Written in the Stars (2 page)

He tensed. “When? I grow eager for my due all the old gods decree I should possess.”

Again her fingers dug deep into his flesh, smoothing his bunched muscles.

“Elizabeth is young and pure of heart. She does not yet understand the great power
she possesses within or wears wrapped about her body.”

He twisted to gaze up at his old nurse. “Her celestial girdle is her source of power?”

“The power of the girdle can only be released by Elizabeth recognizing and accepting
all she is destined to be.” Florea cupped his face with hot palms. “You are destined
to be the catalyst to release Elizabeth’s darkness. With her by your side there is
naught you cannot possess in the future.”

The past flashed before his eyes. Will showing him how to fence with his first small
rapier. Will, taller and stronger, teaching him to ride with the wind. Will, his strokes
sure, helping him as he floundered clumsily while swimming in the stream. Always watching
with indulgence and affection, the duke’s eyes lingered on Will, never on him. Florea
had helped him see the truth. She had guided and soothed him as admiration and fondness
had dissolved into jealousy and scorn for his brother—and finally into a deep hatred
for Will, whom all loved. None more than the duke, who could not hide his preference
for this favored son. “In the future I shall have my father’s respect above all others?
There will be none to challenge me?”

She kissed his cheek. “Yes, Carlyle. As I made sure there would be no other heir to
threaten what is rightfully yours, I promise at last you can vanquish your bastard
brother.”

Dunham Castle, 1601

My world spins around me, scattering my thoughts to the winds.

I have faced the danger my old nurse had foreseen. My choice, made in eagerness with
my heart and soul, was unwise beyond my capacity to fully understand how I could so
have lost my way.

A strong passion and deep longing I dare not have believed possible consumed me when
I believed I had met my betrothed. I knew with him I had found my destiny.

Yet the man to whom I gave my heart in one look is not Carlyle, Earl of Seymour, heir
to the Duke of Lennox.

The man is named Will Grey, Captain of the Guard.

Confronted by such feelings, I faltered, forgot all I have been taught. All I must
do.

Now I must close my mind and heart to these traitorous longings.

I am Lady Elizabeth York, the Earl of Wharton’s only child, and know well my duty.

Yet, even reason and purpose cannot still the questions burning in my mind.

Surely the blood of the duke runs through Will’s veins. Yet I sense deep within me
there is more to his story than him being a bastard son and grandson to the duke’s
physician. More which I crave to learn.

Who is Will Grey, and why do I know that our destinies are to be entwined for all
time when duty demands it cannot be so?

Chapter Two

A sleepless night spent staring at the curved ceiling, searching for her compass,
the sense of self which had always guided her, left Elizabeth fearful of meeting with
Laurel this morning.

What if Will is with her and I falter as I did when first our eyes met?

Her chamber door swung open, startling Elizabeth out of her careening thoughts of
Will and her future.

“What can you have been thinking not calling for me last night?” Snapping brown eyes
wide, her maid Alice, sounding very much like her grandmother, Cybil, exploded into
the room.

Pleased by the interruption, for indeed she felt only disgust with her new weakness
and dishonorable desires, Elizabeth flung back the bed cover and rose. “You had fallen
asleep. Fatigued by our long days of travel. I managed with the duke’s servants.”

Hands on hips, sensible Alice surveyed the damage done by Elizabeth’s sleepless hours
of soul-searching. “I can see the fine job they did by the look of you. Not even my
Granny Cybil’s concoctions can take away those purple shadows from under your eyes.”
Sighing, she shook her head, brown curls bouncing about her face. “Well, let me try
to put all back as it ought to be.”

Like she’d done since the first day, when they were both young girls giggling together,
Alice helped Elizabeth through her morning absolutions.

Once dressed, she sat in front of the gilt-edged mirror to have her long, oft-unruly
hair brushed. At last she caught a smile from Alice.

