That Infamous Pearl (15 page)

Rowena looked up at
him, alarm tingeing her expression. "Just the two of us?" she asked.
Despite what she had just said, the thought of being alone with Alaric was
disturbing. Even now she felt the pull of attraction to the man.

Alaric laughed
softly. "It would be very odd of us to have guests to dinner the day after
our wedding. And I thought you wished to know me better. That would be hard to
do in a room full of people."

"Yes, but..."
Rowena's voice trailed off. She could hardly argue with him when he was giving
her exactly what she had asked for.

Alaric smiled at the
nonplussed look on her face. "Go and change into a driving dress. While I
wait, I will write a note to Charles, telling him he received distressing news
yesterday."

That made Rowena
smile. "What sort of news was it?"

"Oh, I will
leave that up to Charles. Perhaps the death of an old friend...or, more likely,
he lost a great deal of money on a horse."

Rowena gave a little
gurgle of laughter. "Will he humor you, do you think?"

"Oh, yes.
Charles is the best of fellows. He will doubtless think this a great joke."

"Does he know
why we quarreled yesterday?" asked Rowena in a small voice.

Alaric patted her
hand. "Of course not. He immediately presumed it was my arrogance that had
caused us to fall out and accused me of being a poor husband. And he was quite
right. But I mean to be a much better one, starting now. Hurry and change, my
dear. I wish to show all of London my beautiful bride."

Rowena walked slowly
out of the room. Alaric gazed after her for moment, and then moved to the desk,
pulling a piece of a paper and a pen toward himself. He picked up the pen and
held it over the paper, but he did not immediately begin to write. It had been
a long time since he had indulged anyone in the way he was indulging Rowena. He
was used to his orders being obeyed and his desires immediately met. What was
it about her that made him give way, to try to appease her rather than force
her to give in to his will?

He shrugged the
thought away. She was his wife, and he wanted her. That was understandable. He
would not have married a woman he did not desire. And she was young and
innocent. He could hardly force himself on her without causing tears and upset.
Soon she would come to understand that he knew what was best for her, and then
all these tantrums would cease. As always when he sought something, it took
some small amount of time and effort before all was well. Soon enough Rowena
would be a contented wife. He smiled gently and began to write.

Rowena gazed at her
husband across the candlelit dining table. As always, she was struck by his
attractiveness, which was heightened by his dark evening wear, his black hair shining
like silk in the golden glow of the candles, his green eyes glittering. A
single emerald shone in his cravat, bright against the white cloth. He was
almost mesmerizing she thought, dark and faintly dangerous looking. She watched
as he reached for his wineglass and she could see the controlled power in his
hand. For an instant she remembered the feeling of his palms on her shoulders
that morning and a wave of heat washed over her.

She raised another
mouthful of syllabub to her lips and tried to dismiss the errant thought.
Alaric had been very thoughtful and kind to her all afternoon, complimenting
her on her appearance when she had come down for their drive, making her laugh
in the Park by his amusing commentary on the stares cast at him by the curious
ton
,
and meeting her at her bedroom door, escorting her down to the dining room, his
eyes full of admiration. The dinner had been intimate, with only a very few
servants waiting on them. Alaric had tended to her every desire, his concern
evident. The whole evening had been both gratifying and terrifying. She could
feel Alaric concentrating his energy and complete attention on her, and she
feared her own reaction to his intense charm. She had the sense that if he
touched her she would go up in flames like so much dry kindling.

Alaric raised his
eyes from contemplation of the golden liquid in his glass and looked at Rowena.
He smiled gently. She looked like a queen he thought absently, her back very
straight, her head with its halo of curls held high. Her expression was
difficult to read, but he thought that she was softening, that his attentions
were achieving their intended objective. There was a tension about her, a
wariness to the way she held herself that told him she was not immune to his
presence. Perhaps he would achieve his aim tonight, if he were very careful. If
not tonight, tomorrow. He could not wait any longer than that, he thought, his
fingers tightening on the stem of the glass. It would be far too difficult.

"More wine,
Rowena?" he asked softly.

Rowena jumped and
looked at him guiltily. She had been concentrating on his appearance, and had
lost track of the conversation.

"No, my lord,"
she said softly. "Thank you." She hesitated. "Perhaps I should
retire to the drawing room now."

"And leave me to
my port?" asked Alaric lazily. "No, thank you. I have no wish to be
separated from you this evening. I would far rather accompany you."

