She flushed at the sultry sound of his voice, the unspoken promise that laced his sensual command. She met him halfway when he bent to kiss her, ribbons of returning desire streaming through her when his tongue began matching the same...deep...urgent...rhythm of his body. She felt swallowed by him, taken into him, and she gloried in the exquisite sensation his total possession of her brought.
“Goldie. Now. Goldie.” With one, last all-seeking thrust, he gave her everything he had to give her.
She felt him grow harder inside her. He didn’t withdraw from her this time, but stayed imbedded deeply within her, throbbing wildly. The pulsations, the ecstasy she felt pounding through him quickly brought her her own. Her cries joined his, their shared bliss lifting her so high, she wondered if she would ever come down.
“Goldie,” Saber murmured, pleasure still seeping through him.
She clung to him, feeling the last, lingering bits of sensation slowly fade. Fulfillment drugged with tranquility. Surrendering to the quiet joy, she sighed, smiling into the curve of his shoulder, breathing deeply of his sensual male scent.
Saber pressed his face into the silken mass of her wild curls. He was loathe to withdraw from her, and so he stayed within her for as long as nature would allow. And when at last his body left hers, he slipped to the violet-scattered mattress, drawing her into his arms. “Goldie—”
“Saber, y’know what I’m thinkin’ right now?” she asked, molding herself to the curve of his body.
The lush happiness he heard in her voice made him smile. “I cannot begin to imagine.”
“I’m thinkin’,” she began, her fingers tracing circles around his taut nipples, “that it’s a damn shame you aren’t the ravishin’ kind. If you were, I’d have known what all this was about the very day you found me at the pond.”
He chuckled both at what she told him and the tickle he felt as she caressed his chest. “Goldie, you wouldn’t have liked it had I taken you by force. Rape has nothing at all to do with lovemaking, poppet. There’s nothing but violence involved. What we just did—”
“Was the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me. Saber, I—Thank you.”
“No, Goldie. You owe me no gratitude. We shared everything that happened tonight.”
She moved away from him a bit so she could see him better. As she did, she caught sight of herself and the bedsheets. “Saber,” she whispered raggedly. Fear kicked inside her, a contained scream filled her throat.
“Goldie,” he said in a rush of breath when he saw the reason for her horror, “you were a virgin. You bled. It doesn’t mean you’re hurt, and it won’t happen again.” Rising from the bed, he crossed to a small table upon which a soft towel and a pitcher of water sat. He dampened the cloth and returned to Goldie.
He held the wet cloth tightly in his hands for moment to warm it. “Lie still,” he told her, sitting beside her. As if she were made of delicate crystal, he touched the cloth to her thighs and womanhood very lightly, smoothing it over her skin with whisper-soft strokes. He continued his tender ministrations until not a trace of her virginity was left.
“Saber.”
He saw the fear had left her eyes, but a different emotion replaced it. It was something fragile. “Are you sorry, Goldie?” he asked brokenly. “Sorry you gave your virginity to me?”
She noted the haunted look on his face. “I wish I could have it back. So I could give it to you again.”
Indescribable joy consumed him. He crushed her to him, his hands skimming over each silken inch of her. “Maybe,” he began, his lips whispering over hers, “it started the day you told me the story about dandelions. Maybe it started with our mud fight. Or the day you taught me how to bake bread. Or the night I found you wandering in the maze. Or maybe, my poppet,” he decided, his lips moving from her mouth to her cheeks, to her temple, to her ear, “it began the day I first saw you. When you thought I was a highwayman. When you pointed your claymore at me, looking at me with such fear and fury in your eyes. Whatever the truth, from the moment I met you, Goldie, you have been a part of me. I’m lonesome for you when you’re not with me, and I dream about you at night.
“For so long,” he continued tenderly, his hand lost within the golden splendor of her hair, “I have wondered what it was I felt for you, tried to understand the joy your smile, your giggle bring to me. I have pondered the warm and quiet contentment the sight of you gives me. I—”
“Saber—”
“I lived behind a curtain before knowing you. Bit by bit, you lifted the veil, showing me the man who dwelled behind it. You reminded me about things I’d forgotten. Important things like the smell and feel of dirt. And flowers. Lazy days, moonlit walks, and holding hands. Your laughter pulls emotions from me that I never knew I had. You take the simplest things and paint them with profound significance. You’re like sunshine, Goldie. You chase away the dark, warming everything you touch.”
