Diamonds and Dreams (60 page)

Without money, she’d been unable to buy
anything. She’d slept outside, huddled next to Itchie Bon for
warmth. If not for the few compassionate peasants she’d met during
her journey, she would have starved. But even so, the food she’d
been given had barely been enough for five days, much less the week
and a half she’d made it stretch out over. She shared it with
Itchie Bon, who added bugs, reptiles, and rodents to his half. The
loyal dog had even offered her a freshly killed field mouse two
days ago.

Thank God the countryside itself fed Dammit,
she mused, smoothing her hand down his coarse mane. She mashed
grass, roots, seeds, and water together for him. But though he’d
eaten well, his gait slowed by the hour, each step a real struggle
for him. Her breath caught in her throat as she dwelled on the
efforts the old, stouthearted horse had expended for her sake.

That in mind, she slipped to the ground,
deciding to walk a bit. Without Dammit’s warm flesh next to her
legs, she shivered. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she
felt hunger gnaw at her belly. Her entire body trembled with
exhaustion.

But cold, hunger, and weariness were nothing
compared to the ache in her heart. In fact, she welcomed the
discomforts. Anything was better than the horrible pain thoughts of
Saber brought.

She lifted her chin, looking down the
endless road again. With a gentle tug on Dammit’s reins, she began
to walk. “I won’t think about him,” she murmured to her animals. “I
won’t. I can’t. I’ll think of dandelions. They don’t stay smashed
down. Crush ’em, and they spring right back. We’ll get to
Hallensham, get thrown out, and then we’ll go somewhere else. It’ll
be all right. I’ll
make
it be all right. I will. I will,”
she vowed. “And I’ll never think about him again. Never.”

She trudged onward. The wind smoothed across
the fields, causing the long grass to sway. Goldie couldn’t help
noticing how green it was. Green as fresh seaweed.

Her traitorous memory summoned recollection
after recollection. She saw him.

Saber.

His image, like a bolt of lightning, seared
into her mind, stubbornly refusing to leave. It remained, so real
to her that she felt as though she could reach out her hand and
touch him.

She pushed her shoulders back and quickened
her pace. A large blackbird sailed overhead. Black as coal. Just
like his hair.

Saber.

She shook her head, trying to clear it of
all memories. Running her hand down Dammit’s neck, she forced
herself to concentrate on how soft his coat was. “Soft as silk,”
she told him. “Just like silk sheets.”

She could smell him. Sandalwood. Warm, silk
sheets. And something simmering.

Saber.

A breeze floated past her, picking up her
curls. As if the gentle wind carried the song of his voice, she
could hear him.
Trust me, Goldie,
he whispered to her.
Trust me.

The words he’d told her with such sincerity
continued to waft through her, despite her best efforts to forget
them. She walked on. Faster, as if she could leave all the memories
behind her. An hour passed. The memories followed.

He was with her. She saw him, smelled him,
heard him. He stayed with her every step of the way, and it had
been so since she left him in London.

She dropped the reins and began to run.
Trust me, Goldie. Trust me.

“Saber,” she moaned, her legs aching and
trembling as she struggled up a high hill.

She didn’t see the rut in the road until she
felt herself falling. Down she rolled, sharp stones and sticks
bruising her every inch of the way.

When she finally stopped she opened her
eyes. She was at the bottom of the hill lying in a soft bed of
dandelions. The bright yellow blossoms made a pillow for her head
and caressed her face. Their fresh scent filled her with yet more
memories, more heartache. She could hold her tears back no longer.
In a great flood, they escaped her, and she lay amidst the
butter-soft, golden flowers, drenching them with all her pain, and
mourning all her broken dreams.

* * *

Asa looked up from the armful of firewood he
carried. Like he did every day, every hour on the hour he swept his
gaze over the countryside, searching in vain for some sign that his
Goldie had returned. He saw nothing. Nothing but old, gnarled
trees, hedgerows, and never-ending fields. His heart heavier than
the tremendous stack of wood in his arms, he turned toward the
cottage.

As he reached the yard, he heard a distant
sound. Facing the field again, he searched intently once more,
spying a stray dog. The barking mongrel raced toward the village,
stopped, then turned to yelp at something behind him. Curious, Asa
continued to observe him.

