Midnight Rose (29 page)

Rosa continued to weep softly but knew she had no choice but to agree. “But you hurry, Miz Erin,” she pleaded. “You hurry and get your momma outta here and away from that madman. It don’t matter about me. I’ll get away when the time comes, if need be. You just get her outta here so’s she can have some peace before the Lord takes her home.”

“I will,” Erin vowed. “I’m going to help her and all of you. I promise. Tell me, where is he now?”

“I don’t know. He’s around somewhere. I ain’t seen him since lunch.”

Erin went upstairs to her mother’s room. When she saw her, propped on the pillows reading, she was alarmed to realize she did appear worse. Her skin was almost translucent against the white linens, and her eyes, as she looked up happily to see her daughter, were lackluster, with deep, dark circles beneath.

They embraced, and when Erin went to sit on the side of the bed to tell her all about her trip, she noticed the bruises on her mother’s cheeks. “Did he do that?”

“What?” Arlene feigned confusion, then touched the spots with gentle fingertips and said, “Oh, these. I’m afraid I fell out of bed. I was reaching for my medicine in the dark and lost my balance. I’m fine, though, really. Now, tell me about your trip.”

Erin knew she was lying but did not want to upset her by making her answer a lot of questions. Instead, she gave a glowing report of her nuptial journey, and Arlene listened, entranced.

Afterward, Arlene held up the pale blue bed jacket Erin had bought for her in Philadelphia and cried, “It’s beautiful. Thank you. And thank Ryan for me, too.” With a hopeful smile, she asked, “So tell me. Is he wonderful to you? Are you happy?”

Erin assured her mother that Ryan was good to her. “As for being happy,” she said, “I’ll just say I’m not unhappy, Mother, and I guess that’s all any of us can ask for in this life, isn’t it? Not to be unhappy?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Arlene sighed wistfully. “I was very happy with your father. There was never any doubt but that we loved each other with all our hearts. My prayer for you is that one day you and Ryan will realize it’s happened to you, too, that somewhere along the way, you fell in love.

“It can, you know.” She turned to face her daughter, and for the first time, there was a glimmer of spirit revived.

Erin shook her head; she was not as optimistic. “How would I know if it did? How does anybody ever know for sure?”

“It’s like a rainbow after a storm, spreading across the sky like a thousand smiles, and you have a good, warm feeling inside that makes you want to smile, too, because you know there just has to be sunshine behind all those clouds.

“And believe me,” she continued, “there’s no mistaking the magic of a rainbow when you know you’re really in love.”

She held out her hand. Erin took it and pressed it against her lips, as she wondered if she, too, might one day know the enchantment of the rainbow of love.

Chapter Eighteen

It was late. Erin did not realize just how
late till she heard the case clock in the hallway chime midnight.

Tossing and turning beneath the satin comforter, she wondered restlessly why Ryan had not come to her bed. They had enjoyed an intimate dinner earlier, and a bottle of wine.

They had sat in the parlor sipping cognac afterward, and for the first time, he had talked to her about his mother and Ermine.

He described how they had made the transatlantic passage on the first steamship—the Savannah. “It was supposed to be a very historic occasion,” he had said, “the first crossing of a steamship. But I read in a newspaper that only eighty hours after they left Savannah, the coal supply was exhausted, and they had to resort to sails to go the rest of the way. It took them twenty-eight days to reach Liverpool.”

Erin inquired as to when they would return, and he’d said he honestly did not know. There had been no word, and since they had been gone nearly four months, he supposed they could be expected any time.

Gingerly, she had asked if he were concerned about how his mother would react when she heard of their marriage. He had laughed and said since she had never approved of anything he had done in his whole life, he saw no reason to expect her blessings now. Erin wished he would take the matter more seriously. After all, she felt it was important she get along with his mother if she was planning on moving hers into the house as soon as possible. She was just waiting for the right time to do so. After a few more days, when they were settled in, she’d approach him.

They had discussed other things, too, such as how they should plan a dinner party to celebrate returning home from their nuptial journey. Erin bluntly asked if Carolyn Manning could be excluded, but Ryan had shaken his head and said he was afraid not. He confided he didn’t care for her himself, but her father and his had been good friends. If a function were held at Jasmine Hill and she were not invited, then her entire family would consider it an insult. He didn’t want that. “Just ignore her,” he’d said. “Everyone else does.”

But Erin wondered about that, fearful of how much trouble Carolyn might cause with her vicious tongue.

They had talked on, and he had shared with her his excitement over the expected foaling of a colt sired by one of his prize horses. He had hired the animal for stud to Quincy Monroe, a plantation owner nearly two hours’ ride away. Ryan was supposed to be notified when the birth commenced, because he wanted to be there. He was hoping the mare might be carrying twins; if so, Quincy had promised he could have one.

They had shared several nice hours together, and when at last he’d got up to extinguish the lanterns and make ready for bed, Erin had gone upstairs with a warm flush of eagerness as she thought of the coming passion in his arms.

But that had been nearly two hours ago.

Erin sighed, then snuggled down to try and sleep. But the truth was she missed his arms about her, had got used to falling asleep with her head snugly on his shoulder. And, yes, she had to admit with a pleasant tightening in her loins, she missed his lovemaking as well.

Finally she told herself she really should make sure he was all right. What if he was ill and just didn’t want to disturb her? She got up and put on her robe, then crossed the sitting room that separated their quarters.

His door was closed. She hesitated, wondering whether to knock. If he wasn’t sick and was, indeed, asleep, and simply had not wanted her, then she certainly didn’t want him to know she had even been there.

Turning the knob slowly, quietly, she entered without a sound.

