Grasso, Patricia (10 page)

"You
sired
me," Keely corrected him, unaware of the accusation in her voice. "You never fathered me."

Never forget that he hurt Megan,
she reminded herself.
Never forget that the English, especially their lords, cannot he trusted.

Duke Robert stood and paced back and forth in front of the hearth while he tried to organize his thoughts. He realized his daughter's wounds were deep and that each word he uttered needed to be chosen with care.

To avoid looking at her father, Keely peeked at the great hall. She'd been much too nervous the previous day to give any particular attention to her surroundings.

More impressive than Ludlow Castle's, this hall sported two massive hearths, one at each end. Overhead were heavy-beamed rafters, from which hung myriad Talbot banners. Brass sconces and vivid tapestries, most depicting the hunt, decorated the walls. One tapestry was different from the others, its motif being a maiden and a unicorn sitting together.

Keely rose from the chair and walked toward it. Something about that particular tapestry called out to her, and she had a powerful urge to touch it. Closing her eyes, Keely placed the palm of her right hand against the tapestry. She could feel her mother's spirit in it, and the faintest of smiles touched her lips.

Standing close behind her, Duke Robert spoke with a catch of emotion in his voice, "Megan made it for me. That tapestry and the dragon pendant are all that I've had of her for eighteen years. Now I have you."

Keely turned around slowly but kept her back pressed to the tapestry. She needed the assurance of her mother's presence. Gazing unwaveringly into his violet eyes, so like her own, she said, "You did love her. I'm sorry for your loss."

"I've lost more than Megan. I lost the immeasurable pleasure of watching
you
grow from infant to woman," Duke Robert said. "In spite of what you think of me, I am your father and have your best interests at heart."

Keely wet her lips, gone dry from nervous apprehension. If the duke and she were to establish a familial relationship, it had to be based on truth.

"I have a confession to make," Keely began, then hesitated for a long uncertain moment before continuing. "I am a pagan."

Amazingly, Duke Robert smiled at her announcement. "Everyone at court behaves like a heathen," he said. "Excepting Elizabeth and Burghley, of course. Why, you cannot imagine what goes on there."

"I mean, I believe in the Old Ways," Keely tried to explain. "Like Megan, I am Druid."

"Whatever you are can never change the fact that I am your father," Duke Robert said, surprising her. "I want the chance to know you."

Dumbfounded, Keely could only stare at him. Where was the blistering lecture on the dangers and evils of her outrageous beliefs? How could this seemingly kind-hearted man have impregnated and abandoned the woman he loved? Why did he invite her, a virtual stranger, into his home and his heart? Was he a fool? Or was she?

"Will you give me your trust, child?" the duke asked.

Keely lifted her chin a notch. "You have a very poor record on that account, Your Grace," she answered.

Duke Robert's lips twitched. Damn if the girl hadn't inherited his pride and his courage along with his violet eyes and his ebony hair. "Then will you give me a chance to earn your trust?" he asked.

Keely hesitated. The reason she'd traveled to England had been to place herself in his guardianship. Her mother had wanted it so. Finally, she nodded and answered, "Yes, Your Grace."

"That tide is too formal between father and daughter," Duke Robert said, a smile of relief appearing on his face. "My other children call me Papa."

Keely had always yearned to speak that word, but the years of suffering proved impossible to dismiss so easily. Though causing another's pain violated everything she believed, Keely couldn't stop herself. The duke had abandoned her pregnant mother and, in so doing, had sentenced the babe—namely, her—to a pain-filled childhood. Her need to hurt him as he'd hurt them proved too strong to resist.

Steeling herself against the hope shining at her from his violet eyes, Keely replied, "I cannot do that, Your Grace."

Her words hurt herself as much as him. Keely felt her heart break at the expression of misery that crossed his face. But how could his pain match what she'd endured for eighteen years?

Duke Robert recovered quickly. He drew her into a sideways hug and planted a kiss on her temple. "Whenever you are ready," he said, "I'd be proud to have you call me Papa."