A horse plodded into view and began pawing
the ground. Asa watched the dog run in a circle around the horse
then speed out of view, all the while barking. The horse turned its
head and let out a long, loud whinny. Asa then saw the dog
return.

By its side was a person. A little girl, Asa
mused, noting how small the child was. He squinted, trying to see
the distant form better. Sunlight glinted off her hair. Her hair of
bright gold.

Asa’s heart began to bang. His load of
firewood crashed to the ground. “Goldie,” he whispered, joy surging
through him like a rush of cool water upon parched earth. “God
Almighty! Big! Big, it’s Goldie! She’s back!”

Big almost killed himself trying to get
through the front door of the cottage. As he scurried into the
yard, he looked every where for Asa, finally spotting him running
into a field. “Goldie,” he murmured, spying the tiny, yellow-haired
girl in the distance. A mixture of relief, happiness, and
excitement scampered through him. “Goldie! Goldie!
Gold—
Saber!
Good Lord, I’ve got to tell
Saber!
”

Spinning around, he looked at the manor
house. His short legs moving as fast as they were able, he raced
toward the mansion, shouting the news of Goldie’s return to all he
passed, and waving frantically at the field in which she could be
found.

The people spilled out of every building in
the village. Shouts filled the air, men, women, and children alike
cheered the return of the girl who’d somehow coerced Lord Tremayne
to come back.

Vaguely, Asa heard the cheering, but could
concentrate on nothing but the sight of his Goldie. Tears streamed
down his freshly shaven cheeks as the years fell away, and he saw
her as the little girl who’d been given into his keeping. “Goldie!”
he screamed, his long legs pumping to get him to her.

Goldie stopped when she saw the man running
toward her.
Who was he?
she wondered, her tired mind unable
to function. He was calling her name, so he obviously knew her.
Frowning, she watched him near her.

He was tall, trim, and well-built. His face
was clean shaven, and his clothes were neat and looked to be
freshly laundered. Even his boots were spotless.

“Goldie!” Asa shouted from the distance.
“It’s me, darlin’! It’s your Uncle Asa! God Almighty, Goldie!”

Her heart skipped several beats before
seemingly dropping down to her toes. Disbelief enveloped her before
tremendous joy chased it away. Before she’d even thought to do it,
she was running to meet him. “Uncle Asa! Great day Miss Agnes,
Uncle Asa!”

He reached her, crushing her to him. Weeping
unabashedly, he groaned her name over and over again. “I’m sorry,”
he sputtered. “God Almighty, Goldie, I’m so sorry!”

“Uncle Asa,” she sobbed into his chest,
relishing his fresh, clean scent. “You aren’t drunk. You aren’t
drunk. Oh, Uncle Asa, you aren’t—”

“And I ain’t never gonna be again, darlin’,”
he promised, sweeping her into his brawny arms. “We’re startin’
over, Goldie. You and me. And Big. We’ve got us a real home now.
The duke’s back. He told all of us how you went and found him,
Goldie. He—”

“Back?” Goldie repeated, hot pain searing
through her heart.

Asa nodded and began the trek back to the
village, Dammit and Itchie Bon following closely behind them.
“Yeah, he’s here. I never knew too much about dukes, but I’m
learnin’. See them little green flags flyin’ around the mansion?
They mean the duke’s on his lands. Me? Well, I ain’t talked to the
man very much because he don’t hardly ever leave his house. I ain’t
seen him do much but stand out on that big ole balcony, lookin’
over his lands. He’s out there every day doin’ it. It’s almost as
if he was huntin’ for somethin’. Big’s been up there near every
day. I keep askin’ Big what all he talks about with such an
important fella like the duke, but Big, he won’t tell me. It’s like
they got some sorta secret, or somethin’.”

Goldie heard nothing at all of what her
uncle was saying to her. She could concentrate only on the fact
that Marion Tremayne had returned to Ravenhurst. “Back,” she
murmured on a raspy breath. “He’s here.”

“Yeah, and y’wanna know what happened the
very day he got here? He throwed that bitch, Dora Mashburn, right
outta Hallensham! Told her that if he ever saw her anywhere near
his lands again, he’d—”

“Uncle Asa, we can’t stay here!” Goldie
exclaimed, her body shaking uncontrollably. “We have to pack
and—”

“We’ll never move again, darlin’,” Asa
assured her, thinking her trembling came from the dread of having
to leave. “We got us a real home now. You’re a heroine to the
villagers, Goldie. You got their duke to come home, and they ain’t
talked of nothin’ but you since he got here. And now that I don’t
drink no more and I got me a decent, honest job at the
blacksmith’s, they’re warmin’ up to me, too.”

