Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 Page 13

  15

  “What a happy day!” Maeve Lacey gushed and hugged Beth to her, then reached for her son. “This is what I’ve always dreamed of—my Patrick and Beth married!”

  The fiddler had just started tuning up for the festivities which were to be held in the barn, and as the guests began to arrive, their faces wreathed in huge smiles, Beth relaxed. The early morning marriage had been performed by a priest in Ballanosloe and was witnessed by the Laceys and Peg. For the occasion, Beth had tied her long curly hair back in a white ribbon and worn a simple lavender gown which matched the mist shrouded hills. She was surprised and somewhat astonished to realize how handsome Patrick truly was, dressed in a dark brown jacket and matching trousers. Though he smiled at everyone, there was no welcoming smile on his face for her, and this disturbed her more than she cared to admit. She knew he had married her for the child’s sake, but she worried that his feelings might have changed towards her since the day he rescued her from the house in Athlone.

  Peg took her aside. “I’m glad you had the sense to marry the babe’s father, I don’t want you to live a life like mine.”

  “Oh, my sweet mother,” Beth said cynically, “I had no idea your life was so terrible. After all, you left me here and didn’t think about me for over twenty years. I’m sure if you’d wanted to wed, you could have. What about my own father?”

  Peg’s eyes darkened. “He never asked me, and I don’t think he ever loved me. He was running after another woman who gave him a merry chase of it and broke his black heart. Aye, he did deserve his suffering.”

  “As you deserved yours.”

  “Ach, girl, what a cruel mouth you have at times! Let me show you something.” She grabbed Beth’s arm, leading her to the open doorway, and pointed to the manor. “You should be living in that fine house right now. If your father had married me, you would be. We’d both be covered in silks and pearls. But then, it might not have happened because I gave birth to a daughter, not a son who could claim his birthright.”

  Beth looked contemptuously at her mother. “You’re talking nonsense! Are you addled in the head?”

  “Nay, my little Beth—but I intend to get something out of the man who fathered you. I’m getting on in years and I’m not well. He owes me something for my heartache, my pain. He owes me for throwing me out and pining after the love of his life.”

  “You’re crazed,” Beth whispered so no one else would hear them. “No one but the Flanders family live in the manor since Lady Cecelia’s death.”

  “Aye, but Quint Flanders is a Flannery, and the man who fathered you!” Peg whispered back triumphantly.

  From Peg’s pleased expression, Beth realized she was telling the truth. The room seemed to swing around, and she grabbed her mother’s arm for support. Peg patted her hand. “I know it’s a shock. Your father would want to know about you and know you carry his grandchild. I intend to tell him.”

  “Nay!” Beth whispered harshly and suppressed her horror. “I’ll not have you spoil their lives so you can profit from their pain. I don’t care about my father, I don’t know him and I don’t want to. I have a husband now, and I must be thinking about him.”

  Disappointment flickered across Peg’s face, but then she shrugged. “In time you’ll thank me.”

  “Do nothing.” Beth straightened and looked her straight in the eye. “Leave them alone! Miss Allison is kind, as is Mrs. Flanders. I don’t want them to be hurt.”

  “I can’t believe I birthed such a stupid girl!” Peg shook her head in dismay.

  Patrick came up to them at that moment and took Beth by the elbow. “Come along, Beth. People are asking for you.”

  She wished to stay further and try to dissuade her mother from confronting Quint Flannery, but she could tell from the stubborn set of Peg’s chin that it would be in vain. Instead she allowed Patrick to lead her to the others, to mingle and dance and celebrate her wedding day. When the late afternoon grew cold, she put on the new cloak Allison had presented to her as a wedding gift, realizing with a start that it was time to head for Patrick’s cottage—her new home.

  Everyone wished them well and kissed them for luck, but Beth felt twinges of uneasiness after they settled in the cart for the short drive to the cottage. Patrick was silent throughout the trip and seemed to be lost in a world of his own.

  After he helped her from the cart, he picked her up in his arms. “There’s no need to be doing this, Patrick,” she said shyly, impressed by his strength.

