Diamonds and Dreams (12 page)

“O’ course ya don’t,” Diggory agreed,
caressing the bulge of money in his pocket.

“When I do get back, I want to see her body
with my own eyes. Hers and the dwarf’s.”

“Ye’ll see ’em. I’ll saves the bodies even
if they rots on me.”

Dane smiled again. Thinking back, he
recalled how furious he’d been when he’d learned Goldie and Big
were gone. He’d set out for London immediately, determined to find
the American girl before she made contact with Marion Tremayne. He
needn’t have worried, he mused now, his smile broadening. Lord
Tremayne wasn’t even in London. The man was on holiday. It hadn’t
taken Dane long to learn that satisfactory bit of information.

“I’ll be going now, Ferris. Back to my
home.” He reached up, his hand closing around his jeweled stickpin.
He shut his eyes. “My home. I am master there, you know,” he
whispered. “And it is right and good that all is mine because I
have deserved it for many years.
He
was once the illustrious
prince there. While
I
was the one who labored,
he
ran, danced, and played. He wallowed in luxury while I had to be
content with a measly salary and a home fit only for a peasant. It
wasn’t fair. I knew that from the very beginning.”

He opened his eyes, staring blankly into the
dark. “He left it long ago. It was his own choice. He cannot have
it back. It is my dominion now, and I will do whatever is necessary
to keep it.” With that, Dane turned and hurried out of the
alley.

“Wotever ya say, milord!” Diggory called
after him. “Wot a bleedin’ looby,” he murmured. Shrugging, he went
to retrieve his knife. After wiping the rat’s blood on his shirt,
he continued to sharpen the dagger.

* * *

Saber couldn’t believe it was only last
night when he’d felt that odd desire to buy Goldie a gold brush and
a tiara. What he wanted to buy her right now was a seat on the next
coach departing for Hallensham. Or better yet, passage back to
America!

He left her standing in the middle of the
library and stormed to the bookcases. There, he snatched out a
dusty volume, thumbing through it as if it were the most
interesting book he’d ever had the luck to come across. “I’m not
going to walk like that, Goldie! Dukes do
not
wiggle while
strolling along.”

Goldie fumed and blew a ringlet away from
her eye. It flew upward and settled on her eye again, curling
cozily upon her lashes. “Since when do you know so much about duke
stuff? You’re just makin’ that up so you won’t have to move your
bottom a little bit when you walk. Saber, I’m tellin’ you, dukes
sway their—”

“They do not.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they don’t.”

Goldie’s brow rose. “No, they don’t,” she
repeated mischievously.

“Yes, they do,” Saber answered
automatically.

She tapped her toes on the floor, waiting
for him to realize what he’d said. It only took a second. She
smiled at the anger in his eyes.

“You duped me!” he yelled at her.

“And tricked you too.”

Saber slammed his book closed. The dust that
rose from it made him sneeze several times. “Listen, Goldie—” He
sniffled, his nose still itching, “—dukes do
not
move
their—”

“You did it!” she squealed. “The sneeze made
you
wheeze
! Oh, Saber, do it again!”

He closed his eyes; his shoulders slumped.
“I did not
wheeze
, dukes do
not
move their bottoms
while walking, and that is the
end
of this lesson.”

“The end of what lesson?” Addison asked as
he, Winston, Kenneth, and David ambled into the library.

“Saber isn’t refusing to learn something, is
he, Goldie?” Winston asked.

“She says dukes wiggle when they walk!”
Saber exploded. “Tell her what a ridiculous notion that is!”

Addison took careful note of Saber’s
exasperation and liked what he saw. The starch was definitely
flaking off. Calmly, he sat on the blue velvet sofa, Winston,
Kenneth, and David each taking a chair around it. “I’m sorry to say
that I must agree with Goldie, Saber,” he said, examining his
nails. “I’ve seen dukes walk, and they
do
...uh...wiggle.”

If Saber had a gun, he knew he’d use it to
shoot Addison. “No, they—”

“French dukes do it too,” Addison broke in.
“You know—the kind who live in
Pari
s?”

