Helen Dickson (16 page)

Gently placing his hands on her upper arms, he drew her closer. ‘I am not a monster, Laura, and I do not deserve your bitterness and animosity.’

‘No? In my opinion you do. I ask you once again to leave, Lucas. I have nothing further I wish to say to you,’ she said coldly, wrenching herself free and whirling away from him, not prepared to be mollified, and in the next instant she was caught and spinning round, finding herself crushed against the hard wall of his chest.

Lucas’s jaw was tight with anger, his expression incensed, embittered, his black eyebrows drawn together in a straight line. He would not be turned away with this craving hunger gnawing at the pit of his belly.

‘Be warned, Laura,’ he seethed. ‘I will not be treated like an imbecile. I am not some mindless schoolboy to be dismissed, and I will not be addressed as such. And yes, I gave you time, time to face the inevitability of our coming together, because I assure you that it will happen. My patience is wearing thin. If you are wondering how far you can drive me, you have just reached your limit. Have I made myself perfectly clear?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, jerking herself from his brutal embrace. ‘Perfectly.’ With a magnificent gesture of defiance she tossed her glossy mane of black hair, the rebellious look she threw at him conveying that she had every intention of continuing to defy him. ‘I will tell you now that I do not
want, nor will I have, a man who wishes to dominate me and bend me to his will. It must disappoint you to discover that I am not the complaisant, adoring female you thought you married, who would rush to do your smallest bidding.’

‘You will.’

His arrogant reply made Laura long to kick his shin. ‘Are you quite finished?’

‘No. There’s one thing more.’

‘And that is?’

His silver eyes burned down into hers. ‘Don’t ever order me to leave your room again. I am not going to continue living as a monk, nor am I going to remain sleeping in the turret room, either. Furthermore, I am not in favour of married couples occupying separate bedrooms. See to it that the master bedroom is prepared. John will take care of moving my things.’

Fire ignited in Laura’s eyes. She looked thoroughly mutinous, and when she opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of them sharing a bedroom he pressed a finger to her lips, his voice like ice. ‘If you’re sensible, Laura, you won’t argue.’

Some of the fierceness in his eyes drained away and his expression became more agreeable. Stepping back, he scrutinised her with a thoroughness that made her feel naked. His gaze moved unabashedly over her face, down to her high, rounded breasts and trim waist, then meandered with a leisurely impertinence along the full length of her.

Laura straightened proudly as he soaked up the sight of her. ‘I hope I do not disappoint you,’ she snapped.

‘On the contrary,’ he replied. ‘My compliments. You have matured beyond my wildest expectations. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?’

‘As beautiful as Caroline?’ she ground out between her teeth, his cool mockery and insufferable conceit finally snapping her fragile self-control. A hot flush of colour burned her cheeks, and her ire was ill-suppressed as all the
hot, angry words that had festered since she had walked away from Caroline’s room were ready to bubble to her lips. ‘Or maybe you can’t quite decide. Is that why you come from her room to mine—to compare us?’

L
ucas stared at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. His entire body stiffened. His expression went from stunned disbelief to uncontainable fury, his eyes as hard as metal. At last he understood what all this was about. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Do you actually have the impertinence to accuse me of having an affair with Caroline?’

Laura moved to stand before him, her eyes locking on his ready to do fresh battle, her chest heaving with a fury to equal to his own. ‘Yes! Yes, I do!’ she blazed irrationally. ‘Your conduct is rather hypocritical after your condemnation of me and Edward, don’t you think? You could have had the decency to be more discreet.’

‘If you know what’s good for you you will not go on with this. Be silent,’ Lucas said in a low, savage voice.

‘Oh, I will, Lucas. I will, providing you guard the morals of yourself and Caroline while you occupy this house with your wife. When you presented yourself to me after two long years, you had the gall to lecture me on morals and decorum—accusing me of gallivanting about the countryside with all and sundry. Ha!’ she scoffed furiously, plunking her hands in the curve of her waist and thrusting her face closer to his. ‘That’s laughable, don’t you think, when
you
are probably the biggest libertine in all England!’

