Diamonds and Dreams (28 page)

Goldie glared at him. “You don’t know what
uncial
means, Saber. Nobody knows that word ‘cept for the
fella who wrote the dictionary. You’re just actin’ like you know
it, aren’t you?”

More of his tension evaporated. He leaned
back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap, and regarded her.
She was in a sassy mood tonight. He liked it. “I think that perhaps
it has something to do with making spelling errors.”

She smiled smugly. “Ha!
Wrong
.”

“Then is it a word for improper
grammar?”

“Nope.”

“Poorly formed letters?”

“You’re way off, Saber.”

He loved her smug smile. “Then perhaps
uncial
is a handwriting employed in Greek and Latin
manuscripts? Maybe one that was used from the fourth to the eighth
centuries a.d.? Could it be, Miss Dictionary, that this handwriting
of which you speak is made with rounded capital letters and
cursive-like lower-case ones?”

Her face fell before she stuck her tongue
out at him. “I always wondered what it would be like to be a
genius. Now I know it’d be borin’. What’s the fun of knowin’
everything in the world? I think it’s more fun havin’ to
look
for answers. So what do you think about that, Mr.
Fountain of Knowledge?”

“What do I think? I think we’re having a
logomachy
.”

She scowled. “You’re such a show-off. All
right, tell me what
logomachy
means. I know you’re dyin’ to
do it.”

“It’s a dispute about words.”

She wanted to remain miffed at him, but his
crooked grin softened her. She giggled, reaching out to tweak his
nose. “That little Marion was a happy little boy before his parents
died, wasn’t he, Saber? Did you read the part that Aunt Delia wrote
about him singin’ all the time? She said he always had a song
whenever anyone wanted one. I bet he doesn’t sing and hum anymore
though.”

He doesn’t,
Saber answered silently.
Suddenly he began to wonder if she should tell her the truth about
who he was. It would certainly make things a lot easier in London.
And surely he could make her understand the need for discretion. If
he could convince her of the importance of keeping his discoveries
about Hutchins and Doyle a secret, she wouldn’t send word to
Hallensham about having found him. After all, the bastards had
stolen money from her aunt.

“Goldie,” he began, pausing for a long
moment. “There’s something I have to tell you, poppet.”

He frowned when he saw pain deepen the color
of her eyes, and realized he’d hurt her feelings. A fragment of
comprehension came to him. “Poppet,” he told her. “I’ve called you
that twice, and both times you’ve reacted as if I’d called you an
offensive name. I told you the name means a small girl or a little
doll. Do you find something insulting in that?”

She turned away, sliding off his desk. “I
went fishin’ today and left you some fried fish in the kitchen.
Whipped up some cornbread too. Well, I reckon I’ll go to bed now.
We’ll probably leave for London real early. ‘Night, Saber.”

When she crossed to the door, he came out
from behind his desk and strode toward her. “Not so fast, Goldie.
You will not escape me tonight. I’ve asked you a question, and
you’re going to answer it.”

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

He felt like lying and telling her he wasn’t
angry, but realized the truth was better in this situation. “Yes.
I’m mad because you refuse to talk to me. Every time I come close
to a subject that upsets you, you withdraw from me.”

She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and
wished Big hadn’t left. She felt so alone without him. Especially
now, with Saber mad at her.

That droplet on her cheek was sufficient
water to drown Saber with remorse. God, what was the right way to
get through to her? “Goldie—”

“I was so lonely when I came in here,
Saber,” she told him, sniffling. “I paced the hallway for hours.
You’ve been shut up in here since Big left.”

“Goldie, you’re trying to change the
subject. Now tell me why—”

“This is the first time since I met Big that
I’ve been away from him. Oh, Saber, I’ve been with him every single
day for so long that I don’t know how to act without him. I
wouldn’t have come in here to bother you, but I...I felt lonesome.
I miss Big. He’s my best friend.”

Saber felt guilt slide through him. He
had
been in the library a long time. He should have
considered how sad Goldie would be all alone without Big to keep
her company.

He thought about the day when he, too, would
be parting from her. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t help
wondering if she would miss
him
like that too. “You’re
lonesome for Big, but you’re not alone, Goldie,” he reminded
her.

