Love in a Mist

by Patricia Grasso

  After walking to the center of the circle, Keely turned in a clockwise circle three times until she faced the west and the declining sun. She closed her eyes, focused her breathing, and touched the dragon pendant, its sapphires, diamonds, and ruby sparkling in the dying sunlight. Keely shivered as a ripple of anticipation danced down her spine. She loved the rituals her mother had taught her.

  “The Old Ones are here, watching and waiting,” Keely spoke in a soft voice into the hushed air. “Stars speak through stones, and light shines through the thickest oak.” Then, in a louder voice, “One realm is heaven and earth.”

  Keely walked clockwise around the inside periphery of the circle and collected the wild berries, then set them down beside her in the center, the soul of the circle. “I store the good and cast out the useless. Thanks be to the Mother Goddess for the fruit of the earth. Thanks be to Esus, the spirit of sacrifice embodied in these majestic trees, giving us food to eat, air to breathe, wood to house and warm us.”

  Keely paused a long moment, conjuring in her mind what came next, gathering the proper emotion much as nature gathers its forces. She turned around three times, opened her arms to implore, and called in a loud voice, “Spirit of my journey, guide me to hear what the trees say. Spirit of my ancestors, guide me to hear what the wind whispers. Spirit of my tribe, guide me to understand what the clouds foretell.”

  Keely gazed toward the setting sun and then closed her eyes. “Open my heart that I may see beyond the horizon.”

  Long moments passed. And then it happened. Images floated across her mind’s eye . . .

  Misty darkness. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Unseen evil lurking near. Then the warm feeling of security. Strong, comforting arms as solid as the mighty oaks surrounding her. Welcoming arms. Protecting arms . . .

  The image dissolved into the reality of Primrose Hill.

  Keely opened her eyes and touched the gleaming dragon pendant. “I invoke the power of my mother’s love living inside this dragon to protect me and mine.”

  “I’m no coward,” Hew whispered to his brother, “but she’s giving me the creeps.”

  “I know what you mean,” Odo agreed, unnerved enough to look over his shoulder. “I feel like these trees are itching to grab me.”

  Both men started toward Keely at the same time, but stopped short when she spoke. “Breaking the circle is forbidden,” Keely warned without looking, gesturing them away. Closing her eyes, she ended the ceremony: “I thank the goddess and these oaks for passing their wisdom through me.”

  Feeling sapped of her energy, Keely walked to the western periphery of the circle and picked up the rock, breaking the enchanted circle. She removed her robe and folded it, then retrieved her satchel.

  “Did you hear what the trees were saying?” Odo asked.

  “I did.”

  “And what the wind whispered?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s no wind today,” Hew said.

  “The wind is always with us,” Keely told him.

  “I didn’t hear it.”

  “Of course you couldn’t hear it,” Odo said, rounding on his brother. “The wind whispered in her ear.”

  Keely smiled at her cousins and then studied the sky. The western horizon still flamed with the dying sun, but the eastern horizon darkened into a deep muted shade of slate blue.

  “Did you see beyond the horizon?” Hew asked.

  Keely nodded, hoping she’d interpreted the signs correctly, wishing she’d been blessed with a smidgeon of her mother’s talent. “We must return to London and stay hidden within our rooms until dawn.”

  “Why?” Odo asked.

  “Safety sits inside that tavern,” she answered.

  “Safety’s a person?” Hew blurted out.

  “I did feel his arms protecting me,” Keely said with an uncertain smile.

  “Whose arms do you mean?” Odo asked.

  Keely shrugged. “I couldn’t see his face.” She loved these fierce brothers who felt duty bound to protect her.

  “What are we hiding from?” Odo asked her.

  “You mean whom,” Keely corrected him. “Day and night are in balance, but Father Sun is waning. After today, the lord you robbed in Shropshire will be unable to find us.”

  “I’ve a fondness for my neck,” Hew said, touching his throat. “How do you know we’ll find safety at the Royal Rooster? Did you understand what the clouds foretold?”

  “The answer to that lives in tomorrow,” Keely said. “The trees and the wind and the clouds bade me return to that tavern.”

