Daughter of Darkness

by Janet Woods

  Leaning back in his chair, he stared into the fire crackling in the hearth. Despite his worry over his father’s state of health he experienced a sense of wellbeing. He was home, had the future of the estate to plan for and a woman to warm his nights when he so wished. And what a woman she was! His wife was exquisite.

  His glance roved to the paintings adorning the walls. Mostly they were of horses and the men who rode them. He’d grown up with them, leaning against his father’s knee whilst he’d enthralled him with stories about them. It was said he resembled the fourth earl with his hawk-like features and fierce frown. His glance moved toward the likeness. For a moment he gazed with puzzlement at the blaze of blue in the centre of the fourth earl’s uniform jacket, then coming upright, stared at it for a few unbelieving moments more. The dagger had been removed. Tucked into the ripped canvas was the blue ribbon he’d cut from Willow’s cap.

  Deciding the chocolate could wait, he sprang to his feet and strode off towards the ballroom, a grin playing around his mouth. The clash of steel against steel brought him to an abrupt halt in the doorway. It took a few seconds to register that the youth fencing with his brother was none other than Willow. They were using foils. He automatically checked if the tips were guarded before allowing himself to be mildly shocked at her attire. Far from a disguise, it only served to accentuate her femininity. The outline of her hips was rounded, but firm beneath the faded fabric of the breeches she wore. Slender, shapely legs disappeared into a pair of worn riding boots.

  Fetching though her figure was, he managed to drag his eyes away from her provocatively displayed rear and concentrated on her swordsmanship. She gave a light laugh as she parried a head cut, then scored a point off Jeffrey’s padding with her riposte. Someone had taught her well. Light on her feet, she was wary as she circled, her eyes alert on her opponent’s movement. It took but a few moments appreciate her skill. Her co-ordination was good, her timing perfect, her concentration absolute. He could almost see her planning the strategy that would end the bout to her advantage. Springing forward, she expertly slipped beneath Jeffrey’s guard with a perfect thrust to the body. Her rapier formed a quivering arc as it met the resistance of the padding, then sprang straight when she removed it. Jeffrey clutched his hands to his chest, staggered theatrically backwards then sank to the floor.

  ‘You cannot fool me,’ she scolded, and, ripping the mask from her face began to catch her breath. ‘You allowed me to win.’

  Jeffrey grinned when she threw her mask at him. With lithe grace, he sprang to his feet and bowed low. ‘I confess I gave you a couple of openings, but one needed to be skilled to have observed them.’

  Gerard laughed, he couldn’t help himself. His brother had a smooth tongue for one so young. He was a fine looking youth, lacking yet of muscular strength. Women would have to watch out for him before too long.

  A look of consternation passed between them before they turned to face him.

  ‘I know what you are about to say, Gerard.’ Jeffrey slid protectively in front of Willow. ‘If anyone is to be chastised it should be me.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Defiantly, Willow pushed herself forward. ‘We’ve done nothing untoward. I refuse to be chastised for nothing.’ ‘

  You call dressing immodestly nothing?’ Wanting to laugh, he waited with interest to hear her reasoning.

  ‘If you were a woman and forced to wear cumbersome skirts, you would soon discover that being so confined is not comfortable—given certain circumstances.’ The expression in her eyes was deliciously indignant. He could admire her ingeniousness when she appealed. ‘How do you expect me to fence under such restrictions?’

  He understood her point of view, but his enjoyment of the situation was growing too much to let it pass. ‘Perhaps I do not expect you to indulge in such unfeminine pastimes as fencing.’

  Her voice rose to a squeak. ‘Not fence?’

  She was easy to tease. He tried to keep the amusement out of his eyes when Jeffrey turned aside with a grin on his face. ‘Women should be modest and gentle.’ He exchanged a conspiratorial glance with his brother. ‘They should run the household, and only concern themselves with womanly pursuits such as embroidery.’ He hesitated slightly before thinking of something guaranteed to raise her ire rise even further. ‘Women should be decorative and agreeable for their husbands. Above all,’ he said quickly when she drew in a deep breath and opened her delicious mouth to protest, ‘a woman should keep her place, and never answer her husband back.’

  Never?’ A conflict of emotion danced in the depths her eyes. First came a spark of rebellion, then disbelief—subdued by an incredible hurt to dim their flame. Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes filled with tears. ‘You’ll find me sadly lacking then, husband. I confess, I’ve none of the admirable qualities you desire in a woman.’

  Damnation, he’d made her cry. ‘Indeed you have,’ he hastened to reassure her. ‘You’re the sweetest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever come across.’

  An embroidered handkerchief was removed from her cuff and an aroma of perfume was released to tantalize his nostrils. ‘But I’m a most disagreeable person, and I argue with you.’ Eyes quivering with tears were turned his way. Drawn into their depths, he discovered a disturbing gleam of mischief. If her purpose was to test his temper it would do no harm to lull her into a false sense of security, he mused.

