Diamonds and Dreams (7 page)

Summoning strength, he finally managed to
grab the growling animal. Rising, he staggered to his feet, and
tossed the dog into the pond. No sooner had the furry beast left
his hands than the girl came at him, dragging her claymore behind
her. When she reached him, he watched her face contort as she
struggled slowly and shakily to raise the point of the great
sword.

God, Saber thought. The evil, foul-smelling
dog, the naked girl, the huge claymore... Nothing like this had
ever happened to him before, and he didn’t know how to react.
Panting, he said, “Miss, kindly lower your weapon. I am—”

“Make one more move, and I’ll run you
through,” Goldie warned, her gaze traveling down his tall, muscular
form. Taking in his black breeches, the black boots thrown behind
him, and the black horse pawing the sand nearby, a terrifying
thought came to her. She trembled so violently, the heavy sword she
held made it difficult for her to keep her balance. But she refused
to drop her weapon, and for a few moments she staggered and
stumbled around, her claymore leading the way. She finally righted
herself and glared at the huge man before her. “You’re one of those
dreaded English highwaymen Mildred Fickle told me about, aren’t
you?”

Saber stared at her, so many observations
running through his mind, he couldn’t decide which one to
concentrate on. She was an American. Her speech told him that. She
looked ridiculous holding the claymore. It was almost as tall as
she was, and he knew it weighed more. She’d lifted it up to the
height of his groin, and the thought of her running him through
there
was highly disturbing. She’d accused him of being a
highwayman. He, the Duke of Ravenhurst, a common thief! She’d
spoken of one Mildred Fickle as if he were supposed to know the
woman.

But by far the most interesting observation
he made concerned the girl herself. She was the tiniest woman he’d
ever seen, and he knew if she were to stand in front of him, the
top of her head would barely reach his chest. But as small as she
was, her body was flawlessly proportioned, and he could make
that
observation quite correctly since she was still
naked.

Her hair fell just past her shoulders, and
although it was still wet, a few strands were beginning to form
soft, gold ringlets around her face. Her thickly fringed eyes were
large, round, and tawny. Right now they were filled with anger and
fear, but he suspected they twinkled brightly when she was happy.
He didn’t understand why he’d come to that conclusion, but there
was just something about her that made him think it. Her nose,
small and pert, was covered with freckles, as were her delicate
pink cheeks. Her mouth was a deeper pink and pushed out into a
slight pout, as if she were on the verge of tears. He decided it
was definitely a mouth made for kissing, then immediately wondered
why he’d thought of that.

His gaze caressed her slender throat, and
slid to her breasts. They would fill his cupped palms perfectly.
Though they were little, they were full, supremely shaped, and
crowned with delightfully proud and rosy nipples. Her waist was so
small he was sure he could wind his hands around it with room to
spare. Her hips, too, were slim, but nicely rounded. There was a
slight matting of curls as blonde as her hair at the apex of her
dainty, white legs, and her feet were so small he wondered if she
had to wear children’s shoes.

She was beautiful, but that didn’t really
describe her. She was so golden. So tiny. She reminded him of a
delicately painted figurine. She really was quite...lovely. No,
that wasn’t the right word either.

His gaze took a delightful journey down her
body again. He felt himself grow hard. Hot, deep waves of desire
shot through him, and he was astonished at his strong and immediate
reaction. It had been a long, long time since any woman had
affected him the way this freckled, claymore-wielding elf did. Not
even Jillian made him feel the way he did now.

He shuffled his feet in the sand. His tight
riding breeches were wet, making them cling to him all the more,
and he knew she would soon notice what was happening to him. Any
sudden movement on his part might frighten her into thinking he was
going to assault her, and if he shielded himself with his hands he
would only succeed in drawing attention to his problem. Not knowing
what else to do, he decided to explain himself in the most genteel
manner he could. “Miss, I apologize profusely for...for—That is to
say, I don’t mean to stand before you with such obvious—I’m—It’s
certainly not your fault. But miss, you
are
without
clothing, and I didn’t get you that way.”

Goldie gasped. In her attempt to protect
herself, she’d forgotten to put on her dress! Her cheeks grew warm;
she leaned forward a bit, closing her elbows together in attempt to
hide her front. “Get your eyes off me, you...you woman-drownin’
ravisher-highwayman! Big! Big, where the hell are you?”

