“Looked more like two cups to me,” she replied. “Saber, you want me to help you?”
David shook his head. “How very kind of you to offer, Goldie, but Saber is the official tea-pourer here at Leighwood, and I’m sure he wouldn’t like anyone taking over his duty.”
“Oh,” Goldie said. “But Saber, you really should be more careful, y’know. You aren’t a good tea-pourer.”
“Well, carry me out and bury me decently!” Saber quipped angrily.
“I’ll have milk with mine, Saber,” Winston informed him. “But just a tad, mind you,” he added when Saber brought the small pitcher of milk.
Brow raised, Saber poured one, very tiny drop of milk into Winston’s tea.
“Well, a bit more than that,” Winston said.
“And I take sugar and milk with mine,” Kenneth said.
“Same for me,” David agreed.
Saber’s fingers whitened around the pitcher. “Perhaps I could drink the tea for the four of you as well? Heaven forbid that you should strain your throats while swallowing.”
“I think we can manage the swallowing, but you failed to bring us napkins,” Addison answered, laughing. “I cannot drink my tea without a napkin.”
“Oh, really?” Saber had to tamp down his rising temper. “Then I fear you won’t be drinking your tea, Addison, because I’m not going to—”
“You know, the French don’t drink as much tea as the English,” Winston informed Goldie. “Isn’t that right, Saber?”
Saber threw Winston a terrible look and fetched the napkins. He laid them over his lower arm, bowing as each man took one. “Just leave them on your laps,” he instructed them. “If I should see a drop of tea on any of your mouths, you may be sure I’ll rush to pat it off for you.”
Goldie saw Saber’s irritation. “If it’ll make you feel any better, Saber, I’ll drink mine just like it is. Y’all are makin’ too much of a fancy fuss over tea drinkin’ anyway. Y’got that big ole silver service sittin’ on the rollin’ table over there, cloth napkins, and cups so fragile they’ll break in your mouth if you set your lips on ’em too hard. Great day Miss Agnes, you pay so much attention to that stuff, it’s a wonder you even enjoy the tea when you get around to drinkin’ it.”
Saber glanced at the tea service and the gleaming tea table upon which it sat. He looked at the fine linen napkins and studied the delicate china cups and saucers. He’d never given a second thought to the elegance of teatime. But now that he dwelled on it, it was rather ostentatious.
Goldie took a sip of her tea, grimacing. “This stuff tastes like dirt!”
Saber couldn’t suppress a grin. “And when was the last time you feasted upon dirt?”
“Well, never. But I’m sure it tastes like this tea.”
Addison took a sip of his also. “Mine tastes like sweet dirt. It would seem that Big doesn’t know how to prepare tea properly.”
“Ah, Big,” Kenneth said. “He was truly an...ill-box today, wasn’t he?”
Winston looked at Goldie. “But he cares for you very much.”
“Only breathing comes before his duty to defend you,” Saber added, stabbing his fingers through his hair.
She smiled. “He and I have been together for about four years. I was fourteen when I met him. I saw him with some big men, and they were makin’ fun of him. They were callin’ him a midget, and Big hates that word. He prefers to think of himself as a small piece of humanity in a very large world. Anyway, I wasn’t all that much taller than he was, so when I saw those men ridiculin’ him, I figured it was my obligation to step in and help him cuss ’em out. Big didn’t really have anywhere to go after that, and since I liked him right off, I invited him to come along with me and Uncle Asa. Uncle Asa didn’t like it much, but when Big started helpin’ out with the chores and stuff, he quit gripin’ about it.”
“And you care for him, too, don’t you, Goldie?” David asked.
She nodded. “Big...well, he’s the best friend a person could have.”
Saber felt a rush of envy over Goldie’s love for Big. He didn’t take the time to understand why he felt the way he did. He only knew Goldie’s affection was something he wouldn’t mind having in the least.
