The Silent Touch of Shadows (31 page)

She closed her eyes and tried to let his voice soothe her. She was scared and nervous, but nothing could have kept her away from him this evening. Something or someone had compelled her to come. Perhaps Roger’s powers were extra strong on this magical night. Or perhaps she was just in love with Jake.
I really hope that’s what it is!

In the living room the lights were dimmed and he had lit floating candles in a magnificent crystal bowl half-filled with water. The tiny flames flickered in the draught as they entered and the cut glass reflected prisms of light onto the walls. A bottle of wine and two glasses waited on a table and he led her to the sofa, pulling her down gently beside him. He took both her hands, rubbing her palms in a sensual rhythm with his thumbs, and looked her straight in the eyes.

‘Melissa, I have tried to keep away from you these last weeks, because I could see you needed more time. I hate to push you, but I can’t stand it any longer. I want to be with you, whatever the reason. I want you, more than I have ever wanted any other woman. Whether Roger is lurking somewhere and intends to share you with me, or wants to pretend that you’re his lost love, I will still be the one making love with you, if you let me. No one else. Do you believe me?’

She nodded, unable to trust herself to speak. Emotion clogged her throat and tears were threatening, but she held them back.

‘Then let’s have a drink, relax and talk for a while, and I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to take this any further tonight.’

Melissa accepted the glass of wine gratefully. If ever she’d needed something to bolster her courage, it was now. Because she knew with absolute certainty how this night would end and her wishes didn’t come into it. Not that she didn’t want to make love with Jake – she did, desperately – she just felt a lingering resentment that even if she’d wanted to hold back, Roger would somehow have persuaded her.

Well, this is my decision, Roger, so stay out of it!
The fierce thought helped and she became calmer.
I am in charge, it’s my life.

When, later on, Jake took her in his arms, she didn’t protest, but held him close in mute acceptance. Nothing existed except this feeling building between them and nothing could have stopped it from reaching its natural conclusion. She felt it was their destiny.

Their love-making was explosive, each one moving as if they knew exactly how to please the other. His fingers found her most sensitive spots at exactly the right time and she returned the favour, making him sigh with pleasure.

‘You’re the only woman who exists for me, the only woman I’ll ever want,’ he whispered, and Melissa believed him. She felt the same about him.

She’d never experienced anything like the sensations Jake created in her, and tried to concentrate her mind on the here and now. She didn’t want to leave herself open to any of Roger’s tricks, but it became increasingly difficult. She could sense him hovering on the fringes of her awareness, and she looked deep into Jake’s eyes and whispered his name, over and over again to keep the ghost away. As they reached the final frenzy before the world exploded, the name Sibell echoed round the inside of Melissa’s head with frightening clarity, but she kissed Jake fiercely, ignoring Roger. She wouldn’t let anyone spoil this special moment, especially not someone who had been dead for six hundred years. She was making love with Jake and no one else.

As the aftershocks died down, however, the uncertainty returned and tears hovered on her lashes. For a long time she lay quietly in Jake’s arms, but her mind was elsewhere. Jake noticed, of course.

‘Was it difficult, love?’ he asked gently.

‘Yes. He was there, but I tried to ignore him.’

With a groan of frustration Jake pulled her closer, hugging her fiercely. ‘I would do anything for you, Melissa, but I can’t fight a ghost. It seems only you can do that, but I’ll do whatever I can to help.’

‘Thank you. At least it’s nice to know that I’m not alone. I just wonder if Roger will ever give up?’

‘Perhaps together we can make him?’

Chapter Twenty-Four

The minty freshness of spring had given way to the darker greens of summer, and still the marriage contract had not been signed. With barely concealed frustration, John of Ashleigh set off to confront the lion in his den, taking two of his sons with him to Sir Fulke’s manor. The other two, Simon and Godwin, remained to guard their sister and, unfortunately for her, took their duties seriously for once.

‘I can’t move an inch without tripping over one or other of them,’ Sibell grumbled to Roger when at last she managed to give them the slip one afternoon. ‘Father has promised them all some sort of reward if they help to marry me off safely. Even Godwin, who is usually kind to me, won’t let me out of his sight. He knows it would be more than his life is worth.’

They were lying on a soft grassy mound by the river and she glared at the sky as if it was responsible for all her troubles. Roger nodded and chewed absently on a blade of grass.

‘You are singularly unfortunate in your brothers,’ he agreed.

‘Half-brothers,’ she interjected.

‘They are like terriers with a rat, and just as pugnacious.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I could help you, sweeting, but my situation hasn’t changed. I’d hoped Sir Gilbert would have relented by now, but he refuses to give me even a hint as to who my father might have been. No one else is willing to divulge anything to me.’

Roger had confided his reason for coming to Idenhurst in the first place to Sibell, since he didn’t want there to be any secrets between them. He told her of his mother, the beautiful Lady Emma, who had kept the name of Roger’s father a secret all his life. It was only on her deathbed that she’d hinted to him about a possible connection with the Presseille family. Roger had lost no time in trying to find out more, but without Sir Gilbert’s help he had no chance.

‘I feel sure he has the answer, but he stubbornly refuses to tell me.’ Spitting out the grass now, Roger rolled onto his side to look at her and added vehemently, ‘If only I had more to offer you than one paltry manor, and that not until my uncle dies, which could be many years from now. We could be married and I would take you away from here.’ He caressed her cheek with loving fingers, touching the freckles reverently one by one, then pulled her close. ‘I love every inch of you.’

