Daughter of Darkness (13 page)

She scowled at the thought. ‘Even if that was the case, he was good to me. He applied himself to my education with diligence.’ Her eyes affected amusement. ‘Although you may regard it as a liability, James taught me many things. I can read, write, calculate figures and play chess. I could also shoot the eye from a frog if need be.’

He ignored her boast and flicked her a grin. ‘If you do not find your education a liability, why should I? I should like to meet this James Langland.’

‘I know nothing of his whereabouts.’ Sadness filled her eyes. ‘I should not like to think him still indebted to my father. I’ve a little money of my own, and with your permission, would forfeit it to buy his freedom.’

Loyalty was something he understood. If he could offer her this small service he might rise a little in her estimation after their confrontation of the day before. ‘Allow me to make enquiries on your behalf, Willow.’

The glance they exchanged was of mutual interest. Color tinted her cheeks. ‘I’d be most grateful.’

Jeffrey might just as well not have been there. Used to her undivided attention, he snatched up his coat and strode towards the doorway.

‘Jeffrey?’ she cried out in astonishment.

‘Let him go. He must come to terms with the situation in his own way,’ Gerard said harshly.

‘I do not understand,’ she whispered. ‘What situation?’

‘Perhaps you should ask yourself that.’ Spanning her waist with his hands, he pulled her against him, gazing down at speculatively. Her husband’s body was hard, his strong thighs slightly parted. That which lay in the apex nudged against the softness of her stomach, quivering awareness into her groin. ‘I’ve already fought with a man over you, Lady.’ His eyes brooded over the fact. ‘Do not encourage Jeffrey in his regard of you. There’s no future in it.’

He cut off her gasp with his mouth, taking possession of it in a way that was both humiliating and exciting. Made aware she belonged to no man but him, Willow’s blood pulsed through her veins, leaving her strangely weak. She was confused by the sensations soaring through her body and began to struggle. She hung her head when he released her. Tipping up her chin with one finger, he forced her to look at him. The mouth that had casually claimed hers was smiling a little. How odd. The caress had made her acutely alive to herself.

Willow recognized a reluctance in her awareness to surrender the freedom she cherished and give herself to another in body and soul—as she must. Her husband seemed tolerable enough, yet she was loathe to submit herself to his will whilst he was a stranger to her.

‘You have not been kissed often?’ he said softly.

‘Indeed, not.’ She blushed when he grinned. ‘I’ve been kissed only once before, and that was forced upon me.’ Her face paled as she thought of the price Hugh MacBride had almost paid for his offence. ‘It was a trivial matter, not worthy of your notice.’

‘You were savage in your defense of yourself. The soldier wears his scar as a badge of shame. You must share his shame if encouragement was offered.’

His face was so stern she hung her head in embarrassment. ‘I have no desire to recall the details. I beg you, do not insist that I relate the incident.’

Gerard sighed. ‘The soldier’s offense was to pay insult to the Lytton name, which I hold in high esteem. To hear your name disrespectfully uttered in a roadside inn was not a trifling matter. I had no choice but to take up his challenge.’

‘I swear I offered him no encouragement. Your compassion in this matter is appreciated. Had you been injured I would not be able to live with my remorse.’

He smiled at her tearful expression when she lifted her head. His eyes lingered on her face. She was exquisite. Her high cheekbones and turned-up nose suited her heart-shaped face. Her violet eyes seemed to mirror her every mood. Her hair was mahogany polished to a deep lustrous shine, her lips—sensuous in shape and texture. No wonder the soldier had pursued her.

‘I believe you.’ Gently, he ran the ball of his thumb across her lips. ‘You did not seek to lay open
my
face when I forced a kiss upon you.’

‘Because… ‘ Small white teeth worried at her bottom lip.

‘Because what?’ he prompted, determined she’d finish what she knew she’d have to accept.

‘Because you’re my husband.’ The mouse-like caution in her voice was offset by the annoyance sparkling in her eyes. ‘It’s my duty to submit myself to your pleasure.’

‘I don’t want your submission.’ He chuckled when her eyes flew open in astonishment, then kissed the softly rounded mouth until he felt a response of trembling anticipation. ‘It will be my pleasure to instruct you, so duty becomes an enjoyable pursuit for us both.’ Already melting with pleasure from his kiss, her mouth dimpled into a relieved smile. ‘Kissing is not too onerous a duty. If you’d but care to instruct me again, I shall apply myself most diligently to it.’

