Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 (9 page)

Beth’s cinnamon eyes darkened to the color of brown sugar.
“Nothing.
Leave me be!” She began to stand up, but Patrick seized her upper arm.

“If he has hurt you in any way, I’ll kill him!” Fire kindled in the depths of Patrick’s blue eyes,
Something
inside her stirred to observe the passion on his face and to know that it was for her. But his touch felt like a chain binding her upper arm, and she decided she’d not give Patrick the satisfaction of knowing the depth of her pain. She knew he ached to find fault with her love for Howard, and she would never admit her disillusionment or tell him that Howard had filled her with his child.

“Don’t be saying such things,” she managed to say calmly. Patrick followed her outside the pen and closed the gate.

She waited, not quite knowing why, until he was beside her. The fire in his eyes had vanished, and suddenly she noticed a gleam reflected there, wondering if it was from the moon. But it wasn’t. She recognized it as desire. Part of her wished to turn and run, run anywhere, to escape the strong feelings coursing through her when his rough hand touched the softness of her cheek. His thumb traced the outline of her lips.

“I love you more than my life. Kiss me, sweet Beth. Kiss me!” His words were spoken so softly that the moment he drew her closer, she parted her lips and drank of the nectar of his mouth. Instinctively her arms traveled across the broadness of his chest and came to rest at the back of his neck where she folded her arms to embrace him. Their bodies touched, hers so soft, his strong, demanding and incredibly warm.

Beth’s head swam with
passion,
not thinking of what she was doing, responding only to the attraction which had always been there between them. At the moment when his hand slid down her back to massage her buttocks and then moved forward to the spot between her legs, she’d have let him lower her to the ground and take her there in the meadow. But the baby calf whimpered and broke the spell.

Beth opened her eyes. Patrick’s were still closed. She pulled away from him as her senses returned. What was she doing? She was Howard’s mistress and carrying his child. How could she allow Patrick the liberty of touching her? She wondered if she were indeed following in her mother’s footsteps.

“What’s the matter?” he asked and tried to hold her again.

She twisted away, humiliation seeping through her at her wanton display. Even in the moonlight she felt her cheeks burning brightly and hoped Patrick wouldn’t see the high spots of color.

“Don’t touch me; never come near me, Patrick Lacey! I never want your hands upon me again.”

His face fell, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Am I so repulsive to you then?”

She could never admit to him that it was just the opposite, that she wanted him to make love to her, even though Howard had just finished with her. Surely, she was the devil’s daughter, her mother’s child! “Aye, you are!” she spat.

Patrick’s voice sounded soft. “I don’t believe you. It seems your great and mighty lord can’t satisfy you.” His eyes held hers for a moment,
then
he turned and strode away in the direction of his cottage. She said nothing else, unable to speak because she shivered with humiliation, anger—and, worst of all, desire.

When Allison woke to a December morning filled with bright sunshine, she donned her prettiest velvet dress, a lilac gown with small butterflies over an underskirt of blue. She ate a hurried breakfast, then threw on her cloak and trod down the garden path, stopping just inches from the Shannon’s shoreline to join Daniel in the garden. He looked up from his sketch book where he lounged against a tree. “You’ve come empty-handed. I thought you were going to let me examine your work,” he said.

A shy smile played about her lips. “I was afraid you’d laugh at them.”

“I’d never laugh at you,” he said in all seriousness.

Something passed between them at that moment, and the easiness she always experienced in his presence dissolved. She looked down, trying to hide her nervousness, thinking that she was mistaken in what she saw in his eyes. When she looked up, a warm smile was there and nothing else. “Let me see what you’ve drawn,” she said and took his pad from him.

Daniel had captured the beauty of the river with the morning sunlight suffusing the shoreline, and she admitted his work was excellent and showed a marked talent. “This is lovely,” she said, voicing her appreciation.

He came and stood behind her, his gaze fixed on the drawing. “I think it could be better, but I just haven’t found the proper inspiration yet.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, you know—the dream of all artists. That one day the perfect subject will come along and that one painting will make them immortal.”

“I doubt that will ever happen to me, no matter what I paint. I’ll never be as gifted as you are, Daniel. You have a true talent.”

Allison sat down on the blanket he had placed along the shoreline and gazed at the slow-moving current. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be any good at anything,” she murmured.

“Allison, I think you show great potential.”

She laughed. “You haven’t seen any of my work.”

He moved a muscled leg, his thigh brushing against her gown. “I don’t have to. I know you’re a remarkable person. You’re still married to my brother. That must account for something.”

She found that a strange remark for him to make. “Is Paul so difficult?”

He shrugged. “Mind you, I care for my brother and always will, but there’s a violent side to him. Mother always said he took after our father.”

“Paul loves you very much,” she told him.

