Early the next morning while the Palace was still asleep, she set out on horseback, attended only by Big John Waterman. She wore a riding-habit of sage-green velvet embroidered in gold, and the brim of her Cavalier’s hat was loaded with garnet-coloured ostrich-plumes. Though she had scarcely slept at all excitement kept her from feeling or looking tired. They clattered down King Street and through the narrow dirty little village of Westminster into the green fields beyond, past the Horse Ferry and out to the three great oaks. There Amber dismounted and Big John went on with her horse; he was to keep out of sight and not to return until she gave him a signal.
It was just beginning to grow light and she stood there alone for several moments, surrounded by quiet familiar country sounds: the river washing its banks, the “tick-tick” of a stonechat, the unseen scurrying of many little creatures. All about her the fog moved gently, like breath blown on a cold morning. She watched a Polly Dishwasher dragging at a worm, cocking its head in bewilderment when the captive slipped away and disappeared into the earth again. She laughed nervously aloud at that and then started suddenly, glancing around her. Quickly she darted back behind the tree, out of sight, for he was riding toward her across the meadow.
She did not dare to peek for fear he would see her, wheel about and go back, but she could hear the sound of hoofs coming over the soggy ground and her heart sped with relief and apprehension. Now that he was here—what would he do? She had never had less confidence in her ability to coerce and charm him.
She could hear the horse, heaving and panting, and she heard him talking to it as he swung down and stood there beside it. Trying to screw up the courage to show herself she hesitated several moments longer. At last he gave a short impatient shout.
“Hey! Are you ready?”
Her throat was too dry and tight for her to answer, but she stepped out from behind the tree and confronted him. Her head was lowered a little, like a child who expects a beating, but her eyes darted up quickly to his face. He did not look very much surprised but gave her a faint one-sided smile.
“So it is you,” he said slowly. “I didn’t think your husband was an ardent duellist. Well—” He had been holding his cloak in his hand and now he swung it on again, turned and walked back to where his horse was grazing.
“Bruce!” She ran toward him. “You’re not going! Not yet! I’ve got to talk to you!” She reached for him, seizing his forearms, and he paused, looking down at her.
“What about? Everything there is to be said between us has been said a thousand times.”
There was no smile on his face now, but seriousness and the impatience and simmering anger she had come to recognize and to dread.
“No it hasn’t! I’ve got to tell you how sorry I am! I don’t know what happened to me that day—I must have been crazy! Oh, Bruce—you can’t do this to me! It’s killing me, I swear it is! Please, darling,
But he looked skeptical, as he always had at her extravagant promises and threats. “I’ll be damned if I know what you want. But one thing I do know, and that’s that we’re done meeting. I’m not going to cause my wife any more unpleasantness when her confinement is so near.”
“But she’d never know!” protested Amber, frantic at the uncompromising hardness she saw on his face.
“Less than a week ago she got a letter telling her that we were still seeing each other.”
Amber looked at him in momentary surprise, for she had not sent it herself and had not known of it, and then a pleased secret smile came to her lips.
“What did she say?”
A look of disgust flickered across his face. “She didn’t believe it.”
“Didn’t believe it! She must be an awful fool!”
Suddenly she stopped, one hand clapped to her mouth, staring at him and wishing that she could bite off her own treacherous tongue. Her eyes fell and all her spirit crumpled.
“Oh,” she murmured, “forgive me for that!”
After a long moment she looked up again to find him watching her, some strange expression of mingled tenderness and anger in his eyes. They stood there while several moments passed, eyes locked. And then all at once she gave a little sobbing cry and flung herself against him, her arms about his back, her body pressed close to his. For a moment he stood perfectly still and then his hands took hold of her shoulders, his fingers pressed hard into her flesh. With a wild exultant sense of triumph she saw the expression on his face shift and change.
Her eyes closed and her head tipped back. She felt almost delirious with the violence of her desire. Everything else had been swept away but a longing for union with him. Her mouth, moist and parted, formed his name.
“Bruce—”
He gave her a sudden rude hard shake. “Amber!”