“Big’s an ill-box sometimes, but there’s nothin’ in the world he wouldn’t do for someone who really needed him,” Goldie explained. “You just gotta look under that grouchy outer part of him and find the softy. Uncle Asa—He—I think he’s like that too. Hard on the outside, but tender underneath. Lots of people are like that, don’t you think?”
Addison gave Saber a meaningful look. “Yes. I know someone who’s exactly like that.”
“Then there’s some who are mean through and through,” Goldie continued, twirling a curl around her finger. “Ole Raleigh Purvis down in Pee Dee, Georgia, is one of ’em. Raleigh used to pull the wings off butterflies, then watch ’em crawl away. It was the saddest thing I ever saw. Those poor butterflies, they—”
When she broke off, Saber saw a suspicious glitter in her eyes. She cries for butterflies. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he was touched by her tears.
“Ole Raleigh was punished though,” Goldie went on. “He got a horse mad at him. The horse threw him, then reared over and over again, poundin’ down all over Raleigh. Raleigh lost both his arms.”
“Poetic justice,” Saber said, noticing how quickly her tears disappeared.
“Yeah, well, anyway,” Goldie said, “Raleigh wanted to die after he lost his arms. I know he had it bad, but y’know, I think dyin’s easy. I’ve never been dead, but it doesn’t seem like there’s much to it. All you have to do is lie in your grave. It’s livin’ that’s so damn hard sometimes. Some days come and it takes every bit of patience and courage you’ve got to make it to nighttime. Big and I talk about that sometimes. Y’all ever feel like that?”
She drew her legs up, rested her chin on her knees, and waited for someone to answer her. But the five men only stared at her. She wondered why and decided to stare back.
She saw something similar to admiration in the gazes of Winston, Kenneth, and David, and couldn’t understand what they were so impressed about. Addison’s eyes were smiling with what looked to be expectation, and hope, and even excitement. She couldn’t understand what he was thinking either.
And Saber... Goldie leaned her head to her shoulder, studying him. He had a faraway look in his seaweed gaze. A bit of sadness. There was a hint of longing in it too, as if he were dwelling on something he used to have, missed, but could never have again.
* * *
Saber watched Goldie skip along the garden path. Her hair, bouncing and shimmering upon her slight shoulders, looked like a soft cloud filled with gold dust. The sight reminded him of the gold brush. If he was going to get it for her, he had to do it soon. Though she was unaware that he and the boys had planned to stay at Leighwood for only a fortnight, he knew there was only a week left to that time.
He’d be revealing his identity to her then. He wondered what she would do when she learned he was the Duke of Ravenhurst. She was so capricious with her emotions and thoughts, it was hard to know what her reaction would be.
“Why do you pick dandelions when there are so many beautiful flowers to choose from?” he asked as she added several more to the tremendous yellow mass she already held.
She stopped and looked down at the brilliant flowers. “But dandelions are beautiful, Saber. And you can weave ’em into crowns, too.”
Who would want a crown of weeds? he wondered. Taking her elbow, he led her to a group of shade trees. There, he helped her onto a tall wrought-iron bench, smiling when he saw the foot of space between her feet and the ground.
“Good spot, Saber,” she said. “Real umbrageous. “
He glanced up at the tall trees and nodded.
Goldie frowned. “Did you understand what I said?”
“What?” He looked down at the astonishment in her eyes. Umbrageous was her new word for the day, he realized sudd
enly, and she hadn’t believed he’d know what it meant. “I—I’m fairly sure it means ‘shady.’ Of course I could be wrong.”
“You’re not,” she whispered. “It does mean shady.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Then this is indeed an umbrageous spot.” He watched her swing her legs. She looked like a little girl, sitting there with her flowers in her lap. “I thought dandelions were weeds.”
“Shows how much you know,” she replied sassily.
His brow rose. He didn’t think there was much to know about dandelions. But the secretive tinkle in her voice and the knowing gleam in her eyes made him wonder if there was a veritable wealth of valuable information within those bright yellow clusters she caressed so tenderly.