“Saber, you—”
“It’s not infatuation. And it’s not just that I enjoy your company. Goldie...” His words trailed away as he lifted his head and stared at her incredible beauty. With startling clarity, he realized exactly what it was he felt for the outrageously wonderful girl in his arms. There was no denying it any longer.
“Goldie,” he told her softly, achingly, “I love you. Dear God, I love you. I—”
She placed her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say anything else,” she begged him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I can’t—It’s all so...I’ve never heard such wonderful things. But I—Saber...”
When she tried to roll away from him, Saber held onto her, turning her face up to his. Wariness mingled with the tears in her huge amber eyes was what he saw. The sight filled him with comprehension and compassion. “This isn’t a dream, Goldie. Touch me,” he commanded, picking up her hand and placing it over his heart. “I’m real. I’m not some dream that’s going to vanish if you blink.”
Skepticism tainted her earlier happiness. She bit her bottom lip, struggling to hold back a flood of fresh tears. “I want to believe you, Saber.”
“Then do. Believe what I’m telling you, Goldie. Say it. Say you believe me.”
“Yes. I believe you.”
There wasn’t a shred of conviction in her answer, he noted furiously. She said it only because he’d forced her to. Battling his anger, he thought about her feelings of unworthiness. Her belief that her dreams wouldn’t come true until she deserved them.
Dear God, he’d never known a more deserving girl than Goldie.
It tore at him that she thought herself unworthy of love. The very thing she needed, the very thing he wanted so desperately to give her. But what could he do? It had taken years for such feelings to become so firmly rooted. How long would it take him to destroy them?
She’d given him so much of herself, he thought. And if it was selfish for him to want even more, then he was the greediest man on earth. He craved that part of her heart she kept guarded from him. And he knew in his own heart that he would never cease trying to earn it.
“Very well, Goldie, we won’t talk about it. Not until you’re ready. But do something for me, poppet.”
Her emotions were so tangled, she could barely understand what he was saying. “What do you want me to do?”
Reaching for the bedcovers, he drew them over her and himself, then settled her comfortably in his arms. “Cry. Cry for me, Goldie. I won’t be infuriated. I won’t tell you to stop. If you cry all night, I’ll keep holding you. I’ll not let you go until you ask me to.”
She frowned at him. “But why?”
His answer was slow in coming, not because he didn’t know what to say, but because it was a moment before the words in his heart rose to his lips. “Because, Goldie, no one else has ever let you do it.”
His answer folded around a place so deep inside her, she knew it could only be the heart of her soul. Its very poignancy awakened the sorrow he’d asked her to release. Pressing her face against him, she bathed
his bare chest with her warm tears, and felt all her painful secrets escaping her. “It all goes away,” she sobbed, her entire body shaking. “Every nice thing,” she squeaked, unable to stop the words from coming. “Every wish, every dream...everything. Saber, it all goes away before I can hold it!”
“I know, poppet,” he cooed, brushing her hair with his fingers. “I know.”
“I try,” she sputtered. “I try so hard to hold onto it before it disappears! But I never can! Oh, Saber, all I can do is touch it, feel it, and want it more than ever. And then—Then it’s gone.”
He said nothing to her, but only let her cry and tell him what she would.
“Almost everyone I’ve ever known has made fun of me, been mean to me,” she whispered through her tears. “It hurt. So much. But at least those people weren’t my family. At least they were only strangers. But Uncle Asa—He—”
She broke off for a moment, struggling unsuccessfully with more tears. “I was eight when Mrs. Granger gave me the tree.” She wept piteously. “Mrs. Granger was one of the only people I can remember who never said anything ugly to me. The tree—It was only a saplin’, but she promised me it would grow. It was a magnolia. And magnolia blossoms—They’re so big, so creamy. They smell sorta like lemons. I planted the tree, Saber. I planted it right, too. It never even wilted. I watered it every day, and I talked to it. It began to grow.