  “‘Tis your due as my bride,” he said calmly. He carried her over the threshold of the cottage and set her down gently. Beth waited, feeling his breath on her face when he spoke. “Welcome home, Beth.”

  She managed a tiny smile, and blushing, tore her eyes away from his to examine the cooking area of her new home. Patrick’s cottage was larger than his mother’s and just as neat, which surprised Beth since he lived alone and did all of his own household chores. Cooking utensils hung above the hearth in perfect alignment, the table and chairs were highly polished. A small vase of heather graced the table top.. “Oh, how pretty!” Her pleasure was evident, and Patrick smiled.

  “‘Tis nothing,” he said and lit a candle to chase away the encroaching darkness of the room. “Let me show you the … sleeping room.”

  She followed him into the next room where a large bed waited, covered by one of Mrs. Lacey’s handmade quilts. A mirror above the dresser reflected the trepidation on Beth’s face. “It’s very nice. Where will you sleep?” she asked him, assuming the bed was for her alone.

  He looked askance at her, obviously uncomfortable, and in silence he pointed to the bed.

  “Is this the only bed in the house?” she asked nervously.

  “Aye, Beth, it is.”

  “Nay, I’ll not be sleeping with you, Patrick! You promised you’d not touch me.”

  “And I won’t. I gave you my word, but I’ll not be thrown out of my own bed on my wedding night, sham of a marriage though it is,” he told her. “I’ve got to be up early in the morning, so let’s be getting some sleep. Your virtue is safe with me,” he said harshly.

  “My lack of virtue, you mean.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes, and he gently touched her shoulder. “I didn’t say that,” he said.

  “‘Tis true, Patrick, and you know it.” She was trembling, but when he made no move to comfort her, she drew away.

  Clearing his throat, he told her he’d wait in the cooking area until she undressed and was in bed. After she took her nightgown from the trunk which Patrick had brought from Mrs. Lacey’s, she stroked its softness and the lace-edged neckline. The candlelight flickered across the ivory material, causing it to glow like silk rather than plain muslin. Truly, it was the gown of a bride who awaited her groom. She had made it years ago to wear on this special night—but her husband wouldn’t tenderly remove it from her virgin body as he did in the dreams of her girlhood. Howard had been the first man to love her and apparently the last. She didn’t love Patrick and couldn’t give herself to him even in gratitude, and she knew he wouldn’t want her to. Beth sighed and covered her voluptuous form with the soft folds, then crept into the bed and waited until Patrick entered.

  Her eyes were closed, but when she heard him pulling off his clothes she couldn’t resist a tiny peek. In the candlelight he looked magnificent. His shoulders were broad and strong, the muscles rippling lightly across his back and upper arms. Her eyes widened as she examined his lower torso. Patrick’s legs were powerful and strong as tree trunks and as for the rest of him, well … clearly he put Howard Granger to shame in every way. She imagined herself between his thighs and could almost feel his hands wandering across her breasts. An uncomfortable sensation flooded the lower half of her body and she closed her eyes in shame.

  The bed sagged when Patrick settled beside her. She refused to look at him even though she sensed he watched her. She moved a bit and accidentally brushed against his naked thigh. This time she opened her eyes and sat bo
lt upright. “Patrick Lacey, you’re as naked as the day of your birth!”

  “Aye, that I am,” he agreed stolidly.

  “Well, put some clothes on, for the love of heaven!”

  “‘Tis the way I sleep, woman, and you’d best get used to it.”

  “Patrick,” she whispered. “You’re not decent!”

  He laughed so loud and so long, she didn’t think he’d ever stop. When he finished, she was annoyed and didn’t bother to hide her anger. “Don’t be making fun of me!” she snapped.

  “I’m not laughing at you, Beth, but I can’t believe you’re so shy when…” He checked his words but it was too late. She caught the meaning.

  “When I’m carrying another man’s babe. Say it. I know what you think of me.”

  He touched her cheek, his face serious and so handsome she felt her pulse quicken. “Howard made love to you, Beth, but he didn’t teach you well. In some ways you’re still untouched.”