Saber remembered he had a gun in the next
room. “I do not find this amusing. It’s—”

“Y’see, y’all,” Goldie began to explain,
“some people inherit flat feet, bony knees, or crooked teeth. Lunk
Milligan back in Spittin’ Falls, North Carolina, inherited his
mama’s hairy ears. Everyone gets somethin’ from their folks. Dukish
people get a wiggly walk bred into ’em. Mildred Fickle said that
even if you dressed a duke in tattered clothes, you’d still know he
was a duke by watchin’ him stroll. It’s all in that blue blood of
theirs.”

Saber rolled his eyes. He decided that he’d
shoot Addison first, then go to America and shoot Mildred Fickle.
“Goldie—”

“Saber,” Addison cut in, drumming his
fingers upon his knee, “it would seem to me that instead of
balking, you should be thanking heaven that dukes inherit a wiggle
walk instead of furry ears. If it were the other way around, I have
no doubt Goldie would be trying to come up with a way to glue hair
to your ears.”

“That’s right,” Goldie agreed, nodding
vigorously. “There’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do to turn you into a duke,
Saber.”

“Saber?” Addison pressed. “Kindly let us see
that dukish wiggle.”

“Right now,” David added, smirking.

Saber stormed across the room, his back
straight, his shoulders thrown back, his bottom as still as he
could keep it.

Addison began whistling a popular French
tune. But he was smiling so broadly, he had reach up to his mouth
and squeeze his lips into a pucker in order to perform a proper
whistle.

Saber decided a bullet was too merciful.
Being drawn and quartered would hurt more.

Winston, Kenneth, and David, seeing Saber’s
adamant reluctance, joined Addison in whistling the French melody.
They even managed to harmonize the tune, whistling louder with each
passing moment.

Enraged, Saber spun and faced them, his jaw
clenching rhythmically. There was simply no escaping. He took a
deep breath, lifting his chin. He wiggled his way across the room,
knowing he looked as foolish as he felt. His knowledge was verified
by his friends’ wild, though silent laughter.

Goldie clapped. “Oh, Saber, that was just
wonderful!” She skipped to him and gave him a congratulatory
hug.

He felt her small breasts caress his middle.
The heat of his anger cooled as warmth of a different kind invaded
his body. It caught him so fast, he was unprepared for it. He
inhaled raggedly. Suddenly oblivious to his friends’ presence, he
stared down at the bright grin Goldie was giving him, his hands
sliding up her arms to rest upon her slight shoulders.

Goldie’s smile faded when she saw the
smoldering look in his eyes. Those green orbs were afire with
something she’d never seen before. Whatever it was, it was
catching. She, too, began to feel warm.

Her senses were aroused. He smelled of
sandalwood. Sandalwood and silk sheets and another scent akin to
something heating slowly, something simmering. She remembered his
voice. Deep, rich, full of promise. Sort of like the soft, distant
rumble of thunder. Her arms were around the expanse of muscles in
his back. She spread her fingers to feel them better. Pressing
those muscles, she discovered that they were none too pliable, and
his obvious strength pleased her. Her pulse quickened.

Saber could feel the rapid beat of her heart
against his belly. “What are you thinking about, Goldie?” he
whispered, besieged with the desire to know.

“I—” She couldn’t tell him how handsome she
thought he was. How good he smelled or how nice it was to hold him
this way. He’d think she wanted him to be her sweetheart, then he’d
laugh just like Fred Wattle had.

Oh, if only she were taller. She sighed.
Tall enough so that the top of her head reached his chin. That was
the best height to be. And if only she had bigger breasts and could
make her freckles go away. Men were drawn to clear flawless
complexions, not ones that were splattered with little brown dots.
And if only she could make her hair behave. It looked like a yellow
bush sitting on top of her head. It was always so wild, as if it
led its own separate life and had nothing at all to do with the
girl who grew it.

And most of all, she thought wistfully, if
only she could think of wonderful and witty things to say! Artful
and flirtatious things that other women could think up right on the
spot. She said only what was on her mind, and what was so wonderful
and witty about that?

Yes, if Saber knew how she felt about him,
he’d laugh. A man as handsome as he was looked for a woman who had
everything
she
lacked. Sadness pushed up inside her. Her
feelings of inadequacy were nothing new to her, but she wondered
why she felt them so much more strongly with Saber.

