“What lies beyond the horizon, my love?”
Keely turned within the circle of his embrace. She entwined her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. “Our daughter Blythe has begun her journey to us.”
Richard gave her a puzzled smile. What she said made no sense at all, but he’d known her long enough to realize that any explanation she offered would only confuse him more. So he nodded, accepting her words without question.
“What would you like to do on this first full day of our married life?” he asked.
“Our marriage needs a propitious beginning,” she said. “Duty requires that we return to Devereux House. We’ll need a barge large enough to carry Merlin. She must accompany us.”
“Why?” Richard asked, regretting the need for an explanation.
“’Tis an ancient Welsh custom,” Keely said. “When a bride walks her horse through her husband's home, good luck follows.”
“You think to march Merlin through Devereux House?”
Keely nodded.
“She’ll conduct her business on my floor,” Richard said.
“Merlin is a well-mannered lady and would never consider so foul an action,” Keely assured him. “Besides, it’s important for the well-being of our marriage.”
Richard refused to allow a damn horse into his house. Nor did he intend to pass the day arguing with his wife about it.
“Cheshire and your father will be wed this afternoon,” he reminded her. “We haven’t the time to journey to Devereux House. Will this venerable custom await our homecoming at a later date?”
“I suppose so.”
Richard stepped back a pace and held his hand out in invitation. “Come to bed.”
Keely dropped her gaze from his eyes to his hand and then his manhood, lying flaccid at his groin. She reached out slowly. “My lord, you carry a beauty mark on the top of—oh!” Beneath the light touch of her fingertip, his manhood stiffened. “It has a life of its own.”
“This randy fellow makes no move without my knowledge and approval,” Richard said. “What you see is a freckle, dearest. Ladies have beauty marks, and gentlemen have handsome freckles.”
Richard scooped her into his arms and carried her across the chamber. He tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed and, with an exaggerated growl of lust, fell on top of her.
Keely and Richard passed the whole of the morning and part of the afternoon basking in the sun’s warmth and sighing at the gentle summer’s breeze. All within the kingdom of their bed.
Chapter 13
“Are you ready?” Richard asked, entering their bedchamber. “’Tis late.”
At the sound of her husband’s voice, Keely turned away from the window and stood motionless while he stared at her. His awed expression pleased her.
With a smile playing upon his handsome face, her husband stood five feet inside the room and looked her up and down. His gaze drifted downward from her lovely face, lingered on the exposed cleavage of her creamy breasts, and then traveled the remaining distance to the tips of her dainty slippered feet.
Keely felt like a princess in a gown of violet velvet that matched her eyes. Her only adornments were the dragon pendant that hung on the gold chain around her neck, the love-in-a-mist brooch, and the rings he’d given her.
“What do you think?” Keely twirled in a circle for his perusal, her eyes sparkling as brightly as the amethysts in her love-in-a-mist brooch.
Richard closed the distance between them and, in courtly manner, bowed low over her hand. “I think you are the most beautiful woman in all of Christendom.”
As they left the chamber, Keely flicked a glance at his somber apparel. “Why do you always wear black, my lord? ’Tis the color of mourning.”
“Never reveal this to another soul,” Richard said as if confessing a dark secret. “Black is the only color that I’m certain matches both my red hair and my green eyes.”
Keely smiled at his admission. She never would have guessed that her arrogant husband harbored an insecurity about anything, much less the clashing of colors. “Will Louise and Uncle Hal attend my father’s wedding?”
“They returned to the Strand this morning,” Richard answered. “My mother feels uncomfortable at court.”
“What about Henry?”
Richard shook his head. “Your father sent him back to Talbot House this morning with Uncle Hal and my mother.”
“I don’t suppose Morgana approves of the match enough to attend?”
“Probably not.”
Richard escorted Keely through a confusing maze of dimly lit corridors to the Long Gallery. Beyond the gallery was the Chapel Royal where her father and the countess would be wed. Stepping into the deserted Long Gallery, Keely felt a prickly sensation tickle the nape of her neck. “’Tis drafty in here.”
