Love in a Mist

by Patricia Grasso

  Keely wished she could celebrate the holiday outside and search for the sacred mistletoe, but the earl had spoken wisely. If they caught her, the English would burn her at the stake for being a witch.

  Glancing toward the bed, Keely considered awakening Richard but then thought better of it. Participating in a pagan ceremony would never make her husband’s daily list of things to do.

  Keely pulled her white ceremonial robe over her nightshift. Then she collected the requisite holy items: magic stones, golden sickle, and Yule candle.

  Keely chose eight white agates for spiritual guidance and one black obsidian for repelling dark magic. Using the agates, she made a circle in the middle area of the chamber and left only the western periphery open.

  Entering from the west, Keely closed the circle with the last white agate and whispered, “All disturbing thoughts remain outside.”

  She set the black obsidian and the candle down in the soul of the circle, then fused its invisible periphery shut with her golden sickle. Returning to the circle’s center, she turned clockwise three times until she faced the east.

  Dropping to her knees, Keely closed her eyes and chanted into the silence, “The Old Ones are here, watching and waiting. Stars speak through stones, and light shines through the thickest oak. One realm is heaven and earth.”

  Keely reached for the candle and lifted it toward the east. “Hail, Great Mother Goddess, bringer of light out of darkness and rebirth out of death,” she prayed. “I beg a favor. Guard my unborn child and keep her safe. And though he is a heretic, deliver my husband from the unseen evil I sense lurking near.”

  After snuffing the candle, Keely stood and walked to the circle’s western periphery, then lifted the agate and broke the enchantment. She spared a glance toward the bed and froze.

  Richard lay on his side and watched her. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine.” Keely could already hear the blistering lecture coming her way.

  “’Tis exceedingly strange how the queasiness strikes you only on Sunday morn as we dress for chapel,” Richard said, the hint of a smile flirting with his lips.

  Keely ignored his observation. She finished collecting her magic stones and put them away, tossed her ceremonial robe aside and returned to the bed.

  Richard lifted the coverlet in invitation, and Keely slid in beside him. He pulled her into his arms, and she rested her head against his chest.

  “You were worshipping, dearest. Thank you for remembering me in your prayers.”

  “You are welcome.” Then Keely quipped in a rueful voice, “Worshipping inside does hinder my style.”

  Richard smiled and then yawned. “Let us sleep.”

  Keely closed her eyes and snuggled against her husband’s body. She felt safe within the circle of his arms. Contented silence reigned for several moments.

  “Richard?”

  “Yes, dearest?”

  “When are you going to use the ceremonial robe I made?”

  “Perhaps when you finish reading Lives of the Saints.”

  “I haven’t even started it yet.”

  “I know.”

  * * *

  Card-playing, gambling, and fortune-telling amused the courtiers during times of inclement weather. Before dinner, Richard left the bedchamber to search for Duke Robert, who’d invited him to a high-stakes game of chance.

  Keely wanted none of the usual pastimes that day. Instead, she sat alone in front of the hearth in her chamber and sewed baby clothes. Occasionally, she leaned back in her chair, stared into the hearth’s flames, and tried to conjure her daughter’s image in her mind’s eye. Would she be red-haired and green-eyed like her father? Or would she possess her mother’s ebony hair and violet eyes? Red-haired and violet-eyed? Ebony-haired and green-eyed?

  “Are you there, little girl?” A knock on the door, and Odo’s voice yanked Keely out of her pleasant musings.

  “Come in, cousin.”

  The door opened. Odo, Hew, May, and June filed inside but stood near the doorway. All four of them wore broad grins.

  “’Tis the Yuletide,” Odo said.

  “And we’ve brought you a gift,” Hew added.

  Keely dropped her gaze to their empty hands and cast them a puzzled smile.

  “Close your eyes,” Odo said.

  “And I’ll get it,” Hew said.

  Odo cuffed the side of his brother’s head. “I’m older, so I’ll fetch it.”

  May rounded on Odo. “Don’t you dare strike him.”

  “Show respect when you address Odo,” June scolded her.

