ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Maurette pushed a tangle of curls away from her perspiring neck. She had swept her hair up in an indifferent pile atop her head, and now, in the heat of the late afternoon, it was falling from its carelessly arranged pins. The month of July was almost over, the height of the humid summer. For all her love of the outdoors, even Maurette would be glad to see the cooling rains of late August. She stood on the front terrace, arranging a basket of lilies and baby's-breath for the dinner table.

The galloping hooves in the far meadow made her ears prick. That someone was approaching was not unusual, but what caught her attention was the fact that the rider had abandoned the road into the estate and had cut across the fields to reach the house.

Maurette pulled a wilted handkerchief from her bodice and wiped at her face and neck. Her pink muslin frock, stained from her work in the garden that afternoon and darkened with perspiration, was hardly acceptable for greeting visitors. She slipped a dangling curl beneath a pin in an attempt to smooth her crop of errant tresses.

Maurette looked up and saw the horse and rider shimmer in the hot and hazy distance. Suddenly she looked more closely. That silver figure atop the magnificent black stallion could not be mistaken. "Dominic," she breathed, as she stepped down off the terrace to wait in the melting sunshine for his approach.

He wheeled his horse as he halted before the house, the great hooves scattering sand and stone. Saluting her with a glistening smile, he dismounted with a flourish, advanced to her instantly, and swept her into his arms.

"May I entertain the fond hope that you have missed me, a little, maybe?" he said after he had taken her lips in a warm kiss.

Maurette could not suppress a giggle at his dramatic and overwhelming entrance. "You may," she said, her arms resting on his muscular shoulders.

"I have come to woo the fair Maurette." His eyes darted round the garden. "You haven't seen her, have you?" he said flirtingly. "If you do, please tell me. If she sees me with my arms about you, she will probably run you through with her well-practiced sword. She is passing fair." he said, arching a silver brow, "but jealous as a shrew where my attentions are concerned."

He lifted Maurette from her feet and spun her soundly. Then, setting her down, he gazed into her small upturned face. "Would that were true, sweet Maurette," he said huskily. "Will the day come when my Maurette might raise her sword in jealousy of me?"

"Dominic," said a musical voice from the terrace.

The couple looked up to see Lady Violet emerging from the house.

"'Tis about time you came. We have been sorely pressed by guests who ask after you and leave our house in disdain when you do not appear. They do not believe we really know the Silver Raven of myth and legend." Lady Violet moved down to them and accepted Dominic's gentle embrace.

"You do not greet me with the same exuberance with which you greet my granddaughter," she admonished. "Ah, well," she said, taking his arm and leading him to the small shaded table that held Maurette's flower arrangement, " 'tis one of the disadvantages of age, I suppose. Young men envisage only my brittle bones and not my warm flesh when they look upon me."

Maurette blushed and called for refreshment as her grandmother and Dominic sat down.

"You are planning a long visit, are you not, Dominic? We must vindicate ourselves, you know, for our esteem is at an ebb arid will remain so until we produce the notorious Silver Raven. You must meet everyone. I fear this must be accomplished before the season is quite over, or we shall be hard pressed to make an appearance here next season."

Dominic gazed up at Maurette, who was finishing her flower arrangement. "That is up to your granddaughter."

Maurette smiled fondly into his eyes. "Please stay, Dominic," Maurette said softly, "I would like that, and we must not disappoint the neighbors." The three laughed happily as Dominic assured them that he was indeed planning an extended stay at Islington.

Dominic did stay through the rest of the summer, assimilating the rustic atmosphere of the estate. He seemed to thrive there as did Maurette. Early in the morning, he would ride out and hunt with Alex Harper and Maurette. The three noted that their sojourns had been discovered by the curious and that each day more and more of the country gentry made it their habit to ride out in the early hours also. Dominic took this with grace and waved to the gentlemen and their ladies with jovial good will.

He picked berries with Maurette on the verdant hillsides and then praised the pies Thelma made with the booty. His praise was well rewarded, for the smitten Thelma now made fresh pies daily.

He drank tea and conversed with Lady Violet and Lady Elaine during long, languid afternoons on the terrace. The women were planning a ball in his honor to introduce him to the country society He listened to their plans patiently and even made suggestions about the decorations and choices of food.

In the cool of the evening, he sat up late with Lord Harper; drinking brandy and discussing the gentlemen volunteers that he had succeeded in obtaining for Her Majesty's Navy He apprised Alex of the Spanish progress in building their armada. Alex listened eagerly to the bits of information obtained by Dominic on his rounds in London.

Dominic seemed insatiable for the country life, and his pleasure in all the things that concerned the family made him a joy to be near. In soft white shirts and leather doublets, he moved easily into every phase of their life and seemed completely at home in Maurette's beloved Islington.