“Goldie?” Saber urged, still wondering what
was going on behind those huge golden eyes of hers. She looked a
bit dismayed, and he couldn’t think of a reason why.

She wet her lips and blinked. “Saber...do
you know what
frugivorous
means?”

Her question was so unrelated to the
feelings floating between them, Saber had to think for a moment
before he could answer her. “New word for the day?”

She nodded and forced herself to smile.

“Well, let’s see,” Saber stalled, pretending
he had to do some hard contemplating. “Frugivorous. It sounds very
much like
carnivorous
, which means to eat meat. Frugivorous.
Frugivorous. Could it be, little scholar, that frugivorous means to
eat fruit?”

She was amazed. “How did you—”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Big demanded as he rushed into the room. “Goldie—You—I—Get your
hands off her!” he commanded Saber. “I turn my back for one damn
minute, and you—”

“Big, stop that,” Goldie admonished,
stepping out of the warm circle of Saber’s arms. “I was only
congratulatin’ him for walkin’ like a real duke. You had no call
to—”

“A simple ‘Good job, Saber’ would have been
enough!” Big yelled. “You don’t have to hug—”

“Her behavior has been nothing short of
proper all morning,” Saber intervened. “Like she said, she was only
congrat—”

“And you were just eating it up, too,
weren’t you, you...you overgrown octopus!” With that, Big showed
Saber his fists and began swinging.

Saber reached out and laid his hand on Big’s
head. Thus, he kept the ferocious little man at bay. Big continued
jabbing, though at thin air. Goldie tried catching hold of his
pudgy hands, but his rage made him too fast for her. Saber used his
free hand to help her.

Though Addison was irritated that Big had
interrupted Saber and Goldie’s embrace, the sight of the three of
them grappling and grabbing at each other made him laugh so hard
that he nearly fell off the sofa. His three cohorts were equally
amused, each of them bent over their knees.

Many moments passed before Addison was able
to get control of himself. “What Saber and Goldie say is true,
Big,” he chortled. “My companions and I have been here the whole
time, and nothing indecent whatsoever went on between them. Their
embrace was quite innocent.”

“And why the hell should I believe
you
?” Big huffed, jerking himself away from Saber’s
restraining hand. “You’re on the octopus’ side! Why, it could be
that all
four
of you are just waiting for a chance to—”

“Big!” Goldie hollered. “You—”

“Goldie, they—”

“Cease!” Saber bellowed, satisfied when his
order was instantly obeyed. He looked down at Big. “Sir, I have
warned you before about your conduct. You—”

“And just who are
you
to warn me?”
Big demanded. “I’ve had just about enough of your royal attitude!
You—”

“Why don’t we all sit down and have a
pleasurable conversation?” Addison suggested merrily. “Saber, pour
the tea.”

Big watched Goldie take a place beside
Addison. “I don’t have time for sitting around drinking tea. I’m
going fishing, and while I’m gone,” he told Saber, “you
better—”

“Big loves to fish,” Goldie broke in. “He’s
gonna catch us supper. He uses cheese, same as I do. You gonna fry
the fish, Big?”

Big took hold of his chin and thought for a
moment. “You know, I think I’ll stuff it, then bake it.”

Saber sighed. If Big’s stuffed fish turned
out anything like the ham and biscuit breakfast he’d made, it would
be inedible. Big had volunteered to do all the cooking, and Saber
was positive they would all starve to death soon. God, how he
missed the servants. “What do you plan to stuff it with, Big?” he
asked suspiciously.

“Well now, I don’t know. What do you think
would be good—” He broke off, suddenly remembering he was supposed
to be angry with the haughty giant. “You’re trying to be nice to me
to get on my good side, aren’t you, you scheming devil! Look, I’ve
decided I won’t fight you right now, Saber West, but I’ll be
keeping my eye on you and Goldie, and if I see or hear one
inappropriate gesture or word, I’ll—”

“I’ll keep that in mind and remember myself
at all times,” Saber swore.

“See that you do!” Big puffed out his chest
and swaggered from the room, confident he’d set matters straight
for the time being.

“Saber?” Addison said. “The tea, if you
please.”

Saber glanced at the huge silver tea set Big
had brought into the library earlier. His aggravation rose.
Storming to the tea cart, he sloshed tea into five cups, then
passed them around.