Saber kept a wary eye on the dog who’d just
emerged from the pond. “Miss, I am no ravisher of women,” he
informed her sternly. “I am—”

“You are so!” Goldie shouted, her hands
turning white around the hilt of her sword. “If I didn’t have my
claymore, you’d be—”

“I would not!” Saber exclaimed. “I—”

“Oh, Lord!” Big yelled, running into the
clearing and seeing Goldie’s bare body. “What’s happening here? Who
is that man? Why are you naked with him? What—”

“Big, find my dress! I can’t get it and hold
my sword at the same time! Great day Miss Agnes, I forgot I was
naked, and this dreaded English highwayman is turnin’ into a
ravisher right before my eyes!”

Big threw down the rabbit he’d snared and
panicked when he didn’t see the dress. “Where is it?” he screamed
desperately, charging all around the bank of the pond as he looked
for it. “Oh, good Lord, I can’t find it anywhere, and that man is
going to—”

“I am going to do nothing at all,” Saber
tried to assure them. “Miss, if your performance in the water is
any indication of your fighting abilities, I wouldn’t attempt to
ravish you even if you paid me to try.”

Goldie let the point of the claymore drop.
“Paid you?” Her eyes misted.

At the sight of her sudden tears, Saber was
thoroughly confused. He couldn’t understand why she was crying, why
he felt an almost desperate determination to mend her wounded
feelings. “Miss,” he said gently, his hands outstretched,
“I’m—”

“Where the hell is that damn dress?” Big
shrieked. “Where did you throw it?”

Goldie’s gaze never left the huge man before
her. “Do you really think I’d have to
pay
a man to ravish
me?” she sputtered. “That’s the meanest thing anyone’s ever said to
me. If I’m ugly, just say so. You don’t have to taunt me like that.
Get him, Itchie Bon,” she instructed her dog.

Saber tried to shield himself from the
shower of water Itchie Bon shook on him. “I didn’t say you were
ugly. I only meant that—”

“You didn’t say it, but you
did
mean
it.” Goldie said.

Saber shook his head in dismay. The Duke of
Ravenhurst certainly didn’t ravish women on pond banks, but since
he’d never had to convince anyone that he didn’t resort to such
behavior, he found himself lacking the right words. “I meant
nothing of the sort. I was merely trying to convince you that I
won’t hurt you. That’s all.”

Goldie sniffled and dried her eyes with the
back of her hand. “Never mind all that. I might be ugly, but I’m a
kind person inside. At least I try to be. But sometimes things set
me off. Gettin’ ravished is somethin’ that would really set me off.
Where’s your black cape? Did you lose it in the water?”

Saber’s mind whirled. “Cape?”

“Mildred Fickle said dreaded English
highwaymen ride black horses and wear black capes and boots. Your
black horse and boots are over there, but you’re missin’ your cape.
I don’t see a sword either. Are you just startin’ out in the
dreaded English highwayman business? Is that why you don’t have all
the necessary equipment yet? And why were you tryin’ to drown me?
Mildred Fickle didn’t say anything about dreaded English highwaymen
doin’ their dirty work in ponds. I thought they only did it on
dark, deserted roads. Big, where the hell are you and my
dress?”

Saber sighed in exasperation. “I’m not a
highwayman, and I wasn’t trying to drown you. I was trying to
save
you from drowning, but you—”

“Save me?” Goldie yelled. “I—”

“I found it!” Big hollered, running to her.
“Here,” he said, and handed her the dress. He moved in front of
her, shielding her from the towering man who stared at her. “You
may have gotten an eyeful, you great big bastard, but that’s all
you’re getting!”

Saber clenched his jaw.
No one
had
ever insulted him in such a fashion. “Sir, you—”

“I didn’t need to be saved,” Goldie
announced, her voice muffled as she pulled the dress over her head.
“I—”

“You may be five times my size,” Big
continued to the giant in front of him, “but I’ll fight you to the
death if you try to lay one paw on her, you horny wretch, you...you
lustful hooligan!”

“Great day Miss Agnes, I been swimmin’ since
I was little!” Goldie finished explaining as her dress fell into
place. “I learned when I was—”

“You take my warning, Mr. Two-Ton Tom cat?”
Big demanded.