“Elizabeth, I know you are not fond of gossip but if you let me tell you what I learned
last night and this morning in the kitchens, I won’t be hurt by you not letting me
do my duty. Such stories there are here and all eager to tell.”

Curiosity and confusion had been her demons throughout the long night and they had
not vanished with the dawn sun.

With a fearful determination, Elizabeth nodded. “It is no doubt wise to be informed
about my new home.”

“Indeed,” Alice replied, a lilt in her voice. “Well, Carlyle’s mother, Judithe, brought
a great dowry and vast lands to the west, along the border.”

Elizabeth knew well the role she played. “As I bring gold and lands to the east, with
access to the sea.”

“Well, let’s hope that is all the two of you have in common!” Alice frowned. “Poor
Lady Judithe. One year after she produced an heir in Carlyle, she again was with child.
She endured months of illness before she lost the babe. It would have been another
son to secure the lineage. She never recovered from the loss.”

In the mirror, Elizabeth met Alice’s eyes. “Surely Charles Grey could have helped
her. He appears very wise in the ways of health and well-being.”

“Lady Judithe would have no part of him. She only desired to be attended by a servant
who had come with her from her home. She who was also Carlyle’s nursemaid. Lady Judithe
lingered for two years until one morning she simply did not awaken.”

Remembering the loss of her own mother, Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Carlyle and
I have a bond in both losing our mothers at too tender an age.”

“There is more you need to know,” Alice insisted. “The duke did not seek another bride.
Then in the plague epidemic of ’93, his old friend Sir George Douglas of Wyndham fell
ill. He sent his daughter, Laurel, here for safety. The duke dispatched Charles Grey
to Sir George’s side, yet he could not save him. But he bore back to the duke from
Sir George a last letter requesting his old friend to marry his beloved Laurel. And
he bequeathed to him monies and small parcels of land to the south.”

Alice took a large gulp of air to continue. “They say Lady Laurel and her father often
visited here and she had long held the duke in high admiration. All believe it is
a gentle, caring match for them both.”

Such compassion touched Elizabeth. Her eyes misted and she blinked to clear them.
“I sense great kindness in the duke.”

“His Grace is much beloved by all. As is that handsome captain of the guard. It is
plain the blood of the duke runs in Will Grey. All know it is a great privilege and
show of trust for the duke to bestow such a title upon him. There’s a story there
but none seems to know the truth of it.” A determined gleam lit Alice’s dark eyes.
“I shall unearth the truth before I return to Wharton Keep after your wedding.”

“No!” Elizabeth rose, stricken by the sure sense it was a betrayal of her feelings
toward Will to discuss his secrets.

“No,” she said more gently, embracing Alice. “Do not waste your time here on others.
Enjoy yourself. I know it was difficult for you to leave your life and family at Wharton
Keep, even for so brief a time.”

“Aye, I long to return to them all, yet it was Granny Cybil who told me it was my
destiny to come with you. None argue with her.”

Again, Alice’s sharp gaze traveled over Elizabeth’s hair, now held high by ribbons.
Nodding, she gave one last tug on the folds of Elizabeth’s jade satin gown. “There
now, you look more your beautiful self. I’ve been told you are to visit with Lady
Laurel. Off with you. I shall make ready your bath and all you need for tonight’s
festivities.”

Feeling more settled with trusted Alice by her side, Elizabeth hurried along the cool
corridor to Laurel’s chambers.

She swayed to a halt, her heart thumping against her ribs, meeting Carlyle helping
an elderly woman who carried a bouquet of yellow field flowers. She was dressed as
a servant but the indulgence plain on Carlyle’s face proclaimed her much more.

“Ah, Lady Elizabeth, you have caught us,” he said winsomely, slight color flushing
his cheeks. “My old nurse, Florea, has picked these flowers for Laurel. Would you
present the blossoms to her?”

Bowing, Carlyle’s old nurse held the bouquet out. When Elizabeth took it she caught
a milky glance from eyes no longer sharp to view the world around her.