‘Roger, I don’t care about your possessions or lack of them. Marry me anyway, please! Let’s be gone from here before my father returns.’ She beat her fists against his massive chest in sheer frustration. He captured her hands and kissed each finger in turn, but his face was serious.

‘No, you know I can’t leave Idenhurst until I have finished training Sir Gilbert’s men. I gave my word.’ He gathered her close again and dropped butterfly kisses onto her nose and cheeks. ‘But if you’re sure, then there is no reason we can’t be married. In secret.’

Her eyes flew to his, wide with joy. ‘Really? How would we do that?’

‘It would be simple enough. We can both read and write, so we’ll draw up our own contract of marriage and plight our troth in front of two witnesses. Even if the ceremony isn’t blessed by a priest, it will be legal and binding. That’s the law. We can have a church blessing at a later date. Is there anyone you can trust to vouch for you? Lady Maude perhaps?’

‘No, I couldn’t involve her. It wouldn’t be fair. But
 
…’ She thought for a moment. ‘I believe old Ingirith would help us. She has no liking for my father and was fiercely devoted to my mother because she was her personal maid. I know she can at least write her own name, I’ve seen her do it before.’

‘Good. Then I’ll draw up the document and bring Hugone. The lad is literate and loyal to me. When can you escape your gaolers next?’

Sibell hesitated, thinking furiously. ‘Perhaps on Wednesday? I overheard them talking about a hunt they didn’t want to miss. They’ll probably lock me in, but Ingirith might contrive to let me out if I take her into my confidence.’

‘Very well, Wednesday it is then. Meet me by the oak tree next to the river, the one with a hole in the trunk.’

‘But, Roger?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you sure you want to do this? You’re not just feeling sorry for me because I am bound to marry Sir Fulke?’ She still couldn’t quite believe that a man like Roger could possibly want her enough to marry her. And without a dowry too, for she had no doubt her father would withhold her portion if she took this step.

He laughed and pulled her closer still. ‘Don’t you know by now that I love you more than life itself? I always will, I swear on my honour. For all eternity.’

Sibell breathed a sigh of relief. All would be well. She didn’t need to be afraid of Sir Fulke any longer and her child would not be born a bastard. Soon she would tell Roger, when she was absolutely certain.

‘Ouch!’ Melissa stubbed her toe on the loose floorboard in her bedroom for at least the third time, and glared at the offending piece of wood. ‘That’s it, I’m going to nail you down if it’s the last thing I do.’ She set off in search of hammer and nails.

Hammer in hand, she knelt down on all fours to have a closer look. It seemed the whole board had come loose. She was gripped by a sudden urge to look underneath it and without thinking she lifted the wood to peer down into the cavity below. She couldn’t see much, however, and gave a muffled shriek as a fat spider bustled out of his hiding place.

‘Ugh, horrid thing! Out of my room this instant.’ The spider scurried away, as anxious to put distance between them as she was. She shuddered.

Resolutely grabbing a torch which Dorothy had left for her by the bed – in case of power cuts, she’d explained – she had another look under the floor and noticed something sparkling in a corner. Melissa didn’t like the thought of sticking her hand down into the hole, just in case any of the spider’s friends or relatives were lurking there, so she found a pencil with which to poke around. To her surprise, she dislodged something glittery that rolled into the beam from the torch, and she picked it up to inspect it more closely. It was a ring.

Although it was dusty, it seemed to be made of pure gold and was quite solid. It was in the shape of a dragon biting its own tail and along the inside was an inscription of some sort, which she couldn’t make out. The dragon’s eyes were made of green gems, possibly emeralds, and Melissa thought she had never seen anything so lovely. She caressed the little head lovingly.

‘Wow, you’re a little beauty, aren’t you?’ She polished the grime off with the bottom of her T-shirt and held it up to admire its sheen in the sunlight.

She tried the heavy ring on various fingers and found that it only fit on the ring finger of her left hand.
A marriage ring.
The thought echoed around her head, and as she slipped the ring onto the finger again she shivered and sucked in her breath sharply.

Roger had said a ring would help her somehow. Was this it? But how could it possibly help her? She stared at the beautiful object, deep in thought for a while. She now had one answer, but also more questions.

Finally, she slipped the ring off and had another look at the inscription. Perhaps this was the clue, but she couldn’t decipher the writing. She’d have to find someone who could.

Mr Smythson, the jewellery expert at Sotheby’s in New Bond Street, kindly agreed to see Melissa at short notice when she called him and explained what she’d found. When she was ushered into his office, she discovered he was a tall, jovial man in his mid-fifties, with a shock of salt and pepper hair. He shook her hand enthusiastically.

‘Have a seat, Ms Grantham, please.’ He waved her into a chair opposite his desk. ‘Now, let’s have a look at your little find, shall we?’ He sank into his own chair.

Melissa had thought it safer to wear the ring rather than carry it about in her handbag, and she now peeled the little dragon off her finger with great care. She handed it to Mr Smythson and he took it with an expression that reminded her of an eager schoolboy. Then he extracted a magnifying glass from his desk drawer.

‘As I told you, I found this under the floorboards of my bedroom,’ she said. ‘I was wondering if you could tell me anything about it and, in particular, whether you can decipher the writing inside and also perhaps figure out how old it might be.’

He examined it closely from every angle, muttering to himself all the while, before looking up at her with a radiant smile.

‘My dear Ms Grantham, this is a rare find. A rare find indeed.’