  “Mind your own business,” May snapped, pinching her sister’s arm.

  “Leave her alone,” Odo ordered.

  “Lower your voice when you speak to May,” Hew entered the fray. “She isn’t your servant.”

  Without waiting to be announced, Keely’s gift walked into the chamber. He smiled at her and held his arms open in invitation.

  “Rhys.” Keely leaped out of the chair, dashed across the chamber, and threw herself into her brother’s arms.

  Rhys held her tight and allowed her a few minutes of weeping against his chest. “Why aren’t you outside searching for the elusive mistletoe?”

  “The damn English heretics would clutch their chests and die,” she answered with a watery chuckle.

  “’Tis one way to rid ourselves of the vermin.” Rhys set her back and brushed the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips. “Ah, sister. The sweetest wild flower in the field fades beside your beauty.”

  “And you are one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen,” Keely returned the compliment. “I missed you terribly.”

  Tall and well built, Rhys Lloyd had midnight black hair and warm gray eyes. Those eyes of gray narrowed on her.

  “One?” Rhys echoed. “You always said I was the handsomest man. Has that new husband of yours replaced me in your esteem?”

  Keely held his hand and led him across the chamber. “Come, brother. Warm yourself in front of the hearth.”

  “Everyone out,” May ordered, herding the others toward the door. “Let them have some privacy.” No one argued with her.

  “Cousins, this is the most excellent gift I’ve ever received,” Keely called. “I love both of you very much.”

  Odo and Hew blushed and then followed the twins out.

  Rhys sat down in the chair before the hearth. Keely dragged a stool across the chamber, sat, and reached for his hand. “Tell me, brother. How did you find me?”

  “Ludlow’s servants directed me here,” Rhys answered. “Madoc is dead and buried.”

  “Dead?” Keely echoed. “How?”

  An uncharacteristic blush colored her brother’s ruddy complexion. “Madoc died pleasurably, if you ken my meaning.”

  Keely shook her head.

  “The maid’s lusty energy killed him.”

  “Oh.” Keely recalled her mother’s prophecy: “What Madoc desires most will kill him in the end . . .”

  “You can return to Wales if you wish,” Rhys told her.

  “’Tis six weeks too late for going home,” Keely said, tears welling up in her eyes. She held up the garment that she’d been sewing. “I carry my husband’s child.”

  “I’m going to be an uncle?” Rhys smiled and yanked her into a sideways hug. “I would have come for you sooner, but Madoc refused to tell me where you’d gone. I’d just received your letter when Madoc died suddenly.”

  Keely nodded with understanding.

  “If your husband displeases you, leave him,” Rhys said. “The babe and you will always have a home with me in Wales.”

  Keely rested her head against his shoulder. “Thank you for that. Richard pleases me, but I want him to love me too.”

  “Love appears in many forms, sweetheart,” Rhys told her. “Perhaps—”

  “And what form are you?” demanded a voice from the doorway.

  Keely snapped her head up and saw Richard standing there with her father. Her husband didn’t look e
specially happy. In fact, he appeared damn hostile.

  Rhys rose from the chair and faced the two men. The Englishman’s feelings were as easy to read as an open book. The earl loved his sister, and that was enough for Rhys to like him.

  “I’m waiting for an answer,” Richard said.

  “Brotherly love.” Rhys said.

  “’Tis Rhys,” Keely said, rising from the stool. “He’s ridden all the way from Wales.”

  Richard relaxed, his expression cleared, and a welcoming smile spread across his features. He marched across the chamber and offered his brother-in-law his hand.

  Duke Robert grinned. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for protecting my daughter all those long years.”

  “Both His Grace and I are indebted to you,” Richard said.

  “Keely was my baby sister long before she journeyed to England,” Rhys said. “Protecting her was a pleasure as well as a duty.”

  Keely held her brother’s hand, reluctant to let him go after so many long months. “Promise you’ll stay with us through the New Year.”

  “I left Corgy in charge in my absence, and you know he’s only a mite smarter than Odo and Hew,” Rhys said. “Will you settle for Christmas?’

