Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (30 page)

His left arm hurt again, and as his other hand moved to massage it, he felt the cards in his top pocket.

"A game of cards, colonel? To pass the time? Winner take all."

“
I’ve heard you are a master with the cards.”

Dominick smiled smugly. He would beat the Irish colonel and humiliate him before his cronies. "Are you afraid?"

Quint sat down and leaned back in his chair and said, “Fear is one thing with which I'm unfamiliar, monsieur. Please deal."

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

A cool afternoon breeze touched Dera's cheeks and billowed the black skirt about her as she walked in the garden.

Had it only been that morning that Dominick was buried? It seemed like months had passed instead of hours. The shock of his sudden death had barely sunk in. His health had been poor, but she hadn't expected him to suffer heart failure over a game of cards.

She had been told his end had been quick, presaged by an agonizing pain in his chest. Then he slumped across the table at Vaudry's Tavern, all life gone. The news left her dumfounded, but the irony of the situation shocked her. Dominick had been playing cards with Quint!

It was rumored that Dominick had incurred heavy losses, bringing on the attack. Dera had no inkling what Dominick had gambled away. He had packed very little when he left. She wanted to speak to Quint about this and was a bit surprised when he showed up at the funeral. Instead she had ignored him out of grief and anger since she felt he had contributed to Dominick's death.

The creak of the garden gate caused her to turn. Quint walked towards her, a serious and business like attitude in his demeanor. She would never get used to seeing him in a uniform or help noticing how the golden beard brought out the blackness of his eyes.

"How are you, Dera?" he inquired.

"Don't pretend you really care," she said, brushing away a dark hair from her cheek.

Quint couldn't help thinking that even in widow's weeds, she was beautiful. He wanted to hold her tight against him, but he recalled another windy day as he waited on a mountain side and watched her bury the man he hated. That pain reasserted itself. He said very formally, "I have a proposition for you, Madame Saucier."

She lifted an eyebrow, not trusting him. "What might that be, Colonel Flanders? Have you come to collect on my husband's debts to you? You never said what you won from him. Whatever it was, you succeeded in killing him.”

"Don't be a witch, Dera. But you're right. I.am here to collect. Your poor deceased husband was obsessed with gambling, and once he started, couldn't stop." He withdrew a piece of paper written in Dominick's handwriting from an inside pocket of his jacket. "This explains the loss."

She read the paper he handed to her, then reread it to be certain her eyes hadn't deceived her.

“
Dominick must have been insane. He would never have done this."

"He was in his right mind. See the stamp on it. He had the foresight to send for the notary and make the bet legal. Your shop and property are mine. I own the piece of ground you stand on."

Dominick's fascination with gambling had proved greater than Dera could ever have foreseen. Numbness gave way to anger at Dominick's vice. She, Paul and Rosette had nowhere to go. Quint had taken the roof over their heads, but if he hoped to see her beg, he was mistaken. She had begged for his love in Kilmainham. Gaol and humbled herself on the night of Dominick's arrest. But no longer.

She stiffened. "I'll get our things together. We'll leave this night."

She moved away but he halted her with a hand on her arm. "Dera, I'm not here to turn you out, but to offer you the chance to make good your debt to me."

"I have nothing to repay."

"Aye, you do, and by God before this day is over, you'll marry me and give me the chance to raise my son."

A coldness squeezed her heart. He knew! She longed to throw her arms around him, to tell him she wanted him to know his son, but the bitterness in his eyes stopped her. This offer wasn't made out of love, but out of revenge.

“
I'm pleased you aren't as blind as you seem, Quint, but if this offer is made only to have Paul, I'll not be doing it."

“
Damn it, Dera! You've no other choice. I won't have my boy living with you and any man you may happen to attract."

She raised her arm to strike him, but he grabbed her wrist. "This time I was expecting your wrath."

“
You think I'm a whore."

His grip relaxed and his voice softened. "You're the mother of my son, and I demand that you marry me."

She wanted to refuse, but she realized she really didn't have a choice. "I have no other alternative," she said. "But people will talk. We’ll be the topic of conversation for months."

He smiled ruefully. “After the shock has worn off, they’ll accept it, because you will be the wife of a powerful man.”

“
This is all done for that reason, I think, to show me how powerful you are.”

"Dera, you still don't know me," he said. "But if it will make you feel better, I don't expect you to primp for our wedding night. I promise you that I won't dirty you with my touch. My nights will be spent at the barracks."

She winced. How he must hate her to offer her such an arrangement!

"I hope your nights at the barracks will be comfortable," she said, leisurely walking away without giving him the opportunity to see he had affected her. But her heart cried and not for the reason he would have thought.

Quint wasn't in his office at the barracks when Rosette arrived. She sat in his chair and waited, wondering what could be keeping him. Her eyes wandered around the room until they rested on the cot near the wall; she laughed and hugged herself. The memory of making love with Quint were vibrant and clear. Never, never had she felt so alive. Never had her body burned like fire under his expert hands. Quint made her feel like a real woman. He didn't have to ask how to please her. He just knew.

