Sandra Madden (24 page)

She gently pushed back, gazing up at him, her extraordinary eyes glimmering with amusement. "You asked me to come fishing."

"Aye, and we shall drop our lines soon."

Edmund's murmured promise was lost as he met her parted lips. The world spun away as his tongue slipped into her mouth and he savored the warm cinnamon flavor of her. She purred, a soft, low mewing sound from deep in her throat.

Edmund's heart raced. He warmed.

Uncommon need for her overtook good sense.

He kissed Kate fiercely. She responded with a passion matching his own.

Could he make love to a woman in a tree? Was it physically possible?

His loins ached. His lips, locked against Kate's, sparked as if they were on fire.

A trembling he could not control took hold of Edmund. He swayed. Unable to regain his balance, and with Kate still in his arms—he fell. Sideways. Breaking apart from her.

Kate rolled. Holding her sides, she laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Are you hurt?" Edmund asked. Or merely a victim of hysteria he wondered.

"Ah, Edmund. Your kiss is powerful. It knocked me right over, it did!" With that, Kate gave herself up to a fresh gale of laughter.

There was naught for him to do but acknowledge the humor in his spill and the infectious sound of her laughter. Throwing his head back, he laughed with Kate.

Birds perched innocently on neighboring branches squawked and flew from the old oak tree, screeching in protest. Leaves rustled and floated to the ground.

Pushing herself to a sitting position, Kate wiped her tears of mirth away. " 'Tis true, my lord. Your kiss stirs many wondrous sensations within me."

"As yours do mine," he confessed, transfixed by the creamy mounds of her breasts rising above the dark indigo of her gown.

It had been too long since Edmund had made love to Kate at the inn. The longing to feel her body against his, warm and soft and wanting him, overwhelmed Edmund. Smoky desire curled through him, blocking his lungs, his throat.

Kate peered at him with concern. "Edmund?"

"Aye."

"What is it?"

"I want you, Kate."

The smile began at the corner of her lips and curved upward into the most enchanting, seductive grin Edmund had ever known.

"Shall we discover what this old tree castle is made of?" she asked in a hushed, bantering tone.

He knew. "Rotting wood, I fear."

" 'Tis certain to make the experience exciting."

"If we fell to the ground…”

"We shall be each other's cushions." Kate tilted her head. Challenge glimmered in her eyes. Slowly moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she slanted him another sultry smile. "Where is your courage, my lord?" she teased

Nonexistent at the time. Just as was his resistance.

More than an hour later, after much creaking and groaning of the tree castle's floor planks, Edmund cradled Kate in his arms, safe and sound. They had not fallen, but they had been to paradise and back. Kate made little sounds of pleasure.

At least he'd had the foresight to bring a blanket, else they would be covered with painful splinters. But Kate deserved better, a bed of roses, a thick cushion of velvety petals.

Edmund felt guilty and content. "I wish I could stay at Rose Hall forever."

"Then why don't you?" Kate asked.

"Because the Earl of Stamford is expected to take his place in London society. And I must lend my voice at court and Parliament."

"Edmund, you do not have to be dictated in all you do by society."

"I fear I haven't the courage to be thought of as an eccentric."

"You have much courage, Edmund. You proved it by running off the highwaymen," she said, smoothing and straightening her skirts. "And was it not you who opened his grounds to the villagers just days ago so that they might hunt?"

He did feel good about that, even though he knew he would be the object of anger from his peers. "The forest will be open to all for one week in each season."

"The men of the village will be able to feed their families. And there will be no more poaching to concern you."

"I trust you are right."

"You are a good and wise man," Kate declared, rucking lose strands of honey silk beneath her caul. "Your happiness should not be hurt by a title."

She made it sound so simple to give up the games, his friends, gambling.

"Kate, methinks you would like to play tennis."

"Aye?"

" 'Tis played with rackets on indoor courts," he explained, working up to his announcement.

Wrapping her arms about her knees, Kate smiled up at him, a trusting, loving smile. "I'll try tennis if you think I would like it."

"Aye, I do. And I am certain that you will play the game well."

"Do women play?"

"I have not seen any, but they will in time."

"You are always ahead of your time."