“I’m aware of that. I wonder sometimes if I have that violent Irish streak. But perhaps I’ll know only when I want something so desperately that I’ll move heaven and earth to have it.” His voice was velvet-edged and strong, sending a ripple of awareness through her. He was an incredibly handsome young man. She thought that if she were beautiful, even passably pretty, she’d read more into his melting looks than she did now. But in an unconscious gesture she shook her head and felt ridiculous. She wasn’t beautiful, not like Constance, and never would be. After all, Paul had married her for her inheritance.

“How long has it been since you and your parents have seen Paul?” she asked, changing the subject.

“About five years.
He just up and left one day.
The first time we heard from him was his letter informing us that he was in Ireland. Believe me, my mother was shocked.”

“And your father?”

He shook his head. “Nothing Paul ever did
shocked
Father.”

“I can see that your parents are still very much in love. Paul told me once they had to sneak off to be together. I surmise their families didn’t approve.”

“Sort of,” he said but didn’t volunteer any more information.

Allison gathered that Daniel was hiding something, but she pressed him, determined to learn a little bit of the truth. “You know, your mother looks very familiar to me, but I can’t place her. Her first name is Dera—I heard your father call her that though Paul has never told me.”

Daniel looked uneasy. “Yes, that’s her name.”

Allison folded her hands together and licked her lips.
Dera.
Why
was that
name familiar to her?

“Daniel, why did Paul marry me?” she burst out suddenly.

He looked startled but immediately assumed an impassive expression. “If you have questions about that, Allison, you should ask your husband.”

She stood up and brushed down her dress. “I believe I shall,” she said.

After returning to her room, Allison quickly changed into a forest green riding habit and went to the stables to mount her horse. The winter afternoon had warmed considerably, and she rode across the meadows, hatless. Wispy tendrils of golden hair broke loose from the confining pins and streamed freely down her back. She knew where Paul would be and she determined that for once she would have a truthful answer from him. The mystery of her marriage—the reasons for it—preyed on her mind. And now Paul’s family had firmly ensconced themselves in her home, taking it over as if it belonged to them.

Anger boiled in her as she guided her horse in the direction of the Grangers. How dare he not return home! How dare he spend nights with Constance! The hussy!

But when she arrived at Ballysheen Hall and was met by Constance in the sitting room, the other woman looked perplexed.

Constance pecked her cheek.
“Darling Allison, what a delightful surprise.
I had no idea you’d decide to visit today. Howard will be so pleased to see you.”

“I’m not here to see Howard,” Allison spat. “I’d like to speak with my husband, please.”

Constance’s unblemished brow furrowed. “Paul isn’t here, dear.”

Her supercilious attitude infuriated Allison to such an extent that she had to control her urge to strike Constance’s smirking face with her riding crop. “Just tell him I’m here!”

A glimmer of delight, like a cat cornering a mouse, gleamed in Constance’s eyes. “Paul isn’t here, dear Allison. Why ever would you think so?”

“Because he spent the night here last night!”

“He did? That is news to me. He was here for a few hours last evening but I sent him home straight away. I knew you would be waiting.”

She smiled so sweetly that Allison wished to retch all over her impeccably attired person. “I don’t believe you.”

Constance sat down on the brocade sofa and waved her long slender hands in the air. “Well, you’re free to search the house and the grounds. But do be quiet about it, as father is feeling poorly this morning.”

Suddenly Allison realized that Constance was telling the truth, though fencing with her. She caught a glimpse of her face in the huge mirror above the mantle and shrank away. God, what a mess she was, with her disheveled hair hanging loosely down her back and her eyes wide like blue china plates! She resembled a madwoman in contrast to Constance’s stylish clothes and dark beauty. No wonder Paul was infatuated with this woman.

“I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake,” Allison said lamely. “I’ll leave now.”

Constance rose from the sofa. “Do pay me a visit again, dear. I’m sorry Paul wasn’t here.” She kissed Allison’s cheek and smirked. “But then, he is here so often lately that it is only natural you’d assume…” Her voice lowered suggestively. “I’m certain he’ll visit tonight. Paul and I are such good friends.”

Allison’s spine stiffened. She hadn’t been wrong about Constance and Paul! The woman was treating her like a foolish child. She hated Constance so much at that moment that she wished she did have the nerve to slash her face to bloody ribbons with the crop. Instead she managed to smile sweetly. “I hope you treasure each moment of that friendship, dear. Paul tires of his playthings so easily. Good afternoon, Constance.”

She left the drawing room and found her horse waiting in front of the house, its reins held by a patient stable boy. Before she could mount she heard Howard call her name and cursed to herself. She didn’t wish to speak with him now, not when she trembled so badly she thought her knees might buckle.

“Allison!” he said and hugged her. “I thought I heard your voice. Whatever did you say to Constance? When I asked her where you were she just about bit off my head.”