Rowena swallowed. As
little as she wished to sit in the drawing room in solitary splendor, she was
uncomfortable with the thought of what might come next. How did a husband and
wife amuse themselves in the evenings? They could not possibly go out, as that
would cause far too much comment, particularly after Alaric's adventures the
night before. But sitting alone with Alaric, watching his powerful body, aware
that she herself had put restrictions upon what could happen between them,
would be too difficult a way to pass the evening.

Alaric had risen and
walked around the table, and now he stood next to her chair and offered her his
hand. Rowena looked up at him with curiosity touched with alarm.

"I have a
surprise for you, my dear. Come with me."

Rowena took his hand,
and stood, but resisted slightly when he tried to lead her from the room.

"Where are you
taking me?" she asked.

"Nowhere
dangerous, I promise you," he said, his voice amused. "You must
really begin to trust me a little, my dear."

"I'm not
frightened." Her voice was indignant.

"Of course you
aren't. I didn't mean to cast aspersions on your bravery. But our destination
will not be a surprise if I tell you now."

Rowena looked up and
saw that Alaric's eyes were full of laughter. She set her chin firmly. She
would not allow him to think she was a coward.

"Very well,"
she said. "Must I close my eyes?"

"That will not
be necessary." Alaric took her hand and placed it on his arm. He led her
out of the dining room and towards the elegantly proportioned staircase that
soared to the upper floors of the house.

Rowena followed him
with faltering steps. What if he led her to his bedroom? Would she have the
courage to turn him away again? Her pride told her that he should pay a higher
price for the insults he had dealt her the night before, but he had been so
kind today that she had already almost forgotten them. She peeked up at him
from the corner of her eye, her long fair lashes shielding her gaze. He looked
very confident and serene, a gentle smile curling his lips.

He looked down and
caught her watching him. "Ready?" he asked.

Rowena nodded. He led
her to the stairs and began ascending them, his tread measured and slow. She
became acutely aware of everything around her, of the silence of the house, the
gentle rustle of her silk dress as it whispered against her legs, the warmth of
Alaric's arm through the cloth of his jacket. She wondered nervously where the
servants were. They had all disappeared as if by magic when dinner was over.

When they reached the
top of the stairs Alaric turned away from their bedrooms and led her down a
large hall, carpeted so thickly that Rowena could not hear their footsteps. She
had the oddest sensation that they were all alone in the world, that everything
has ceased to exist except her and the man she stood next to. She swallowed
nervously. If he was not taking her to his bedroom, where were they going?

Alaric came to a halt
before a large door, made of sturdy dark wood and secured with an ornate lock.
He drew a key from his coat pocket and fitted it, turning it slowly. The door
swung open with a gentle creak, and Alaric stepped back, motioning to Rowena to
enter. She paused, her hand tightening on his arm.

"What room is
this?" she asked suddenly, her voice breathless.

Alaric smiled at her.
"Do you think me a Bluebeard, sweetheart? Rest easy, there is nothing in
here that can harm you."

Rowena gave him a
speaking glance. He had guessed exactly her nervous mood, but his putting her
thoughts into words made them seem ridiculous. She was not afraid of anything,
she reminded herself. She set her shoulders in a firm line and swept through
the open door.

She cast one look
about the room and gave a startled gasp, her hand falling nervelessly away from
Alaric's arms. She turned to him, amazement on her face.

"It's marvelous,
Alaric," she said, her voice full of wonder. "How lovely."

Alaric smiled at her
enthusiasm. He had been almost certain that she would enjoy his collection as
much as he did, but some part of him had been afraid that she might be bored,
or see it only as a group of priceless objects, admirable for their value and
little else. But he could see from the glow on her face that she had the
appreciation of a true connoisseur.

Rowena turned back to
the room. Alaric had put a great deal of thought into its creation. The walls
between several smaller rooms had been knocked out to create the closest thing
to a gallery that could be had in a London mansion. It marched the length of
the house, with tall graceful windows covered in blue velvet curtains looking
out over the back garden. The room itself was simple, with its walls and
soaring ceiling painted white, the trim of simple dark wood. It was merely a
background for the treasures with which Alaric had filled it.

Rowena's mouth formed
a tiny "O" of surprise as she walked further into the room.
Everywhere her eye fell she saw a masterpiece, something unique and precious.
She had naturally heard much of Alaric's collection, but she had never before
realized how truly amazing it was.

