Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 Page 9

  Daniel’s interest perked. “Allison, do you draw?” When she nodded shyly, a huge grin broke out on his handsome face. “I do, too. Would you mind showing me your sketches some time? I’d love to see them.”

  “I’m really not very good yet,” she admitted timidly. “I’ve only just begun learning to paint, and I have a great deal to learn about mixing pigments.”

  Daniel laughed in delight. “Why, I can show you anything you’d like. I think in my own way, I’m rather good.”

  “I’m glad you aren’t afflicted with false modesty,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I’d be pleased if you could instruct me.”

  “When?” he asked eagerly. “In the morning?”

  She nodded in agreement. “That would be perfect.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, but Allison needs her rest.” Without ceremony Paul took her arm and ushered her from Daniel’s company as though she were a small child who didn’t know how to behave with strangers. As they mounted the staircase, she shrugged his hand off.

  “Please don’t play the solicitous husband, Paul. It truly doesn’t become you.”

  “We must keep up appearances, my love. Otherwise, everyone will know you don’t allow me in your bed.”

  “And whose fault is that? I don’t wish to be man-handled again.”

  His expression darkened with an unreadable emotion. However, he escorted her to her door and kissed her forehead. “Sleep well, sweet. I shall be occupied elsewhere.”

  With a pang, she wondered if he had a mistress. After Beth helped her undress and was sent on her way, Allison blew out the candle and gazed at the full moon outside her window. It wasn’t that long ago that she had wished on the moon and stars to find the husband prophesied for her. That wish had come true, but in ways she hadn’t bargained for.

  The sound of a horse’s hoofs came to her ears, and she looked out the window. Paul rode furiously away from the manor down the darkened road in the direction of the Grangers’. A sick feeling clawed at her insides, and she surmised that Constance was now her husband’s mistress. Of course Constance would be the one. He had always wanted Constance, even when he had pursued Allison and caused her to disregard her aunt’s advice. A huge sob tore from her throat and bitter tears slid down her cheeks. She knew now that he had never loved her…

  ~

  Howard’s arms encircled Beth’s waist. “You’re late tonight, love.”

  She nodded, basking in the brilliance of his smile. Then her face clouded with uneasiness. “Miss Allison required me.”

  “Beth, do you know that Paul Flanders is in my drawing room at this very moment, enthralling my sister with his charm?”

  “But that can’t be!” Beth cried. “I mean, he loves my mistress. Howard, I’m feared you’re mistaken.”

  The innocence of her remark amused him. “My little lamb, you have a great deal to learn about men.” He stroked her cheek. “I think I’ve been a damned good teacher.”

  She blushed, her voice drifting into a hushed whisper. “I love you, Howard.”

  “I love you too,” he said, but there was no tenderness in his tone.

  His skillful hands began tugging at the front of her blouse as he guided her to the cot in the room off the stables. She knew what he loved, and she longed to give in to the pleasurable sensations she knew awaited her, but she pulled back and barely had the courage to look him in the face. She had to tell him.

  “I’m carrying your child,” she said, her voice quaking.

  She didn’t know what his reaction would be; however, after a few silent seconds he kissed her heartily upon the mouth. “How wonderful, love!”

  “Then you’re happy about the babe?”

  “Certainly. Why shouldn’t I be? Life is a miracle.”

  She sighed her relief as joy spread into every pore of her being. Howard was truly happy over her news, and now, so was she. Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around his neck. “More than anything, I want to give you a son.”

  He hugged her tightly. “And more than anything, I want to make love to you,” he whispered into her ear.

  She followed him to the cot where they made gentle love, almost as if he held her in reverence and feared harming her. Later she snuggled beside him, listening to the beating of his heart, knowing that within her belly a new life had started, a combination of her life and his.

  He planted a small kiss on her forehead. “I know the child will be a son. I’ve always been partial to boys—hope to have a slew of them when I marry. After the baby’s birth, you must keep me informed about everything. I’d like to know the first word the little tyke utters and when he takes his first step.”

  She raised her innocent eyes to his face. “Howard, you’ll be there with me when those things happen. I know your family won’t be approving our marriage, but I am carrying your babe, and I swear to you I’ll make you a fine wife.”

  He tilted a brow, looking at her uncertainly. “Beth, my pet, surely you don’t expect me to marry you. It’s out of the question.”

  She froze at his words, staring at him blankly.

  “Believe me, I do care about you,” he said. “However, I must marry a woman from my own class. You can understand that.”

  Dismay shadowed her face, and it seemed an eternity had passed before she spoke. “I thought you loved me,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “I do.”

  “Then marry me, Howard! I’m having your child.”

  “You’re not the only woman who has born my child; there are quite a few of my little bastards running wild across the countryside.”

  She groaned in agony and sat up. Her hair streamed wildly about her face, her eyes growing large and liquid. “I don’t know what to do,” she murmured distractedly.

  “I told you I’ll take an interest in the child. Why, I shall even give you an adequate sum to help out. However, marriage is impossible.”