Richard glanced at the rows of long, tapered candles on either side of the gallery. Their flames flickered not one whit.
Keely’s gaze followed his, and her eyes widened in surprise. No draft in the world could tease a person’s neck without playing havoc with a candle’s flame.
Walking deeper into the gallery, Keely felt an oppressiveness settle upon her. She cast a nervous sidelong glance at her husband, who acted as though nothing were wrong. Uneasiness made Keely slow her pace, and rising panic made her heart beat faster. Nothing was amiss here. Hadn’t she passed through this same gallery the previous day on her way to her own wedding? True, she’d been immersed in misery because of the rift with her father, but could that misery have prevented her from sensing the sad bleakness inside this chamber? The only other time in her life when she’d felt this hopelessness had been that day at the Tower of London.
Keely halted twenty paces inside the seemingly endless chamber. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she whirled away from Richard and bolted out of the chamber the way they’d come. Keely heard her husband call her name but ignored him. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the corridor wall outside the gallery and welcomed its coolness seeping into her body.
“What is it?” Richard asked. “Are you ill?”
Keely heard the worry in his voice and opened her eyes. She shook her head. “I felt something.”
“What did you feel?”
“Is there another way to the chapel?” she asked, ignoring his question. “I cannot walk through that chamber.”
Richard narrowed his gaze on her. “Why not?”
“Troubled spirits haunt that place.”
“Ghosts exist only in idle minds like yours,” Richard said. “You promised you would refrain from flaunting those silly beliefs of yours.”
Keely straightened away from the wall. “Saying my beliefs are silly does not make them so. I know what I felt, you—skeptic.” She started to turn away, but he grabbed her forearm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Richard asked. “Even as we speak, Cheshire and your father are exchanging vows. How will I explain your absence?”
“Tell them anything you like,” Keely said, yanking out of his grasp. “My father accepts me for what I am. Even if you do not.” At that, she whirled away and left him standing alone in the corridor.
“Shit.” Richard watched her retreat. He stood in indecision for a long moment. Should he go after her? Duty demanded one of them attend the wedding ceremony. Turning on his heel, Richard marched through the Long Gallery toward the Chapel Royal.
Meanwhile, Keely walked briskly through the maze of corridors but couldn’t quite recall which one led to her chamber. Nothing seemed familiar, and she saw no one whom she could ask. Rising panic made her feet move faster until, rounding a corner, she collided full-force into another person.
Strong hands grabbed her upper arms and kept her from falling. Keely looked up and saw a familiar face.
“Good afternoon, countess,” Baron Willis Smythe greeted her.
“Countess?” Keely echoed, confused.
Smythe grinned. “By marriage you are now a countess.”
Her express
ion cleared, but her cheeks pinkened. “I forgot.”
A deep rumble of laughter welled up in his chest. The baron’s interested gaze dipped to the swell of flesh above her bodice. Lust lurked in his eyes, but innocence blinded Keely to it. “Have you forgotten your vows so soon, my lady?”
“I’m lost,” Keely said. “Could you direct me to my husband’s chamber?”
“Where‘s Richard?”
“I sent him along to my father’s wedding,” she explained, “but I became ill and need to retire for a while.”
“Damsels in distress are my specialty,” Smythe said, taking her arm in his. “Allow me to escort you there.”
When they reached her chamber, Keely turned to thank him.
The baron stepped close and kissed her hand. “Shall I come inside and keep you company until the earl returns?”
“No.” Keely dashed into her chamber and slammed the door, then threw the bolt to lock herself in. She heard the baron’s chuckle as he walked away.
Relieved to have escaped Smythe’s company, Keely leaned back against the door and breathed deeply. She didn’t like Willis Smythe. An aura of untimely death surrounded him like a shroud, and the unholy gleam in his eyes reflected something more sinister than a wicked sense of humor.
