Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (15 page)

"I doubt it," Dera said, hearing a tap at the door and steeling herself because she knew it would be Avery. Anna answered it.

Avery's pale face lit up like a beacon when he saw Dera. In all his life, including his wild, dandy days in London, no woman had such a visible effect on him. At times, he became tongue tied and felt like an inexperienced farmer in her presence. A vision of pink and white loveliness, she grudgingly held out her hand to him, knowing he expected her to.

Eagerly he grasped it, his eyes unable to leave her perfect oval shaped face. Her sad, violet eyes hidden beneath dark fringed lashes, held him prisoner. He had married her hoping that she would eventually return his feelings, and he wanted to believe that she was extraordinary enough to love him for himself, even though he couldn't make love to her. To compensate for his guilt, he indulged her.

Proud to have such a beautiful woman for a wife and sorry for harming her, he conjured up the idea of a ball whereby she could meet his neighbors and begin to live the life he had provided for her. It. had been years since he had given such a party and he hoped with all of his heart that Dera would bestow upon him a smile of genuine affection and forgiveness.

"Our guests have started to arrive, my dear. We should greet them."

Dera nodded and stiffened as she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. The ball had been a wondrous idea at first and she bad been excited by it. Yet it always seemed to be far in the future. Now that it was actually upon her, all of the doubts about her position as Lady Fairfax surfaced.

Bejeweled women in exquisite gowns and men strutting like peacocks paraded past Dera as Avery made introductions. Polite comments were exchanged amid smarmy smiles. Dera felt uneasy. She guessed everyone assessed her and wondered how a man as wealthy and influential as Avery Fairfax could lower himself to marry an Irish peasant girl.

The elaborate supper after the dancing seemed to last forever. The fare was delicious with ample portions of fowl, venison and fine wine served in golden goblets; it was followed by a dessert of berries covered with thick cream.

Dera was seated at the other end of the table, away from Avery. On her left sat a tiresome French woman, the wife of a wealthy Protestant who resided on a nearby estate. On Dera's right was the woman's male cousin.

"Everyone was surprised by Lord Fairfax's marriage," the French woman, whose name was Adele, said in her halting accent. "Monty and I never expected him to marry again, especially not someone as young and pretty as yourself." Dera blushed at the woman's frank and probing stare, but she smiled politely and kept silent until the woman turned her attention elsewhere.

"Never mind Adele, Lady Fairfax. She means well, but there are times she doesn't realize she has gone too far."

Dera directed her gaze to Adele's cousin. During the meal he had been silent and she had almost forgotten his presence, but now, as she studied him, she immediately liked his kind face and the serious brown eyes that matched his curly hair. His clothes, though not as elaborate as those of the other men present at the table, were expensive and tasteful. Instinctively Dera felt that this quiet Frenchman, who spoke impeccable English, had no desire to impress anyone and was satisfied with himself as he was.

"Truly, I didn't take offense, but I'm sorry to admit that I've forgotten your name."

He smiled in amusement. "Quite all right, for I am not as important as these English popinjays. I am Dominick Saucier. There is no title before my name."

Dera warmed to him, sensing he understood her unease among such notable personages. "I gather you aren't impressed by a man's title or his wealth. You're a rare individual."

"Not where I come from. At home, a man is what he accomplishes, not what he inherits, though there are many who live only on past laurels."

“
Where is your home, Monsieur Saucier?" Her interest was sparked by this man who held position so lightly.

"Nouvelle Orleans," he said. Seeing her look of incomprehension, he explained that New Orleans was a French colony, part of the territory of Louisiana. As he spoke, she quickened to his sense of pride in the town and could almost imagine it in her mind's eye.

"Mon Dieu,
when the town was founded, it was little more than an outpost along the river. Many of the early inhabitants were kidnapped to become unwilling citizens. In fact, the French jails were cleaned out and prisoners sent as colonists.
Naturalment,
not everyone wanted to work, and for a time it seemed as if only vagrants populated the town. However, the nuns arrived and some decent women. Then things began to prosper. I have come to the conclusion that with the right woman, a man can do anything." He laughed and Dera rewarded him with a brilliant smile.

"Are you married,
monsieur?"

"Ah,
madame,
that is the great misfortune of my life. I have not found the right woman.”

“
What is your occupation?”

“
I'm a merchant by trade," he told her. "We, my sister and myself, live a simple but comfortable existence. As long as I have strength and good sense, my own will never go hungry or unclothed. I work for what I have and take nothing from any man." He smiled at her in such a sweet, gentle way that her heart fluttered.

As much as Dera enjoyed conversing with Dominick, a sixth sense warned her that his talk wasn't just idle chatter. He was informing her about himself, giving her grounds to understand him. The comfortable feeling vanished. Dominick Saucier, with his honorable ways, was a danger to her—he was a loving and caring man whom she could care about.

Dominick was totally unaware of his lovesick look, but Dera saw it and a slow blush crept across her face like a crimson tide. Slowly, he seemed to realize his gaze had lingered for too long on the most beautiful face he had ever seen. He looked away, but not before Avery noticed.

With hands unsteady from a great deal of drink, Avery grabbed a goblet of wine, causing it to slosh and stain his new jacket. Almost immediately a servant appeared at his side to dab it away, but Avery struck out with his hand and left a red splotch on the servant’s pale and confused face. "Go away, I don't need an Irish lackey to tend to me." His speech sounded slurred and high pitched. Everyone stopped eating and conversing to stare at him. He caught Dera's eye.