  He didn’t understand her situation and Beth knew it would do no good to tell him. She couldn’t bear a child without a father and allow her flesh and blood to live out its life plagued by whispers and sly looks as she had been. Merciful Jesus, she prayed silently, what can I do?

  She didn’t want him to remember her with a face full of tears, so she wiped the stray ones away and mustered the courage to leave his side. She began dressing.

  “You can stay the night, Beth,” he suggested. “We can make love until morning…”

  Stiffening, she shot him a malevolent glance. “I see I’m only fit for your pleasure, my lord.”

  He sighed in exasperation. “Well, if you’re going to behave like a bitch, perhaps it’s better that you leave. But I don’t see why your condition must interfere with lovemaking. In fact, I’ve always found pregnant women enticing. We could continue to make love until several months before you give birth. After all, you’re one of the best lovers I’ve ever had.”

  In spite of her predicament she couldn’t help smiling, as she imagined herself waddling along the road and sneaking into the stables to make love with the father of her unborn child. But she wanted Howard to realize how badly he had abused her.

  “You’re the only lover I’ve ever had,” she said. “However, my lord, don’t be waiting for me. I’ll no longer be requiring your services.” She finished dressing and quickly scampered away before she lost her nerve and shamelessly threw herself into his arms. She still loved him and craved his lovemaking, but she’d no longer play the fool. He called after her, and she heard him scrambling out of the bed, but she had already left the stable and headed for the open meadow.

  Beth ran with no direction. She couldn’t go back to the Laceys to spend the night. She was too worked up, sure that the tears she controlled would spill forth once Mrs. Lacey asked her trouble and comforted her as she knew she would. Maeve was more of a mother to her than Peg, and Beth had always turned to her. However, she doubted if even the kind and gentle Maeve would understand and forgive her. And she didn’t want to return to the manor, couldn�
��t bear the thought of pretending to Miss Allison that nothing was wrong.

  She waited uncertainly by the cattle pen and watched the clouds flit across the moon. What was she to do?

  At that instant a hand pressed down upon her shoulder, and she turned. Her eyes grew large with fear but then she relaxed when she realized that Patrick was its owner.

  “You should be abed, Beth. ‘Tis late and cold.”

  “I know the time.” She felt like a disobedient child who had been apprehended by a concerned parent. “What are you doing up so late?”

  He pointed to a small calf who peered at them with huge brown eyes. “A new arrival.”

  “How sweet the wee thing is,” Beth said and opened the wooden gate. She bent down beside it and patted its head. A short distance away stood the calf’s mother, watching in calm disinterest.

  “Daisy knows you won’t hurt her baby,” Patrick said and knelt beside her. “You couldn’t hurt a soul. But I think you’re the one who is hurting. What has the great lord done to you this time?”

  Beth’s cinnamon eyes darkened to the color of brown sugar. “Nothing. Leave me be!” She began to stand up, but Patrick seized her upper arm.

  “If he has hurt you in any way, I’ll kill him!” Fire kindled in the depths of Patrick’s blue eyes, Something inside her stirred to observe the passion on his face and to know that it was for her. But his touch felt like a chain binding her upper arm, and she decided she’d not give Patrick the satisfaction of knowing the depth of her pain. She knew he ached to find fault with her love for Howard, and she would never admit her disillusionment or tell him that Howard had filled her with his child.

  “Don’t be saying such things,” she managed to say calmly. Patrick followed her outside the pen and closed the gate.

  She waited, not quite knowing why, until he was beside her. The fire in his eyes had vanished, and suddenly she noticed a gleam reflected there, wondering if it was from the moon. But it wasn’t. She recognized it as desire. Part of her wished to turn and run, run anywhere, to escape the strong feelings coursing through her when his rough hand touched the softness of her cheek. His thumb traced the outline of her lips.

  “I love you more than my life. Kiss me, sweet Beth. Kiss me!” His words were spoken so softly that the moment he drew her closer, she parted her lips and drank of the nectar of his mouth. Instinctively her arms traveled across the broadness of his chest and came to rest at the back of his neck where she folded her arms to embrace him. Their bodies touched, hers so soft, his strong, demanding and incredibly warm.

  Beth’s head swam with passion, not thinking of what she was doing, responding only to the attraction which had always been there between them. At the moment when his hand slid down her back to massage her buttocks and then moved forward to the spot between her legs, she’d have let him lower her to the ground and take her there in the meadow. But the baby calf whimpered and broke the spell.

  Beth opened her eyes. Patrick’s were still closed. She pulled away from him as her senses returned. What was she doing? She was Howard’s mistress and carrying his child. How could she allow Patrick the liberty of touching her? She wondered if she were indeed following in her mother’s footsteps.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked and tried to hold her again.

  She twisted away, humiliation seeping through her at her wanton display. Even in the moonlight she felt her cheeks burning brightly and hoped Patrick wouldn’t see the high spots of color.

  “Don’t touch me; never come near me, Patrick Lacey! I never want your hands upon me again.”

  His face fell, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Am I so repulsive to you then?”

  She could never admit to him that it was just the opposite, that she wanted him to make love to her, even though Howard had just finished with her. Surely, she was the devil’s daughter, her mother’s child! “Aye, you are!” she spat.

