Read Online Beauvallet by Georgette Heyer - Free Book Online

note of strong purpose in his voice, ‘the first of my name, the founder of my house, had, so we read, another watchword than that.’ His hand flew out and pointed to the scroll beneath his arms. ‘There is an old chronicle writ by one Alan, afterwards Earl of Montlice, wherein we learn that Simon, the first Baron of Beauvallet, took as his motto these words: “ I have not, but still I hold ”.’ His voice rang out, and died again.
    ‘Well, señor?’ faltered Dominica.
    ‘I have you not yet, but be sure I hold you,’ said Beauvallet.
    She rallied. ‘This is folly.’
    ‘Sweet folly.’
    ‘I do not believe that you would dare set foot in Spain.’
    ‘God's Death, do you not? But if I dare, indeed?’
    She looked down at her clasped hands.
    ‘Come! If I dare? If I reach you in Spain, and claim you then? What answer shall I have?’
    She was flushed, and her breast rose and fell fast. ‘Ah, if there were a man brave enough to dare so much for love – !’
    ‘He stands before you. What will you give him?’
    She got up, a hand at her bosom. ‘If he dared so much – I should have to give – myself, señor.’
    ‘Remember that promise!’ he warned her. ‘You shall be called upon to redeem it before a year is out.’
    She looked fearfully at him. ‘But how? how?’
    ‘Dear heart,’ said Beauvallet frankly, ‘I do not know, but I shall certainly find a way.’
    ‘Oh, an idle boast!’ she cried, and went quickly to the door. His voice stayed her; she paused and looked back over her shoulder. ‘Well, señor, what more?’
    ‘My pledge,’ Beauvallet said, and slipped a ring from his finger. ‘Keep Beauvallet's ring until Beauvallet comes to claim it.’
    She took it, half unwilling. ‘What need of this?’
    ‘No need, but to remind you, maybe. Keep it close.’
    It had his arms engraven upon it, a gold piece, heavy and cunningly wrought. ‘I will keep it always,’ she said, ‘to remind me of – a madman.’
    He smiled. ‘Oh, not always, sweetheart! A pledge is sometimes redeemed – even by a madman.’
    ‘Not this one,’ she said on a sigh, and went out.
    It seemed to her in the days that followed that Spain drew near all too soon. They had fair weather, and for the most part a favourable wind to bear them home. The Canaries were reached in good time, and Dominica saw adventure's end in sight. She was gentler now with her impetuous wooer, but aloof still, refusing to believe him. She let him teach her English words, and lisped them after him prettily. She forbore to entangle Master Dangerfield in her wiles: time was too short and romance too sweet. Maybe she would have been glad enough, saving only her father's presence, to be borne off to England, a conqueror's prize, but if she had doubted Beauvallet's good faith at first these doubts were soon lulled. He meant certainly to take her to Spain. She had both a sigh and a smile for that, but it is certain that she honoured him for it. For the rest she might not know what to believe. The man talked in a heroic vein, and seemed to be undisturbed by any doubt of his own omnipotence. He would have a poor maid believe him little less than God. Well, one was not so poor a maid as that. Maybe it pleased his strange, braggart fancy to cut a fine figure; surely he would forget just as soon as he set foot on English soil.
    Dona Dominica had to admit her heart assailed dangerously. A certain smile haunted her dreams, and would not be banished. Yet he was a hardy rogue, surely. She could not say what there was in him to seize her fancy; he used no courtier tricks, noelegant subtleties. You would have no dropped knee, no sighs, no fashionable languishings from Beauvallet. He would have an arm about a maid's waist before she was aware, snatch a kiss, and be off again on his adventures. Oh, merry ruffler! He was too direct, thought my lady, too swift, employed no gentle arts in his wooing. She played with the idea that he was like a strong wind, vigorous,