“And then,” she continued, crying harder, her slight body quivering, “one night Uncle Asa got mad at me. He was drunk and couldn’t find his red shirt. He said I’d lost it. But Saber, I had no idea where it was! Uncle Asa said I was bad. He got his axe, and...and he chopped down my tree! He—He said that until I started behavin’ myself I couldn’t have anything that made me happy! He—Oh, Saber, he killed my little tree!”
Saber was enraged, but tempered his fury. He didn’t move, he said nothing. He merely waited to hear more of her wrenching memories.
“The next day,” she cried, “he said he was sorry. He even tried to mend my tree with a strip of cloth. But it was too late. The tree never came back. I never got another one.”
“Oh, Goldie,” Saber whispered, his heart twisting at the thought of all she’d loved and lost.
“And then, when I was ten, I found a hurt bird,” she told him, grief saturating her voice. “His wing was broken, but I fixed it with two sticks and a bandage. I even made a cage, and put him inside so it could heal. I loved that bird, Saber. I named him Woodrow, and he was more than a pet. He was my friend. He even ate worms right from my fingers. But Uncle Asa—He hated Woodrow. He said Woodrow kept him awake at night with all of his squawkin’ and flappin’ around. He...He let Woodrow go. I didn’t know he’d done it until I came home from shoppin’ and found the cage in the yard. Woodrow—My poor Woodrow, Saber. Hoppin’ around somewhere, with no way of gettin’ the sticks and bandage off his wing. He died. I know Woodrow died.
“I cried so hard. I cried for days. Uncle Asa was so sick of my wailin’, he left home and didn’t come back for a week. When I saw him again, he apologized. But he told me that fancy things like birds in cages were only for rich folks anyway. I couldn’t understand that. Couldn’t understand why folks with money were the only ones who could have nice stuff. Besides, Woodrow was only a wild bird. I hadn’t paid for him, and his cage was made of twigs. But I couldn’t have him. I—Uncle Asa wouldn’t let me.”
She dabbed at her eyes with the sheet. “I wanted to stay mad at him, Saber. I wanted so much to hate him for everything he did to me. But he always said he was sorry, and I knew he really was. There’s good in him. I know it. I feel it. I only wish, though, that...”
“What, Goldie? What do you wish?”
“I—I wish I could forget the bad things about him. I’ve tried so hard not to remember ’em. But even after I’ve forgiven him for the things he says and does, I can’t forget the hurt. I’ve wondered what the good thing is about his mean side. I keep tellin’ myself some kind of good comes from his screamin’ and all the things he does to me. But I can’t. Can’t find the good thing no matter how hard I try.”
Anger boiled inside Saber, but he refused to let her see it. “Let’s try to understand the good about it,” he told her gently. “Let’s—”
“There’s nothin’ good about it. For all my talk about findin’ the silver linin’—I’m sorry for lyin’ to you, Saber. Sorry for actin’ like there wasn’t anything wrong in my life. But I didn’t want you to pity me, y’see. I would have hated that, and I hope it’s not what you’re doin’ now.”
He knew full well what it had taken for her to admit to the bad things in her life. She was so proud, his little poppet called Goldie, and it meant the world to him that she’d confided in him tonight. “Goldie, love,” he murmured, “how was it possible for you to keep loving a man like your uncle?”
“He was the only thing in my life that didn’t go away. The only thing that stayed with me. He was the one thing I could reach for, touch, and hold onto. The other mean people I’ve known, they’ve come and gone. But Uncle Asa was always there.”
“But what about Big? He’s stayed with you, Goldie. He hasn’t left, and he hasn’t—”
“You and Big are my best friends. But Big—Saber, Big feels like my father. But he’s not my father, and I’m not his daughter. I know I mean a lot to him, but one day he’s gonna leave me. I know in my heart he will. He’s not tied to me in anyway, y’see. He’s gonna find a job, a woman, or a place he loves. And when he does, I’ve got to make him go. I can’t stand the thought of him stayin’ with me out of loyalty. Or pity. I could never let him do that.”