Keely began pacing back and forth across the chamber. The earl had known what she was before he married her. Did he now think to change her? Attempting to do so would be an exercise in futility. What she believed was beyond his control. He would enjoy greater success if he ordered the birds to stop singing. Why hadn’t he heeded her warning when she’d told him that she could never adapt to his courtier’s way of life? Married less than one day, the earl and she had already started down that road called Failure. Was she forever doomed to be the outcast, the unhappy outsider? Where was her own safe haven?
Keely forced her mind away from her doomed marriage, but her thoughts drifted down the maze of Hampton Court’s corridors to the unseen presence in the Long Gallery. Some tragic event held a tormented soul captive there. What manner of men were these English to create such hopelessness?
Keely froze when she heard a knock on the door and wondered if Baron Smythe had returned. “Who is it?”
“A page, my lady.”
Keely opened the door and saw the boy dressed in the queen’s livery. “Yes?”
“Lord Basildon bade me escort you to the hall,” the boy said. “Will you come?”
Keely followed him down the corridor, but troubled doubts filled her mind. She’d angered her husband, and so he’d sent a page to fetch her. If the earl was anything like Madoc, he would nurse his anger for days. How would she win his affections back?
The page disappeared at the hall’s entrance. Keely took a hesitant step inside the chamber and halted. Hundreds of colorfully garbed courtiers crowded into the queen’s Presence Chamber. Fear of stepping into that milling throng of strangers kept Keely rooted where she stood.
The chamber was enormous. England’s finest musicians stood on the left side of the room and played their various instruments. On the long wall of the chamber, directly opposite the entrance where Keely stood, Queen Elizabeth sat in a chair upon a raised dais surrounded by imported carpets. The middle of the chamber had been saved for dancing.
Appearances meant everything at the Tudor court, and the males outshone the females in that regard. Doublets, hose, and accessories created in golden brocade, crane-colored silk, or murrey velvet harmonized on each nobleman. Earrings fashioned with gold and precious gems dangled from their ears, and rouge colored many a masculine cheek.
The noblewomen wore gowns so scandalously low-cut, they made Keely’s neckline appear virginal, and they bedecked themselves in every priceless jewel they owned. How these ladies managed to walk upright beneath the weight of all those gleaming golden chains was beyond her ken.
Staring at these parading peacocks, Keely’s courage eluded her. Never would she be accepted into this world, nor could she accept this decadent style of living.
Keely decided to return to her chamber. As she started no turn away, a familiar voice stopped her.
“Feeling better, dearest?”
Keely whirled around to face the only black-clad bird of prey in this aviary of canaries, her husband. “Where’s my father?”
“I’ll take you to him.” Richard held her hand and forced her to plunge with him into the crowd of courtiers. As they made their way through that throng, the noblemen and their ladies nodded or bowed or smiled at them. Keely felt proud that others held her husband in such obvious esteem. Nearing the dais, Keely saw Lady Dawn and her father, who turned to greet her.
“Richard told us you’d taken ill,” Duke Robert said, planting a kiss on her cheek.
“I feel better now,” Keely assured him, “but I regret missing your wedding. Please forgive me.”
“There’s naught to forgive, child.” Duke Robert winked at the earl. “Perhaps my first grandchild is rising in the oven?”
Keely blushed. Richard chuckled, more at his wife’s offended modesty than at his father-in-law’s teasing.
“I’m very happy for you, Your Grace,” Keely said, giving her new stepmother an affectionate hug.
“What a sweet child you are,” Lady Dawn gushed. “Why, I’d nearly forgotten that I am now a duchess. Marrying Tally is reward enough.”
“I find that hard to believe,” a woman near them said loudly to her friends.
In an equally loud voice that carried back to the woman, Lady Dawn said, “Margaret Lennox has a personality that exactly matches her ugly face. Beware of her, Keely.”
“Do you mind if I dance with the queen before I dance with you?” Richard asked.
Keely shook her head and smiled at him. She watched her husband, a gallant figure of a man, walk toward the dais and then bow deeply in front of Elizabeth. Keely could almost feel the warmth of the devastating smile that he gave the queen.
