Diamonds and Dreams

by Rebecca Paisley

  “A mistake?”

  She tried to stem her flow of words, but failed. “You don’t understand, do you? Maybe you just don’t remember what it’s like! I—Saber, I’ve never had anything! And now—Since I met you, I’ve had almost everything I’ve ever dreamed of havin’! I’ve never eaten such find food! And off such fragile china! I’ve never lived in such fancy houses or slept in such big, soft beds! I’ve never ridden in these elegant coaches, or washed with such sweet soap, or bathed in such huge, golden tubs!”

  “But you are now! Can’t you accept and enjoy them while—”

  “I am enjoyin’ ’em! But don’t you see, Saber? They’re gonna go away! Dreams, all of ’em! You know how dreams are! You wake up, and they’re over! Uncle Asa, he—”

  When she clamped her lips closed, he moved to her side of the carriage, taking her by her shoulders. “What about Uncle Asa, Goldie? Tell me what the man did to you! Tell me about the terrible things that—”

  “No!”

  “Tell me!”

  “No!”

  “I’ll never stop asking you, Goldie. Day in and day out, I’ll ask. Every second of every minute of every hour! I’ll keep on—”

  “You can’t! You can’t because you won’t be with me that long! After you play the duke in Hallensham, you’ll have to leave, and I’ll never see you again!” Covering her face with her hands, she sobbed.

  He held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth. “Oh, Goldie,” he whispered, his heart pounding. “I—”

  “It’s always like this!” she cried, too upset to guard her words any longer. “Every time somethin’ good wanders into my life, it goes away! Uncle Asa says it’s because I don’t really deserve it! He says that until I’m good enough to have my diamond dreams, the Dream Giver won’t let ’em come true for me! He said—”

  “Dream giver? Goldie, who—”

  “God,” she choked, tears burning her cheeks. “I think the Dream Giver is God.”

  “God? But Goldie, how can your uncle presume to know what God—”

  “I’ve never been anything but a bother to Uncle Asa! Always trailin’ along behind him! Always hungry or wantin’ somethin’! Sometimes—Sometimes I wonder if he drinks just to find an escape from havin’ to put up with me!”

  “He puts up with you?” Saber roared. “What about what you’ve taken from him? The trouble he causes everywhere you go! The constant—”

  “And all my cryin’! Oh, Saber, I wish I didn’t cry so much! It makes him so furious! But I—Things are so—”

  “Sad,” he supplied. “So sad, Goldie, that you’ve every right to cry! Who wouldn’t cry over such—”

  “I know he loves me, but I wish...”

  “You wish what, Goldie?” Saber asked, every fiber of him straining to hear her answer. “For the love of God, tell me what you wish!”

  Clinging to his neck, she closed her eyes. “I wish lots of things.”

  “But what are they?”

  Many long moments passed before she answered. “You aren’t the Dream Giver, Saber,” she whispered, exhaustion creeping through her. “And they’re all diamond dreams anyway.”

  “Diamonds? Is that what you wish for, Goldie? Diamonds?”

  “Diamonds,” she murmured. “Diamond dreams.”

  He looked down and saw she’d fallen asleep. Settling himself in the corner of the seat, he pulled her into his arms, holding her as tenderly as he ever had before.

  Her every word came back to him. “Years of being told you weren’t good enough to have nice things, of being denied everything you wished you could have. And I know, Goldie,” he whispered, gazing down at her soft features, “that you didn’t ask for much. You probably wanted sweets every now and then. Maybe a dress with pretty lace on it. You wished for hair ribbons, a kitten, a small bottle of scent. You wished for all the simple things any young girl would want to have.

  “But most of all,” he continued, “you wished for love. You had every right to it, but it was denied you just like everything else.”

  He became silent and lifted Goldie higher, so her face was buried within the warm crook of his shoulder. So many emotions had hold of him, he was unable to concentrate on any of them. He knew only that all the tender things inside him, all the soul-touching feelings, were for Goldie.