She paused to look at
a book that stood open on a pedestal. The ancient handwriting was spidery and
unfamiliar, the pictures in the margins glowed like jewels in shades of red,
blue and gold. She touched it with a reverent finger.

"This is very
old," she murmured. "I can imagine the monk laboring over this by
candlelight on a cold winter night."

"It was made at
Lindisfarne in the 9th century," said Alaric, touched and pleased that
Rowena had commented on the manuscript. "As much as I admire the art by
world-famous masters that adorn these walls, the exquisite works created by
anonymous men in honor of their God move me in a way that other pieces cannot."

He reached out and
turned a page. He heard Rowena draw in a tiny breath at the new pictures that
were revealed.

"It's exquisite,"
she breathed.

"There is much
more to see," Alaric said, taking her hand. He led her further into the
gallery, enjoying her childlike delight at every new revelation. He noted
quickly that she had a well-developed appreciation for fine art and a good eye,
picking out the notable points of each object with ease and accuracy. But the
artwork could not hold his attention. He found himself watching Rowena as she
wandered from object to object. Her hair glowed golden in the candlelight, her
white skin begged for the touch of his fingers.

"Alaric?"

He started and
returned to the gallery. His mind had been somewhere very different, with
Rowena naked in his arms. She was by far the loveliest thing in the room, he
thought, outshining every masterpiece on display.

"Yes, my dear?"

"This is a
Botticelli, is it not?"

Alaric looked at the
painting she was gazing at, a young woman with flowing golden hair.

"One of my more
recent acquisitions," he murmured. "She is lovely, isn't she?"

"Very. I imagine
the painter must have been in love with his subject."

"Possibly,"
said Alaric. "Or, more likely, he simply desired her. Desire is a powerful
emotion."

Rowena felt a tremor
shoot through her at Alaric's words. "As is love," she answered
quietly.

"Indeed."
Alaric took her hand in his. "What do you think of my gallery, Rowena?"

"It is
magnificent, my lord. I am impressed by both your taste and your perseverance.
It must have been difficult to find and acquire all these objects."

"When I decide I
want something, there is nothing that can stop me," observed Alaric.

"So I have been
told," said Rowena.

He looked down at her
face and cursed himself for his thoughtless words. She had temporarily
forgotten the strain between them, and he had reminded her of it.

"There is much
more, of course," he said quickly, hoping to distract her. "Many
objects are at my country estate, and some of the most valuable are kept locked
in a safe."

"A safe?"
asked Rowena, surprised. "What could there possibly be more valuable than
these works?"

Alaric laughed. "Some
items of jewelry and a few other small objects," he murmured. "Let me
show you." He gently removed from the wall an exquisite VanDyke painting
of a young woman. Behind it was a safe. Rowena watched in surprise as he
quickly turned the cylinder, entering the combination.

Alaric reached into
the depths of the safe and removed a box covered in blue velvet. He turned to
Rowena, taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss in the palm, and then placed
the box on it.

Rowena's eyes widened
"What is this?" she asked.

"Open it if you
wish to know," Alaric responded.

She released the
clasp on the box and slowly opened the lid. The glimmer of rubies flashed at
Rowena from their bed of blue velvet. A magnificent set of gems nestled there,
set in filigreed old gold worked by expert hands. She leaned forward in
amazement, awed by their glow.

"They're
beautiful," she breathed.

"They once
belonged to Mary of Scotland," said Alaric. "And now they are yours,
Rowena."

She gazed up at him
in surprise. "Mine?"

"When I bought
them I knew that I would give them to my wife one day. I have never found a
woman worthy of them before. I want you to have them, Rowena."

She leaned forward
and touched one of the gems with her fingertip. "They're astonishing. But
much too valuable to wear, Alaric. Put them away again."

"I want to see
you in them. They should be adorning a beautiful woman, not locked away in a
safe." He reached into the box and withdrew the necklace. Gently brushing
the soft tendrils of hair away, he fastened it about her neck. The gold was
cool against her bare skin.

Alaric smiled
faintly. "Even in my dreams I hadn't realized you would look so
spectacular," he said. He picked up the bracelet and clasped it about her
wrist, then removed the circlet and settled it gently on her gilt curls. He
stepped back, admiring her.

Rowena gave a shaky
laugh. "I feel preposterous."

"You look
amazing. I will never tire of this sight. It makes me want to lock you away
forever, Rowena." His hand slid over her shoulder, caressing her softly.

Rowena's eyes widened
as she looked up at him. He seemed very serious, deep admiration reflected in
his gaze.