Shivers Box Set: Darkening Around Me\Legacy of Darkness\The Devil's Eye\Black Rose (19 page)

It was only as our dance ended that a slight movement in the shadows drew my attention. Uther was watching us. The hues of night were always more closely suited to his nature than those of day. The look on his face was brutal.

For a brief period, bustle and activity penetrated the castle’s dour hush. Clad in our finery, we greeted our guests. An appreciative smile from Tynan confirmed my pleasure in my own appearance. Demelza was magnificent in burgundy velvet, and both Uther and Tynan were elegant in their fitted tailcoats, embroidered waistcoats and starched collars. They subscribed to the fashion for long trousers, a design that, having not reached the Indian continent, appeared strange to me. Lady Morwenna arrived on the arm of her aging husband, and Demelza’s mood lowered like a thundercloud.

“How sad for Morwenna to have to remain in her marital bed tonight, instead of seeking comfort from my brother,” she muttered to me. Privately, I thought that if Uther wanted her tonight, he would find a way to have her, husband or no husband.

The hall soon thrummed with the sound of a hundred well-bred conversations. Candlelight shimmered on diamonds and added lustre to pearls. The scent of my lovingly arranged flowers was overwhelmed by clashing colognes. Silk, satin, lace and velvet in every imaginable hue lent vivacity to the usual solemnity of the hall.

As the new “daughter” of the house, I was greatly in demand and danced every dance. Many of these were with Tynan and I overheard several comments about what a well-matched couple we were. I bit my lip in chagrin, certain that Demelza would be delighted to hear such comments. Several other gentlemen sought my hand and I was reminded, with a bittersweet pang, of similar carefree evenings in India.

Tynan, I noted with affectionate pride, was a charming and sociable host. He displayed none of the gaucherie he had shown me on our first acquaintance. Uther need not fear. No one would suspect the devastating infirmity that blighted Tynan’s young life. Indeed, it was Uther who appeared ill at ease in such a setting. The charm he worked to such devastating effect on an individual was diluted within this larger audience.

I danced with him just once. The slightest touch of his hand sent the familiar surge of emotion through me. A strange tumultuous pleasure, growing almost to the point of pain, mingled with a new, vague sense of distaste. “You look beautiful tonight, little Lucy,” Uther told me with quiet intensity. His fiery eyes branded and claimed me.

I was relieved when the dance ended and I could return to Tynan’s side. I was enjoying his light-hearted temperament so much more than his uncle’s powerful, passionate intensity. My feelings, worn to a frazzle from being constantly at fever pitch, craved a little light relief.

After an hour or two of exertion on the dance floor, I begged Tynan to show me a little mercy. “Please, a glass of lemonade!” I laughed. With an extravagant bow, he offered me his arm and led me into the breakfast room.

“Come now, my children, you have earned yourselves a cold drink.” Demelza was there, chatting with a group of friends. Tynan took the tall goblet from her outstretched hand. Drops of condensation ran down its surface as he raised it to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed in the slim column of his neck as he dashed back the whole glass, then held out his hand to me once more with his winsome smile.

“Patience, cousin.” I raised my own half-empty glass. “I am rather slower than you.”

It was still too warm, so we stepped out of the French windows and onto the broad terrace. The music still reached us there. Silently, Tynan held out his arms and I stepped into them. We danced on in that sweet, deep midnight. I withdrew my mind from my present troubles, and allowed the pleasure of the moment to enchant me in delicious delirium. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, barely moving, my cheek against his chest and his cheek against my hair. Then, without warning, Tynan’s whole body jerked, as if he had been struck by lightning, and he stepped back. I looked up in consternation to see his features twisted in pain and shock.

“Tynan!” The word had no sooner left my lips than he fell to the floor, clutching his head. A low moan escaped him. I started to run for help, but, as I did so, the French windows from the breakfast room were flung wide and a laughing party of young people, escorted by Demelza, stepped out onto the terrace.

I dropped to my knees beside Tynan, whose whole body was racked by convulsions now. His eyes rolled back in his head, lips drawn back over bared teeth as he jerked wildly, his spine arching at an impossible angle. A woman screamed and, in answer, more people came pouring out of the open doors to see what was going on.

