Fool's Paradise

“My prentice is wearing the only clothes he owns which are not fit—”

“Not even for rags, I should say!” Peg sniffed.

“And he cannot appear in the hall in them.”

“To be sure, he will not!” Peg pronounced with authority.

Does she mean to put me in the barn? Ha! I’d like to see her try it! Elizabeth tried to curb her annoyance.

Tarleton squeezed Peg’s shoulder. “Take pity on my poor lad, for he is lately orphaned. Could you find him a suit of clothes, for sweet charity’s sake, and for this?” He dropped a shilling down her ample bodice.

Pegshivered with pleasure. “Sweet Saint Ann, you are a merry rogue and no mistaking it, Dickon! Young Ned is about your boy’s size. Tess!” She called over her shoulder to one of the gawking maids. “Fetch some of Ned’s things quickly afore this lad catches his death of cold. Aye, and bring a towel!”

The maid, all giggles and black tresses, disappeared inside.

Elizabeth perked up at the mention of a towel. A bath! A hot, steaming bath with buckets of water, scented with oil of roses. And fine milled soap! Closing her eyes, she sighed pleasurably at the thought.

“And the rest of ye? What are ye staring at?” Peg bellowed at the kitchen staff. “Back to your work.” The servants scattered like autumn leaves in a wind.

“Leave the lad to Tess, my sweet,” Peg crooned to Tarleton, not even glancing at the filthy, fuming Elizabeth. “The minx will make him look like a Christian again, and perhaps teach him a few things in the bargain!”

Underneath her layers of dirt and mud, Elizabeth blanched. She flashed a beseeching look at Tarleton.

The jester chuckled. “Nay, Peg. Though Tess is a good girl, I think she’ll frighten the boy.” Tarleton wiggled his dark brows at Peg and smiled his best imp’s grin. “Give him time though, and there will be no lass in England safe from him. Am I not his teacher—in all manner of skills?” Tarleton kissed Peg deeply again to stop any further conversation.

Elizabeth winced with envy. She could almost taste that kiss herself.

Tess, looking flushed and breathless, returned at that moment with a pair of gray breeches, black stockings, a clean white shirt and a brown woolen waistcoat. A piece of coarse toweling hung over her arm. Tarleton disengaged himself from Peg with a fond caress to her wide bottom. Laughing at the cook’s crude rejoinder, he led Elizabeth toward the stable.

“You are passing quiet, Robin Redbreast,” he remarked cheerfully.

“I am amazed, and know not what to say!” Elizabeth stuttered. “Is Peg your mother or aunt?” she asked hopefully.

Tarleton exploded in laughter. “Nay, chuck! Peg is an old friend of mine. She took me in when I had nothing to my name except a ready wit. She was kind to me when I needed some kindness.”

“And in return? You are… kind to her?” Elizabeth had not meant to sound so direct.

Tarleton raised his brow thoughtfully. “Aye, I am kind to her betimes,” he answered coolly. He pointed at the horse trough. “Jump in!”

Elizabeth stared with horror at the cold, scummy water. Green slime coated the wooden sides.

“Surely you are jesting, Tarleton!”

He laughed at her confusion. “‘Tis no jest. This is where we servants bathe. Did you think I was going to ask Peg to draw you a warm hip bath by the fire?”

Elizabeth bit her lower lip. She would never admit she had hoped for something exactly like that. She glared at him.

“I simply won’t get into that dirty thing! You can’t make me—!”

Before she could utter another word of protest, Tarleton picked her up around the waist. Snatching off her shoes, he threw her into the trough.

“How dare you!” Elizabeth sputtered when she rose to the surface, her green eyes blazing.

Tarleton only grinned as he held her down. “Hold your nose, or you’ll regret it.” He grabbed the top of her head firmly.

“No, knave! You are the one who will regre—” The rest of her threat was drowned as Tarleton ducked her under the water again. He rubbed her hair vigorously. She surfaced coughing.