‘You outrageous hellion! Have a care,’ Lucas warned, fury blazing in his narrowed eyes. ‘If you are under the impression that you can accuse me of wrongdoing, then you do not know me.’

‘After what I have witnessed this night—of you creeping along the gallery and entering your
guest’s
bedroom and taking her in your arms—then I have no wish to know you. Ever,’ she cried, her eyes riveted on her husband’s face that resembled a mask, the handsomely formed set of features as lifeless as a stone, yet Laura sensed—almost felt—the rage that was being kept under ruthless control. It came towards her in waves of heat.

There followed a long and terrible silence, until Lucas said at length, ‘And you assumed I am having an affair with Caroline on evidence as flimsy as that? Shame on you, Laura!’ he scoffed. ‘You have put yourself through this torment needlessly. This show of jealousy is unworthy of you. You are making yourself ridiculous by seeing things that aren’t there.’

‘Don’t you call me ridiculous,’ she blazed, knowing she was handling this all wrong, creating an argument on nothing stronger than suspicion and her own humiliation, but she couldn’t stop now. ‘I might have known you would deny it. You should be ashamed of yourself, but you show neither shame nor embarrassment, not even any regret for the pain you have caused me. If you cared anything at all for my feelings you would not have done it.’

‘I do care,’ he growled. ‘I thought I made that clear earlier.’

Laura searched that hard, sardonic face for some sign to clarify his statement, anything, but she was disappointed. She was so carried away with her own furious humiliation and anger that she could not stop herself. She didn’t heed her husband’s murderous look, or the muscle that was beginning to twitch in his tightly held jaw.

‘Would a man subject a woman he cared for—his
wife
—
to such cruel humiliation in her own home? Would he? If so I want none of such caring.’

‘Blast your insolence!’

‘And blast yours, you—you lecher, you beast!’

Oblivious to her epithets, Lucas snapped his brows together. ‘I advise you to heed what you accuse me of,’ he said, his voice hoarse in his throat as though it strained to get through some barrier.

‘Why should I? I believed you to be a man of honour, Lucas—that you would do nothing to discredit the name you bear. I believed you were Anton’s good friend. But what kind of friend is it that seduces his friend’s wife when his body is hardly cold?’

Crumbling on the edge of violence, Lucas stepped back, his gaze a frigid blast. ‘My God, Laura. You go too far. You may be young and naïve in many ways, but I did not take you for a fool.’

‘You’re right. I’ve been very naïve and very stupid. I know what I’m saying. I know what I saw. And now you will know why I do not want you in my bed. Ever.’

Lucas was on the point of fury where reason had left him, but suddenly he shrugged and turned from her, and strode swiftly to the door. ‘Suit yourself, Laura—since you obviously want to believe the worst of me. But it will be interesting to see just how long you can remain detached from this marriage,’ he mocked derisively.

Opening the door, he paused and looked back at her. Now it was his turn to be cruel, to feel the need to return hurt for hurt to the pale, graceful young woman who stood like a rigid, beautiful statue, and see those stormy, dark blue eyes falter. ‘I did go to Caroline’s room earlier—I freely admit that, and had you waited three minutes you would have seen me come out again. I went with the sole purpose of giving her some distressing news I had just received—that her mother is dead.’

When he had gone Laura stared at the closed door, un
able to believe what she had just done. She realised she had made a terrible, fatal blunder. She had failed to trust her husband, and had rejected the love he had offered. She had made a fool of herself in her haste to condemn him and Caroline, and she would never forgive herself. How Lucas must despise her, and how could she possibly atone for the dreadful thing she had accused him of?