  Hew snorted. “Well, I never heard a thing.”

  “Lest you forget, Keely has the gift,” Odo said. “Don't you, little girl?”

  “Well, Megan had the sight,” Keely hedged. Her small white teeth worried her bottom lip before she admitted, “I’ve never actually experienced such, but I do feel in my bones that something remarkable is about to happen.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Odo said.

  “Hiding in our rooms sounds reasonable,” Hew agreed. “We’ll be less than spit in the wind if that lord catches us, and I don’t need the sight to tell me so.”

  “We’ve other problems as well,” Keely said as they mounted their horses. “The gold from selling that lord’s horse won’t keep us long in London. Perhaps we can get employment at the tavern if my father refuses to acknowledge me.”

  A silent depression settled over them as they entered London proper. Even at this late hour of twilight, the narrow streets and lanes teemed with scurrying people, the city’s inhabitants seeming to be part of a never-ending race. The cramped buildings and lanes closed around Keely until she felt as if she were suffocating. Taking calming breaths, Keely rode with her cousins through Cheapside Market and past St. Paul’s Cathedral. Finally, they turned their horses up Friday Street, where the Royal Rooster Tavern was located.

  Keely felt overwhelmingly isolated in spite of her cousins’ company and the hundreds of people she passed. No demand hereabouts for a Druid priestess with dubious talent nor an impoverished Welsh princess. Taffy, as these insulting Englishmen labeled the Welsh.

  Keely hoped she’d correctly interpreted what she’d seen on Primrose Hill, and that the Royal Rooster Tavern offered refuge from the lurking evil she’d sensed. Surely, that lord’s power to catch them would diminish with the waning sun.

  * * *

  At that very moment, the object of her thoughts sat inside the Royal Rooster Tavern and waited for the appearance of the two gigantic highwaymen who’d robbed him of his dignity.

  The Rooster’s common room was spacious, large enough for the hearth and a bar. On the left side of the chamber, near the narrow stairway that led to the second-floor bedchambers, was the hearth. The bar stood in the corner on the opposite side of the room. Tables and chairs were positioned around the chamber.

  Richard Devereux sat facing the tavern’s entrance at a table near the bar in the far corner of the room. With him was his friend, Willis Smythe. The two men drank ale and talked.

  “If I’d known you were treating me,” Willis was saying, “I would have insisted we sup at an establishment frequented by a better class of people.”

  “The fare is exceptional here,” Richard said.

  “For the past two weeks, you’ve been avoiding the snickers at court,” Willis teased. “The longer you stay away, the harder it will be to return.”

  “The queen’s financial interests have kept me busy of late,” Richard said.

  Willis smiled and couldn’t quite contain his chuckle of amusement.

  “Losing one’s dignity is no laughing matter,” Richard said. “Burghley mentioned that you’ve been telling anyone willing to listen.”

  “I’m sorry,” Willis apologized, wearing an unrepentant grin.

  “The owners of the Rooster are friends of my sister Brigette,” Richard said, changing the subject. “Bucko passes along whatever he overhears the city’s merchants discussing.
”

  “A countess befriending tavern keepers?” Willis echoed.

  Richard shrugged. “Years ago, Brigette quarreled with her husband, ran away to London, and found temporary employment here as a serving wench until they reconciled.”

  Willis burst out laughing. “Even better. A countess masquerading as a tavern wench?”

  “As I recall, Iain wasn’t laughing at the time.”

  “Your brother-by-marriage shares a trait with you,” Willis remarked. “No sense of humor.”

  “You possess enough good humor for both of us,” Richard said. “Besides my humiliation, what’s the latest gossip at court?”

  Willis paused a long moment as if thinking and then said, “Rumor has Lady Morgana Talbot and you almost betrothed.”

  Richard rolled his eyes. “You would do well to follow my example. Find yourself an heiress. What else is happening?”

  “A certain Signor Fulvio Fagioli, recently arrived from Italy, is creating havoc with the ladies,” Willis told him. “Muscles and charm make an irresistible combination. Fagioli brought a new device with him from Italy. It’s called a fork, and—”

  “Here we are, my lords,” a woman said, setting two bowls of steaming stew in front of them on the table.