  ‘There’s nothing quite so boring as a woman who has nothing to say for herself,’ he encouraged. ‘It does not displease me.’

  The handkerchief was applied to her eyes leaving Gerard momentarily bereft by the withdrawal of their regard. She gave the tiniest of sighs. ‘I hate to be thought immodest. I’ll give up fencing and apply myself to embroidery instead. Lady Edwina tells me I’ll never be a good needlewoman. Still, it will amuse her to berate me for my lack of skill.’

  He couldn’t abandon her to such a fate. ‘You have my permission to continue to fence if it amuses you.’

  ‘And the breeches?’

  ‘As long as you don’t wear them abroad.’

  ‘Thank you, Gerard.’ She surprised him by lightly kissing his cheek and he discovered that there was no trace of tears now.

  ‘A reward for the ingeniousness of your plea.’

  Their eyes joined and held. A soft, self-mocking smile curved her lips. ‘I had not expected you to be quite so perceptive, nor so indulgent with me.’

  ‘Touche, madam.’ His eyes narrowed a fraction. She was young, but she had a strong instinct for survival. He picked up her hand, placing a kiss in the palm as compliment. ‘Who taught you to fence?’

  Dark, feathery lashes dipped momentarily over her eyes. ‘It was my tutor, James Langland.’

  ‘Earl Langland’s second son?’

  She nodded.

  ‘That must account for it. He’s an expert swordsman, and a crack shot, I believe. Some say he equaled your father’s prowess before he dropped out of sight.’ A frown creased his brow. ‘Rumor has it he was deeply in debt to the marquis. He must have pledged himself to your father to avoid debtors prison.’

  She scowled at the thought. ‘Even if that was the case, he was good to me. He applied himself to my education with diligence.’ Her eyes affected amusement. ‘Although you may regard it as a liability, James taught me many things. I can read, write, calculate figures and play chess. I could also shoot the eye from a frog if need be.’

  He ignored her boast and flicked her a grin. ‘If you do not find your education a liability, why should I? I should like to meet this James Langland.’

  ‘I know nothing of his whereabouts.’ Sadness filled her eyes. ‘I should not like to think him still indebted to my father. I’ve a little money of my own, and with your permission, would forfeit it to buy his freedom.’

  Loyalty was something he understood. If he could offer her this small service he might rise a little in her estimation after their confrontation of the day before. ‘Allow me to make enquiries on your behalf, Willow.’

  T
he glance they exchanged was of mutual interest. Color tinted her cheeks. ‘I’d be most grateful.’

  Jeffrey might just as well not have been there. Used to her undivided attention, he snatched up his coat and strode towards the doorway.

  ‘Jeffrey?’ she cried out in astonishment.

  ‘Let him go. He must come to terms with the situation in his own way,’ Gerard said harshly.

  ‘I do not understand,’ she whispered. ‘What situation?’

  ‘Perhaps you should ask yourself that.’ Spanning her waist with his hands, he pulled her against him, gazing down at speculatively. Her husband’s body was hard, his strong thighs slightly parted. That which lay in the apex nudged against the softness of her stomach, quivering awareness into her groin. ‘I’ve already fought with a man over you, Lady.’ His eyes brooded over the fact. ‘Do not encourage Jeffrey in his regard of you. There’s no future in it.’

  He cut off her gasp with his mouth, taking possession of it in a way that was both humiliating and exciting. Made aware she belonged to no man but him, Willow’s blood pulsed through her veins, leaving her strangely weak. She was confused by the sensations soaring through her body and began to struggle. She hung her head when he released her. Tipping up her chin with one finger, he forced her to look at him. The mouth that had casually claimed hers was smiling a little. How odd. The caress had made her acutely alive to herself.

  Willow recognized a reluctance in her awareness to surrender the freedom she cherished and give herself to another in body and soul—as she must. Her husband seemed tolerable enough, yet she was loathe to submit herself to his will whilst he was a stranger to her.

  ‘You have not been kissed often?’ he said softly.

  ‘Indeed, not.’ She blushed when he grinned. ‘I’ve been kissed only once before, and that was forced upon me.’ Her face paled as she thought of the price Hugh MacBride had almost paid for his offence. ‘It was a trivial matter, not worthy of your notice.’

  ‘You were savage in your defense of yourself. The soldier wears his scar as a badge of shame. You must share his shame if encouragement was offered.’

  His face was so stern she hung her head in embarrassment. ‘I have no desire to recall the details. I beg you, do not insist that I relate the incident.’

  Gerard sighed. ‘The soldier’s offense was to pay insult to the Lytton name, which I hold in high esteem. To hear your name disrespectfully uttered in a roadside inn was not a trifling matter. I had no choice but to take up his challenge.’

  ‘I swear I offered him no encouragement. Your compassion in this matter is appreciated. Had you been injured I would not be able to live with my remorse.’

  He smiled at her tearful expression when she lifted her head. His eyes lingered on her face. She was exquisite. Her high cheekbones and turned-up nose suited her heart-shaped face. Her violet eyes seemed to mirror her every mood. Her hair was mahogany polished to a deep lustrous shine, her lips—sensuous in shape and texture. No wonder the soldier had pursued her.