Tears filled her eyes, and a softening warmth replaced the fury and mellowed her emotions. She slumped onto the bed, the tears flowing easily and the sleek lines of her body shuddering with each racking sob, until like the most violent of storms it passed. She wanted to go after him, for hadn’t her father once said, if you don’t mend a quarrel right away, even worse bitterness will result? Laura didn’t know whether it was true or not, and had always acted on it as if it was. She’d always made it a rule to apologise, no matter who was in the wrong.

Tonight she broke that rule.

Brushing back her hair from her face, she rose from the bed and donned her robe, and then went to console Caroline.

Lucas’s confrontation with Laura filled his head so he could think of nothing else. After two weeks he’d had enough of her nearness, of not touching and seeing without possessing, of the tension and the explosive emotion elicited by their meeting with Carlyle that day. Seeing her in her gorgeous blue gown earlier—a breathtaking vision and almost too exquisite to be flesh and blood—had almost tipped him over the edge, and broken all bounds of his restraint.

And so he had sought her out for a night of mindless passion, eager to initiate her as tenderly and artfully as he was able in the many ways in which they could pleasure each other, confident that a raw sensuousness and elemental voluptuousness lurked beneath the veneer of his beautiful
young wife. But the pleasurable night he’d anticipated had turned instead to a ferocious, bitter confrontation.

When they had returned to the manor he had read in one of the letters that had arrived from London during the evening that Lady Weston was dead, but if he hadn’t conceived that insane idea of going to Caroline’s room to break the news to her he realised he would be in bed with his wife this very minute.

That Laura should think he was having an affair with Caroline was preposterous and unjustifiable but, to be fair to her, for him to be seen entering Caroline’s bedroom, alone and at a late hour, and embracing her, was damning. In his opinion Laura had been too ready to accuse, too ready to condemn—but then, hadn’t he done exactly the same when he’d questioned her cruelly about her own relationship with Carlyle, implying that he didn’t believe her when she denied she had shared his bed?

With a tempest of hungry longing and indiscriminate rage at war within him, in no mood for another night of tormented solitude in his turret room, and to get his blood running again and to clear his head, Lucas left the house and took his frustration out on his horse, Bracken, goading the animal into even greater frenzy than necessary as he rode down to the cove, up the side of the cliff, and further inland.

A partially hidden moon was suspended over the solid earth, casting a whimsical, ever-changing light over the gently rolling landscape. There was none to see the lone rider who guided his powerful mount at breakneck speed, man and beast bound to the earth, none to hear the thundering hooves, flashing like quicksilver when they caught the light, and none to see the mount’s flared nostrils, his sweat-glistening coat and bunched muscles.

Eventually Lucas slackened the speed and headed back to the manor, going by way of the clapper bridge that spanned the creek, the deep, fast-flowing stream that ran
beneath being the one that eventually spilled onto the sands in Roslyn Cove a quarter of a mile away.

Lucas’s raging emotions had yet to subside, distracting him so completely that he took no notice when Bracken’s ears flicked back in warning, and he failed to note the presence of another horse and rider waiting on the opposite end of the bridge, until he heard the rattling crash of hooves striking wood.

Becoming frozen in the saddle, ahead of him he saw a black apparition riding towards him. The moon cast its light through the barren limbs of the trees, creating sinister shadows on the bridge. The first thing Lucas realised was that he had no weapon. Tiny shards of alarm pricked his spine, while a coldness congealed in the pit of his stomach. Moving slowly and cautiously, he backed his horse off the bridge into a wooded copse, perilously close to the edge of the creek, beyond which nothing existed but a sheer drop and thin air. He realised the danger he was in when Bracken’s hooves dislodged loose stones and earth, sending them spinning down to the water below.

Suddenly a shot rang out, filling the air with a deafening crack. There was a flash and something slammed into Lucas’s shoulder. Bracken reared and whinnied with sudden terror, and Lucas had to fight to stay in the saddle. The mount lunged, sliding and stumbling backwards over the precipice, then slowly clawed the empty air with his fore-feet and began to topple over, taking his rider with him.