I cradled Tynan’s beloved head in my lap. Looking around helplessly, I saw Uther and called out to him in desperation. “Get him away from here, please!” I could not bear the curious stares and looks of horror directed at my cousin. Uther lifted Tynan, who was still at last, unconscious and limp, easily up in his strong arms.

I tried to ignore the whispers.

“Stories all true…”

“Well, you know about the father, of course… Mad, my dear, quite, quite deranged…”

“Poor unhappy boy!”

I accompanied Uther as he carried Tynan’s limp form through the ballroom. I glanced up at his face and was shocked by the expression it wore. The raw emotion was tangible and unmistakable: amber triumph blazed in his eyes.

* * *

Tynan slept as one dead, and I studied his beautiful, marble-still features in concern. His hand in mine was ice cold, the veins standing out starkly blue against the whiteness of his flesh. He began to stir just as dawn stroked the sky with pink fingers of light. “Lucy?” He tried to sit up, but I pushed him back down with both hands against his chest.

“You need to rest,” I told him firmly and he subsided against the pillows, a confused frown wrinkling his smooth brow.

“I don’t remember…” he said, running a hand through his dark hair. “We were dancing…then nothing.”

“You had some sort of seizure,” I explained. “Perhaps it was the heat. You didn’t drink any alcohol, only some lemonade just before we went out onto the terrace.”

“But I don’t understand,” he murmured sleepily. “The moon… It is only half-full….” His eyelids drooped. I moved slightly and he grasped my wrist. “Don’t leave me,
hweg
.” I had to bend low to hear the whispered plea.

Kicking off the white satin slippers that I had chosen with such carefree anticipation, I lay down on the bed next to him. Drawing his head into the curve of my shoulder, I held him close until we both slept.

My dreams were disjointed and vivid. Even though what was happening to me in each dream—and the time and place—were different, the theme was the same. I might be gazing up at a fantastic Alhambra-style palace. Or toiling in fields, wiping sweat out of my eyes with hands caked with moist black earth. Or riding a horse toward mist-laden mountains. Nevertheless, in each scene the feelings I had were identical and unchanging. I was being pulled toward something, or someone, ahead of me. Such an intense attraction that it left me laughing and breathless. But behind me there was a contrasting aura…dark and brooding. In each dream I was gradually torn away from the sweet, light presence and toward the sinister one. I felt bereft, but also exhilarated. Because there was something in the darkness that excited me beyond the point of reason.

When I woke at last, it was fully light. I lay still, comforted by the warm weight of Tynan’s body against me and the musky, masculine scent of him.

“Very touching,” said a dry, flippant voice. Struggling free from Tynan’s encircling arms, I sat up. Uther was leaning against the bedpost, dressed in riding gear. His whip twitched restlessly against one strong thigh. I returned his stare numbly, the mists of sleep still clinging to my befuddled brain. “I see you have not found it too much of a hardship to share the earl’s bed, in spite of your objection to marriage with him.”

I glanced at Tynan, but he remained unconscious. “He was alone and frightened. Nothing happened between us—” I broke off, biting my lip. I disliked the wheedling note in my own voice.

“Spare me these excuses, Lucy.” His voice was cold. “But know this: while I will—because I must—sanction your marriage to Tynan so that you may bear Tenebris an heir, I’ll not tolerate you bringing any Jago bastards into my family.”

I leaped to my feet then, my own temper roused. Although an undercurrent of fear prevailed, any thought of caution deserted me. “There is only one man who has ever touched me, as well you know,” I hissed.

He laughed, a harsh, mocking rasp. One hand shot out and closed on my throat. Strong fingers pressed hard on either side of my neck. Blood pounded briefly in my head and dark spots danced before my eyes. I stared defiantly back at him, and the light in his eyes softened. He released me and drew me into an embrace that was infinitely gentle. “Would I could do more than just touch you, little Lucy,” he murmured, those practised lips caressing my temple like a lover’s whisper. “Would that I could make love to you here and now, but there is still one remaining barrier to that happiness.” He lifted his head and looked across at the unconscious form sprawled across the bed. “Marry Tynan. Bear a Jago son. Set us all free. He will do as his father before him and take his own life rather than live with the reality of his madness. I know he will. I will make sure of it. Then we can be together, you and I.”

