White Water (33 page)

‘Mayhap you should,’ said Hugo. ‘I may say something I’ll regret. She has a week, tell her, and Ellie can help her pack.
I
must see what can be done about the money.’ Maria folded the letter. ‘And poor Allan — when he comes home she’ll be gone.’

‘Poor Allan? The young fool has only himself to blame.’

‘That’s not quite so, Hugo. He is not to blame for the Gillises.’

‘You are right. But without Isobel Gillis his father would not have been born and neither would he. In a way he owes his very life to them. He should think on that!’

And he stormed out, leaving Maria to consider the point. It was a new slant on a vexed question and she thought about it with some eagerness, wondering if it might reconcile Allan to the otherwise unacceptable branch of his family. Then, with a dismissive gesture, she put the idea aside and went in search of Eloise.

*

Martin paused at the stable door and took a last look at the familiar scene. He had the feeling that he was seeing it for the last time and yet he knew that was not so. Romney House was his home but Heron would always be here. He would visit. He would always be welcome. His present transgression would be forgiven and he would ride in again through the familiar gates and Jon would run out to take his horse and welcome him back. So why, he asked himself irritably, did he feel this remorse? As though he was closing the last page of a book. He shrugged mentally and opened the half door. His horse neighed at the sight of him and tossed his head eagerly. Jon had saddled him already and it only remained for Martin to strap on the bundles. He ran a hand down the smooth dark neck and patted the broad back.

‘Come on, Sedge. ’Tis just you and I this time.’

Felicity had ridden with him on the outward journey. Now she would remain at Heron for a few weeks until final arrangements had been made for her. He tried not to recall her distress as she left his bed chamber. He had wanted the night to be happy for them both. He had planned that their parting should be a memorable one, but she had wept and it had turned sour. His pity for Felicity was mingled with a faint resentment that she had spoilt their last moments together.

He would miss her at Romney House, in fact, he could not imagine it without her. There was an emptiness inside him that was fast becoming a feeling of desolation. He tugged at the straps and rocked the bundle to make sure it was secure. The basket would go on the other side. As he moved round, the horse tossed its head and Martin saw Eloise approaching. She moved quickly and there was no smile on her face. His spirits fell further. Surely she did not know! He glanced round anxiously, hoping that Jon was nowhere within earshot. If Eloise was going to raise her voice …

‘I hear from servants’ gossip,’ she said without preamble, ‘that another bastard Kendal is on the way.’

Martin fought down a desire to hit the beautiful mouth that spoke so harshly. Instead he closed his eyes and did not answer.

‘Did you hear me?’ she demanded.

The warm rose-coloured gown contrasted with the pallor of her face and her eyes were green and cold.

‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip,’ he said and bent to examine the horse’s legs and ankles.

‘Is it true?’

‘’Tis not your affair.’

‘I think differently. I think ’tis the affair of the whole family if you have gotten a servant with child.’

‘Felicity is not a servant.’

‘So you admit it?’

‘I said she is not a servant. I do not admit nor deny anything. And how does it concern you? I hear, through more reliable channels, that you are leaving for Rochester at the end of the week. You’ll no longer be a member of the family so why are you so interested?’

Her eyes glittered and he saw her mouth move convulsively. She was struggling to control her feelings, but he knew that it would not take much to make her lose that control. God’s wounds! he thought angrily. Not more tears! Women were desirable creatures, but they could be the very devil when crossed. He had been hoping to slip away while Hugo was at Ladyford with just a quiet farewell to Felicity and Maria. A quarrel with Eloise was to be avoided if possible. He must try to moderate his tongue.

‘You know why I am interested!’ she snapped. ‘Because, if you recall, ’twas not long since you were declaring your passion for me! ’Twas me that you loved — or so you would have me believe. Was that all false? Were they lies?’

‘In faith I don’t recall it well. If you say ’tis so — ’

‘You — you pretend not to remember? Oh, what nonsense. You recall perfectly but are ashamed to — ’

‘I’m ashamed of nothing!’