"Aye?" He paused for courage.

"Aye."

"Then you may be glad to know that I plan to construct an outdoor court, right here at Rose Hall. 'Twill be one of the first of its kind."

Kate's face glowed with pleasure. "How thrilling!"

"The court shall be located where the rose garden is now."

Kate's face paled. The lifeblood drained from it before his very eyes. Her silence felt worse than her rage. Far worse.

"The light there is quite—" Edmund's explanation was interrupted by the sound of a horse and rider.

Edmund rose to his knees to peer down through the branches of summer leaves. 'Twas his man.

"My lord, Lady Cordelia bade me fetch you. Lady Witherspoon has arrived."

The news could not be more ill-timed.

Edmund's entire body felt as if it were in the grips of a steel nipper. The life was being squeezed from him.

"I shall return straightaway," he called down.

He turned to Kate.

Anger flashed in her eyes, murderous lightning melded of silver and gold. Her sweet mouth set against him in tight-lipped fury. There would be no farewell kiss.

Edmund was guilty as silently charged, of vile chicanery. He was no better than a malt worm.

"Come. We must go, Kate. We shall discuss the tennis court and the rose garden, at another time."

* * * *

Kate's spirits were lower than the roots of an ancient birch. The cloud she'd been floating on for days evaporated in the afternoon mist. The glorious days with Edmund were over, and she was angry with herself for believing their romance could continue.

An outdoor tennis court replacing the rose garden!

She snapped the heads off dead rose blossoms.

Edmund spent much of his time overseeing affairs of the estate and the comfort of his guests. Kate supposed he spent time making plans for his tennis court, and with Judith, as well. But she had not seen the two together. Rose Hall had rapidly filled with guests again in the past few days, although the queen had halted her progress and was said to be heading back to Whitehall.

The queen's change in plans threw Lady Cordelia into a fit of vapors. Kate spent hours rubbing Cordelia's temples, fetching her sack, and playing the lady's favorite melodies. Alas, three days had passed and still Edmund's aunt moaned.

The only peace Kate found was in the garden. A garden soon to be gone.

"Kate."

The Duke of Doneval strode toward her. "I knew I would find ye here, putting the roses to shame with yer beautiful smile."

Kate jumped up and dipped into a deep curtsy. A visit from the twinkling-eyed duke would surely raise her spirits. She was always happy to see him. "Good day, my lord."

"Weel na, how does it happen ye are yet at Rose Hall?"

She brushed the dirt from her skirts. "Alas, a series of calamities."

"Aye? How so?" The aging duke sat on the near stone bench and patted the empty space beside him. "And tell me how yer papa fares. Did ye arrive in time for his wedding?"

Kate sank down beside the duke. "Papa Beadle fares well, but I did not reach York."

"What happened, lass?"

"I was overset by highwaymen."

"Och! England!" The duke slapped a hand to his forehead. "The country is not even safe for the English."

"Lord Stamford came to my rescue," Kate continued as if she had not heard the slight upon her country.

"The gods be praised."

"They almost stole my ring from me."

Frowning deeply, the duke made a
tsking
sound as he shook his head. "Let me see this ring, lass. Seems to me, 'tis bringing ye nothing but grief."

Kate held out her hand. "Nay. 'Tis not the ring. Tis me bringing the grief upon myself. Lord Stamford doubts the highwaymen were after my ring. And if I give up my quest to find its origin, I should not feel dismayed."

Donald Cameron's frown deepened as he studied Kate's golden band. Was he perplexed, or did he see something in the ring he recognized?

Disappointed too often, Kate dared not hope.

"Ye say ye've always worn this ring?"

"Pledged to wear it."

The duke's brown eyes met hers. "It puts me in mind of a ring me friend wears. 'Tis similar."

Kate's heart leaped against her chest. "Your friend?"

"Aye. Anne. Dinna ye remember? I asked ye if ye would come to Scotland and be her companion. But ye were already spoken for."

The duke knew of a similar ring. Pins and needles scraped along Kate's skin. Her mind whirled with possibilities. "When I could not travel immediately to the Manchester family, because of Papa, they passed me over."