He held her tenderly when another wave of her tears came. He felt terribly helpless and thought about telling her he loved her again. But he knew in his heart she wouldn’t believe him. He realized then the time for words was over. What she needed most now was rest.
“Go to sleep now, Goldie. Close your eyes and go to sleep.” While he sheltered her trembling body next to his own, a lullaby came to him from the deepest recesses of his mind. He hadn’t sung in years, but he did now. For her. For Goldie. Quietly, soothingly, he sang until her tears ceased, her body relaxed. He remembered the peace he felt as a child when his mother sang him this lullaby, and hoped he was bringing Goldie the same tranquility now.
When her breathing slowed, he realized she was asleep. In the pools of her tears, the violets, and his own frustration, he lay silently beside her, his hand still smoothing her curls. “Diamond dreams,” he remembered aloud, thinking about the irony of it all. “The one thing you want most in the world is love. The kind of love that never wavers, not even for an instant. You long for enduring love. That is your diamond dream, isn’t it, poppet? And the night you were lost in the maze, when you told me you planned to have twelve children—you didn’t mention a husband because you have no belief whatsoever you will ever have one.”
He closed his eyes. “And you don’t believe me either. I love you, and you refuse to believe me. But then I don’t really know if it’s my love you want. You said I was your best friend. But is friendship all you feel for me, Goldie?” he asked, his heart constricting. “Does it go any deeper?”
He held her for a while longer, but knew he couldn’t stay. The aunties would see him in here with her. With a great sigh, he rose and dressed. “I love you, Goldie,” he whispered to her before leaving, “I love you, and I will never cease trying to make you believe that.”
Turning his head, he peered out the window. Cynicism rose within him as he stared at the heavens. “Dream Giver,” he muttered to the star-sprinkled sky. “She said that’s who You are. But You’ve never given her anything. You’ve allowed heartache after heartache to befall her. I’m going to change that. With or without Your help. If You won’t live up to the name she calls you, then I will. I will be her dream giver.”
His vow spoken, he left her room, closing her door quietly behind him.
Chapter Seventeen
Diggory grabbed Og’s shirt,
slamming him against the blackened wall of the fetid East End alleyway. “Wot do ya mean ya didn’t get ’er?” he demanded. “Wasn’t she the one? Dammit, Og, ya said ya’d seen ’er! Ya said ya’d met a yellow-’aired girl wot talked like she weren’t from ’ere! Ya said ya followed Rosie an’ learned where the girl’s livin’! Ya—”
“Diggory—”
“Ya said ya could do the job, Og! So wot the bloody ’ell do ya mean ya didn’t get ’er!”
The rage in Diggory’s eyes chilled Og down to the very marrow of his bones. “I did follows ’er! She’s at that big ’ouse on the corner o’ Pickerin’ an’ Landon! I tell ya, Diggory, I was closer to ’er than God’s curse is to a ’ore’s arse, I was! But—But I missed! The swell with ’er, ’e pushed ’er down afore I—”
“Then why the bloody ’ell didn’t ya shoot the scabby swell too!”
“‘E ’ad a dog!” Og yelled “The mongrel—”
“Wot?” Diggory roared. “Ya let the bitch get away because ya was afeared of a dog! Ya friggin’ prick!”
“I’ll goes after ’er again! I’ll—”
“Ya thinks I got a case o’ the flamin’ simples, Og?” Diggory exploded. “I’ll take care o’ the skirt meself, ya twaddlin’ looby!” With petrifying speed he pulled out his knife. “Wot’s me name?”
Og went rigid. “Diggory. Diggory Ferris.”
“Wot’s me other name?”
“The—The Butcher.”
Diggory smiled and lifted the blade.
Og never even had time to scream.
* * *
“Come away from the window, my dear,” Clara instructed Goldie. “Saber had business to attend to this morning. It will be several hours before he returns. Come sit down, and we will continue discussing cards and calls.”
“He’s been gone all day for four whole days,” Goldie murmured, watching the street from the drawing-room window. The last time she’d seen him for more then ten minutes, she mused, blushing, was the night they’d made love.
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