  “Greetings, Marianne,” Richard said, looking up at the proprietor’s wife. He reached for her hand and kissed it in courtly manner.

  Marianne giggled. She was a handsome well-endowed woman with brown hair, shot throughout with strands of pale blond and gray. Shrewd intelligence shone from her hazel eyes. “Madame Jacques, I present Baron Willis Smythe,” Richard said, making the introduction.

  Taking his cue from his friend, Willis kissed the woman’s hand. “The pleasure is mine, madame.”

  “Breedin’ does tell, don’t it?” Marianne said, clearly impressed. “We’ve not seen ya for a while. How’s that sister of yours?”

  “Brie’s well,” Richard answered, “but she’s been cursed with a daughter as temperamental as she.”

  Marianne smiled and shook her head in sympathy. “I can’t laugh too hard at Brie’s misfortune. My own daughter Theresa mostly makes me miserable.”

  “My condolences.” Richard lowered his voice. “I’m here to catch two thieves and need your help. Are two men of gigantic proportions staying at the Rooster?”

  “You mean the ones with that violet-eyed woman?” Marianne asked.

  “A violet-eyed woman?” Richard echoed. The only person he’d ever met with that unusual eye color was the Duke of Ludlow. “Their names?”

  “Glendower, I think. Or Lloyd.”

  “Dumb taffy,” Willis muttered.

  “The swine robbed me along the road to Ludlow Castle,” Richard told Marianne.

  “Snatched the boots off his feet and stole his horse,” Willis added. “The earl walked barefoot all the way to Ludlow Castle.”

  Marianne burst out laughing. Willis Smythe joined her.

  Richard struggled against an embarrassed blush but lost, one of the disadvantages in being born a redhead. People had been laughing at him ever since he’d run into those two giants in Shropshire, and he didn’t like it one bit. The stinking Welshmen would pay for his humiliation.

  “Want me to call the Watch?” Marianne asked.

  Richard shook his head. The Watch would see the villains hanged at Tyburn, but exacting his own revenge would be much more satisfying. Besides, Richard didn’t want to see the woman hanged, in the unlikely event that she proved innocent of her companions’ crime.

  “How did you know they were here?” Willis asked him.

  “Those blockheads sold my horse to my man, Jennings,” Richard answered.

  Willis grinned. “They stole your horse and then sold it back to you? Are you going to arrest them?”

  “The woman’s presence changes my plans,” Richard said. “I’ll have a few of my men keep them under surveillance.”

  “Here they come,” Marianne whispered out of the side of her mouth. “I’ll leave ya now.”

  “If you dare turn around,” Richard warned his friend, “I swear I’ll strangle you with my bare hands.”

  Willis grinned and proceeded to watch his friend stalk his prey with his gaze.

  The sight of Keely hit Richard with the impact of an avalanche. His eyes widened, mirroring his shock, as he stared at the petite ebony-haired beauty walking through the tavern with those two giants. Even dressed in common attire, she appeared irresistibly lovely, much lovelier than any of the acclaimed beauties at court.

  Richard watched her take a seat at a table across the room. Revenge was the furthest thing from his mind . . .

  * * *

  Safe at last, Keely thought as she entered the tavern. Odo led Hew and her to a table in the corner near the hearth.

  Sitting between them, Keely suggested, “Let’s forget about supper and go directly to our chambers.”

  “You haven’t eaten all day,” Odo admonished her.

  “You’re too skinny as it is,” Hew added. “Besides, I’m famished.”

  Keely gave in with a nod. She was jumpier than a frog in a pond, her nerves crackling with tension. Keely knew in her Druid bones that something remarkable was about to happen. She felt as if she stood on the edge of a precipice.

  “What’ll it be, folks?” Marianne greeted them with a smile. She set mugs of ale in front of Odo and Hew and a goblet of mulled wine for Keely.

  “Five bowls of stew,” Odo ordered.

  “We’re hungry,” Hew said.