‘Then more’s the pity for you
should
be, Martin. You should be ashamed of trifling with my affections and of toying with a servant! No doubt you told
her
you loved her and the poor little fool believed you. Did you promise to wed her? You slept with her and yet — ’ She broke off, choking back words she did not want to say.

Martin was fast losing his temper. If she was determined to goad him she would regret it. What did it matter? He had already blotted his copybook and was surrounded by disapproval on all sides. He no longer cared for their good opinions.

‘You mean I bestowed my favours on Felicity instead of you,’ he said. ‘I chose her bed and not yours. Her body instead of — ’

‘Don’t! Don’t you dare compare me with her. ’Twas you wanted it — you that begged, saying that you loved me.’

‘Saying that we loved each other. Aye, I’d have wed you but you were too greedy. Felicity is not greedy. She asked nothing in return. Nothing. I won’t compare you for there is no comparison. Felicity is worth two of you! There, you wanted the truth. Now you have it.’

Her bosom heaved passionately and she was gasping for breath. Martin thought dispassionately that she had never looked more beautiful with her flushed cheeks and wild expression. A pity she was such a shrew. Eloise stared at him furiously, but a similar thought intruded into her consciousness. His body still appealed to her animal senses, and if he offered her one crumb of comfort she would take it readily and the way would be clear for a reconciliation. If he touched her she would flame with desire. But no! She had forgotten Felicity. That damned strumpet! And the child! That would always be between them. No. Martin Kendal’s body might cry out and hers might answer but Felicity had effectively come between them forever.

‘You are worse than worthless, Martin Kendal,’ she told him. ‘You are arrogant, selfish, unscrupulous, shallow. And your Gillis brother is no better. A plague on the Kendals! I shall watch your ruin with great pleasure. I shall — ’

He had swung himself into the saddle and sat looking down into the glorious face that spat so venomously. He had no desire now to make any farewells.

‘And God be with you, too, ma’am,’ he mocked and, spurring his startled horse, cantered across the stable yard and out through the gate.

Eloise, incensed beyond all bearing, ran after him, stumbling precariously on the uneven cobbles and screaming vengefully, but by the time she reached the gate he was out of sight and the sound of hoof beats was fading. She would never see him again.

*

The store behind the chandler’s was a poor exchange for the splendours of Heron, but Eloise Ballantyne knew she would die rather than admit as much to Steven Kennet. He sat opposite her, sprawled across a pile of ropes, his eyes fixed upon her face. She had told him about her disastrous alliance with the Kendal family and her determined efforts, from the very first day, to free herself. Sitting on a new wooden sea chest, she looked as beautiful as ever with her blue eyes flashing fire at the memory of the indignities she had suffered. The long fair curls rested on her softly rounded shoulders, and she twisted a strand of hair as she spoke, occasionally releasing it so that it sprang back among its fellows.

‘If ’twas so terrible,’ he said, ‘why did you stay so long? You had only to write to your father and he’d have taken you away. Lord knows, he dotes on you enough. You only have to lift a finger — ’

‘I had no wish to distress my parents,’ she told him. ‘They were content, believing that I was happy. They thought Heron a fine place.’

‘And so ’twas, you were just telling me.’

She frowned impatiently. ‘I said ’twas a large estate and a big house — ’

‘And a tin mine. Don’t forget the tin mine.’

Eloise looked at him suspiciously. Was he playing with her? No, he would not dare. He would not risk her displeasure. He looked at her still in that certain way and there was unfinished business between them. She wondered anxiously if he remembered the day she had rejected him. Probably not, she thought. Such men do not suffer. ‘Aye, and the mine,’ she added. ‘But ’twas not thriving. They had mismanaged it all and the fortune was gone. Sad to see a fine inheritance lost by such folly.’

‘So you were misled,’ he persisted. ‘Your parents were fooled by these Kendals.’

She hesitated, unwilling to admit that her family could be duped so easily.

