Sandra Madden (26 page)

"Nay,"

The Earl of Stamford marched off, grinding several fallen rose blossoms beneath his boots.

* * * *

Whack.

Edmund's archery competition with Stanton did not go well later that afternoon. He could not concentrate on his game.

The family had gathered beneath a massive white tent to watch the event. His aunt, who never appeared at sports events, sat on the sidelines with Lady Judith. Tears streamed down Cordelia's plump, lily-white cheeks. Apparently, even her frequent blinking could not hold them back.

Whack.

Although he missed the bull's-eye this afternoon, Edmund's arrows hit the butt. His game was not putting his aunt to shame, so he knew she wasn't crying for him. Kate must have told her that she was leaving. His aunt was fond of Kate. No matter what Judith Witherspoon advised, Edmund did not believe the old woman would have actually dismissed Kate.

On the other hand, Lady Judith appeared quite content. She applauded each time one of his arrows hit the butt. The pleasant but thin smile never left her rouged lips.

Whack.
The arrow shaft quivered.

His sister, Jane, with her husband, Viscount Chumley, in tow, had arrived earlier in the day, along with Frances and her nurse. Jane and Alexander's glazed eyes gave way their boredom with the competition.

Kate appeared halfway through the final set. She strolled to the sidelines on the arm of the old duke.

The devil take him!

Edmund longed to meet Donald Cameron in a duel but 'twouldn't be fair. The man was old. Too old to be taking a young innocent like Kate.

Whack.

Stanton hit the bull's-eye again. Edmund had lost. He was unused to losing and was surprised it did not disturb him as much as he had imagined it would. Perhaps it was because he was already tormented, had been since he'd failed to convince Kate to stay at Rose Hall. His stomach burned. His heart felt much too heavy for his body. As if Percy sat squarely upon his chest. He’d never thought he might lose Kate.

With the back of his hand, Edmund swiped the sweat from his brow as Stanton approached him.

The queen's adviser did not bother to mask his self-complacent smile. "I say, I believe I have won."

"Indeed, Henry. Congratulations."

"Your mind was elsewhere, I suspect."

"Not at all."

Stanton's bovine eyes fixed on Edmund. "Lady Cordelia's gentlewoman once again converses with the Scotsman. Is she in league with Doneval?"

Edmund stiffened. Henry's remark triggered a whispered alarm in his mind. 'Twas ominous that one of the queen's most trusted counselors should consider for a moment that Kate could be a threat to England.

"Never fear," he replied. "Kate is but a gullible young woman taken in by the duke’s fawning. She does not plot against the crown."

As he spoke the words, a vision of Kate's ring appeared in Edmund's head. A crown partly concealed by a rose. Such a design might be misconstrued by one sworn to protect the queen from enemies both abroad and at home. To some, the hidden crown might mean royalty in hiding. Nay! Preposterous!

Still, Henry might have seen Kate's ring and jumped to an erroneous conclusion. Nay. Nay. Edmund put too much on a silly supposition, Kate's news of leaving evidently had disturbed him to the point where he could not think straight.

"You would be surprised at those who have plotted against the crown in the past," Stanton said. "The queen has a legion of envious relatives both legitimate and illegitimate. Men and women, plain and beautiful."

Edmund's alarm deepened. Fresh beads of sweat broke out on his brow and palms. He must ease Stanton's foolish fears. The tic at the adviser's mouth pulled, giving him an evil sneer.

"I have known Kate since she was a small child. She is the gardener's daughter." Edmund paused and chuckled. "You have naught to fear from her. She knows not one end of a musket from the other."

Henry Stanton nodded solemnly, narrowing his eyes.

"Kate is harmless," Edmund added for good measure.

"You obviously hold the young woman in high regard. Let us hope she does not disappoint."

With a perfunctory dip of the head, Stanton turned on his heel and lumbered toward Rose Hall. The queen's adviser did resemble a bull. Just as Kate said.

Edmund released a sigh. He doubted the Duke of Doneval was attempting to enlist Kate in any conspiracy against the crown. He was a simply a lecherous old man—which was terrible enough. Edmund's thoughts turned to Kate's ring once more.