The curtains were closed, and she could detect only vague outlines of the furniture in the shadowed darkness. All was quiet. Padding softly, she made her way to the side of the bed without bumping into anything. She could barely make out that he was indeed in the bed and apparently sound asleep.

So, she thought with a flash of anger, even though they’d had a wonderful evening together, and she probably felt closer to him than at any other time since they’d been married, he truly had not wanted her.

Well, so be it!

She turned to leave but screamed out, startled, as his hand snaked out to grab her wrist. “What took you so long?” he said softly, giving her a rough yank that brought her tumbling down across him.

Erin indignantly struggled to free herself. “Let me go. I thought you were sick, and—”

“You
thought no such thing.” He laughed mockingly as he slung her over to the side and rolled to pin her down. “You couldn’t understand why I didn’t come to your bed.”

Her hands pushed against his shoulders as she stammered, “That—that’s not true.”

He burrowed his lips in the sweet hollows of her throat and murmured, “Admit it, Erin. You want me. Every bit as much as I want you. You’re just too damn stubborn to admit it, but this night, my little minx, the truth comes out.”

“No, that’s not true—” But her ragged gasp of denial was silenced as his mouth claimed hers.

He felt her resistance cease as her lips parted beneath his, allowing his tongue entrance. His fingertips clutched her face, moving to trace tiny, circling patterns in the sensitive hollow beneath her ear, igniting hot tingles throughout her body.

Quickly, he manipulated her gown from her, and she was naked, vulnerable to his sensual assault.

Erin felt as though she were being consumed by his ravishing hunger, and answered with the yielding of her mouth.

His hand moved down her throat, in burning anticipation of his lips. He wanted to taste all of her, inch by inch. He could feel her quaking beneath his touch, could hear the faint moaning sound that proved her own primal need was awakening and calling to be fed. He drew her along into the quick currents of passion, enticed and driven by the heated throbbing of her body. Taking her fingertips from their clutching of his shoulders, he moved them to his bare chest, and she gasped to realize the burning heat, the way his nipples hardened in eagerness like her own.

He did not have to guide her hands any farther. With a will of their own, they danced downward, exploring. She felt his muscles contract beneath her touch.

Ryan was on fire as his mouth claimed her breasts, lips opening upon the soft, tender flesh to assault one taut, hard nipple between his teeth. Erin writhed and twisted in pleasured anguish, lost in the fevered moment. She did not realize her hand had dared go so far till she felt the thatch of hair, the pulsating hardness of his manhood.

In tormenting descent, Ryan’s fingers caressed the swell of her hip and the flatness of her belly. He danced on into the warmth between her thighs, finding that special place to roam in soft agony.

Instinctively, Erin’s legs parted to allow him freedom to the center of her desire, as her hips began to undulate with the rhythm of his fingertips. He moved up and inside her, and she closed about him hungrily.

Ryan was inflamed with her innate rapacity. “Tell me,” he commanded hoarsely, lifting his mouth from her breasts but continuing to lick greedily. “Tell me you want me, Erin. Tell me how much.”

Erin felt as though she had been propelled into another world, another realm of being and existence. She did not submit as in the past, when he had provoked unbridled hunger. Instead of surrender, she assaulted. Moving downward, she closed her lips about him and reveled in his own uncontrollable groan of torment. She trailed him with her tongue and teased with nibbling kisses, and when he could stand no more, he forced himself to withdraw from her hungered torture.

Almost roughly, he slammed her onto her back and straddled her. She opened herself to him, arching her hips to bring herself closer to the length of him. He mounted her, and hot eagerness charged through him as he began to probe inside her. He endeavored to be gentle, so she could take all of him, but her body urged him on. With one hand, she clutched his back, nails digging into flesh. Her other cupped one of his buttocks, squeezing, coaxing.

The dizzying awareness of her mutual, frenzied fever inflamed his loins, and he penetrated deeper, sculpting her flesh, so tender, to accept his massive hardness.

He felt her climax coming, the shuddering deep within, and this moved him to unleash his own passion as he burrowed his face into the hollow of her neck to stifle his gasps of ecstasy. She made soft, whimpering sounds as she clung to him, legs squeezed tight around his back, and she gave tender little kisses to his ear.

For long, reverent moments, they lay locked together.

At last he moved to one side, his breathing becoming easy once more. He held her against him, her head cradled upon his shoulder.

Erin lay awake for a long time, bemused by the maelstrom of emotions within.

Was it nearing the time, she dared ask herself, when the enchanted rainbow would appear?

The next morning Erin awoke in Ryan’s bed to find herself alone. She was startled to glance at the bedside clock and realize it was nearly noon. No wonder he was already up and gone, probably out riding.

Still bathed in the afterglow of the awesome passion they had shared, she would have liked just to dreamily lie there in sweet reverie, but knew it was the perfect time to try and find the diagram of the labyrinth.

Returning to her own room, she quickly took care of her morning ablution, remembering, as always, to bathe in the special solution. Her mother had insisted she saturate her skin with it every single day to ensure softness. Erin supposed it worked, for she did have nice skin.

As she headed downstairs, she hesitated to make sure no one was about. Annie would not come till she was summoned and was probably then waiting in one of the rooms at the back of the house. The household servants were very careful not to make any noise until they could be sure their master and mistress were both awake.

Stealthily, she made her way. There was no sound, which meant she probably had this part of the house all to herself for the time being. Any activity would be going on at the rear, in the work areas, or outside in the detached kitchen wing.

She let herself into Ryan’s study. It smelled of leather and tobacco and the faint odor of cognac. Dust particles danced in the tiny sunbeams coming in between partially opened curtains.

Quickly she went to his desk. Opening each drawer in turn, she leafed through the contents but found nothing even remotely resembling a diagram or map. The bottom drawer, however, was locked.