He sat beside her, watching as she lifted the flowers to her nose. He knew they were not sweetly perfumed, but the light in her golden eyes told him she was enjoying their fragrance. She was so simple, this little miss called Goldie. A whole garden of breathtaking blossoms grew nearby, just waiting for someone to come and sample their heady scents, touch their velvet-soft petals. And Goldie had her dandelions. He smiled again when he saw she had pollen on her nose.
The sight of the yellow powder took him back some twenty-five years. He remembered gathering pollen in a small cup. He’d mixed water with it, trying to make yellow paint. He hadn’t thought of that pollen paint in years, and tried to dismiss the memory now, too. What good did it do him to recollect times that had ended all too soon and would never come back again?
“Goldie, you have pollen on your nose.”
She wrinkled up her nose, looking down at it. Crosseyed, she saw two noses and two blotches of pollen. Her hands occupied with the flowers, she turned her head to the side, trying to wipe the pollen off on her shoulder. But she couldn’t get her nose down quite low enough. “Can you get it off for me?”
“I rather like it there. It goes nicely with your yellow hair.”
“Nicely with my yellow hair,” she repeated slowly. A thrill spun through her at the compliment. “Oh, that sounds so purty. I’ll leave it on then.”
Saber chuckled. “I was jesting, Goldie. I’ll remove it straightaway.” He raised his hand toward her face.
She drew away. “Y’mean it doesn’t look good with my hair?”
“What?”
“The pollen.”
“Yes...yes, it matches your hair, but would you wear it simply because it does?”
“Yes.”
“Why? It’s pollen. “
“So? You said it looked good with my hair.”
Saber sat back and crossed his arms. “I know, but people don’t wear pollen.”
“They can if they want to. I want to. It’s not hurtin’ anyone, is it?”
“It’ll make you sneeze,” he warned.
“I like to sneeze. Sometimes I sniff pepper just so I can sneeze. Y’know that little nose tickle that comes right before a sneeze? You feel it startin’. It builds and gets stronger, and you tingle all over waitin’ for it to peak. When it comes it feels so-o-o good.”
Saber thought of something else that was just like that. Something that started with a tickle, built, became stronger, and felt like heaven when it finally reached the crescendo. Funny. He’d never compared lovemaking to sneezing, but there were a lot of similarities. He felt mirth rising.
When Saber burst out laughing, Goldie frowned. “Well, if it looks that ridiculous, I’ll get it off.” She leaned toward him and wiped the pollen off on his chest, leaving a bright yellow smudge on his snowy-white shirt. She caught his scent of sandalwood again and lingered near him for as long as she dared.
When he felt her nose wiggling and inching along his chest, Saber laughed harder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such profound amusement.
Reluctantly, Goldie sat back in her place on the bench. “Great day Miss Agnes, Saber, you sure are silly today. What’s gotten into you?”
He started to tell her she’d gotten into him, but no sooner had the thought entered his mind than he realized the significance of it. His laughter ceased. His smile faded.
God, was he becoming well and truly attached to her? He couldn’t let it happen. What good would come of a deeper relationship between them? He’d be leaving for London in a week, and she’d go back to Hallensham. They’d never see each other again.
He felt a sudden touch of sadness and couldn’t understand why. After all, he’d only known her for five days. Certainly not enough time to develop any sort of feelings for her.
Certainly not, and he had no use for feelings anyway. No use, and that was the end of it. “Have you no duke lesson for me today?” he snapped.
His abrupt irritation wounded her. She tried to think of what she’d done to deserve it. She couldn’t remember what it was, but knew it was something. It always was. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He realized he’d come close to shouting at her. The hurt in her eyes stole his voice away. It was a moment before he found it. “Goldie—”
“Oh, I know why you’re mad!” She reached out, brushing the pollen off his shirt. “It’s all off now. Are you still mad at me?”
“Mad at you? I wasn’t mad at you.”
“You weren’t? Then why’d you snarl out that question about the duke lessons? You almost bit me in two. Somethin’ on your mind?”
He made a mental note to try and control his emotions. Her sensitivity was tender and deep, and she took everything very personally. He had no wish to hurt her. He had no wish to tell her what was on his mind either. “No,” he replied.