“Florea is a beautiful name. Made of flowers,” she said softly.

“Ah, Elizabeth, you understand why my pet name for my nurse has indeed always been
My Flower.”

Florea’s pale lips twitched into the semblance of a smile.

Witnessing Carlyle’s kindness to his old nurse—mirroring Elizabeth’s feelings toward
her own Cybil—lessened her unease with him.

Yet another bond I share with Carlyle.

“Forgive me, Elizabeth,” he said, with apology in his eyes. “I must leave you to lead
Florea back to her chamber.”

She stepped aside, watching him gently guild his old nurse away.

I must remember this kindness when I falter and think of naught but Will…

Feminine laughter and tiny giggles coming from Laurel’s chamber brought Elizabeth
back to this moment she had dreaded. Lifting her chin, she slowly entered the room
which was hung with tapestries of gold and scarlet. Thick, ruby-colored carpets were
strewn across the stone floor.

Still in her black silk night robe, Laurel lounged upon satin-and-velvet pillows placed
on the floor where a small male child sat beside her.

Elizabeth bowed. “I come bearing gifts from Carlyle and his old nurse, Florea.”

A servant appeared at Elizabeth’s side, taking the heavy, sweet blossoms from her
arms.

“Yes, leave them and come join us,” Laurel called.

Obeying, Elizabeth walked toward the duo. The babe blinked up at her, his rosebud
mouth curling to reveal two milk teeth and a dimple in his chin. Gurgling with laughter,
he pushed himself up on pudgy legs, swayed, and took two unsteady steps toward her.

Elizabeth quickened her steps to catch him as he toppled forward. Cooing, he buried
his face in the warm hollow between her neck and shoulder. His white-gold hair smelled
of sunshine and soap.

Laurel clapped her small hands. “Look, Will. Young Stephen has gifted Elizabeth with
his first steps. You have been properly welcomed to Dunham Castle.”

Surprise and fear rushed through her, flaming across her skin. Gasping, she swung
around to meet Will’s gaze where he stood in the doorway. She hugged the babe more
tightly to her breasts as if he could shield her from the powerful current pulling
her toward him.

Desperate to break this strange hold Will had upon her, she turned back to Laurel.
“Young Stephen is well favored.”

Again, Laurel’s light laughter echoed through the chamber. “He should be well favored.
His father is the handsomest in the land. Only surpassed by my beloved duke.”

His skin flushing, making his eyes even more startlingly blue, Will moved to Laurel’s
side.

Can this cooing child clasped in my arms be Will’s son?

It felt as if she inhaled fire.

No. Will belongs to no other woman. He is mine.

Trembling with the strength of her confusion and desire, she carefully placed the
babe back upon the floor. Instantly, his cornflower-blue eyes filled with tears. He
stretched out his arms toward her, his mouth agape, and began to wail.

Despite all her resolve, her heart opened to him. She fell to her knees to again gather
him close, rocking him.

A moment later, Will knelt beside her, reaching for his son. “I will take him, Lady
Elizabeth.”

Stephen clung to her, his pudgy arms tightening around her neck. “No, young Stephen,
you must go,” she whispered into his ear, his fragrant infant curls brushing her lips.
“You need your mother.”

“Stephen’s mother died in childbirth.” His face unreadable, Will swept his son away
from her body, leaving her bereaved of his warmth. “Time for Stephen to rest. He awoke
with the roosters.”

Now seeing Will and Stephen cheek to cheek, Elizabeth recognized the man in the babe.
She couldn’t take her eyes from them as they left the room.

“Do not look so sad, Elizabeth. Their loss is a year past.” Laurel’s kind voice gave
Elizabeth courage to ask the question burning through her heart and mind. A question
which to her finely edged nerves did not feel like a betrayal of honor to ask.

“Will still mourns his wife?”

