
thought made Saber realize that Big could very well be the key to
understanding more about her. “Big,” he began cautiously, searching
for just the right words, “I—I’ve noticed Goldie’s penchant for
sudden sadness. She—”

“What have you done to upset her?” Big
demanded, his anger returning in full force. “Did you say something
mean to her? Did you yell at her? Did you—Look, Mr. Saber West,
I’ve warned you before about this. You do one thing to hurt that
girl, and I’ll—”

“Big—”

“You so much as
look
at her wrong,
and I’ll—”

“I’m sure you would, but before you do,
would you mind telling me about—”

“Why do you want to know?” Big asked
suspiciously. Saber felt sudden anger. How
dare
Big question
him! “Because I just do!”

“Well, I’m not telling you a damn thing! If
she wanted you to know about her feelings, she’d tell you herself!
The fact that she hasn’t proves—”

“Look,” Saber interjected, summoning
patience. “I’m concerned about her. Do you find some evil intent in
that?”

Big searched Saber’s face for evidence of
dishonesty, but found none. “Do you care for her?”

Yes. Saber replied mentally. No.
I don’t
know
. “I think perhaps that that is something that concerns
Goldie and myself.”

“Anything to do with Goldie concerns me
too,” Big argued hotly. “I’m the only friend she has, and—”

“No, sir, you are not. I, too, am her
friend.”

Big raised a brow. “Then as such you
shouldn’t have to come to me for information,” he said slyly. “If
you were a
real
friend, she’d trust you, and then you could
find out anything you wanted to know from her.”

“Very well!” Saber roared, totally fed up
with the man. The devil take him! “We will never discuss Goldie
again.” He turned and crossed to the staircase.

“We’ll discuss her when I say so!” Big
hollered. “You may be bigger than I am, but I’m
older
! I
don’t know about here, but in America folks are supposed to respect
their elders, and
you
...you hotheaded young buck...you have
shown absolutely no—”

“I’ll thank you to think carefully before
calling me a name,” Saber admonished. “Good day.” Swiftly, he
ascended the staircase. Big might be kind and caring at times, he
thought as he stepped into the long hallway, but it when it came to
defending Goldie, the man was about as cordial as a rabid dog.

No, he’d get no help at all from the huffy
dwarf. If he wanted to know more about the sorrows Goldie felt, he
would have to discover them for himself.

If you were a real friend, she’d trust
you...

Big’s statement burst into Saber’s mind as
he approached Goldie’s room. He stopped, staring at the floor.
Could it be that Goldie didn’t trust him? The thought disturbed
him, and he couldn’t understand why. What difference did it make
whether or not she trusted him, for heaven’s sake?

“It makes
no
difference,” he murmured
to a painting of one of his ancestors. “None at all. She has to go
home. I have to go home. She—I—We—It makes no difference
whatsoever. The only thing I want from her are those diaries.
Tonight I’ll
demand
she allow me to see them, and that’s
that.” Squaring his shoulders, he turned around, advancing toward
his own room.

But when he reached it, he looked down the
hall again. His mind painted Goldie’s image for him. Suddenly she
stood before him in the corridor. Her hands were outstretched, a
solitary tear gleaming at the corner of one of her golden eyes. He
could have sworn the vision was real and that she was begging for
his help.

Her plea tore at him. The thought of the
diaries vanished, and he could think of nothing but that tear he’d
imagined by her eye. Before he realized it, he was at her door
again. His image of her was gone, but within the room was the real
Goldie. The warm one who smiled and teased and made him laugh and
made him want to hold her.

The Goldie who had found the common man
beneath the nobleman.

“Goldie,” he whispered, and knocked
softly.

She didn’t answer. Could it be that she was
out on her balcony and couldn’t hear him knocking? He stared at the
doorknob, knowing full well it was highly improper for him to open
the door, but knowing also that that was precisely what he was
going to do.

He opened it only slightly, his in-bred
manners forbidding him to go any further before announcing his
presence. “Goldie,” he called through the crack. “Goldie, may I
come in?”

No answer. Yes, she was on the balcony, and
he was sure she was decent. People didn’t stand out on their
balconies in a state of undress. Bolstered by his hypothesis, he
swung the door open wide and stepped inside.

What he saw stole his breath away.

Goldie lay sleeping. She wore nothing but
diaphanous white lace. The Duke of Ravenhurst realized he should
leave the room immediately.

Saber Tremayne stayed.

He stared at her, his fascination so great
it rendered him motionless. He saw how the late-afternoon sun,
streaming in from the open glass doors, bathed her in its golden
light. A soft, sweetly scented breeze whispered across the delicate
fabric covering her. The gently rustling lace created shadows that
played and danced upon her milky skin.

Delicate gold. Gentle lace. Sweet dance.
Soft play. Sun and shadow. Such words came into Saber’s mind as his
gaze rested tenderly upon her. “Upon this little person called
Goldie,” he whispered, so quietly he could not hear his own
words.

Slowly, she unfolded a petite ivory leg.
Saber felt as though he were watching a fragile blossom spreading
its petals. She sighed in her sleep. A small, contented bit of
breath that held a hint of her voice within its airy resonance.
Whatever slumberous images flowed through her mind, Saber realized
they were obviously pleasing to her. He experienced an intense
yearning to know what they were.