A light of pleasure sparkled in Allison’s eyes. Her closing remark must have stung the woman. “Just girlish prattle, Howard,” she purred.

“About Paul, I presume.”

His straightforwardness unnerved her. “Yes,” she admitted and looked away.

He turned her chin and smiled sadly into her face. “You’re much too good for him. I’d have made you a better husband.”

She didn’t like his familiarity or the way his fingers stroked her jawline. Howard had never repulsed her before now. She had always thought him rather dull and colorless, someone not to be taken seriously. However, his appreciative, too-small eyes traveled over her face to where the riding costume parted to reveal the slight swell of her breasts. She flushed and broke away. “I must leave, Howard. Good day.”

Reluctantly she allowed him to help her mount her horse. When she was settled and held the reins in her hands, he said, “When you tire of that arrogant cur you’re married to, I’ll be waiting, Allison. You know how I feel about you. “

She smiled tightly and took her leave. She was becoming cynical. She wondered if Howard really cared for her or only her inheritance. Were all men destined to desire only her money? Retracing her path, she sharply reined in her horse when she reached the tenant cottages on Fairfax property. She shielded her eyes with her hand to block out the bright sunshine, not certain what she saw. But there was no mistake. Paul stood shirtless alongside the tenants, helping to whitewash a cottage. She watched enthralled to see how the corded muscles of his back strained with each brush stroke and the powerful muscles of his upper arms rippled. His deep laughter floated to her ears, and he looked so happy, so young as a slight breeze ruffled the burnished gold of his hair.

She was oddly touched by this sight and didn’t know whether she should disturb him; but at that moment, he saw her. Laying his brush down, he walked over to her. Streaks of paint were slashed across his cheek and chest, and he looked almost ferocious, like a savage in war paint. The softness she had felt vanished. Moments ago his eyes had been full of happiness, joy. Why couldn’t he look like that when he saw her?

“Enjoying your ride?” he asked, his eyes taking in her appearance.

Self-consciously she fiddled with the long, loose strands of her hair, aware she appeared a sight. “I wanted to speak with you.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Well?”

She looked down at him and though she had the advantage of height, she still felt tiny. “You didn’t come home last night, and I should like to know where you were.”

“Don’t worry yourself over me. I told you I’d seek my pleasures elsewhere.”

“Then why choose Constance Granger? She hates me! Or is that the reason you want her?”

He backed slightly away. “I see it doesn’t matter to you whom I bed as long as it isn’t Constance.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “I loved you, Paul, I truly did. Our marriage is over—I know that. So please be honest with me. Why did you marry me? Tell me why!”

Before she knew it, he had pulled her from the horse and encircled her tiny waist with his powerful arms. There was a dark flash of passion between his lashes as he gazed into her face. His mouth seared patterns along her cheek. “You are the sweetest lover I ever had, Allison. I want you, and I must be in your bed again.”

She gasped at the desire which bonded his body to hers, and though she knew he hadn’t really answered her question, she didn’t care. She wanted him and still loved him. It had been so long since he’d touched her. Perhaps later she would brand herself a silly fool, but for now she reveled in his desire.

“Let’s return to the house, love,” he breathed huskily into her ear. “Let me love you.”

Holding onto his arms, she thought she’d faint from dizziness and passion. She shook her head. “I can’t wait that long,” she mumbled.

“Then we won’t!”

Paul quickly mounted the horse and pulled her up beside him, much to the delight of the tenants who cheered and waved them on. Allison lowered her face in embarrassment; Paul, however, accepted their good wishes with a nod and directed the horse toward the banks of the river, where he soon found a deserted section. Low-hanging trees and shrubs shielded them from view. When he lowered her to the soft grass, she was ready for him, her body writhing beneath the hot pressure of his hands and the burning path of his tongue across her partially exposed breasts.

“Undress me,” she moaned.

“With pleasure.”
And he did so with such deliberate slowness that she thought she’d die from ecstasy as each piece of clothing slid away from her. She moaned and tugged at his garments, eager to feel his skin against hers. “Can’t control
yourself
?” he asked, laughing.

She shook her head. “I want you, Paul, I must have you!”

“The pleasure is in the anticipation, also. Let me pleasure you first in ways you’ve never imagined.” His husky voice sent shivers down her spine.

“Yes, oh, yes,” she breathed and molded her body to his hands, his tongue. He circled her breasts with his hands and sucked each one until the nipples stood firm and hard, then traced delicious, fiery patterns down her abdomen and the inside of her thighs, to seek her sweet, pulsing nest of love. Allison moaned his name as hot waves lapped over her, and she arched against his mouth, unable to stand the desire which coursed so strongly through her. She whimpered, and he lifted his head, knowing that the time was at hand to end her exquisite torture. He pulled off his trousers and mounted
her,
the stark passion on his face matched hers.