Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (16 page)

Quint lay atop her and nibbled the lobe of her ear. "I believe you've bewitched me, Dera Brennan."

She nuzzled against him and put her arms around his neck. "Witchcraft isn't involved, but love is."

Quint sighed and eased himself onto his side. 'Tis a peculiar thing," he said. "I never expected to admit my feelings to you, but I love you. I can't bear sharing you with Fairfax. Thinking of you with him sickens me. . . ."

She stopped his words by placing her fingers upon his lips. "Shh, Quint. Avery has never made love to me. He can't."

Stunned surprise registered on his face, then he chuckled mirthlessly. "You married him for money then?"

Dera sat up and pulled the covers about her. "I don't wish to discuss the reasons for my marriage."

"But I want to. Tell me why you left me." He grabbed her arms, inadvertently hurting her with his strength.

She cowered. Fear filled her and suddenly she felt vulnerable. The mental bruises of Avery's beating hadn't yet healed. "Don't hurt me," she pleaded.

The doe like terror in her eyes shook him. He loosened his grip. "Nay, I wouldn't do that. Has anyone lifted a finger against you?"

She shook her head in false denial and lowered her face so he wouldn't know she lied. But he tipped her chin upwards. "Has Fairfax ever beaten you?"

"No.”

“
I can tell when you’re lying. Tell me the truth.”

She no longer wanted barriers between them. “Once, but he was sorry for it.”

“
I’ll kill the bloody bastard!”

Dera grew alarmed, hating herself for telling him. "Please don't start anything. It happened a while ago, but I'm certain it won't happen again. Avery had taken to drink and sometimes gets moody, but I can handle him."

Being with her again meant everything to him, so with a strength of will, he calmed down. Tenderly, he pushed a lock of long hair behind her shoulders. "Now, tell me why you left me. I wish to know."

Tears stung Dera's eyes. The memory of Peg McConnell writhing beneath him was still vivid and painful to her. She looked down at her hands, clutching the bed sheet. "I saw you and Peg McConnell mating like animals. I went to you after Timothy and Lydia banished me for refusing Avery ... but Peg was there with you."

"Peg? I remember no such time. Anyway, she meant nothing to me. You've always had my heart. 'Twas no reason to turn away from me." Her attitude puzzled him. Couldn't she understand that he was a man? Peg did have a way of turning his head and pleasing him in ways which Dera knew little. Yet, he hadn't meant for Dera to learn of their relationship or to be hurt by it. He had sent Peg back to her brother shortly after Dera's marriage because she flew into jealous rages every time he glanced at another woman. He didn't like feeling tied to someone like Peg, who gave him pleasure, but meant nothing else. Besides, she had headed for Athlone a month past and taken up with someone else.

The tears spilled down Dera's cheeks. He cupped her chin and asked her tenderly, "What else?"

She looked at him, tears in her eyes and said, "I heard you tell her you loved her." Her voice broke. Like a small, hurt child, he cradled her in his arms, hoping to comfort her and alleviate her pain, but a sense of loss filled him. Because of his unbridled lust, he had lost Dera. Truthfully, he didn't remember telling Peg of love, but apparently he had ... Dera had heard him.

"I love only you."

"I want to believe you," she said, her fingers brushing against the hardness of his jaw.

"Let me prove my love to you, Dera." He wiped the tears from her face and kissed her long and sweetly. He pushed her onto the pillows and savored the feel of her moist, warm lips. Dera sighed, the promise made to Avery forgotten. This man was her weakness, her love forever. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer against her and the tide of passion swept over them once again.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

On a gloomy afternoon, Dera lay in Quint's arms and listened to the wind howling about his cottage. Stolen hours with him were easier to manage than she had anticipated. She found her love for him was stronger than before; and she accepted the fact that he had always loved her and still did. Avery never questioned her whereabouts. Since the night of the ball, he had been distant and cool. Yet, despite her ambivalence for him, she didn't want him to discover her relationship with Quint, because she didn't wish Avery to be humiliated.

Quint lay motionless, but she knew he wasn't asleep. Even after making love, he held himself rigidly, ready to react to the slightest noise. His tenseness and long silences caused her increasing worry. Was another burning about to occur? In spite of his love for her, she felt Quint wasn't going to give up his dream of winning back Fairfax Manor at any cost.

Dera stirred, and he looked at her, a cautious smile on his lips. "Will Fairfax start searching for you?"

"I told him that I would be visiting Lydia this afternoon, but he won't bother looking for me."

"Why is that?"

"Avery paid a call upon her after she lost the baby and he vowed never to go back again. He said Lydia isn't right in the head."

"Aye, I agree with him on that point. I've seen her at odd hours during the night wandering near the bog. She stops just near the edge, then turns around and heads for home. She has grown a might odd."

Dera grew alarmed. "Have you told Timothy? Perhaps she needs someone to watch her. There's no telling what she might do."

"I'm not one to interfere in another man's business. My guess is that Timothy knows of her peculiarity. After all, he is her husband."

She reached out for her gown, determined to visit Lydia that afternoon and to see for herself.

"Not so quickly," Quint laughed and pulled her into his arms. "I'm not finished with you yet." His hands were everywhere upon her body, seemingly not satisfied with the fulfillment of an hour before. She lay under him as his body moved over hers and caught his rhythm.