  Keely reached for her goblet of wine and took a sip. Its warmth soothed her badly frayed nerves. As she set the goblet down, Hew slumped in his chair and his hand tugged at her sleeve. Glancing up at his horrified expression, Keely knew that trouble had somehow found them. “What is it, cousin?”

  “That lord we robbed is sitting over there,” Hew whispered.

  “Where?” Odo said, half rising out of his chair to scan the crowded chamber.

  “Don’t look,” Keely ordered in a loud whisper. “Where is he?”

  “The red-haired man, dressed in black, at the table nearest the bar,” Hew answered. Keely glanced in that direction. On the opposite side of the common room sat two English lords. Deep in conversation with his friend, the red-haired Earl of Somewhere seemed unaware of their presence in the tavern.

  “What should we do?” Keely asked.

  “Sit still,” Odo said. “He won’t notice us in this crowd.”

  “That’s right,” Hew agreed. “As long as we call no attention to ourselves, he won’t notice us.”

  Keely suffered an urge to slide beneath the table and hide. Afraid to look across the room, she fixed her gaze on the wine goblet. Uncomfortably, she felt the lord’s intense scrutiny—or was it her imagination?

  Unable to endure the uncertainty another moment, Keely summoned her courage and forced herself to look across the room. The lord appeared deep in conversation with his friend, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that he watched them.

  Her gaze slid to the earl’s dark-haired companion. A disturbing image of lurking evil shrouded in dark mist formed in her mind and made her shiver.

  When the two men stood, Keely’s lips formed a silent perfect O. Odo and Hew were caught and would be hanged. If only she’d been blessed with her mother’s unworldly talent, she would have correctly interpreted her vision and her cousins would not be coming to this horrifying end. The earl stood and called a friendly farewell to the tavern’s owner, then turned to follow his companion to the door. His gaze flicked past them and then returned to Keely. She watched in growing horror as the earl changed direction and advanced on their table.

  “No weapons,” Keely whispered to her cousins. “We’ll talk our way out of this.”

  Though she tried to appear casually unconcerned, Keely was unable to tear her gaze from the approaching earl. His copper hair was the radiance of Father Sun, and his emerald eyes the green of her beloved forests in springtime. His features were ruggedly, ha
ndsomely chiseled and his lips sensuously formed. Walking toward their table, he moved with a hunter’s predatory grace. The man was a pagan god sprung to life before her eyes.

  “Trust the king who wears a flaming crown and possesses the golden touch. . . . “

  Keely gave herself a mental shake to banish her mother’s prophecy. This was no king, no pagan god, merely a man. And an odious English earl to boot.

  Stopping at their table, Richard ignored Odo and Hew and gazed down at Keely, who stared through large violet eyes back at him. Richard smiled then and turned the full force of his charm on her.

  “My lady,” he greeted her with a slight incline of his head. Taking her hand in his, he bowed low over it and said without taking his gaze from hers, “Like a siren’s song, your rare beauty called across the chamber to me.”

  Keely didn’t know whether to be flattered by his outrageous compliment or insulted by his arrogant boldness. No man had ever spoken such intimate words to her, but no man had ever possessed a smile as radiant as his.

  “Richard Devereux, the Earl of Basildon, at your service,” Richard introduced himself, gazing into her violet eyes. “And who might you be?”

  That smile could light a whole castle, Keely thought as she stared into his incredible emerald eyes. She couldn’t seem to find her voice.

  “My lady?” Richard prodded.

  “I am—” Her voice came out in the high-pitched squeak of a nervous soprano. Keely blushed and cleared her throat. “I am Lady Keely Glendower.”

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Keely.” Richard glanced at Odo and Hew who squirmed in their seats. “I sincerely hope, my beauty, that neither of these gentlemen claims you as his wife.”

  “My cousins,” Keely said. “Odo and Hew Lloyd.”

  Richard shook hands with each of them in turn and then said, “You do seem vaguely familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”

  “Impossible,” Keely spoke up, drawing his attention from her cousins. “We’ve only just arrived from Wales.”

  “Are you in London for business or pleasure?”

  “My cousins are escorting me to my father’s home because my mother passed into the Great—” Keely broke off, shocked at what she’d almost revealed. “I’m to live with my father in London.”