I wrenched away from him, meaning and horror dawning in unison. “How can you speak so of him?” I choked back a sob. “As though his death is something to be desired, even arranged?” I dashed from the room, running wildly along the gloomy corridors until I reached the sanctuary of the east wing.

Later, when my disordered nerves had calmed, I thought back to the incident. For the first time, Uther’s touch had not driven me to the point of dementia. A dull pang of mingled pain, regret and relief chimed through me.

* * *

Tynan knocked on my bedchamber door and asked if I cared to accompany him to Athal Cove. The day was bright with promise and, glad of the distraction, I arranged to meet him downstairs when I had changed my light slippers for more robust footwear. As I laced my boots, however, one of the laces snapped and I exclaimed in annoyance, surveying the damage ruefully. I remembered that Demelza had purchased new boot laces in Wadebridge just days ago. Determined that nothing would interfere with the opportunity for a brisk walk, I made my way to the west wing.

Although I knocked long and hard on Demelza’s door, there was no response from within. I turned away just as her soft laugh, from behind the oak panels, touched my straining ears. Pausing and casting a guilty look around me, I pressed my cheek to the door. All was quiet. It was only as I turned away that I heard Demelza laugh again. This time a masculine voice—too low to distinguish words or ownership—replied. Frowning, I tiptoed away again, deciding that I best affect a temporary repair to my footwear.

This was one of our favourite walks. Although short, it afforded views that were breathtakingly beautiful and majestic, yet stark. When we reached the path that would lead us down into the cove, we were greeted by an overexcited dog. He was young, only just emerging from puppyhood, with that funny gangling gait they have when their limbs are too big and they cannot control them. He dashed up to me, barking excitedly, and I bent to pat his head. Encouraged, he bustled off and returned with a stick. His manner indicated that I was to have the high treat of throwing this for him.

“No, sir!” I scolded lightly. “For I will tire of the game and you will insist on continuing it.” His tail thumped delightedly, confirming my assessment of his character.

Tynan laughed. “You seem to understand each other well, cousin.”

“Oh, indeed.” I turned my head to smile at him. “Is he not a sweetheart? We always had dogs when I was a child.”

“I have never been allowed to have one, but, from stories I hear of my father, he always had several,” he said matter-of-factly. I had not given it any thought until now, but dogs were, indeed, conspicuous by their absence at Tenebris. That must be to do with Tynan’s condition. I thought of the mutilated bodies of animals and shuddered. The dog, meanwhile, ambled over to Tynan. Sniffing his boots with interest, the hound sat down and offered a paw, inviting Tynan to shake it. Tynan obliged and then gently pulled the animal’s ears, reducing it instantly to a state of drooling idiocy.

Horse’s hooves made us turn our heads, and Uther cantered into view on his favourite glossy stallion. He reined in abruptly when he saw us. The expression on his face shocked me. Before I could speak, my attention was drawn to the dog, whose hackles had risen and whose lips now drew back in a snarl that bared all of his teeth.

“Stand back, Tynan, Lucy.” Uther’s voice provoked my new friend into a low, rumbling growl of warning. “The creature is clearly dangerous.”

“But that is nonsense!” I cried. “He is a veritable pup still and harmless with it. Why, we have just been playing with him.”

To my horror, Uther drew a pistol from his saddlebag. Clapping my hands together loudly, I shooed the dog and, with a look of reproach and a startled yelp, he ran away. I was shaken by the extremity of Uther’s proposed action, and began to say so. I was brought up short and silenced by the way he was carefully watching Tynan. It was as if he was assessing his nephew’s mood. Tynan seemed oblivious to his scrutiny and, apart from the sullen aspect which always struck him in his uncle’s presence, he remained unperturbed.

Apparently satisfied that all was well with us, Uther rode on to complete his business in Port Isaac. I was distracted as I walked beside Tynan down the narrow, rock-strewn path. I had heard it said that dogs could sense insanity. I wasn’t sure about that, but I did believe that canines were more finely attuned to smell, body language, posture and facial expression than humans. They were, therefore, quick to suspect when someone might be different or dangerous. In India my father told me the story of a soldier who was approached by an old woman. The soldier’s dog hurled itself at the woman, even though its handler, horrified, tried to haul the animal away. In the ensuing scuffle, a huge knife slipped from the woman’s hand and she ran off into the night with surprising agility for one so seemingly frail.