  “I suppose you’d like to be the one to teach me the rest,” she said, trembling uncontrollably.

  “Aye,” he answered so softly she strained to hear. “But I won’t. Not until you ask me.” He blew out the candle and rolled over to his side of the bed.

  Beth lay down and listened to Patrick’s breathing but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She realized it was cruel to have married him and share his bed without consummation, and she felt stirrings of desire in her just knowing he lay naked next to her. All she had to do was reach out and touch him, even pretend her leg had strayed too far. Then perhaps he’d make love to her…

  No! She couldn’t allow that to happen, shouldn’t even think such thoughts. She carried Howard’s child, and she didn’t love Patrick. What was wrong with her?

  She turned onto her side and faced the wall, hoping to feel safe from his masculinity but when she heard his voice in the darkness, her heart jumped. “Good night, Beth.”

  She couldn’t speak or he’d hear the quiver of desire she felt sure would be in her voice, so she feigned sleep even when she felt his lips on the back of her head. “I love you, sweet Beth,” he said, then moved over once more to his side of the bed.

  Tears trickled down her face. She longed to thank him for giving her his name and his home as her own, but she couldn’t allow him to think she cared. After all, she carried another man’s child and Howard was her one true love … wasn’t he?

  16

  “Well, Father, what is the surprise?” Daniel asked and leaned against the doorjamb of the drawing room until his mother, Paul, and Allison had assembled.

  Quint’s face glowed like a harvest moon, and Allison wished she had stayed in her room. Paul moved toward her, but she remained separate from him, also keeping her distance from Dera and Daniel. She wanted nothing to do with them, and though she saw the pain in Paul’s eyes, she was determined not to speak to him. For days after Cecelia’s burial she hadn’t left her room and wouldn’t have come down now except that she sensed Quint’s excitement might bode ill for her.

  “Is all this mystery necessary?” Paul asked.

  “Son, don’t rush your old man,” Quint said and puffed on his pipe, quite pleased with himself Finally his dream was becoming a reality. He was home, his children by his side, his Dera watching him, though with a troubled expression on her lovely face. There were no more Fairfaxes to interfere with his life except for Allison, but he discounted her as unimportant. She had served her purpose by marrying Paul, and he was grateful to her. She had restored his home to his family, and now she was a Flannery whether she liked it or not.

  He pointed to the wall above the fireplace which was draped by an emerald and white covering. Seizing the bottom portion of the material, his eyes were on Dera. Then he pulled it off, revealing a huge crest, emblazoned in bronze which pictured a stag with swords protruding from its antlers.

  “The Flannery crest,” he said proudly, his voice choking with emotion, “This is the first time in over forty years that it hangs in its rightful place.” He took Dera’s hand and moved her beside him. “We’re home, my love, home to stay.”

  No one spoke. Dera looked at Allison, then back at Quint, and for the first time in their married life, he saw disappointment in her eyes. “How could you?” she whispered.

  Before he could reply, Allison broke her silence with her heartfelt sobs. She was unable to control herself. She didn’t know if she was more hurt or angry that her highhanded father-in-law had had the unmitigated gall to remove the Fairfax crest from where it had hung for decades.

  Paul moved toward her, compassion in his face, but she pushed his outstretched hands away.

  “Get away from me! Stay away, all of you! I hate every last one of you!” Her fury was directed primarily against Quint but when she spoke, she looked at Paul. “I may have married a Flannery, but I am still Allison Fairfax by birth. You may hang any crest you wish; however, this is Fairfax Manor and shall remain so. This is my home!” She turned and fled from the room, so angry that she felt the blood pounding in her temples.

  Paul caught up with her and, grabbing her arm, twisted her body against his. “I had no idea, Allison. Father surprised me and my mother as much as he did you. She doesn’t approve of this, either. “

  “How very wonderful. But it doesn’t change the fact that you tricked me into marriage!”

  Paul’s naked longing for her was manifested in his eyes. “But you came willingly to my bed, love. Never forget that.”