Lucas’s head slammed against a rock, and a white flash of pain burst in his brain as he continued to fall. When he finally came to land on something soft, blackness exploded in his head, folding round him like a heavy curtain.

Caroline was more concerned about what was to become of her sister than she was about the death of her mother. She desperately wanted to go to London to be with her, but for Louis’s sake it was imperative that she remain in hiding.

Laura stayed with her until the early hours before seeking her bed. However, sleep evaded her. Every time she closed her eyes she was tormented with images of Lucas, and how angry she had made him. It was a relief when daylight broke. Quickly she was up and dressed, eager to seek him out and tell him how sorry she was. After knocking on the door of his turret room she waited, hoping to hear his voice. It was not forthcoming so she gingerly pushed it open. The room was as neat and tidy as the maid had left it yesterday, and the bed hadn’t been slept in. Immediately she went looking for him downstairs, encountering John in the hall.

‘John, have you any idea where I might find Lucas?’

‘No, my lady. He must have gone out early. Perhaps George will know.’

‘Yes. I’ll go and ask him.’

‘I’ll come with you. Since the master returned home, it’s not usual for him to go off without his breakfast.’

Occupied with her thoughts, Laura hurried to the stables. Several horses were in the paddock, but there was no sign of Lucas’s chestnut stallion. Entering the yard and hearing whistling coming from inside one of the empty stables, she poked her head over the half-door, seeing George forking straw and dung into a barrow.

‘George, have you seen my husband?’

‘Not since yesterday, ma’am,’ he said, resting on the fork’s handle, ‘when he returned from Stennack.’

‘I can’t see Bracken in the paddock. He must have gone out early. What time did you arrive, George?’

‘Six o’clock. Bracken was already gone.’

Frowning, Laura scanned the surrounding countryside, searching for any glimpse of movement along the cliff-top. She looked towards the valley where Roslyn village nestled, but the landscape was devoid of any human form. The wind had risen, and light drizzle had begun to fall out of a sky the colour of pewter. She shivered in the gloom. A fear began to insinuate itself inside her.

‘Something is wrong, John. I know it. His bed hasn’t been slept in, so he could have been gone all night.’

John looked back at her, eyes sharp and uncannily piercing. Like everyone else at the manor, he had eyes and ears, and it was plain things weren’t as they should be between the master and his lady. It wasn’t John’s place to question her. She had her own mind, her own ways. Once she had needed a great deal of help, and she had done all a woman could do. Now she needed nothing but the master—one man. ‘You’re worried about him, I can see.’

They looked at one another in silence for a moment, and then she nodded. ‘I confess I am plagued by the anxiety of his whereabouts.’

It was this anxiety that made her ask George to saddle her horse while she returned to the house for her cloak. When she got back John was mounted and holding the reins to her horse. She gave him a questioning look.

‘I know the master has forbidden you to ride out alone, so I’ll go with you.’

Laura smiled her thanks. ‘I would be glad of the company. I think we’ll ride to Stennack first. Perhaps he had a pressing matter to attend to at the mine that made him go so early.’

When Laura rode into the yard at Stennack, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was greeted by a clanking and groaning from within the engine house. When the installation of Lucas’s great new engine was complete, the resurrection of the Stennack mine would begin. With the production of copper and tin, bal maidens and young boys would be put to work in the ore sheds, and the men and older boys would work the mine.

Laura paused to watch in fascination as two men climbed down the perpendicular ladders which extended deep into the earth, their only light coming from candles fixed to their hats with clay. Operations to drain the bottom of the mine would soon begin in earnest. To a certain extent some of
the mine was free-draining, with horizontal adits driven into the workings, draining water by gravity down the hillside. But now, with the new steam engine, Lucas would be able to go well below this safe adit level, fathoms deeper, in fact, as this powerful machine pumped tons of water out of the mine with every stroke.