Kate: A Universal Truth (A Wish for Love Series Book 1) (15 page)

Emma and John left the next morning. They planned to stay over in Oxford a few days and then go on to London, announce their engagement and begin the preparations for the wedding.  On their way they would stop over with John's mother, Lady Mary Bayhem, in Wiltshire so she could get to know her son's fiancee.

“I'm sure she will adore you.  No one could help but love you,” Kate calmed her sister and they parted with kisses and hugs.

The days passed in a trice.  Matthew devoted a few hours of each day to business and spent the rest of his time with Kate.  He liked to be present at her riding lessons and watch her and Saffron nuzzle each other.  She was a natural rider and they were soon cantering together on
the paths of Bellewoodplain.  He loved to see the heightened color of her cheeks, her long hair blowing in the wind and her chest rising and falling in rhythm.

They lay at the foot of the ancient trees of Bellewoodplain and revealed themselves as lovers do.

“Did you love him?” he asked, trying to stay calm when she described her affair with Patrick.  He felt the same eeriness, the dull pain that tore at him during the party in Oxford, when he saw her laughing with other men, dancing in their arms, and relived the anguish he had felt in London when he imagined her in the city with another man.

He suddenly realized he was jealous. 

It was no wonder he had not been able to identify the feeling earlier.  He had never known jealousy before.  He was jealous only for Kate. His passion was as boundless as the stars in the firmament, as fiery as molten iron.  She excited him, tantalized him, interested him, roused him physically and intellectually and caused him, for the first time in his life, to feel utterly and completely happy.

“No, I suppose I never really loved him.  I was attracted to the intellectual aura that surrounded him, and not by the man himself, not by his real self.”

“I'm glad he was married and you discovered in time how vile he was or else you would, almost certainly, have married him, and I would never have met you.”

“Perhaps,” she answered pensively, “Anyway, I learned my lesson from everything that happened.”

“What was that?”

“To guard my heart, never offer it to any man.”

“Not even to me?”

“If it was up to me, not even to you.”

“Is it up to anyone else but you?”

“Only after I met you did I learn that the heart has a will of its own.”

So she did feel more for him than a passing physical attraction.  She admitted it.  In a little while she would be completely his, body, soul and heart.  He was pleased she told him about Patrick, that she trusted him enough to tell him her secrets.  He wanted no barriers between the two of them.

One day as they stopped the horses for a short rest he mentioned his grandmother's visit.

“She's coming this Friday with my cousin for a few weeks. I was angry at Catherine for her tactless words at dinner that evening but to be honest, I must admit there's something in what she said.  I'm warning you in advance that my grandmother will be furious when she finds out what your presence here really means, but I count on you to put her in her place tactfully, but firmly. I can assure you her bark is worse than her bite.”

“That's very comforting.”

Their nights were tempestuous.  They made love as though every night was their last and he was conscious of her hold over him.  She held his heart in her hands and she could tighten or loosen her hold as she wished.  If she refused his proposal of marriage he could never bring himself to marry another woman.

Only Kate.  No one else could take her place.

At two o'clock Friday afternoon a Rolls Royce pulled up at the entrance.  All twenty members of the Bellewoodplain staff, neatly attired in uniforms, lined up to greet the dowager.  Kate saw the old woman step out of the car, followed by a young one.  Theresa Camedon was dressed in black from head to toe.  Her face was wrinkled and her back slightly curved but the dark eyes were sharp and vigilant.

Matthew bent his head respectfully toward his grandmother, offering her his arm and kissed the girl on both cheeks. The younger woman lowered her eyes.  Kate had to admit she was attractive, with dark wavy hair falling in cascades about the heart-shaped face, but her skin was almost translucent and she looked as though she would sway in the slightest breeze.  When they reached the entrance steps, and after the dowager said a few words to the staff, Matthew introduced Kate to his grandmother and Gabriella.  “Kate is my guest at Bellewoodplain, Grandmother.  I hope that won't interfere with any plans you might have during your stay.”

The old woman looked at him piercingly but said nothing.

Kate felt herself go numb.  Perhaps he had invited her to stay only as a shield against his grandmother's matrimonial plans, only to annoy her?

They went into the house.  Theresa Camedon sat on one of the sofas, waving Gabriella to her side.  The girl complied obediently.  Drinks and refreshments were served and a short while later Kate excused herself and went to the study.  She sat down to work on her book but found it hard to concentrate.  She put her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.  Tears filled the corners of her eyes.  The thought that Matthew was using her in his battle with his grandmother wouldn't go away. It was so simple.  She was only one in a chain of conquests.  She had fallen at his feet at the right time, just when his grandmother's pressure to get married was becoming unbearable.  He took advantage of her falling in love to convince her to stay for the duration of his grandmother's and cousin's visit to Bellewoodplain.  It was clear as the sun.  When Gabriella understood the nature of his relationship with Kate she would refuse to hear a word about marriage and the dowager would have little choice but to leave him in peace.  But what of their glorious nights together?  What of the unforgettable hours spent riding and walking in the garden paths, talking, laughing and making love?  Kate straightened her back.  She refused to despair.  She must remain true to what her heart told her.