  She caught her breath because he dared to speak the truth, and the truth hurt. He knew she had never been able to resist him. But she smiled inwardly and tasted a bitter victory. He didn’t know she carried his child, and she vowed she’d punish him by denying him the joy of seeing his child born in Fairfax Manor. “I shall endeavor to forget those nights, Paul, because no matter what you say, I know you never truly loved me,”

  “I do love you, dammit! How often must I tell you?”

  She pulled away. “Don’t trouble to repeat yourself any longer, because I don’t believe you. Just leave me alone and bask in your victory. But it will be a hollow one at best, Paul. I shall make you sorry you ever laid eyes on Fairfax Manor and me.”

  He watched helplessly as she ran up the stairs, then went back to the drawing room where his mother stood, hands on hips, and violet flames emanating from her eyes. “I’ve never been so furious with anyone in my entire life as I am with you at this moment, Quint Flannery!” she pronounced.

  He flashed her an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t help myself, Dera, You more than anyone know how often I’ve dreamed of this day. We’re home. Home! “

  “No! Our home is in Louisiana, and that is where we must return!” Dera grabbed the front of his coat, wishing to shake some sense in him. “I love you, you silly fool, and I’ve followed after you because I knew you were still obsessed, but we don’t belong here. You don’t belong here. The memories of this house, this land are beautiful but also terribly painful. I want to return to Louisiana, Quint. For once in your life, do something solely for me.”

  “I must stay as long as I can, Dera. Don’t deny me.”

  Dera knew there was no dissuading him, and she also knew she’d not return to Louisiana without him, though she was sorely tempted. “Why must you always be so stubborn?”‘ she asked, a feeling of apprehension washing over her which she couldn’t shake.

  “Come,” Quint said, “Let’s visit Maeve and Sean and celebrate Lady Cecelia’s demise,”

  Dera’s face went white. “Quint, how cruel! Go on, get away with you! “ Dera bolted from the room before she said what was really on her mind and caused a scene in front of her sons.

  “I’ll never understand your mother,” Quint said before he left to visit Sean Lacey.

  Paul cursed under his breath. “This is all my fault.”

  Daniel, who had been silent, suddenly raised his dark head, fire in the depths of his gray eyes. He balled his fists. “You’ve acted like a son of a bitch! You don’t deserve a woman li
ke Allison!”

  “So—my little brother is enamored of my wife,” he said grimly, stunned by Daniel’s ire.

  “I love her and would treat her like a queen. You treat her no better than dirt!” Daniel suddenly tackled his brother, knocking him to the floor. “Fight, dammit!” Daniel urged.

  Paul could easily have whipped Daniel, but he didn’t wish to fight his brother, whom he loved dearly. Since his arrival, Paul had sensed Daniel’s growing infatuation with Allison. He had been amused at first, but now he realized that Daniel was an additional threat to his marriage. Allison spent a great deal of time with him—or had until she had discovered the truth about the Flannery family. Still, he didn’t think sparring with Daniel would improve the situation.

  He surprised Daniel with his strength when he lifted Daniel from him and hurled him onto the sofa, leaving Daniel momentarily stunned. “Allison is my wife, and if you ever seriously try to take her from me—!” He stopped short, unable to continue his tirade against his brother.

  Paul stormed out of the drawing room, so upset he couldn’t think. He went to the stables, mounted his horse and furiously rode towards Ballysheen Hall. He knew Constance would preen and tease and then admit she desired him. But what the hell! At that moment he needed to be desired, not scorned.

  17

  The purple haze of early morning had lifted and sunlight bathed the meadow in a golden glow. It shimmered before Allison’s eyes as she sat on the stone bench on the terrace. Her robe wrapped loosely around her slight figure caused her to look small and defenseless, and that was exactly how she felt. Paul’s family was trying to suffocate her, to take away that which was hers by right. She felt stupid and humiliated and didn’t know how to fight. But she felt a grudging respect for Quint, because he did know how, and evidently had been fighting injustice all his life. He just took what he wanted, as did his son. However, she was ill equipped to do that; she admitted to herself that she wasn’t much of a fighter—otherwise, she’d have cast down the Flannery crest last night. Yet she had done nothing, only burst into childish tears.