Saber decided to ignore the feisty dwarf.
The Duke of Ravenhurst did not engage in verbal battles concerning
rapes that weren’t even going to happen. With practiced ease, he
dismissed the little man from his mind and concentrated on the girl
instead. “If I may ask, who is Miss Agnes?”

Goldie frowned. “Who is she? Well, how the
hell should I know? I didn’t make up that expression.” She stepped
around Big and heard him mutter a profanity.

“Then who is Mildred Fickle?” Saber
asked.

Goldie blinked at him. “The question, I
think, is who are you?”

“Yeah!” Big blasted, peering out from behind
Goldie.

Saber kept his gaze directed at the girl. “I
thought I was a dreaded English highwayman.”

“You said you weren’t.”

“So you believe me now?”

Goldie wrinkled her nose. “Say Daddy’s honor
you aren’t.”

“Daddy’s honor?” Saber felt totally
bewildered. The girl certainly used some strange expressions. “Is
Daddy somehow related to Miss Agnes and Mildred Fickle?”

Despite her wariness, Goldie smiled.

Her smile made Saber feel like grinning
back. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to discern what
it was about the girl that made him feel so attracted to her. She
was quite unpolished. Certainly not the sort of woman with whom
he’d ever taken up company.

“What self-respecting dreaded English
highwayman would be without his sword and black cape?” he queried,
still feeling that urge to smile at her. “As you pointed out, I
have neither. Now, if you weren’t drowning, what were you doing in
the water? I was riding through the woods and saw all your
splashing, heard you screaming, and I was sure you—”

“It’s none of your damn business what she
was doing in the water!” Big exploded. “Get out of here!”

Saber stiffened, anger curling through him.
The little man was actually trying to throw him off his own land!
“Sir, you will cease ordering me about. I am—”

“You’re a dead man if you don’t get out of
here!” With that, Big made fists and began prancing around. “Go
ahead! Put ’em up! I may be little, but dammit, I’ll—”

“I will not fight you,” Saber informed him.
Good God. Imagine the Duke of Ravenhurst engaging in fisticuffs
with a belligerent dwarf! The thought was utterly absurd.

“Why won’t you fight?” Big taunted.
“Afraid?”

Again, Saber dismissed the man. He looked
back down at Goldie. “If you weren’t drowning, miss, what were you
doing in the water?”

“I was playin’ ‘Mermaids.’” Goldie let her
stiff shoulders relax and dropped the sword. Her hunger and
exhaustion were making her shaky, and she sat on the ground,
bringing her knees up so they touched her chest. Looking at the man
looming above her, she decided he wasn’t a dreaded English
highwayman and felt relieved she didn’t have to kill him. “Big, put
your fists down. This man’s not the ravishin’ kind. If he were,
you’d be knocked out, and I’d be ravished already.”

Sullenly, Big complied. He planted his feet
directly behind Goldie, curled his hands around her shoulders, and
kept his gaze centered on the black-haired giant’s face.

“Gladys Shoat and I used to play ‘Mermaids’
all the time out in Ninny Creek back in Weaverville, Georgia,”
Goldie explained. “I heard the creek got its name because so many
girls went skinny-dippin’ in it, showin’ their ninnies to anyone
who came wanderin’ by.”

“Ninnies?” Saber felt amusement bubble in
his throat. He’d never heard a girl say that word before. He sat
near her, but not too near, for the dog she called Itchie Bon was
watching him with shining black eyes, and the expression on her
diminutive guardian angel’s face was equally ferocious. “I see.
Weaverville, Georgia, you say? Interesting name.”

Goldie sighed deeply. “That’s where my
beloved is. Fred Wattle. He never loved me, but I loved him with my
every breath. He kissed me once, but later I found out he only did
it to win a bet with his friends. He broke my heart. But he was the
handsomest fella in Weaverville, and I didn’t really deserve—I
mean...I—He was in love with Velma Wiggins anyway. She was tall.
Tall and so purty. I still think about Fred though.”

Saber hadn’t missed what she’d almost said.
Did she think she didn’t deserve the handsome Fred Wattle? And was
it really possible that Velma Wiggins was prettier than this golden
imp?

“You didn’t have to pull my hair so hard,”
Goldie said quietly.

“What?” Big roared. “He pulled your hair?
Put ’em up!” he ordered the huge man and made fists again. “Nobody
touches her and gets away—”