A lump of raw emotion formed in Keely's throat. Her bottom lip quivered. Two fat teardrops brimmed over her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

"We'll have none of that," Duke Robert said, gently brushing her tears away. "The brightest of futures awaits you in England, and the misery of the past eighteen years will soon begin to fade."

"I'm too different," Keely whispered. "I'm Welsh and don't belong here."

"You're almost as English as I am," the duke said, gently tilting her face up and gazing into violet eyes that mirrored his own. "I loved your mother and planned to marry her, but my father convinced me that she had died."

"If you truly loved her," Keely asked, "why didn't you return to Wales and verify her death?"

"At the time, I had no reason to doubt my father's word," Duke Robert answered, his gaze skittering away from hers. "Wouldn't you believe what I told you?"

"No." The word fell between them like an ax. He was hiding something. Keely felt it in her bones and saw it in his eyes. Megan had believed his words of love—but could she?

"Child of my heart," the duke said, his embrace tightening, "I love you as dearly as my other children. Fortune has gifted me with a second chance, for whenever I look at you, I feel that Megan is near."

Keely studied his face. That he spoke from his heart was apparent to her. If he'd truly loved Megan and believed her dead, what misery had
he
suffered through the years?

"Megan sent you to me," the duke went on. "You will consider this your home."

"Odo and Hew—" Keely began.

"Your cousins are welcome for as long as they wish," Duke Robert interrupted. "They're at the stables right now. Would you like to see them?"

"Oh, yes. May I?"

"This is your home, child. You may wander wherever you will. By the way, Merlin is an excellent piece of horseflesh but"—Duke Robert chuckled—"a
female."

Keely beguiled him with a winsome smile. "I know."

"How you remind me of Megan," Duke Robert said, a wistful tone in his voice. He planted another kiss on her temple. "One last question."

Keely nodded.

"Under what circumstances did you meet young Devereux?"

"The earl introduced himself to me at the tavern where I was staying."

"That's all there was to your meeting?"

Keely cast him a bewildered look. "What else could there be?"

Duke Robert read the innocence in his daughter's expression and relaxed. The Tudor court's most notorious rake hadn't touched her.
Yet.
With luck, the two would be married before that happened.

"Run along and visit your cousins," Duke Robert said, relinquishing his hold on her.

Surprising him, Keely reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek, murmuring, "Thank you, Your Grace."

Keely left the hall and headed for the main foyer where she spied the duke's majordomo, Meade. The hapless servant still limped.

"Good day, my lady," Meade greeted her, opening the door.

"The same to you," Keely replied. "Please, sir, can you tell me which way to the stables?"

"At the end of that path on the left."

Keely nodded but lingered a moment longer, saying, "Meade, I hope you won't mind some advice. Rub evening primrose oil on your ankle. Then mix feverfew herbs with cider and drink it. Your pain will vanish in no time at all, and your limp will disappear."

"Thank you, my lady," Meade said with the hint of a smile on his usually somber face. "I shall try it."

Odo and Hew sat together outside the duke's stables. Both men grinned with relief when they saw Keely and stood to greet her.

"Are you feeling better?" Odo asked.

"Yes, thank you. Much better." Keely returned their smiles. "And you?"

"Your father has himself an excellent cook," Hew answered, patting his belly. "We've stuffed ourselves so full, we can hardly move."

"The duke sired me," Keely corrected him. "He never fathered me."

"Now, little girl—" Odo began but clamped his lips shut when she frowned at his intended lecture.

Oblivious to their byplay, Hew scratched his head in puzzlement. "Ain't a sire the same as a father?"

"Idiot," Odo muttered. He reached out and cuffed the side of his brother's head, then turned to Keely and asked, "What are we going to do about that earl? He lives next door."

"There's nothing to fear," Keely replied, sounding more confident than she actually felt. "I cast a spell of forgetfulness upon him, and I do believe you'll be safe so long as you remain on His Grace's property. Where's Merlin? I want to see her."

Odo and Hew led Keely inside the stable. In one of the stalls on the right stood Merlin, who nickered a greeting and nudged her mistress.