“Vile!” She spat out some of the water she had inhaled.

Tarleton stood back, regarding his sopping apprentice. Elizabeth’s bright golden hair gleamed once more, and the chill water had brought a becoming pink to her cheeks. Her eyes, however, looked murderous, which only heightened the green color he found so enticing.

“Well, churl?” She glowered at him, shaking the water out of her eyes and hair. “Are you satisfied now? Have I given you enough entertainment for one afternoon?” She would not add anything more to his pleasure by letting him see how badly he had humiliated her.

“You look your proper self,” he said approvingly. “Take my hand.”

Elizabeth briefly considered pulling him into the water with her, and letting him have a taste of his own medicine. Then she sensibly realized that he had no other clothing save what was now clinging wetly around her. Instead, she grasped his hand and hauled herself carefully out of the trough.

Tarleton drew in his breath when he saw the wet shirt plastered transparently to Elizabeth. Her nipples, hardened by the cold water, jutted proudly against the fabric. Tarleton swallowed the knot in his throat as he felt a hot stirring within him. Under her boyish disguise, Lady Elizabeth was lush, ripe and ready for plucking. He itched to peel away her wet wrappings and savor her obvious charms. It would be so easy, here in the darkened barn, with an inviting bed of fresh hay just behind them.

Fool! the voice of sanity screamed inside him. She’s no wench to tumble in a barn, but the Queen’s own goddaughter! Averting his eyes with an unaccustomed burst of selfcontrol, Tarleton roughly draped the towel around her.

“Cross your arms in front of you, or else you’ll reveal your identity to all the world,” he growled, his voice low and husky.

Elizabeth looked down at herself. Her ears burned with embarrassment.

“Where shall I change?” she asked in a muffled voice, not daring to raise her eyes to him.

Tarleton scooped up her shoes. “Follow me,” he commanded gruffly as he led her to a small storage shed. “In here. Dress quickly, I’ll keep a lookout for any prying eyes.”

“Be sure you do, Master Tarleton!” Snatching Ned’s clothes out of his hand, Elizabeth swept regally into the shadowy hut. “Watch especially your own!”

Tarleton laughed ruefully. Half-seriously, he considered throwing himself into the trough to douse the fire in his loins. How many more days of this sweet temptation could he stand?

“Do you still have my comb?” Elizabeth asked when she emerged from the shed.

Glancing over her, Tarleton grinned his approval. He could deal with her far better when she looked like a boy, than when she was revealed as a woman. “Aye, prentice.” He cleared his throat. “Now let us rehearse for tonight’s performance. Sir William and Lady Margaret Fairfax are good patrons of mine. If we please them, they will pay us right well.” He spread out the wet breeches and shirt across a pile of hay to dry in the late afternoon’s sun. Then, for the next hour, Tarleton schooled his apprentice in a bit of juggling, the verses of a new, witty song, and the punch lines for a few mildly bawdy jokes. Afterward they reappeared at the kitchen door.

“‘Tis a transformation sure!” exclaimed Peg, beaming with pleasure at Elizabeth. “Who would have guessed what was hiding under all that mud!”

“Oh, he’s a pretty lad!” Tess giggled and continued cutting up turnips and plopping them into a simmering pot. Several of the other maids joined her, simpering and casting appreciative looks at Elizabeth.

“Leave off teasing the child and be about your business!” snapped Peg, her maternal instincts obviously aroused. “Here, my pet, sit down by the fire and have a cup of sweet cider. ‘Tis fresh from the press.”

“What’s the news you’ve heard, Tarleton?” asked one of the lounging serving men.

Tarleton pulled up a stool to the trestle table. “Not much to tell, except that the Italians dress too loudly, the French eat too much, the Dutch belch rudely, and the Spanish are all whoresons!” he answered merrily.

Peg placed a bowl of hot water and a sliver of soap in front of Tarleton. He grinned with pleasure as he lathered his face generously.