Laurel’s moonbeam-fair, silky hair swung against her cheek. “Margaret was a sweet
girl from a fine family but not a match of his making. The duke wished it for Will,
and Will agreed out of love for him.”

She fought to understand why her world was spinning out of control since her eyes
had met Will’s. Why is my duty no longer as important as knowing more about Will Grey?

Her eyes widening, Laurel patted the soft pillows, indicating for Elizabeth to slip
down beside her.

“I see by your expression and your words that you are curious about Will. Here at
Dunham Castle you shall hear many tales concerning him. Few are truly privy to the
truth. If fortune smiles on you and you win Will’s friendship, he may reveal himself
to you. ’Tis not mine or any other’s to tell.”

Smiling, Laurel rose and pulled Elizabeth to her feet. “Come. I have a gift for you.”

Feeling more unsettled about Will than when she had entered Laurel’s chamber, Elizabeth
waited, hiding her trembling hands in the folds of her gown.

A servant appeared from behind a heavy, crimson-colored curtain. Across her arms was
draped a sapphire velvet gown with long, pointed sleeves and round décolletage edged
with a thick ruffle of gold lace.

“Here at Dunham Castle we have heard many tales of the rich beauty of your celestial
girdle. This gown matches the jewels. It will bring me great pleasure if you wear
it tonight to the banquet to celebrate your betrothal to Carlyle.”

At mention of her betrothal and all tonight meant, an icy chill spread from a deep
coldness inside her. Again she fought it.

I shall not falter in my duty. I must forget Will Grey and remember I have seen kindness
in Carlyle.

She clasped Laurel’s hand and smiled. “This gown is as beautiful as you are generous.
I shall wear it with pleasure tonight.”

As promised, Alice had marshaled as many of the duke’s servants as were needed to
install an enormous copper tub in Elizabeth’s new chambers. There, before the roaring
fire, they heated buckets of water to fill the tub to half its depth. Above the imposing,
steaming tub, placed neatly in a row on the mantle, were crystal jars of lavender,
herbs, flower petals, fresh cream, and an odd-colored mixture which Alice breathed,
“is known only as Granny Cybil’s elixir of youth.”

The duke’s servants studied all the preparations with eyes round with either awe or
curious speculation.

“Now off with all of you! I’ll be attending Lady Elizabeth myself.”

Amidst little gasps and shrieks of surprise, the other servants scattered away like
dust in the wind.

Once alone with Alice, Elizabeth dropped her robe and stepped into the deep tub. Sighing
with pleasure, she lay back, allowing the hot water to soothe her knotted muscles.

“Well, now, that’s the bit. Relax while I wash your hair with Granny Cybil’s formula.”
Alice frowned while mixing into a silver-rimmed bowl the proper parts lavender and
her granny’s magic elixir.

The concoction delighted the senses, a riot of floral scents that smelled like sunshine
in the meadow, a fragrance Alice’s nimble fingers picked up while massaging Elizabeth’s
scalp. Alice then poured cup after cup of water over Elizabeth’s head until both were
satisfied her hair was indeed clean and shining.

Her long, dark curls wrapped snugly in warm flannel and Alice scrubbing her body with
rose petals and cream, Elizabeth at last allowed herself to reflect more calmly on
her duty and the banquet ahead of her.

“Tonight will be a great celebration. I hope I do not disappoint the court,” she murmured,
gazing at Alice through hooded eyes.

“I have seen none at this court to compare to you. Even before I finish with you,”
Alice added with a grin.

Fatigued in body and spirit, Elizabeth gave herself over to Alice to scent her every
curve and hollow. At last, she rose from the cooling water and dried in front of the
fire. As she stared into the flames, her mind wandered to the duties she must perform
tonight and how she must forget all else. Obediently, she allowed Alice to help her
dress, standing before the long mirror as Alice patiently and skillfully wove sapphire
velvet ribbons through her hair and coiled the famed celestial girdle around her hips.