Was it indeed possible the concealed crown held portentous implications? Bah! Henry Stanton's suspicious nature overrode Edmund's good sense for a moment. Edmund would wager his new tennis court that the ring was merely a design hammered by some small village goldsmith.

That settled in his mind, he felt relieved to see the duke take leave of Kate. She turned to Edmund then. Her gaze met his across the grassy space. She started toward him, as elegant as any woman in the queen's court. Edmund envisioned Kate's luscious hips swaying provocatively beneath her farthingale. Ah, to slip a hand...

Ah, but, no.

The soft pink shade of her silk gown reminded him of a maiden's blush. Kate's blush. A stiff lace ruff cradled the length of her slender neck, and a tantalizing measure of her exquisite breasts rose proudly from the deep square neckline of her gown. Ah, to cup her generous breasts in his palms, press his lips against the small heart just above…

Ah, but, no.

Creamy braid trimmed the long sleeves, stomacher, and hem of Kate's simple dress. Ropes of pearls draped around her neck and adorned the full skirt of her gown. As usual, several strands of tawny silk hair had escaped from her pearl-trimmed caul. She brushed away the runaway wisps that flew in her face as she strolled toward him.

Ah, but to be the one to sweep away her untamed locks. Ah, but, no.

Edmund wondered if all the male guests gathered around regarded Kate as he did; a beautiful goddess moving among mortals. A goddess favoring the peers of the realm with her radiant smile, her musical laughter.

Specks of dust danced in the last hazy rays of sun. The scent of garden roses drifted on the summer breeze.

Edmund's heartbeat quickened with anticipation.

Kate had changed her mind. She meant to stay at Rose Hall. She was coming to tell him so.

"My lord," She dipped her head in the submissive form of courtesy she regularly displayed to him in the presence of others. "My condolences on your loss."

"I thank you, Mistress Kate."

She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial fashion. "You allowed Stanton to win, did you not?"

"Nay. Sadly."

Her amber eyes widened in surprise. The shining golden pools reflecting Kate's wit and intelligence now regarded him with astonishment. "But how could you lose? No one is a better archer than you."

"My mind may have been elsewhere," Edmund allowed.

Elsewhere, in the warm glow of her smile, engulfed by the fragrance of lavender fields that caressed her, clung to her.

Kate's softly curved brows dipped in a slight frown. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Did you lose a great deal wagering?"

"Stanton refused to wager. Thinking he would lose, I expect."

" 'Tis fortunate for you that he refused."

"Aye. For, for my mind was on you," Edmund confessed in a rush of words.

She gasped. "Pray, say it is not so."

"I cannot fathom that you will no longer be at Rose Hall."

Kate chewed on her bottom lip, sweet, pink, and tasty. "But my absence may prove a boon to your archer's skills," she said. "I shall not be about to distract you."

"I shall, shall miss your distraction."

God's blood. The feelings were difficult enough for Edmund to manage; the words were almost impossible to speak aloud.

Unaware of his turmoil, Kate gave him a brilliant smile, warming him in places that should not be warmed in public. "And I shall miss you, Edmund."

"I cannot dissuade you."

"Nay."

"Has the stargazer advised you to leave?"

He should have run the astrologer out of the village long ago.

"I have not had time to consult Jutta."

"Kate, I beg you. Look at my aunt. She has tears in her eyes."

" 'Tis because she longs to be back in London. My advice to you is to take Lady Cordelia to London where she is happiest."

"I shall. What else can I do to please you?" Edmund felt the angst of a desperate man.

She bit down on her lip. "There is nothing."

"The rose garden. If it pleases you, I shall construct my tennis court on the east side of Rose Hall and leave the garden."

" 'Twould please me."

"You will stay, then?"

Kate shook her head. The sadness in her eyes sent a wave of melancholy through him.

"I shall be leaving early on the morrow," she said quietly. "The duke is anxious to return to his Anne."

"No."

"Farewell, Edmund." Kate's voice was but a whisper caught on the wind. She lowered her eyes and turned on her heel.

"Kate, stay."

But she did not hear, or did not choose to hear.

Gazing after her hastily departing figure, Edmund watched as his sister hurried to Kate's side. Kate stopped to greet Jane, and then the two women huddled together as they repaired to Rose Hall.