The promised ball occurred at the end of August when the weather had cooled and the soft gentle rains had freshened the thirsty summer foliage.

The gardens of the Harper estate were silvery in the still summer night as guests arrived for the festivities. The sky had deepened from a dusky blue-gray to black and was clear and frosted with stars. Torches were fastened to ash trees, and candles flickered on tables covered with snowy linen cloths. Rosebushes were highlighted by low burning torch lamps that dotted the terraces and lawns. The dancing would spill from the ballroom into the soft summer night, and strolling musicians filled the fragrant gardens with music.

Maurette appeared on the side terrace, wearing a gown of soft cream silk. The frothy sleeves and underskirts, of the same ivory color, were delicately shot with gold. Dominic greeted her and presented her with a spray of golden marguerites to complement her lovely gown. She surveyed his tall form in the silvery starlight. His bronzed skin had been burnished to a tawny copper by the sun, and, adapting to the country fashion, he wore a soft white cambric shirt opened at the neck and with loose flowing sleeves. With his soft black leather doublet and breeches, he looked very much the country gentleman.

He bowed low over her hand, and kissed her wrist softly and sweetly. Maurette felt the corners of her mouth being tugged into a wry smile. She wondered if anyone could guess that that chaste kiss sent warm tingles of pleasure through her body. Placing delicate fingertips on his muscled forearm, she allowed Dominic to lead her out into the night and into the first dance.

They moved in splendid unison to the soft strains of a nearby lute. Maurette was filled with the same rich enchantment that she had felt the first time they had danced together. Dominic's mane of silver-raven hair lifted as he twirled her, and his white teeth glinted in the flickering light of the torches. His eyes were a-sparkle with the pure joy of holding her, she realized, and she realized, too, that he was not playacting. He was truly enjoying himself as he had all that lovely golden summer.

Maurette's eyes did not leave her knight as the dance ended and he excused himself to charm the country gentry with his smiles and his concerns for their gardens and their horses and other matters. He danced with every matron and every matron's daughter throughout the long, luxurious night, but he had eyes only for Maurette.

Dame Elspeth, though she would not have approved, precisely, her own daughter's involvement with such a notorious rogue, could not help but admit that the man had succeeded in insinuating himself into the simple life of the gentle folk at Islington.

"Is there another wedding in your future?" said the lady when she and Lady Violet found themselves alone for a few moments.

"In my future?" asked the Countess, her voice dripping innocence.

Dame Elepth clicked her tongue at her companion's obtuseness. "In Maurette's future, Violet," she said peevishly.

"Oh, one never knows, but I would not be surprised if he asks to call on your daughter. Look at the attention he is paying her."

The devilish glint in Lady Violet's sapphire eyes was lost on Lady Elspeth as she noted the dashing Warbrooke's attention to her daughter. Puffing herself up, she advanced on the couple with purposeful strides.

Lady Violet sympathized with the shy daughter of Dame Elspeth and knew that the spectacle of the girl's mother intervening between her and the dangerous Warbrooke would set tongues wagging far into the London season. That story could well be the highlight of the poor girl's dull life, thought Lady Violet with compassion. She smiled secretly, however, when she realized that such a highlight might characterize her granddaughter's entire future.

Lady Violet continued to mingle with the guests, greeting and speaking to each in turn, until midnight when she retired.

Country balls ended early, and soon the guests were departing. Maurette and Dominic, however, were not ready to end the evening. They strolled about as servants extinguished torches and snuffed out candles. The night was suddenly still and they were alone in the silvery darkness.

"I have enjoyed this time with you, Maurette," Dominic said as they made their way along a grassy hillside.

Maurette stopped and looked up into his eyes. "You sound as if you intend to leave, Dominic," she said softly.

"I must, sweet. My own estates need tending, and I must needs go home."

Maurette's eyes widened. "I had not thought of that." She lowered her eyes quickly, and in the pale moonlight tears shimmered on her silken lashes. Dominic took her shoulders in his large hands. He looked down on her with wonder.

"Is it for me you cry, little one?"

Maurette tried to turn away, but he held her firmly. Drawing her closer to his broad chest, he raised her chin with his fingertips so that she was forced to look up at him. Her lavender eyes shimmered in the starlight.

"I . . . I don't want you to leave, Dominic," she said haltingly. "I .... .I don't want you to leave without me."

He gazed down at her for a long moment before drawing her into a tender embrace. He looked up into the star-frosted night. Maurette felt the pounding of his heart against her cheek. She wondered at the tenderness of his caress. She wondered at its aching warmth and at its gentle hunger. She could not possibly know that, for Dominic Warbrooke, Duke of Ravenshead, notorious buccaneer and Silver Raven of myth and legend, her simple declaration was the beginning of his life.