‘I don’t think you properly understand,’ she said at last. ‘Nor ever will if I explain it a dozen times or more. Let us just say ’twas an unfortunate period of my life from which I am glad to escape.’

He laughed. ‘So here you are, back in Rochester and your fond father is no doubt arranging a new match for you.’

‘He is … But enough of me, Steven. What are you about these days? I thought to find you wed by this time.’

‘Mayhap I haven’t found the right woman,’ he suggested. ‘Maybe I’m pernickety who I marry. I don’t have a doting father to arrange my future for me, but I’ve had my share of comfort, don’t you fret. A young man like me doesn’t need a wife. There are plenty of willing beauties in Rochester and I’ve found a fair number of them.’

Eloise bit her lip, restraining a caustic comment. ‘I don’t doubt it,’ she said with an attempt at lightness. ‘You always did have a winning way, Steven Kennet. I still remember the touch of your lips upon mine, brief though it was.’

‘Do you? Now I’ve forgot that.’

Damned liar, she thought. He
did
remember. She forced a smile. ‘If your luck holds out I might remind you,’ she said with a provocative toss of her blonde head.

‘My luck?’ he said. ‘There is nowt wrong with my luck. ’Tis you that seems afflicted by bad luck. This Martin and this Allan you’ve spoke of at such length. Two fine handsome men and you couldn’t land either one of them!’ Her eyes blazed suddenly but hastily she lowered her lids. ‘I told you, I would not have them,’ she said.

‘Oh, they did want you then?’

She swallowed hard. He was going to make this as difficult as he could, but she would win. It might take all her cunning, all her guile, but she would not be rejected by Steven Kennet. She was still beautiful. No, she was more beautiful! He wanted her, it was written boldly in his eyes. But if he recalled her scornful treatment of him then he wanted his revenge. Was he worth her time, she wondered? She had almost decided to surrender to him, to restore her faith in her own desirability. And to experience once more the ecstasy of love which she remembered only too well. Her body and mind were ripe for love and while she waited for her father to negotiate another husband, she might well amuse herself with Steven Kennet.

If only he did not push her too far in his zeal for revenge. She wondered how he would take her — in a furious passion of delayed longing, no doubt. Her senses thrilled at the prospect.

‘They wanted me,’ she said carefully.

‘But you teased them and ran away!’ he said.

‘That was spiteful,’ she said, allowing her lips to tremble. ‘I was much younger then — I was afraid.’

‘Afraid, my eye!’ said Steven. ‘I saw the way you fluttered those lovely fingers up there, at that very window. Such a delicate “farewell”!’

She faced him squarely. ‘I would have thought a man like you, with all the “comfort” you’ve had, would have easily forgot a young girl’s foolishness.’

‘You thought wrongly, then.’

‘It meant so much to you? You wanted me
so
desperately?’

‘I did.’

‘And now you don’t?’

‘Have I said that?’

‘You imply it by your insulting remarks and spiteful looks.’

He threw back his head suddenly and laughed. ‘Well, well, a fine pair we must make, sitting here arguing if we will or we won’t. I’ve learnt a lot while you were in Devon being made a fool of by the Kendals. A fair reputation I’ve got, I can promise you. No one makes a fool of Steven Kennet and gets away with it — but I just might make an exception in your case. I say I might. Those wide blue eyes that speak so clearly to me — Oh they do! The message rings like a peal of bells in my ears. I know what you want, Eloise Ballantyne.’ He stood up and crossed the small distance between them. Slowly, he put his arms round her and raised her to her feet. She began to tremble, unable to control the clamour of her body crying out for the attention it had lacked for so long. He pulled her closer, keeping his eyes fixed on her face, noting the flush that coloured her cheeks and the way she unconsciously parted her beautiful lips. Her chest rose and fell, hastening its rhythm. He let the fingers of one hand travel up her back until it touched the bare skin at the nape of her neck. Eloise gasped with pleasure.