  “Yes, happily.” Keely turned to her father. “Rhys has brought news, Papa. Madoc is dead.”

  Duke Robert would have offered his condolences, but he wasn’t the least bit sorry. He nodded at his daughter and said to Rhys, “Come along, Baron Lloyd. We’ll commandeer a chamber and anything else you require.”

  Before quitting the chamber with the duke, Rhys hugged Keely and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later. Remember what I said.”

  Richard sat in the chair in front of the hearth and pulled his wife down onto his lap. “What does Rhys want you to remember?”

  “I always have a home with him in Wales.”

  “Your home is with me.”

  Keely stared him straight in the eye. “I can never feel at home in England, my lord.”

  “You’ll settle in.”

  “I’ll never fit in.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Richard said. “The Countess of Basildon belongs in England.”

  “Those courtiers harbor nothing but contempt for me,” Keely insisted. “I am the taffy bastard who tricked England’s favorite son into marriage.”

  “’Tis playacting at its finest,” Richard tried to explain. “Their own insecurities consume them. If the Countess of Basildon deigns to mingle, those arrogant idiots will feel honored and reciprocate.”

  “Perhaps I find them unworthy of my company.”

  “Damn it, Keely. You stand in that hall with your head hung low and your eyes downcast. Why are you ashamed of yourself?”

  “I am not ashamed. I am a true princess of Wales, descended from Llewelyn the Great and Owen Glendower. Why, my bloodline is purer and nobler than the queen’s.”

  “Prove it,” Richard challenged her. “Escort Rhys around the hall tonight. Introduce him to the other courtiers.”

  Insecurity made Keely worry her bottom lip with her teeth. Though she’d never admit it, Keely didn’t believe she had the courage. “I’ll consider it.”

  Richard read the fret mirrored in her gaze. “I’ll remain by your side while you do, dearest.”

  * * *

  “I’ll remain by your side while you do, dearest . . .”

  Another broken promise from an English lord. She should have known better. Her charming husband had lulled her into forgetting the harsh lessons of her own mother’s life. Such a lapse in distrust could prove dangerous to her peace of mind and would never happen again.

  As soon as Lord Burghley’s summons arrived, Richard had deposited Keely with Duke Robert and Lady Dawn and left the hall. An hour had passed since his departure.

  Keely kept her attention fixed on the hall’s entrance and let the courtiers’ conversations swirl around her while she awaited Rhys’s arrival. Could Richard’s assessment of her situation be correct? If she mingled with these English nobles, would they acknowledge her? Or would they snub her for being a bastard?

  That Rhys should learn she played the outcast was simply out of the question. Fiercely protective of her, Rhys would probably challenge those courtiers who slighted her. Her brother enjoyed a reputation for being a ferocious warrior, but he was incapable of dueling with every man in England.

  Keely scanned the hall and sensed a change in its atmosphere. The courtiers seemed wilder and freer that evening because the queen had absented herself from the festivities.

  Her gaze touched the hall’s entrance at the precise moment Rhys appeared. She started moving through the crowd toward him. Her brother had never looked more handsome or virile than he did at that moment, every inch as spectacular as her husband. In fact, Rhys wore formal court garb borrowed from Richard and appeared like a black bird of prey ready to swoop down on unsuspecting canaries.

  “How now, brother?” Keely greeted him with a smile.

  “Sister, your vibrant beauty shames these pallid Englishwomen,” Rhys said, returning her smile. “Turn around, and let me admire you.”

  Keely giggled and twirled in a circle. The young girl who wandered the Welsh forests had disappeared, though her essence remained. In her place stood a desirable woman wearing a low-cut gown that enhanced her beauty.

  Rhys thought the gown was much too revealing but kept his peace. Keely belonged to the English earl now, and he would never gainsay his sister’s husband.

  “You must meet my father’s new wife,” Keely said, grasping his hand. “She’s been exceedingly kind to me.”