What did they have to say to each other? He knew only that Jane had overcome her dislike of Kate when the gardener’s daughter had nursed Frances back to health.

Damn. He could do nothing short of locking Kate up to make her stay. Damn Judith Witherspoon's evil tongue. And pray, what had his aunt been thinking?

Edmund had hardly finished the thought before finding his aunt at his side.

"You must make Kate stay," she said,

"Did you not wish to dismiss her?" Edmund asked tersely.

"Aye. I considered dismissing the girl, but only for a minute." Cordelia held a silk fan in one hand and a goblet in the other. "And then I had a change of heart. With Kate gone, who would soothe my temples during a headache, or play for me?"

"Lady Judith?" he suggested dryly.

"Nay, though she promised she could."

"Perhaps you should have thought of Kate's talents before releasing her," Edmund barked, out of patience.

His aunt blinked. "I never said a word to Kate about my thoughts."

"And why did you have such thoughts?"

Lady Cordelia raised troubled—and slightly glazed—hazel eyes to his. "I am worried Kate holds a
tendre
for you."

A roiling in his belly caused Edmund to be harsher with his aunt than he was wont to be. He fairly growled his explanation. "’Tis but the affection old friends have for one another."

"Can you not make her stay?"

"I fear not. Kate is stubborn, And she has made up her mind."

She had made up her mind rather quickly and for once without any vacillation that he could see. She was so eager to be gone that she had not even consulted the stargazer.

"I wish you would make another attempt to make the girl stay," Cordelia urged, blinking in her rapid, annoying fashion.

"I have!"

"You do not have to snap at me."

With a groan of frustration, Edmund turned away from his wounded aunt to find Henry Stanton standing in the shade of the tent, nearly concealed in the shadows. With his hands laced together against his portly chest, the queen's trusted adviser was watching Kate, observing her closely as she and Jane entered Rose Hall.

The faint alarm Edmund had felt earlier, now clamored noisily in his head. Did Stanton's inexplicable interest mean danger for Kate?

Chapter Seventeen

You will find happiness at your hearth

A light fog blanketed the morning and settled in Kate's soul. Hovering by the door of Rose Hall, she watched the preparations for departure. The scurrying servants, the lifting and loading of heavy wooden chests. She heard the grunts and mumbled oaths, neighing horses and barking dogs.

And she felt an odd sense of detachment from the activity, as if all were being made ready for someone else's journey. Certainly not hers. Kate could hardly believe she was about to leave Rose Hall... and Edmund Wydville, Earl of Stamford.

She watched in numbed disbelief as her sole cedar chest was loaded into the oxcart carrying Donald Cameron's possessions.

She watched as the coach the duke had hired for her journey to Scotland pulled up. Doneval planned to ride his horse alongside.

A deep melancholy rolled through her body like thick, steely gray fog. A blur of color and hurried movement jarred Kate from her trancelike state.

Whistling softly, Edmund strode from the direction of the stables. 'Twas a flat tune, he whistled. Percy trotted at his side.

A wrenching ache tore at Kate's heart. Edmund's towering figure stood out among all of the others gathered in this business of leaving.

He drew closer. Kate did not need to stare as she was. She knew she would never forget Edmund. She knew every line, color, and texture of him. She knew his every mood and expression. The Earl of Stamford was forever etched in her mind and heart.

A sudden gust of wind swept back Edmund's dark hair. Thick and loose, the sloe-black strands fell to his shoulders, massive shoulders squared like a soldier's about to surrender to the foe. Despite a strong gait, the earl's muscular body moved rigidly as might a man who walked in his sleep.

Kate saw beyond the grim, tight set of Edmund's mouth to his usual mischievous grin, to sensuous lips that had caressed hers with heart melting sensitivity and fierce passion. She would never know a more magnificent man than Edmund.

He headed toward the duke to take his leave. The parting was brief as Kate expected it to be. The sweet Scot turned to oversee the last of the preparations, and Edmund strode toward Kate, a tail-wagging Percy close at his heels.

Kate could not take in a full breath. But it was not fear of Percy. She hardly noticed the hound. Her lungs felt tight and full, as if they might burst. At the same time, a flood of tears threatened to unleash itself. She dared not move.