When Kate came down for dinner, wearing the dress Margaret had given her, the dowager scrutinized her from her shoes to her hair.

“That's a lovely dress you're wearing, it suits you very well.”

“Thank you.”

During dinner the dowager grilled Kate about her work, her family and her friends.  Kate responded as well as she could but two or three times Matthew interrupted and changed the topic, hinting to his grandmother that she not pry too much into Kate's private life.

While the old woman could not help but respect Kate's intelligence and charm, till the end of the meal she showed little enthusiasm for her presence.  Gabriella, who said not a word the entire evening, looked at Matthew bashfully and finally asked to go to bed.  The trip had been a long one and she was exhausted.  Kate rose to her feet and excused herself. No sooner had she stepped out of the room when she heard the dowager.

“How dare you bring one of your women to Bellewoodplain when I'm here?”

“She's not one of my women...” was all Kate overheard as she walked away. Listening at doors was not her style.

In the slow, leisurely days that followed her routine began as usual with riding lessons but Matthew now was not available for their late morning rides.  He was busy with work and busy with his grandmother and cousin.  Their nights passed in passionate, unconstrained lovemaking, but with each passing day Kate felt her body pinch and contract with the growing tension

He still had not said he loved her.

“Are you upset at my grandmother's presence?” he asked her in the privacy of their room.

“Not at all.  Under that tough exterior it's clear she loves you very much and I believe she has only the best of intentions.”

“I think so too but I’m very well aware she can be insufferable.  Another two weeks and she'll be gone and life will return to normal.”

“Matthew?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you don't want me to leave?  It might make things easier.  Your grandmother is polite to me but I know my presence here enrages her.”

“Are you mad?  Leave?  Bellewoodplain is mine.  I promise you that if someone leaves it will be my grandmother, not you.”

For the moment Kate was satisfied.

The dowager made a habit of inviting Kate every afternoon, just when Matthew had some free time, for a conversation.  When Matthew joined them she would ask him to spend time with Gabriella and show her the house, the garden, the stables or anything else she could think of.  Matthew never refused or objected.   The dinner conversation was monopolized by the old woman who spoke without pause, the stream of words highlighted by Gabriella’s total silence.

Friday afternoon Matthew went riding with his cousin.  Kate sat in the large living room with the dowager, listening to a description of her house in Andalusia, in Seville.  Kate had to admit she was never bored in her company.  Lady Theresa Camedon might be haughty and imperious but she was a fascinating and cultured woman who had traveled widely and met people Kate had only read about - kings and statesmen, painters and musicians.  She described in vivid detail the balls and receptions she had attended when young and the renowned artists who had dined at her table.  At first a passive listener, Kate soon found herself drawn into discussions that often led to stimulating dialogs.  After an hour and a half Kate took leave of the dowager.  If she focused her attention she could get in an hour or two of work before dinner.  But her powers of concentration were weak.  She stared at the laptop screen.  Something bothered her.  Eventually she despaired of working on the draft of her book and decided to stroll in the garden.

She went out on the north side of the house and walked down the path to the spring.  The lawns, the sweep of the landscape, the enchanting green of Bellewoodplain wove their magic and brought peace to her soul. In no hurry, she walked slowly and it took her fifteen minutes to reach the valley garden. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the perfume of flowers and grass.  She wandered off the path and made her way farther to a thicket of trees.  She had barely sat on the grass and leaned back on a trunk when she heard Gabriella’s soft voice.  Kate scoured the encircling trees and shrubs.  Matthew and Gabriella were nearby and the snort of a horse sounded loud in the surrounding quiet.  Kate held her breath in the silence.  Should she announce her presence?  No. Retreating would be the wisest choice.  The last thing she wanted was for Matthew and Gabriella to think she was spying on them.

Matthew's voice was clear but Kate could not make out the words.  He spoke Spanish and in his mouth the foreign language sounded like a captivating, romantic melody.  Kate was rooted to the spot.  Her limbs were heavy, unwieldy.  Something in the tone of his voice caused a cold hand to clutch at her heart.  He spoke softly, warmly, like a lover to his beloved.  Sensuality dripped like honey from each syllable.  Kate spoke no Spanish but could understand single words.  The words 'love' - amor, 'life' – vida and 'dear' – querida, were repeated over and over.  He's coaxing her, Kate panicked, he's trying to seduce her.

Gabriella spoke several swift sentences, her hoarse voice betraying emotion, when Matthew interrupted her, his tone calm and composed.  Kate heard the rustle of leaves as the two came into view.  They stood at a small distance, completely unaware of her presence.  Two bright circles of rouge stood out on Gabriella’s cheeks and her curls spread out over her back and shoulders like the dark night.  She seemed to Kate like a gypsy.  A sensuous and exotic mixture of child and woman.  How could she have missed the core of femininity hidden in the young woman?  Kate began to shake all over.  She had thought he was ready to pledge himself to one woman, dared to hope she would be that one woman.  It was all one big lie.