There was so something on his mind, she decided. She searched his face carefully, seeking some sort of clue that would tell her what it was. He was frowning slightly. His lips weren’t relaxed; they were sort of pinched up. His eyes were narrowed. His jaw was moving rhythmically. “What are you chewin’?”
“Chewing?” His frown deepened. What in heaven’s name was she talking about? “I’m not chewing anything.”
She didn’t believe him. “Open your mouth and let me see.” She got to her knees on the bench, leaning closer to his face. “Go on and open it. You’re chewin’ somethin’, and I want to know what it is.”
He clenched his teeth together, speaking between them. “If I’m chewing something, what business is it of yours?”
“It’s my business because you have somethin’ to eat, and you didn’t share it with me.”
“Oh, good God.” Saber opened his mouth wide, watching her peer into it. He felt thoroughly absurd. No one had ever stared into his mouth before.
“I don’t see anything but teeth and a tongue,” Goldie informed him, her eyes a fraction of an inch from his lips. “You have good teeth, Saber. Real white, and real straight. Now, what were you chewin’? Your cud, like a cow?”
She was comparing him to a bovine! “Goldie, I told you I wasn’t chewing—” He broke off. This conversation was the most preposterous he could recall ever having. It made him laugh again.
“Your jaw was movin’. Why was it movin’ if you weren’t chewin’? I never saw anyone’s jaw move like that when they weren’t chewin’. That’s a strange habit you have, Saber.”
Her face was still very close to his. He looked at her lips, wondering how they would feel upon his. You have a very kissable mouth, Goldie. The thought both disturbed and excited him. He looked at her speckled nose and performed the feat of counting those little brown dots. “You have seventeen freckles on the top of your nose.”
Her bottom lip quivered. She caught it between her teeth so Saber wouldn’t see it trembling. Why, God, she asked silently, did You give me these ugly freckles? Sitting back down, she buried her face in her dandelions. The flowers drew the tears from her lashes and the sadness from her heart.
“Actually, I have nineteen,” she corrected him, speaking into the blossoms. “Nineteen on the tip of my nose, and seven between my eyes. Rudy Lumpkin down in Dilly Corner, Tennessee, said that sometimes freckles get wiped o
ff on your pillowcase at night. None of mine do. I know, because I count ’em every mornin’. Rudy was such a liar.”
She spoke so softly, Saber almost couldn’t hear her. Earlier, however, he’d noted a suspicious, yet fleeting shake in her voice. “Goldie?”
She pretended to scratch her cheek, thus drying the last tear. “I’ve got a lesson for you,” she said lightly. “It’s not a duke lesson, though. It’s a lesson about dandelions.” She pulled one from her handful, holding it up to him.
He noticed it was a gray, furry one that had gone to seed. He noticed, too, a solitary droplet of water on Goldie’s chin. Morning dew from her flowers? Or a tear?
“Dandelions are the most misunderstood flowers in all the world,” she announced, raising the gray puff higher. “Most people, includin’ a certain seaweed-eyed man I know, think they’re weeds. But there’s a lot to be learned from the humble dandelion.”
“Ah, and what is that, pray tell?” He cast another glance at her chin. The droplet was gone.
“Watch.” When she had his full attention, she blew on the dandelion. The breeze caught hundreds of furry seedlings, carrying them swiftly in many directions.
Saber wondered what she wanted him to say. “Am I supposed to clap?”
“No, you’re supposed to think. Think about those little seeds, floatin’ along. They’re gonna land somewhere and more dandelions are gonna spring up.”
As if in the deepest state of concentration a human being was capable of, Saber squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose—an action he often performed when he really was in the throes of profound deliberation. “Amazing. Truly amazing.”
She looked at him from the corner of her eye, realizing he was teasing her. She liked it when he did that. “People have the same power dandelions do, Saber. I’ve thought long and hard about it for many a year, and sometimes I think about people when I blow on dandelions. Wanna know why?”
Diamonds and Dreams Page 10