“
What's wrong? Haven't you ever seen a drunken man before?" Avery quickly downed another drink. "A good night to indulge," he muttered.

The conversation started up again, low and strained, and although no one glanced in her direction, Dera felt she was to blame for Avery's ugly behavior. She wanted to talk to him in private but she had to wait until the ball was over, but by that time it was too late. Avery had passed out and been carried to bed by two servants.

She made her way to her own room and found Anna, looking tired and drawn, waiting to help her undress. "I didn't think you'd still be up this late. Go to bed, Anna. I can manage by myself," Dera said wearily.

"No. My job is to attend to you and I pride myself on doing good work." Anna was sincere but obviously exhausted, so Dera compromised with her.

"Unfasten the buttons on the back of my gown and you may go."

Anna smiled her gratitude and spoke quietly. "I noticed the way that young man was looking at you tonight. He's interested in you." She undid the gown's fastenings.

"Oh, you mean Monsieur Saucier," Dera said nonchalantly, but her heart raced at the thought of the melting looks he had given her. "He seems to be a man of honor."

"A word of caution, my girl. Be careful. That Frenchy may seem honorable, but he's still a man and men throw away honor for a pretty face. Just like that." She snapped her fingers. "Lord Fairfax won't take kindly to another man lurking around you."

Dera stepped out of the gown and tossed it onto a chair. "Thank you for being concerned, Anna, but Monsieur Saucier has no intention of lurking around me, as you put it, nor do I intend to let him. Now, good night."

Anna departed and Dera donned a scarlet wrap over her chemise. She sat by the mirror and brushed her hair. The candlelight cast soft shadows over her face and deepened the violet pools of her eyes. The face that had frightened her earlier that evening had vanished. Now, she noticed a softness there. While she recalled Dominick's warmth and their conversation, she didn't immediately notice the slight movement behind her until it happened again. Chilled, she put the brush down. "Who's there?" she asked in a strong voice, hoping she hid well her fear. There was no answer, but a shadowy figure moved closer until she could see the man’s reflection in the looking glass. "Quint," she breathed.

" 'Tis me, sweet lady."

She sat frozen in her chair, unable to ask him how he had gained entrance into her room or past Anna. He advanced toward her, his face above hers. Then his large, warm hands were around her neck, massaging the tense muscles.

Her fear subsided and strangely she wasn't afraid of his touch. He had never harmed her before and she doubted he would hurt her. But she wished he would leave. There were guests in the house and if anyone saw him, it would be impossible to explain. “You'd better leave, Quint."

"Nay, I want to see you squirm. All those nights that I've been unable to sleep, I've been imagining how it would be when I finally take from you what you’ve taken from me.”

“
I’ve taken nothing from you.”

“
You’re different now, that’s for sure. The old Dera would have understood about pride and love, my fine lady. Forget about wealth, fancy clothes and a big house. Remember, if you can, what it's like when a man and a woman make love, real love, and how everything merges and becomes clear."

'Then you're here because you love me?" Dera asked.

"I'm here because I hate you!"

She stiffened at the harshness of his tone. He knelt beside her, and with deft fingers, he untied her wrap and let it fall around her like a brilliant summer sunset. "Remove this," he said, touching her chemise.

"No!" She twisted away from him, seeing something cold and vengeful in his face, but he held her fast and laughed when he saw the fear in her eyes. With an easy movement, he ripped away the chemise to reveal her breasts, her nipples already hard and ripe for his touch.

"The many nights I've thought of you in Fairfax's arms have been hell. Now, you're going to pay for the torment you've caused me."

He picked her up easily and carried her to the bed. She lay stretched out, naked beneath his lustful gaze. Before she realized it, Quint had undressed and was beside her. He turned her face to his and all the torment of his soul was in his eyes. She wanted to fight him for doing this to her, to rake her long nails over his face for the way he had brutally taken her love and humiliated her. She wanted to hurt him for forcing her into a marriage to a man she didn't love, but she stayed quiet beneath his hands.

“
I want you to know what it’s like when a man takes what he wants, Dera, when he takes something which doesn't belong to him in the way your husband cheated my family. I want you to know the pain of a joyless existence.” His mouth pressed hard on her, bruising her lips.

"Stop," she pleaded but as he moved his mouth away, his lips trailed the curve of her neck, stopping to rest between her breasts. Lightly, he flicked his tongue over her taut nipples. Dera sucked in her breath at the exquisite sensations and involuntarily moved, a movement Quint was quick to notice.

His hands flew between her thighs and pushed them apart. “I’m ready for you now, Dera.” He straddled her, his face distorted.

Dera longed to cry out that he stop, but a slow heat spread across her body. For the first time, their eyes met and held, and she could see that the hatred in his eyes melted. Slowly, with a gentleness that she had forgotten he possessed, his mouth touched hers. The heat of her body became a tangible thing and she felt as if they were wrapped in a warm cloak. She caught the rhythm of his body as he moved above her, a rhythm she had once known and could never forget. Time seemed to stand still. She imagined they were in the meadow beneath the night sky. She smiled up at him and stroked the back of his neck, loving the feel of his hair between her fingers.

"Dera." The softness in his eyes disappeared and he looked at her with total passion. Skillfully, he touched the intimate parts of her. The warmth became a fire, and she pressed the lower half of her body against him until she felt him move inside her. She met the passion of his movements with her own, as he excited her to heights she only reached when he plummeted to the depths of her. She heard his rapid breathing. The room swirled before her eyes and diffused into a myriad of colors. She abandoned herself to the ecstasy of becoming one with him . . .