  An hour later, when the carriage stopped in front of his house and nighttime had fallen, he was still holding her next to his heart, his emotions still ebbing gently through him.

  The driver opened the coach door; Itchie Bon bounded out. Saber handed the man cab fare, grabbed the basket of violets and the bag of oranges, and alighted, Goldie still cuddled in his arms. As the coach rolled away, he looked down at her again and saw her eyes were open. “We’re home, poppet.”

  She smiled sleepily, squirmed from his arms, and smoothed her skirts. “We didn’t get home before dark,” she said worriedly. “Your aunts are—”

  “They’re visiting with friends tonight, remember? It’s too early yet for them to be home. I imagine they’ll be gone for several more hours. If you don’t tell them you arrived after dark, they won’t know. I assure you your secret is safe with me.”

  He handed her her basket of violets and gave her his elbow. When she curled her hand around his arm, he covered it with his own. As he led her toward the steps, Itchie Bon began to growl. “What is it, boy?” Saber asked. “What—” A movement in the dark grove of trees beside the house captured his attention. Squinting, he saw a man emerge from the shadows. The man’s small cloth cap, neckerchief, long, four-pocketed coat, and sturdy boots were typical of a costermonger, and Saber wondered what the street vendor was doing so close to the house. “You there! What do you want?”

  The man’s response was to draw up his arm level to his shoulder. His odd action sent foreboding streaming through Saber. Reacting instinctively, he pushed Goldie to the steps, shielding her body with his own. Gunfire shattered the silence of the night. The basket of violets toppled down the steps, spilling to the pavement. “Goldie!” he shouted, terrified that she wouldn’t answer. “Goldie—”

  “M-my violets,” she whispered. “My f-f-flowers.”

  “Goldie, are you hurt? Are you—”

  “My violets...gone. All gone. Just like everything nice.”

  When she began shaking violently, Saber realized she was close to going into shock. “Goldie, I’ll buy you more flowers! I’ll—” He gaped down at her, her strange concern about her flowers making him gasp. Dear God, maybe she’d been shot, and pain was clouding her mind! Frantically, he tried to examine her, but the tight curl of her body prevented him from doing so. He rose, looked at the grove and saw Itchie Bon sniffing the ground. Reassured that the assailant had fled, he lifted Goldie into his arms, and pounded on the door with his foot.

  “Sir!” Bennett exclaimed upon opening the door. “I heard a shot! I—”

  Saber tore past the man and raced toward the staircase.

  “My violets,” Goldie whispered. “My flowers.”

  Saber turned and saw Bennett still standing by the door. “Get the damn violets!” he commanded the butler.

  Three steps at a time, he climbed the stairs, his heart banging in his chest, fear for Goldie throbbing wildly through his veins. Reaching her bedroom, he rushed inside, placed Goldie on her bed, and lit several candles.

  “Don’t be hurt, Goldie,” he commanded, bending over her and fumbling with the fastenings on her dress. “Don’t be hurt!” He saw his hands shake, cursed his terrible fear, and tried once again to remove her dress.

  Goldie took his hands into her own. “Saber—”

  “Goldie, I can’t see! Is there blood? Dear God, are you bleeding? I can’t get the dress—Goldie, tell me—”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “The buttons won’t—”

  “Saber, I’m not hurt.”

  He made fists of his quivering hands. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “Si
r,” Bennett panted from the doorway. “The violets.” He lifted the basketful of ruined flowers. “There is a hole in this basket, sir. Is Miss Mae—”

  “She’s fine. Bring me the flowers.”

  Bennett obeyed. “I also collected the oranges, sir.” He cast a look of tender concern at Goldie then left the room, shutting the door.

  Goldie took the basket from Saber, and, one by one, she removed each bunch of violets, placing them on her stomach. When she’d taken them all out, she gathered the crushed blossoms in her arms, bringing them to her face.

  “Goldie, I’ll buy you more violets,” Saber promised, confused by her preoccupation with the flowers. “Stay here, poppet. I’ve got to go see if that man is somewhere—”

  “No!”