He placed his hand on her dainty shoulder.
Friends could put their hands on friends’ shoulders, he told
himself. It was only a simple gesture of affection.

But if that were so, why did the feel of her
shoulder beneath his palm fill him with the desire to hold her and
never let her go? Dear God, what special something was it she had
that he craved so desperately? “You’re not alone,” he told her
again, his voice as soft as he could make it.

His sentiment and touch sent Goldie straight
into his arms. “Saber, I know dreams always go away, and I’m
supposed to guard my heart, and we’re supposed to forget what’s
happened between us, and we’re supposed to understand that it was
all a mistake, but—”

“Goldie—”

“But this doesn’t have anything to do with
figs, yellow bushes, or not bein’ able to swallow,” she continued,
her eyes tightly closed as she slipped her arms around his waist.
“This is about Big. Without him, it’s like a part of me is missin’.
He’s always been there for me, and no matter what other people did
to me, he helped me through it. And now he’s gone, and I’m so
nervous without him, and what if somethin’ happens in London and I
need him to help me? What will I do? And anyway, Saber, I can’t see
why you would get mad at me or laugh at me. You can make it as
light and short as you want. ‘Course I’ll understand if you don’t
want to, but—Saber, please...please do it for me. Please—”

“Goldie, slow down,” he interrupted, trying
desperately to understand her. “What is it you want me to do for
you?”

Slowly, she raised her face to his. What she
saw there set her heart aflutter. His eyes were glowing with that
special softness. The wonderful sight gave her the courage to
answer him. “Hug me,” she whispered. “Just one small hug!”

Her plea was for precisely the same thing he
longed to do. He was filled with such tender emotions that he could
not get hold of them before they consumed him. “Oh, Goldie,” he
groaned. He pulled her closer to him, urged her face to his chest,
and embraced her with all the concern and growing affection he felt
for her.

If the sun had arms, Goldie mused, they
wouldn’t be any warmer than Saber’s. Oh, how she loved being so
close to him. “Thank you. Saber, thank you so much for this. You
just can’t know what a hug does for me. I think it’s one of the
nicest things in the whole wide world.”

The tenderness inside him grew to something
stronger. She was grateful for a simple
hug
. A hug was free,
and yet to Goldie it was priceless. Her simplicity, her humble
pleasures... God, how he loved what they did to him! He buried his
face in the wild mass atop her head, breathing in the sweet scent
of those golden curls. Their pure fragrance reached his very
soul.

“Goldie,” he whispered down to her, his
voice refusing to come, “will you trust me to take Big’s place? If
someone should do something to you—If you should need help in any
way, will you put your faith in me?”

When she didn’t answer him, when she
stiffened in his arms, Saber felt deep disappointment. He knew then
he would have to earn her trust. He would have to deserve it.

Suddenly, her confidence in him was a
treasure he wanted beyond all others. He’d wanted it yesterday, and
he still wanted it today. Tonight, he decided, he would begin
trying to earn it. “While you’re with me,” he told her softly, his
lips still nuzzling her hair, “I’ll let no harm come to you. If
anyone should dare to insult you, laugh at you, or become cross
with you, I’ll rise to your defense just as Big did. While we’re
together, I’ll take care of you, poppet.”

The name stung her again. She dropped her
arms from around him.

At her action, Saber was reminded anew of
her aversion to the word. He took her shoulders and gazed deeply
into her eyes. “Tell me what you feel when I call you a poppet.
We’ll stand here all night if necessary, but Goldie, you are going
to tell me.”

She could tell by the tone of his voice and
the expression on his face that he wanted a straight answer and
that he wanted it right now. “No,” she told him, so quietly she
could barely hear herself.

“Buy why?” Saber demanded, his frustration
mounting steadily.

She felt dread slither through her. “Are you
mad at—”

“No! Yes! I don’t know!” He saw her eyes
widen at his shout and felt completely overwhelmed with confusion.
“Goldie, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I’m sorry. But
I’m—You—Goldie, please tell me why the name poppet upsets you.
Whatever your answer, I promise I won’t laugh or become angry.”

His eyes now looked even softer and gentler
than before. She felt caution slipping slowly away.

“Tell me, Goldie.” His fingers smoothed
across her shoulders.