Goldie scanned the village, then looked up
the hill behind it. Up to the mansion. Ravenhurst. Saber was there.
Her throat threatened to close. “Uncle Asa, listen to me. We
can’t—”

“And guess what else, darlin’? The duke’s
got him a sweetheart, and he’s gonna make her his duchess! The day
after he got here, he announced his engagement and promised to
introduce her to us real soon. Nobody’s seen her yet, but everybody
says she’s probably real delicate and that she’s restin’ up after
her trip here from London. Ain’t that somethin’?”

Foreboding clawed up Goldie’s spine. She
couldn’t answer. She could only remember Jillian’s words. He loves
me as he did Angelica, you see. He promised her to make Ravenhurst
their home, and he has made the same oath to me.

Marion Tremanye, the duke. Jillian, his
future duchess. Here at Ravenhurst. Goldie realized then the extent
of Saber’s love for Jillian. Only true love could have brought him
back to the estate that had been the scene of so many
tragedies.

“Like I said,” Asa continued blithely, “I
ain’t set eyes on the girl he’s gonna marry yet, but I reckon she
must be purty as all get-out. ‘Course I ain’t never seen a real
duchess before, but I got ’em figured out to be real—”

“No!” Goldie screamed, consumed with panic.
“I don’t want to live here, Uncle Asa! I want to
move!
Please—”

“But Goldie, why?”

She could find no words to explain her
violent opposition to living in a place where every day she would
be forced to see Jillian and Saber together. Where day in and day
out she would witness their love and see its evidence in the
children they would soon have. The thought was the most agonizing
thing she could think of.

Asa saw the blaze of anxiety in her eyes and
felt true concern. “Goldie, why—”

“Goldie!” several of the villagers chorused
as they arrived in front of Asa.

When Asa set her down, Goldie felt the urge
to run. Abandoning herself to it, she turned and began to flee back
toward the field, crying out in anger and frustration when a few of
the village men caught her.

They lifted her from the ground, holding her
up for all to see. More people arrived, crowding around the men who
carried her.

A cacophony of “thank-you’s” hit Goldie’s
ears. Everyone she saw was smiling at her, reaching out to touch
her, and expressing their gratitude to her for convincing the duke
to return. “Let me down!” she cried, misery surging through her.
“Let me—”

“He’s called fer us!” one man shouted, his
shoulders heaving with exertion as he ran toward the crowd. “I’ve
jest come from up there, I have, and His Grace has ordered us all
ter gather in the courtyard!”

“Oh, wot a day this is!” a woman exclaimed
loudly, her hands on her plump cheeks. “This is it! Lord Tremayne
is goin’ ter bring out his betrothed at long last! Hurry! Let us
hurry!”

Goldie began fighting in earnest. She
twisted and squirmed so wildly, the men holding her were forced to
set her down. When her feet touched the ground, she tried to escape
again.

But what seemed like millions of hands
grabbed onto her, restraining her, pulling her along with the great
crowd as it moved toward the manor house.

“Come along, lass,” a man told her
cheerfully.

“No!” She tried in vain to get away.

“A right modest little soul, she is!”
someone called over the din. “Here she’s got His Lordship ter come
back, and she wants no gratitude or recognition fer it!”

The fifteen minutes it took to walk to the
estate seemed like fifteen seconds to Goldie. Dragging her feet,
she lost both her shoes, arriving in front of the magnificent
mansion quite barefoot and completely exhausted from her struggles
to escape the insistent villagers. If only she could find Uncle Asa
or Big! she raged. Surely one of them would help her get away!

She looked all over for them, soon spying
Big on the veranda. “Big! Big!”

He saw her and waved before running into the
mansion.

Goldie frowned. “Big, wait! Big—”

“Lord Tremanye!” the people called in
unison. “Lord Tremayne! Lord Tremanye! “

Goldie’s heart quaked. She tried to melt
into the screaming, jostling crowd, dreading Saber’s appearance
with every fiber in her body. Rising apprehension lent her
strength, and she began doing battle with her captors once
again.