Later, after she had dressed, she went to him and laid her head against his chest. "I hate leaving you. Each time it becomes harder."

"Aye."

"Quint?" She looked up at him, and though he glanced down, it was as if he weren't seeing her.

"What?" he asked absently.

She wished to discover his thoughts, but decided it was best to remain ignorant. "Nothing," she replied.

He bent his head and kissed her deeply. "Until tomorrow."

She held her cape tightly about her as she left the cottage because the April wind blew strong, but spring was coming. The fields were turning green and the farmers were already cutting turf. As she hurried along the road, wild daisies bobbed in the blustery wind.

She knocked on the door of Timothy's farmhouse and when there was no answer, she entered. The place was in disarray. Every plate was cracked or broken on the floor; pots and cups were cluttered on the table tops. What shocked Dera most was the sight of Lydia huddled in a chair. Her hair hung about her shoulders in a tangled mass of knots. Her dress was dirty, and she sat with her arms tightly drawn across her chest.

"I've, come to help you, Lydia. Uncle Timothy should have fetched me." Dera moved near her, but Lydia jerked away.

" 'Tis nothing to be done. I need no help."

"How did these dishes break?"

Lydia grinned, remembering how she had taken everything from the cupboards and hurled them at Timothy, not out of anger but because he wasn't her Gavin. "No need to trouble yourself. I'll sweep up the mess."

"Your clothes are soiled. Don't you want to change?"

"I'm happy as I am."

“
Let me help you, Lydia."

"Stop it, Dera!" Lydia quickly got up, nearly knocking Dera down. "I don't want your pity. Pity yourself, not me."

“
Why am I to be pitied?” Dera asked in bafflement.

"You've been meeting Quint Flannery again. Aye, I can tell it from your eyes, that look a woman gets only when she has been satisfied in a man's bed. Give him up or you'll become like me ... unfulfilled and mad."

"I love him, Lydia."

"Then you'll be sorry. Leave me alone."

Dera wanted to help her, but decided that in the present situation, it would be a useless gesture. Surely Timothy knew of Lydia's state of mind. For once, she decided not to heed her own instincts.

“
I don't approve of it at all." Anna clucked her tongue and shook her head as she brushed Dera's hair that evening. "Doesn't seem proper for you to be seeing Mr. Quint again, no matter what his lordship has done. I know I’m not your kin, but I feel a duty to warn you.”

Dera's voice became soft and wistful. "One day, all will be as it should be. Quint's home will belong to him, and we'll be together for always."

Anna finished buttoning the back of Dera's gown. Her eyes misted. "In my younger years, I married me a fine lad. I didn't love him, but I was sorry when he died. Probably never will find a man to love, being so plain and getting on in age. I don't know how it feels to be in love, so I can't sit in judgment of you. Mind, I don't begrudge you Mr. Quint, but I worry if his lordship ever gets wind of it." Anna shivered at the thought.

Dera hugged her. "You're a loyal friend. I appreciate your concern."

Later Dera sat in the drawing room, her fingers busy with her embroidery while Avery sat reading a book. A few times she cast secretive glances in his direction, trying to read his mind. If Lydia were able to see something in her eyes, why not Avery? He had a knack for being intuitive. She suffered immense guilt at deceiving him. She felt, rightly, that she had given her word, then she had broken it almost without thinking.

Avery put his book down and looked at her thoughtfully. Dera felt his eyes upon her and smiled warily at him. "Did you pay a call to Lydia?" he asked.

"Yes, but she isn't well. I fear for her."

"You noticed her rattled condition."

"Losing the baby has unbalanced her. She wanted that child very much."

"I presume you would also like children, Dera." His tone was matter of fact, but Dera felt the color rise to her cheeks and hoped he wouldn't see the truth in her eyes.

"Almost every woman wants a child. There are some who don't, like my mother for instance. She was a terrible mother. For her, it would have been best had I not been born."

Avery leaned forward in his chair, a tightness about his mouth. "This discussion does not concern your mother. You are attempting to change the subject. I always believed in your honesty.”

She quelled an impulse to leave the room and met Avery's challenging stare with one of her own. She was a young woman with a young woman's dreams. Of course, she wanted children. Why should she lie about it?

"Yes, I would like children."

He settled his back against his chair, satisfied with her answer. "Unfortunately, I can't give you any, but one day after I am gone, perhaps you will remarry and achieve motherhood. All I've ever required of you, Dera, is forthrightness. I hope I shall never have cause to think otherwise."

Dera continued her embroidery, but her hands trembled as Avery resumed reading. She refused to look at him, suspecting the guilt of her betrayal was etched on her face. She wasn't certain if he suspected her, perhaps the conversation meant little, but she knew Avery well enough to know that he rarely made a frivolous comment. Common sense warned her to stop seeing Quint, but she couldn't. Every moment away from him seemed an eternity; not to be loved by him any longer would be torture.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Anna, rushing into the room. "Sorry, my lord, but have you seen the flames? The fire can be seen for miles around."

"Fire?" Avery quickly rose and followed Anna who parted the drapes. Toward the east, red-orange flames licked the night sky and illuminated the entire horizon. Dera put her embroidery down and got up slowly, a sickening feeling roiled in the pit of her stomach. No one had to tell her that Quint and his band of rebels were responsible for the fiery destruction.