  Patrick’s voice sounded soft. “I don’t believe you. It seems your great and mighty lord can’t satisfy you.” His eyes held hers for a moment, then he turned and strode away in the direction of his cottage. She said nothing else, unable to speak because she shivered with humiliation, anger—and, worst of all, desire.

  11

  When Allison woke to a December morning filled with bright sunshine, she donned her prettiest velvet dress, a lilac gown with small butterflies over an underskirt of blue. She ate a hurried breakfast, then threw on her cloak and trod down the garden path, stopping just inches from the Shannon’s shoreline to join Daniel in the garden. He looked up from his sketch book where he lounged against a tree. “You’ve come empty-handed. I thought you were going to let me examine your work,” he said.

  A shy smile played about her lips. “I was afraid you’d laugh at them.”

  “I’d never laugh at you,” he said in all seriousness.

  Something passed between them at that moment, and the easiness she always experienced in his presence dissolved. She looked down, trying to hide her nervousness, thinking that she was mistaken in what she saw in his eyes. When she looked up, a warm smile was there and nothing else. “Let me see what you’ve drawn,” she said and took his pad from him.

  Daniel had captured the beauty of the river with the morning sunlight suffusing the shoreline, and she admitted his work was excellent and showed a marked talent. “This is lovely,” she said, voicing her appreciation.

  He came and stood behind her, his gaze fixed on the drawing. “I think it could be better, but I just haven’t found the proper inspiration yet.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, you know—the dream of all artists. That one day the perfect subject will come along and that one painting will make them immortal.”

  “I doubt that will ever happen to me, no matter what I paint. I’ll never be as gifted as you are, Daniel. You have a true talent.”

  Allison sat down on the blanket he had placed along the shoreline and gazed at the slow-moving current. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be any good at anything,” she murmured.

  “Allison, I think you show great potential.”

  She laughed. “You haven’t seen any of my work.”

  He moved a muscled leg, his thigh brushing against her gown. “I don’t have to. I know you’re a remarkable person. You’re still married to my brother. That must account for something.”

  She found that a strange remark for him to make. “Is Paul so difficult?”

  He shrugged. “Mind you, I care for my brother and always will, but there’s a violent side to him. Mother always said he took after our father.”

  “Paul loves you very much,” she told him.

  “I’m aware of that. I wonder sometimes if I have that violent Irish streak. But perhaps I’ll know only when I want something so desperately that I’ll move heaven and earth to have it.” His voice was velvet-edged and strong, sending a ripple of awareness through her. He was an incredibly handsome young man. She thought that if she were beautiful, even passably pretty, she’d read more into his melting looks than she did now. But in an unconscious gesture she shook her head and felt ridiculous. She wasn’t beautiful, not like Constance, and never would be. After all, Paul had married her for her inheritance.

  “How long has it been since you and your parents have seen Paul?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “About five years. He just up and left one day. The first time we heard from him was his letter informing us that he was in Ireland. Believe me, my mother was shocked.”

  “And your father?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing Paul ever did shocked Father.”

  “I can see that your parents are still very much in love. Paul told me once they had to sneak off to be together. I surmise their families didn’t approve.”

  “Sort of,” he said but didn’t volunteer any more information.

  Allison gathered that Daniel was hiding something, but she pressed him, determined to learn a little bit of the truth. “You know,
your mother looks very familiar to me, but I can’t place her. Her first name is Dera—I heard your father call her that though Paul has never told me.”

  Daniel looked uneasy. “Yes, that’s her name.”

  Allison folded her hands together and licked her lips. Dera. Why was that name familiar to her?

  “Daniel, why did Paul marry me?” she burst out suddenly.

  He looked startled but immediately assumed an impassive expression. “If you have questions about that, Allison, you should ask your husband.”

  She stood up and brushed down her dress. “I believe I shall,” she said.

  After returning to her room, Allison quickly changed into a forest green riding habit and went to the stables to mount her horse. The winter afternoon had warmed considerably, and she rode across the meadows, hatless. Wispy tendrils of golden hair broke loose from the confining pins and streamed freely down her back. She knew where Paul would be and she determined that for once she would have a truthful answer from him. The mystery of her marriage—the reasons for it—preyed on her mind. And now Paul’s family had firmly ensconced themselves in her home, taking it over as if it belonged to them.

  Anger boiled in her as she guided her horse in the direction of the Grangers. How dare he not return home! How dare he spend nights with Constance! The hussy!

  But when she arrived at Ballysheen Hall and was met by Constance in the sitting room, the other woman looked perplexed.

  Constance pecked her cheek. “Darling Allison, what a delightful surprise. I had no idea you’d decide to visit today. Howard will be so pleased to see you.”

  “I’m not here to see Howard,” Allison spat. “I’d like to speak with my husband, please.”

  Constance’s unblemished brow furrowed. “Paul isn’t here, dear.”

  Her supercilious attitude infuriated Allison to such an extent that she had to control her urge to strike Constance’s smirking face with her riding crop. “Just tell him I’m here!”