"Then ye are free to go with me? 'Tis the only reason I stopped at Rose Hall, to see if ye might be here. Circumstances change. And I'm on me way home to Scotland."

Circumstances change. Indeed.

The duke patted the thinning auburn strands atop his head. "Me Anne may be able to help you. She may know the goldsmith who fashioned your ring."

Beside herself with excitement, Kate could hardly catch a breath. Did the duke hold out true hope? Or was he attempting to lure her to his ill friend's side?

"What do ye say, lass?"

What to do? What to do? She had no reason not to trust the duke. Yet this was no small decision he was asking Kate to make. "Scotland is so far from Rose Hall," she said, lacing her hands together on her lap.

"Is Rose Hall yer home?"

" ‘Tis the only one I've known."

The duke's eyes warmed, and he laid a big, rough hand over hers. "I dinna ask for a hasty answer. Think me offer over well, lass."

"How is your Anne's ring fashioned?" Kate asked.

" 'Tis gold with a ruby rose wrapped round it, a crown of diamonds, and a coat of arms that canna be distinguished, hidden, like yers, by the rose."

"She is of royal birth?"

He shrugged. "Me Anne is a private person and forbids me to pry. Whatever her background, she doesna care for anyone to know it."

"Curious."

"Aye."

"And still you love this woman of mystery." Kate sensed Anne was more than a friend to the Scottish duke. He was deeply in love with his Anne.

"Aye, there is much about her to love," he confessed with a sheepish smile. Taking Kate's hands in his, the duke beseeched her once again. "Kate, lass. Come with me. Talk with Anne, and spend a fortnight. If ye dinna like me Scotland or me woman, I shall return ye safe to Rose Hall."

"My lord, you make it difficult to refuse."

"Think it over and let me know on the morrow." Releasing Kate's hands, Donald Cameron stood, unfolding himself slowly as if all his joints ached. He cast an apologetic smile. "This old man is weary and must rest."

Kate suppressed the urge to reach out and take his hand. Instead, she offered a smile of sympathy for his trials. "You will have my answer early on the morrow."

"Me thanks, lass."

With a nod of his head, the duke straightened himself and strode from the garden.

What to do? What to do? Thoughts tumbled one upon the other through Kate's mind. If she traveled to Scotland with the kindly duke, she might discover her origins. At the end of the journey she might learn the answers to questions she'd been asking all of her life.

But if she left with the duke, she might never see Edmund again.

Though he'd vowed to never give his heart to a woman, he would soon marry. The Earl of Stamford would take Judith Witherspoon to be his bride and the mother of his children. He must.

He'd never said he loved Kate. Indeed, he'd just threatened to uproot her rose garden for an outdoor tennis court. Still...

To stay or to leave? 'Twas too difficult a choice. 'Twas impossible to decide on her own. Kate meant to visit Jutta right away. Her fate lay in the stars; the stargazer would tell her what to do.

Kate made haste to her bedchamber to obtain the necessary funds for Jutta's consultation. But as soon as she opened her door, she knew something was amiss.

"Oh, fie!"

Her small bedchamber was in disarray. Her feather bed had been slashed open and the contents spewed about. Her cedar chest had been opened and obviously rifled through. The cupboard was in disarray. Someone had entered her bedchamber and searched it thoroughly. Yet the velvet pouch containing her coins had not been touched. Who had done this? And why?

Intending to report the intrusion and make certain Edmund's aunt was content before heading to the village, Kate hurried to Lady Cordelia's solar.

She found the door to the lady's chamber ajar. Far from missing Kate, Edmund's aunt was deep in gossip with Judith Witherspoon.

'Twas quite improper to eavesdrop. A lady simply did not. Kate stepped closer, inching her head, her ear, toward the open door. The better to hear.

"Aye, Kate is beautiful," Lady Cordelia said, apparently agreeing with a statement made by Judith. "But beauty plays no part when it comes to making a match. The girl is a gardener's daughter."

"But I see the way Lord Stamford regards her," Judith whined in her child's voice. "There is something in his gaze, an affection not there when he looks at me. He appears to, to adore her."

Kate could not help but smile. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Goose! My nephew has known Kate since he was a boy. He could not possibly adore her. She is too familiar, like an old, worn glove."