She heard the concern in his chocolate
voice, and wanted desperately to trust it. “You said—” she began
quietly, blinking several times. “You said that poppet was a name
for a small girl. A little doll.”

He watched pain flit across her face. “Is
there something wrong with being likened to a small girl or a
little doll?” He cupped her chin, lifting her face higher. “Tell
me, Goldie. Tell me so I’ll understand.”

She dropped her gaze. More tears welled in
her eyes; she watched them wet the back of Saber’s hand. “I hate
being so little,” she whispered, her shoulders beginning to
shake.

Comprehension flooded Saber. So many of her
sad secrets became clear to him. “People make fun of your small
stature, don’t they, Goldie?” He stared at the top of her head,
trying to remember every single thing she’d ever said to him since
he first met her. “Yes. You commented once that Velma Somebody was
tall and that that was the reason why Fred Wattle loved her. You
said you didn’t deserve Fred. And your eyes. Yes, your eyes. That
girl...somewhere in Kentucky. Her father owned the town. She said
you had devil eyes. You think your gold eyes are ugly.”

“Saber—”

“Yellow bush. Your hair. You’ve been
ridiculed about your curly hair, too. Someone said it looked like
something a dog had been shaking around. And what else?” he
mumbled, his mind hard at work summoning memories. “Freckles. The
day I said you had seventeen freckles on your nose, you cried. I
thought it was dew, but it was a tear, wasn’t it? You think your
freckles are unattractive.”

She tried to break away from him, but he
held her shoulders tighter. “And the day we first met,” he
continued. “By the pond. I told you that if your performance in the
water was any indication of your fighting abilities, you couldn’t
pay me to ravish you. You thought I was telling you that you were
too ugly to ravish. You—”

“Saber, I really have to go—”

“And figs,” he murmured. “Yesterday you said
something about having unripened figs.” He drew her intimately
close to him. “Figs, Goldie. And melons. Watermelons would be too
big, but cantaloupes would be nice. You wept over fruit. What were
you talking about when you told me I couldn’t imagine what it was
like to have figs instead of melons? What—”

“Saber, let me go,” she insisted, struggling
in vain to step away from him. “I—”

“You said something about how I would feel
if instead of having muscle ropes, I had threads. You said—”

“Saber, please—”

He silenced her by pressing her face to his
chest. His hands held her head captive. “Oh, Goldie. Figs. Breasts.
Breasts like ripe melons. I’ve heard the expression. Goldie, you
were speaking about your breasts, weren’t you?”

“Saber, I can’t talk about this!” she
shouted, her voice muffled in his chest. “You—”

“You really and truly believe you’re ugly,
don’t you?” he continued, his heart thrashing. “You think that
everything about you is homely and undesirable. This sorrow I’ve
noticed in you... Goldie, how can I make you see how very wrong you
are?”

“You’ve got my face pressed so hard against
you, I can’t see
anything
, dammit!”

He relaxed his hold on her, deciding then
and there to tell her the truth about who he was. He’d tell her
that as the Duke of Ravenhurst, he could have his pick among the
most beautiful women in England, but that no other woman he knew
attracted him the way she did. He took a breath and prepared to
enlighten her.

But his breath remained trapped inside him.
If she knew he was Lord Marion Tremayne, would she still feel
comfortable with him? Would she still tease him, tell him
outrageous tales, giggle and smile for him? Would she continue
treating him like the ordinary man she thought him to be? Or would
his title intimidate her?

He had to know.

“Goldie,” he began, pausing, “If you were to
ever meet the real Duke of Ravenhurst, how would you act with
him?”

She felt relieved that he’d changed the
subject. But his question was so unrelated to what they’d been
talking about that she had to think a moment before she could
answer him. “Well, I don’t know. He’s purty close to royalty,
y’know, and Mildred Fickle said you’re supposed to bow to royal
people. So I reckon I’d bow to him. But I’d be a little afraid to
be around him. Mildred Fickle said royal people can have folks’
heads chopped off if they want to. I’d try not to do anything bad
enough to make Duke Ravenhurst have my head chopped off for it, but
you just never know what might happen. And then—” She closed her
mouth, sliding her finger across her throat.