She heard the cry wrung from Gabriella’s lips as she turned her back on Matthew with a sharp movement, covering her face with her hands.  In two swift strides Matthew shortened the distance between them, his hand grasping her arm, forcing her to turn around.  Gabriella pivoted, facing him, her body almost touching his.  Matthew said something but did not move.  His two hands grasped the arms of the girl, whose eyes burned with passion.  And then the worst of all happened.  The girl, releasing herself from Matthew's grip, twined her arms about his neck, straining her body against his.  Matthew stood stock still.  Gabriella’s lips pressed his while her breasts were crushed against his broad chest.  Uncalled for tears filled Kate's eyes, blurring her sight, dimming the scene before her.  Beyond the enveloping cloud Kate managed to see Matthew's hand raised to embrace Gabriella.  Unbelievable pain gripped her.  She could almost hear the shattering of her broken heart

She rose to her feet, aware only of the terrible thunder in her ears.  Through a veil of tears she saw the two surprised figures turn, detaching themselves.  Matthew strode in her direction as Kate stepped backwards.  She looked at him without seeing him.  She heard him say something, his voice curt and commanding, very different from the velvety voice with which he had addressed his cousin a few minutes ago.  He almost reached her when she turned and began to run.  Her legs propelled her forward although she had no idea of her destination.  She knew only one thing.  She must get away from him, put the greatest possible distance between her and the scene she had just witnessed.  She was behaving like an hysterical child but she was beyond caring.  The pain was so acute that it overcame the last vestige of logic in her brain.  She ran and ran as though possessed of the devil.  Although she knew there was no one behind her she continued her mad flight, tears streaming down her face.  The blood pounded in her temples and she breathed heavily.  She almost stopped when she heard the hooves of a horse behind her.  The rider of the black horse blocked her path, forcing her to halt.

“Kate, for God's sake, you're causing yourself grief for no reason.”  Cedar, as though aware of the tension in the air, beat his hooves and reared up.  Kate instinctively retreated as Matthew reined in the nervous animal.  His voice was calmer now.

“Let me explain what went on between Gabriella and me.  I know you're convinced of the worst but things are not what they seem.”  Matthew jumped off the horse and stood before her.  She refused to look at him, biting her trembling lower lip.  Matthew, in one swift movement, drew her to him, embracing her.  “I swear to you, there is nothing between Gabriella and me.  There never was and there never will be.”

“You can't deny,” Kate's voice broke and the unbidden tears again flowed, “what I saw with my own two eyes,” she finished the sentence in a whisper.  What was happening to her?  Instead of scornfully turning her back and coldly telling him how much she despised him and his contemptible behavior, she was trembling like a leaf in a breeze, unchecked tears coursing down her cheeks, praying with absurd hope that there was a logical explanation for everything. 

She stepped back, tearing herself away from him.  “What do you want, Matthew?  The moon?  The stars?  All the women in the world?  Tell me, just what is it you want?”

“The only thing I want is you.”  His words were low and wild, searing her soul. “From the day I met you there's been no other woman in my life.  Not in my thoughts and not in my bed.”  He spoke with restraint, forcibly checking the passion in his eyes from flaring into a blaze. 

She opened her mouth when Cedar backed up.  Matthew turned his head and Kate, following his gaze, saw Gabriella approaching in a wild charge, her hair streaming behind her, her back stretched low over her horse's neck, her mouth twisted in pain. There was something very menacing in Gabriella’s approach. Kate glanced swiftly at Matthew and saw his eyes narrow into slits.  His body tensed like a wild animal sensing hunters in his tracks.

The girl drew nearer, reining in her horse, and Kate, horrified, watched as she raised her hand and Matthew, with amazing nimbleness, pushed her backwards, his body blocking the sharp sting of the whip aimed at Kate's face.  For a moment Matthew swayed on his feet but immediately caught the bridle of the horse, his muscles bulging from the effort.  Kate noticed the crimson stripe staining the white shirt at the point where the neck muscles joined at his left shoulder.  Kate had never seen Matthew more angered.  The previous glitter in his eyes had changed to a cold gray-brown.  With no further ado he pulled Gabriella down to the ground.  She writhed, trying to free herself.  The instant she felt Matthew's hold weakening she fell upon him in a furious assault, beating him with her fists, spewing phrases in Spanish.  Her chest heaved rapidly up and down and Kate, who understood not a word, stood irresolutely beside them, uncertain what she should do.  Matthew caught both of Gabriella’s hands and turned her so her back was on his chest, leaned forward and said something in Spanish.  Gabriella’s body relaxed slightly and Matthew released his hold.  Gabriella straightened and Kate was aware of the black demon in the young woman's eyes as she faced her.

“You're taking him from me,” she said in English, her voice shaking with emotion and rage.  “If not for you he would have married me.  I hate you. You hear me? I hate you!” she repeated dramatically.