"Have you been a good girl?" Keely crooned as she stroked the horse's neck. The sight of the pretty mare that Rhys had given her filled Keely with a longing for home. Turning to her cousins, she said, "I wish to leave this place and return to Wales."

"Madoc is there," Hew reminded her.

"Rhys will defend me against him," she countered.

"Now, little girl, you can't leave yet," Odo argued. "You've just found your father."

"The duke is a stranger to me." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I don't belong here."

Nor anywhere,
Keely thought to herself.

"Give him and yourself a chance," Odo said. "You'll settle in."

"Well, will you stay here with me?"

"For as long as you want," Odo agreed.

"Forever," Hew added, brushing a tear from her cheek. "The duke has some fine-looking oak trees in his garden."

"I must meet them," Keely said, visibly brightening. She hugged Merlin and kissed her cousins' cheeks, then left the stables.

Autumn painted vivid colors within the perfect setting of the duke's garden. Besides nature's orange-, gold-, and red-leafed trees, an army of gardeners had landscaped the grounds into a rainbow of seasonal shades. Chrysanthemums in a variety of hues adorned the mani- cured garden, along with white baby's breath, purple flowering cabbage, pink sweet alyssum, marigold, snapdragon, and fairy primrose.

Keely sighed deeply at the glorious array. Autumn excited her because of Samhuinn, the beginning of the Druid cycle of life when the gates of the year opened upon the past and the future. The thin veil between this earthly world and the beyond lifted for exactly three days. This Samhuinn was especially important because Megan had promised to return to her then.

After wandering around and touching each oak as a means of introducing herself to it, Keely sat down on a stone bench. The duke had immediately accepted her for what she was. Why was she unable to accord him the same respect? Harboring a grudge was so unlike her.

Since that horrible, long-ago day when she'd been only five years old, Keely had yearned for her true father. It seemed like only yesterday....

Having finished weaving her very first oak-leaf wreath, Keely dashed across the courtyard toward her father. How proud he would be when she presented him with the wreath!

"Papa!" Keely called, pushing through the crowd of Lloyd clansmen in the courtyard. "I've made you a gift!" She held the wreath out to him.

"Never call me Papa," Madoc growled, brushing past her. "You're his bastard."

Hurt and confused, Keely hung her head. Tears spilled over her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. What had she done wrong this time? Why didn't Papa love her?

A long shadow fell across her path. Keely looked up and saw twelve-year-old Rhys. "Are you still my stepbrother?" she asked.

"Never mind him," Rhys said, crouching down to be eye level with her. "I am and always will be your brother. May
I
wear your pretty wreath?"

Keely managed a faint smile, but her bottom lipquivered with the effort. As if she were crowning a king, Keely lifted the wreath and hung it around his neck.

"Rhys," she whispered, "what's a bastard?"

Before he could answer, another voice beside her said, "And I'm definitely your cousin."

Keely looked around and saw twelve-year-old Odo crouched beside her.

"Me too," ten-year-old Hew added.

"You idiot." Odo cuffed the side of his brother's head. "If I'm her cousin, then you're her cousin."

"Well, you didn't need to hit me."

"How else can I knock some sense into that head of yours?"

"But you're rattling my brains," Hew protested.

"You ain't got none," Odo shot back.

Keely giggled, almost happy again. These overgrown cousins of hers acted silly, but she loved them all the more because of it.

"Make me a wreath," Odo begged.

"Me too," Hew added.

"I'm first," Odo said, reaching to cuff his brother. "I'm older."

Ducking his brother's hand, Hew countered, "But I'm handsomer."

Keely looked at her brother. "Do you love me?" she asked, searching his eyes for the truth of the matter.

"Yes, very much." Rhys crushed her against his chest and hugged her tight.

Keely rested her head against his shoulder and saw Madoc frowning at them across the courtyard. The name he'd called her echoed in her mind. Bastard...

"Tears, my beauty?"

Startled, Keely snapped her head up and stared into vivid emerald eyes. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.