If she hadn't been so contented, she might still be jealous of Dera's obvious attraction to him. But Dera was no longer a threat. Dera still mourned Dominick. Of course, Rosette missed him a great deal and wondered just how much Dera had contributed to poor Dominick's misery. At the moment, Quint was foremost in her thoughts; her life revolved around his smile, his kiss, his touch and the memory of the day he made love to her and she showed him just how much she desired him.

Yet, she sensed something different about him lately. Her secret visits didn't lead to lovemaking. In fact, he hadn't touched her since before Dominick's death; he only looked absently at her, as if she weren't there. Once she had even begun to remove her clothes, but he had stopped her.

The door opened and she looked up expecting to see Quint's handsome face, but it was only his crude friend, Jem McConnell.

"Pardon, Mademoiselle, but I thought the colonel had returned."

"I have been waiting for him myself. Do you know where he is?"

Jem stroked his chin. "Maybe, but I don't know if I should be telling you."

Rosette shrugged her shoulders in apparent disinterest. “Whatever you wish,” she said cooly .

“
He has gone off with a bottle of whiskey, pining after his lady love."

“
He has no need for that. I am here and will tell him of my love,” Rosette said.

Jem threw back his head and laughed. “You women be all the same, thinking a man dotes on a smile from you. There are other women in this world, especially the one the colonel can't get out of his bloody system."

Rosette sprang from the chair like a gazelle. Heat rose to her face and turned it crimson. "He is in love with someone else? Who is she? I demand to know the trollop's name."

Jem grew more amused by the second. "The woman is not a trollop, but the colonel's wife," he said, laughing.

The blood drained from Rosette's face. She clung to the desk for support. "I didn't know he was married."

“
Aye, the vows were secretly exchanged here in the barracks, only a few days ago. He married the grieving widow of your poor brother.”

"No! It can't be true!" she screamed. “You’re lying.”

"Aye, and I am just as much displeased. I've hungered for that wench years ago, but her heart has always belonged to Quint. I've suffered, and you will suffer, too. He betrayed you, but she was always the one he wanted."

A stinging, burning sensation clawed at Rosette’s throat, and she realized she was crying.

Jem attempted to hold her, to offer comfort, but she pushed him away. "Leave me be, you stupid oaf." She swiped at a neatly piled set of papers on Quint's desk, scattering them about the floor. She turned and ran into the night, so upset she barely knew that her feet carried her along the deserted streets.

"Rosette!"

A carriage pulled alongside her. Etienne flung open the door and got out. "Whatever is wrong?" What are you doing on the streets after dark?” he asked.

She threw herself into his arms, sobbing more piteously than she had cried on the day Dominick was buried.

“
Tienne. Tienne, how unhappy I am.” Tears streamed like diamonds down her cheeks.

His big clumsy hands stroked her hair. "Crying won't bring back Dominick, Rosette."

"Dominick?" She looked at him blankly, then realized he thought she was crying for her brother. There wasn't any way she could tell him the truth, so she allowed him to think what he wished.

"Come with me,
cherie.
We'll ride until you calm down."

She allowed him to help her into the carriage and to place her head on his shoulder. Etienne was comforting, secure, but he wasn't Quint. He held her in the darkness of the carriage until her sobs ceased.. When she had calmed down enough to think, she realized that Quint wasn't sharing Dera's bed. What sort of marriage was that? Since she wasn’t performing her wifely duty, there must be another reason for the marriage. A man as virile as Quint wouldn’t accept such a strange sleeping arrangement forever. Everything might not be lost, she thought.

“
Are you better now, Rosette?” Etienne asked her.

Her large wet eyes lifted to his. "
Oui
, Tienne, all is well."

The river's swift current glided past Quint as he gazed at its murky blackness. An ominous wind rustled through the trees and lightning streaked the sky. He had long since abandoned the whiskey bottle which lay half full beside him.

The oblivion he originally sought hadn't overtaken him, and he suddenly didn't wish to fade into the darkness. He longed for peace and the only place he had ever found it was with Dera..

"Dera, damn you!" he screamed into the turbulent night. Why must he constantly think of her waiting in that house? He'd never forget her beautiful face as he married her in O'Reilly's chambers. She had worn a gown of dark blue instead of the widow's weeds. Not once had they touched, but their eyes had met and held for long seconds before she looked away.

Could there be some hope she still cared? His loins ached for her; he needed her love if only for a night. Yet he wouldn't be able to bear her scorn if she rejected him.

Quint grabbed for the bottle and took a swig. The liquid burned as it went down and warmed the chill in his soul. Slowly his courage returned.

"I'm not afraid of her," he said aloud. "She's only a bloody woman who needs to learn who her master is.”

A bit unsteadily he rose to his feet and decided to break the promise he had made.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

The night sky held a promise of rain; Dera heard the distant rumble of thunder and she opened the veranda doors in her bedroom. She lit the candles on the dressing table. After piling her hair atop her head, she undressed and stepped into the tub.

Luxuriating in the coolness of the water, she bathed herself with the new soap Dominick had ordered for her from England. The scent reminded her of heather, making her smile as she remembered Ireland. Suddenly she sighed. Dominick had been dead only a few weeks, yet now she was Quint's wife. The whole thing was a sham; Anna thought she was insane. Quint had seen Paul but once, so what purpose did the marriage serve?