Her artless comment reminded him she was a stranger to the ways of love. He couldn’t remember the last innocent he’d known. Artless or
artful?
An uncomfortable memory of Daphne de Vere came into his mind. Someone had taught her the tricks of pleasuring a man, and taught her well. It could only have been her stepfather. Disgust tempered his good humor. Willow was the daughter of the same man. How could he be certain her innocence was not an act? His eyes hardened as he gazed at her. ‘Attend me in my bedchamber tonight.’

Her spine prickled at the predatory chill in the grey eyes. His hands stopped her involuntary recoil. Placing his mouth against her ear, he mocked. ‘Remember your wifely duty.’

Face flaming with barely controlled temper she jerked from his grip and hissed. ‘It shall be as you command, My Lord.’

As her palms crept up to cover her face he felt a twinge of conscience. ‘I did not expect you to mock me,’ she murmured.

He experienced shame, but had no intention of retracting his words. He had to know if her innocence was genuine. ‘You’re my wife, Willow.’

Turning away, she stepped into her skirt, fastening it about her slender waist with trembling fingers. ‘I’m aware of that fact.’

‘Wait.’ His fingers closed about her wrist as she sought to leave. ‘Am I to have your anger as companion for the day?’

Deep in her eyes curiosity flared ‘It seems to me you provoked it.’

‘Gloom will be my cloak until I see you smile again,’ he coaxed.

Pleasure chased the shadows from her face. ‘Your tongue has a smooth persuasion. A man has never suffered for my smile before.’ Cocking her head to one side, she regarded him much like a curious bird would. ‘You have the air of one who easily obtains what his heart desires. It will not hurt you to suffer a little.’

‘If that’s My Lady’s command.’ Lifting her hand to his lips he placed a kiss on the fingers. ‘Until I see you smile, then.’

‘At supper perhaps.’ Her voice was shy as he walked away. ‘The earl would welcome your presence.’

‘And you?’ He turned to gazed at her. ‘The assumption I made yesterday was wrong. That’s a matter I beg your forgiveness for.’

‘You were not to know of my domestic arrangements.’ Dimples pulled at the edges of her mouth. ‘Leave me now, Gerard. I have an irresistible urge to smile.’

Laughter bubbled up inside him as he continued his stride. When he reached the ornately decorated doors, he turned and grinned at her. Face hidden in her hands she was trying not to laugh. Their eyes met when she spread her fingers. He couldn’t resist a wink. Her giggle was delightful. He was still grinning when he reached his father’s study and found the steward waiting for him.

‘The peasantry will not like it,’ Bascombe said after Gerard explained the plan.

‘And the yeoman farmers will like it even less.’ He devoured the last mouthful of ham, then finding himself replete, indicated to the servant that the table be cleared. His father’s steward had been in their employ since he’d been a boy. Bascombe’s son Robert had been a playmate. The man was set in his ways and Gerard wondered if he fully grasped the situation. ‘Nevertheless,’ he said firmly. ‘The strip system is inefficient and will be abandoned.’

He waited until the table was cleared then spread the map of the estate across the surface. ‘Walls and hedges will go where indicated, small farms be combined, and rents raised accordingly.’ His forefinger stabbed downwards. ‘I’ve already made a start there. Those farmers who are not conversant with the new system will be instructed in its use.

‘Yes, My Lord.’ Bascombe hesitated. ‘If I may say something, sir.’

‘Say it,’ he encouraged with a faint smile.

‘Respectfully, Sir, you’ve been away for some time. Trouble has risen over this system in other parts of the country.’

‘I’m aware of that.’ Rising to his feet Gerard gazed out at the falling snow. ‘There’s always trouble when things change. However, the ranks of the local population have been thinned by the recent smallpox epidemic. Laborers are hard to come by. Those farmers who’ve proven to be unproductive in the past must go. They’ll be recompensed of course, but go they will.’ He surprised a look of resignation on Bascombe’s face when he turned.

‘Come, Bascombe, things won’t be too bad. I’ll address the meeting of tenants myself. If there be dissent I’ll take it upon my own head. You are aware of the system’s benefits?’