“Would you care to dance with your father?” Duke Robert asked, drawing her attention.
Keely froze. Admitting she didn’t know how to dance was out of the question. She searched her mind for a plausible reason to refuse. “The exertion might make me ill again. Please, Papa, dance with your bride.”
“You don’t mind?” Lady Dawn asked.
Keely pasted a bright smile onto her face and shook her head. She watched as the Duke and Duchess of Ludlow stepped onto the dance floor together.
Alone in the midst of strangers, Keely felt like an outsider again. Several lords and their ladies looked at her as they passed by, but no one deemed her worthy of conversation or acknowledgment. What little confidence Keely possessed dwindled with each passing moment.
Much to her relief, the music ended, and Keely watched her husband escort the queen to the dais. She would have started toward him then, but as he turned away from the dais, a young noblewoman cornered him. Keely’s spirits plummeted when her husband stepped onto the dance floor with Lady Jane, the sultry brunette who, as the countess had told her, desired bedsport with Richard.
Morgana happened by with a handsome young courtier. Keely heard the word bastard and cringed inwardly. She flicked a self-conscious glance around her.
Now the men’s interested stares seemed more like lascivious leers, while the women’s smiles appeared vicious instead of coolly polite. Keely knew she couldn’t bear to stand there alone very much longer. Where could she go? She didn't know anyone with whom she could converse. Even if she did, Keely feared she would appear “uncivilized,” as her husband had once pointed out.
Duke Robert and Lady Dawn arrived just in time to save her the humiliation of leaving the Presence Chamber alone while her husband danced with another woman. In spite of her frayed nerves and wounded pride, Keely held her head high but breathed an inward sigh of relief when her father returned.
The musicians ended their composition and began another. Excusing themselves, Duke Robert led Lady Dawn onto the dance floor again. Still Richard did not reapp
ear.
In growing misery, Keely scanned the chamber and found him. This time the earl danced with Lady Sarah, the blonde who’d been angling after him for marriage. Keely stared at the carpet beneath her slippered feet, but her misery slowly gave birth to anger. The earl knew she was unacquainted with these people, yet he had abandoned her to fend for herself. How could she compete for his attention against such sophisticated ladies as Jane and Sarah? Even Morgana suited him better than she did. Why had he sent for her if he planned to ignore her?
“Where did your smile go?” a voice beside her asked.
Keely snapped her head up and turned a frigid gaze on her husband. “I left it at the altar, my Lord Waverer.”
“Give over, sweetheart.” Richard gave her a smile meant to melt her heart as well as the icy look in her eyes. “’Tis a party. Dancing and mingling are expected.”
“Mingling?” Keely echoed, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Is that what adultery is called here at court? You English have such pretty terms for every vile action under the sun.”
“Adultery?” His gaze narrowed on her, but when he spoke, amusement lurked in his voice. “Are you jealous of my partnering others on the dance floor?”
“No.” Keely lifted her nose into the air and turned away.
Richard leaned close, so close she felt the warmth of his breath tickling her cheek. “I do apologize for neglecting you. Forgive me, my love.”
Keely glanced sidelong at him. His use of the phrase my love softened her heart and brought a reluctant smile to her lips. She nodded, accepting his apology.
“Shall we tickle the carpet, dearest?”
His invitation surprised her. “’Tis expected like the mingling?”
Richard nodded. Before he could take her hand in his and lead her onto the dance floor, Keely dropped gracefully to her knees. She reached out and rubbed her fingertips across the carpet in front of her.
Richard gaped at her in surprise. What the hell was she doing?
All around them people laughed, but no one laughed harder than Ladies Morgana, Jane, and Sarah. Those courtiers who managed to suppress their mirth for the earl’s sake stared in fascination at his bride’s bizarre behavior. Even Queen Elizabeth riveted her sharp gaze on them, while Robert Dudley stood beside her and hooted with derisive laughter.
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