  “Goldie, that man shot—”

  “No!” The one word escaped on a long, loud sob. “Hold me, Saber! Don’t leave me! Please, just hold me!”

  Her tears almost killed Saber; they erased all thought of trying to find the assailant. He lay down beside Goldie, drawing her close to him. Violets fell all over him when she turned to him. Her tears wet his shirt, her soft cries burned his soul. He said nothing, but simply held her close like she’d asked him to do. And as he did, the thought of what had happened stabbed into him.

  She’d almost been killed tonight, he raged. The bullet that might have ended her life had found the basket instead. But for that, she might be dead right now. Just like all the people he’d loved and lost.

  Smoothing Goldie’s hair, he concentrated on the fear that still rumbled through him. The thought of losing her, too, was unbearable to him. It filled him with horrible emptiness and anguish.

  “Goldie,” he choked.

  Hearing the painful distress in his voice, she lifted her gaze to him. The sight of his sorrow-etched face touched something so deep inside her, she couldn’t understand what it was. Taking shelter in his strong arms, every shred of fear left her, replaced by soothing tranquility. Slowly, she brought his head closer to her, kissing him with all the tender emotion flowing from her heart.

  Saber tasted the salty tears on her mouth, and felt his own eyes begin to sting. Who was this girl who could bring him tears? he wondered. Who made him laugh? Whose simple wisdom affected him so deeply? Whose presence filled the aching void in his life, whose smile lit up his entire life?

  And whose brush with death brought him such excruciating grief?

  Goldie felt a tremor run through him. “Saber, everything’s all right. We didn’t get hurt.”

  “I know, but—The shot—The man—Judging by the way he was dressed, I think he was a coster.” A coster. A coster, he deliberated, wouldn’t be involved with Hutchins or Doyle. Had the man been intent on robbery? He made a mental note to notify Tyler Escott’s men about the incident.

  “A coster?” Goldie repeated.

  “A street seller. I’m sure he intended to rob us, but you could have been hurt. Are you certain you’re all right?”

  “Yes,” she tried to reassure him, but knew by the expression in his eyes that he was still doubtful. She wondered what to say to him that would convince him, but came up with nothing different from what she’d already said.

  Actions were all she had left to her. The thought brought a warm, deep rush of anticipation. Languidly she removed her dress, her eyes never leaving Saber’s face. Her underthings followed. Reaching up to the back of her neck, she removed the pins that held her hair and shook her head. Her curls sprang free, spilling to her breasts.

  Instant desire twisted through Saber’s loins. He wondered what she would do, when she would begin.

  His heart slammed against his chest when she came closer.

  The scorching expression in his gaze made Goldie sense the power she held over him. Excitement mounted as she contemplated the things she would to do him. Straddling his hips, she began to unbutton his shirt. As each button came undone, his shirt parted further, and she took time to touch her fingers to the smooth, hard chest so slowly revealed to her. Finally, she removed the garment altogether, bringing it slowly toward her face, and closing her eyes. The warm virile scent clinging to it surrounded her, drifting into her, heightening her anticipation.

  Opening her eyes, she saw Saber regarding her intently, a slow, knowing smile slanting his lips. Her cheeks warming, she crawled to the end of the bed and removed his shoes and stockings before laying her palms on his upper thighs. Keeping her movements as leisurely as she could make them, she slid her hands toward the fastening of his breeches. The buttons there opened easily. She smiled when Saber accommodated her by arching his hips off the bed. Slowly, she rolled the breeches and his undergarments downward, pulling them off his legs, and smiling at the sight of the diamond birthmark on his left upper thigh.

  She held the clothes, still warm from his body, in her lap, staring at them for a long moment before raising her eyes. The sight of Saber, of each perfect and wonderful part of sinewy form, set her heart aflutter and her body aflame.

  A low moan escaping her, she buried herself in the arms he held out to her. He took her mouth in a kiss that was savage and tender at once. His hand brushed over the soft curls between her thighs; his fingers began to stroke her. Pleasure engulfed her, her desire building when she felt her own moistness, her own hot readiness. She knew Saber felt it too when his eyes darkened, and his body tensed as his fingers delved deeply inside her.