‘Yes, Sir. My son is one of its firmest advocates. He’s often sought to convince me of its advantages.’ Bascombe managed a smile. ‘Robert informs me the growing population needs a more productive and efficient farming system. The system achieves that, I believe.’ ‘How is Robert these days?’ he asked, reckoning that Robert’s line of thinking was more compatible with his own than that of Bascombe senior. ‘Wasn’t he apprenticed to a counting house in Dorchester?’

Bascombe’s face grew long. ‘Gambling has put my son’s employer deeply in debt. Robert’s worried about the future of his family and is seeking a position elsewhere.’

‘Perhaps we could use him here if he’s conversant with the enclosure system,’ he suggested. ‘The estate needs a secretary, and I a clerk.’ He smiled reassuringly when concern registered on the steward’s face. ‘He’d not object to working under his own father, I hope?’

Bascombe smiled. ‘No, sir, and there’s a cottage on the estate which goes with the position.’

‘Fine, fine… it’s settled then, if Robert is willing.’ Dismissing the man, Gerard summoned Rodgers to bring him his warmest cloak and hat, then set off towards the stables.

Brian O’Shea was grooming an emaciated stallion when Gerard entered. The man was crooning softly to it whilst he worked. Eyes half-closed, his ears pricked towards the sound, the stallion appeared to be dozing. He crossed to the pair as he waited for the stable boy to saddle his gelding. First, he ran his hand over the stallion’s gaunt rib cage, then walked along its length. ‘Hmmm,’ he muttered, taking the stallion’s head between his hands. ‘It’s got nice lines, but why is the beast in such poor condition?’

‘It’s a Sheronwood stallion. It escaped when the horses were sold and the poor beast has been running wild. I brought it in just a few days ago.’ Brian gave him a knowing look. ‘To be sure, he would make a fitting mate for Circe.’

‘She’s not produced a foal yet?’ He glanced at Circe, who was watching proceedings from her stall.

‘She’s a proud creature, sir.’ He chuckled. ‘She’s too spirited for old Fury. Last time he tried to cover her she nigh on bit his ear off.’

Gerard grinned. Despite its thinness, the stallion’s Arab blood was evident in its lines and movement. ‘A Sheronwood stallion, you say?’

‘The agent in Dorchester has the papers,’ Brian offered, exchanging a glance of mutual understanding with his master. ‘The Sheronwood stable was sold at market. I should imagine he’d accept any offer just to get his books in order.’ He led the stallion into a stall. ‘Circe will be coming into season again shortly, sir.’

‘You don’t need to convince me any further. I’ll ride in to Dorchester and see the agent now.’ Mounting his horse, he smiled at the stable boy. ‘You ride Circe well.’

‘Circe?’ The boy scratched his head and appeared puzzled.

‘I thought I saw you riding the mare on my return to Lytton House?’

‘No My Lord. None but Brian O’Shea and— ‘

His gelding gave a high-pitched whinny when Brian knocked over a metal pail. It danced nervously under him.

‘Sorry, My Lord,’ Brian muttered when he managed to get the surging beast under control. ‘He’s skittish this morning. He needs a good run after being rested yesterday.’

Gerard said nothing more, but his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he urged his mount into a walk and headed off. The groom had deliberately kicked the pail over. But why would he want to shut the stable boy up? Did it matter who exercised Circe?

The landscape was white with frost, the trees stark shapes against a grey sky. Snow lightly powdered the ground and swirled about him. He forgot about Circe as the pleasure of being home drifted into thoughts of his childhood. The estate had a sense of timelessly about it. His father had shaped him for stewardship of the land since childhood, involving him in the day to day events so it would come to him naturally. Then, it had seemed a long way off. Now it was almost upon him, he felt unprepared.

The earldom was not about position or power. It was about responsibility. He would be the keeper of the land for future generations. It was up to him whether it survived into the future. He was not blessed with the patience of his father, but perhaps that was all to the good.

He chuckled when a bird attempted to land on the frozen lake and skittered, squawking with fright, across its surface. When Jeffrey had been small he’d taught him to slide along its frozen edge. In the summer they’d built a raft and played at being pirates.

Once, his mother and a guest had discovered them naked. He’d been sixteen, Jeffrey six. Their father had been in London on business. He’d been teaching his brother to swim.

There had been a haze just above the surface of the lake. Dragonflies had danced across the water, their iridescent wings flashing like jewels. He’d made a cave in the reeds to hide them from prying eyes but the sound of their laughter had given them away. The magic of that day had been brought abruptly to a halt when… ?