  Keely and Rhys plunged into the crowd. With her brother’s hand in hers, Keely felt unusually confident. The whispered murmurings of who the handsome stranger could be filled her with pride.

  “Lady Dawn, I present my stepbrother Baron Rhys Lloyd,” Keely introduced them.

  Rhys bowed over the duchess’s hand. “My thanks for your many kindnesses to my sister.”

  “If I weren’t madly in love with my Tally,” Lady Dawn purred, giving him a feline smile, “I'd make a complete fool of myself over you, baron, as these young ladies casting surreptitious looks in this direction are about to do.”

  “Come, Rhys,” Keely said, accepting the challenge her husband had issued. “I want to introduce you to a few of the courtiers.”

  Linking her arm through his, Keely led her brother around the hall. She spied her stepmother’s pregnant companions from the previous day and advanced on them.

  “Lady Tessie and Lady Blair,” Keely said, “I wish to make my brother, Baron Lloyd, known to you.”

  Rhys bowed over Tessie's hand. “You look divine in that heavenly blue gown.”

  Tessie sighed. “I wish Pines was as pretty with a compliment as you.”

  Rhys turned next to Lady Blair and bowed in courtly manner. He opened his mouth to compliment her as well, but his sister spoke first.

  “How is dear Horatio today?” Keely asked, suppressing the urge to laugh.

  “My heavens, Horatio is eating like the proverbial pig,” Lady Blair replied.

  Keely giggled and led her brother away, whispering, “Horatio is her pet pig.”

  Rhys glanced sidelong at her. “You’re kidding?”

  Keely shook her head. “Lady Dawn owns a pet goose named Anthony.”

  “Introduce me to a few unmarried women,” Rhys said, “like those three beauties watching us over there.”

  Keely glanced in the direction he gestured. Ladies Morgana, Sarah, and Jane stood on one side of the hall and stared at them. No doubt they wondered about the handsome gentleman’s identity.

  Keely had no intention of going anywhere near them. Let them drool from a distance. If they insulted her in her brother's presence, their lives could be endangered.

  “You really should meet Lady Mary,” Keely said, trying to lead him in the opposite direction from the three well-known witches. “She’s the buxom blonde standing with the Italian, Signor Fagioli. Se
e the long-haired giant peeking down the blond woman’s bodice.”

  Keely started to lead him toward the couple, but Rhys hung back. His hand on her arm prevented forward movement, and she turned a questioning gaze on him.

  “I much prefer to meet those beauties over there.”

  “Trust me, brother. You don’t want to know them.”

  Rhys grinned. “Pray tell me why.”

  “They despise us Welsh,” Keely told him. “Especially me.”

  “Why?”

  Keely dropped her gaze to his chest and shrugged.

  “Jealousy rules their actions,” Rhys said, lifting her chin up. “Come, sister. I’ll gladly meet this Italian signor.”

  “Keely,” called a familiar feminine voice.

  Keely turned around reluctantly. The voice belonged to her sister.

  “Bring your friend to join our group,” Morgana invited her, flicking a glance at Rhys. “Are you avoiding me, dear sister?”

  Keely gaped in surprise at her “dear” sister. A fluttering oak leaf could have knocked her over.

  “I am Keely’s half-sister, Lady Morgana Talbot,” the blonde introduced herself.

  Rhys grinned wolfishly at Morgana. His interested gaze perused her from the top of her blond head to the tips of her dainty slippered feet, but it lingered a moment longer than was proper on the alluring display of silken flesh above the bodice of her low-cut gown.

  “We share a common interest,” Rhys said. “I am Keely‘s stepbrother.”

  The fierce Welsh baron and the pampered English beauty ignored their common interest, Keely. His warm gray eyes locked on her sultry blue eyes, and for several long moments the world faded and only the two of them existed.

  “For our sister’s sake, we should become better acquainted,” Morgana said, lowering her gaze in simulated shyness. “Would you care to dance?”

  “Unfortunately, my education lacked that refined skill,” Rhys said with no trace of embarrassment, giving her an easy smile. “Perhaps a deserted alcove would better suit our becoming acquainted?”