  With those same fingers, he then parted her legs, and moved above her. She welcomed his weight when he settled himself upon her. His scent of sandalwood wafted about her as she felt his maleness probing between her thighs. Closing her eyes, she prepared herself for the pain. She knew it would come, but she didn’t care. Only Saber mattered. Only Saber.

  “Now,” she whispered. “Please now.”

  Her desperate plea almost sent Saber over the brink. Struggling to leash his wild desire, he pushed into her only slightly, giving her as much time as she needed to adjust to him. To want more of him. To change her mind. His heavy arousal ached. Every nerve in his body throbbed, making control an impossible thing. But tenderness flowed inside him, too, soothing him, transcending his powerful need. He held himself motionless, waiting for her to show him what she wanted him to do.

  “Saber.”

  He tried to decipher what it was he heard in her small voice, but the feel of her nipples stiffening against his chest, the pleading pressure of her fanned fingers upon the muscles in his back, and the way her silky legs curved around his own, stole every other thought from his mind.

  “Saber, please.”

  “Goldie—”

  She arched into him, gasping when she felt more of him slide into her. She opened further for him, spreading her legs wider, giving him complete, unhindered access to her.

  Saber could feel the thin veil of her virginity. It was all that lay between him and the ecstasy he yearned to find in her body. Desire tightened each of his muscles; he felt them coil with readiness. The fire in his loins threatened to consume him. “Goldie,” he said between clenched teeth, “I—I’m going to hurt you. I don’t want to. God, Goldie, I don’t want to.”

  His tender worry and heartfelt reluctance to cause her any pain were the sweetest things anyone had ever shown her. Determined to have all of the wonderful man gazing down at her with such gentle emotion spilling from his beautiful eyes, she lifted her legs, wrapping them around his broad back. Her heels pressed his firm bottom, urging his hips forward, coercing him toward the deepest part of her.

  Saber could hold back no longer. He knew in his soul she wanted their sensual union every bit as much as he did. “Goldie,” he whispered, his lips curved over her mouth, “come to me. Come to me, my golden angel.” When she lifted herself to him again, he met her. With one bold thrust, he took her from her maiden’s world and into one where he could be with her.

  Her soft cry, the stiffening of her body, stilled him. “Goldie.” Her name came from him on a tormented moan.

  Goldie took his f
ace between her hands. “Saber,” she cooed, all pain melting away at the sound of his name, “It only hurt for a minute.”

  Her voice seemed to be wrapped in satin. Her words made him feel beyond wonderful. He began to move inside her, plunging, withdrawing, circling his hips upon hers, and loving each tiny, mewling sound that came from her.

  Goldie was astonished by the odd, but completely beautiful way he felt buried so deeply within her. She felt her body move as if by its own accord. Indeed, she felt as though she had no control at all, and so, gave herself up to whatever desire led her to do. From side to side, she moved her hips, then circled them, lifted them, desperation taking her when he left her, rapture filling her when he came to her again. The pleasure he offered gathered slowly. It rose, then faded, built again, diminishing less each time, until finally it ebbed no longer, but instead burst, sending shimmering bits of bliss shooting through every part of her.

  With a shuddering sigh, she peered up at him. The dark, simmering look in his eyes told her he wasn’t nearly finished with her. Her realization was confirmed when he drove deeply into her, seeking and finding the very center of her womanhood.

  The muscles in his back knotted beneath her palms. There was no denying his strength. It was everywhere, exuding from his body, his groans of exertion, and the invisible aura of power that surrounded him. He was, she realized at that moment, a man different from the Saber she knew.

  The man who held her so possessively in his arms, whose body demanded all she could give him, whose darkening eyes radiated such hunger, excited her. His scent of sandalwood was gone, replaced with the scorching fragrance of heat. Of something wildly afire. It made her burn for him again.

  “Before now,” he panted down to her, “you’ve found fulfillment alone. Now, Goldie, now find it with me. Stay with me, come into it with me, share it with me.”