  ‘I believe you.’ Gently, he ran the ball of his thumb across her lips. ‘You did not seek to lay open my face when I forced a kiss upon you.’

  ‘Because… ‘ Small white teeth worried at her bottom lip.

  ‘Because what?’ he prompted, determined she’d finish what she knew she’d have to accept.

  ‘Because you’re my husband.’ The mouse-like caution in her voice was offset by the annoyance sparkling in her eyes. ‘It’s my duty to submit myself to your pleasure.’

  ‘I don’t want your submission.’ He chuckled when her eyes flew open in astonishment, then kissed the softly rounded mouth until he felt a response of trembling anticipation. ‘It will be my pleasure to instruct you, so duty becomes an enjoyable pursuit for us both.’ Already melting with pleasure from his kiss, her mouth dimpled into a relieved smile. ‘Kissing is not too onerous a duty. If you’d but care to instruct me again, I shall apply myself most diligently to it.’

  Her artless comment reminded him she was a stranger to the ways of love. He couldn’t remember the last innocent he’d known. Artless or artful? An uncomfortable memory of Daphne de Vere came into his mind. Someone had taught her the tricks of pleasuring a man, and taught her well. It could only have been her stepfather. Disgust tempered his good humor. Willow was the daughter of the same man. How could he be certain her innocence was not an act? His eyes hardened as he gazed at her. ‘Attend me in my bedchamber tonight.’

  Her spine prickled at the predatory chill in the grey eyes. His hands stopped her involuntary recoil. Placing his mouth against her ear, he mocked. ‘Remember your wifely duty.’

  Face flaming with barely controlled temper she jerked from his grip and hissed. ‘It shall be as you command, My Lord.’

  As her palms crept up to cover her face he felt a twinge of conscience. ‘I did not expect you to mock me,’ she murmured.

  He experienced shame, but had no intention of retracting his words. He had to know if her innocence was genuine. ‘You’re my wife, Willow.’

  Turning away, she stepped into her skirt, fastening it about her slender waist with trembling fingers. ‘I’m aware of that fact.’

  ‘Wait.’ His fingers closed about her wrist as she sought to leave. ‘Am I to have your anger as companion for the day?’

  Deep in her eyes curiosity flared ‘It seems to me you provoked it.’

  ‘Gloom will be my cloak until I see you smile again,’ he coaxed.

  Pleasure chased the shadows from her face. ‘Your tongue has a smooth persuasion. A man has never suffered for my smile before.’ Cocking her head to one side, she regarded him much like a curious bird would. ‘You have the air of one who easily obtains what his heart desires. It will not hurt you to suffer a little.’

  ‘If that’s My Lady’s command.’ Lifting her hand to his lips he placed a kiss on the fingers. ‘Until I see you smile, then.’

  ‘At supper perhaps.’ Her voice was shy as he walked away. ‘The earl would welcome your presence.’

  ‘And you?’ He turned to gazed at her. ‘The assumption I made yesterday was wrong. That’s a matter I beg your forgiveness for.’

  ‘You were not to know of my domestic arrangements.’ Dimples pulled at the edges of her mouth. ‘Leave me now, Gerard. I have an irresistible urge to smile.’

  Laughter bubbled up inside him as he continued his stride. When he reached the ornately decorated doors, he turned and grinned at her. Face hidden in her hands she was trying not to laugh. Their eyes met when she spread her fingers. He couldn’t resist a wink. Her giggle was delightful. He was still grinning when he reached his father’s study and found the steward waiting for him.

  ‘The peasantry will not like it,’ Bascombe said after Gerard explained the plan.

  ‘And the yeoman farmers will like it even less.’ He devoured the last mouthful of ham, then finding himself replete, indicated to the servant that the table be cleared. His father’s steward had been in their employ since he’d been a boy. Bascombe’s son Robert had been a playmate. The man was set in his ways and Gerard wondered if he fully grasped the situation. ‘Nevertheless,’ he said firmly. ‘The strip system is inefficient and will be abandoned.’

  He waited until the table was cleared then spread the map of the estate across the surface. ‘Walls and hedges will go where indicated, small farms be combined, and rents raised accordingly.’ His forefinger stabbed downwards. ‘I’ve already made a start there. Those farmers who are not conversant with the new system will be instructed in its use.

  ‘Yes, My Lord.’ Bascombe hesitated. ‘If I may say something, sir.’

  ‘Say it,’ he encouraged with a faint smile.

  ‘Respectfully, Sir, you’ve been away for some time. Trouble has risen over this system in other parts of the country.’

  ‘I’m aware of that.’ Rising to his feet Gerard gazed out at the falling snow. ‘There’s always trouble when things change. However, the ranks of the local population have been thinned
by the recent smallpox epidemic. Laborers are hard to come by. Those farmers who’ve proven to be unproductive in the past must go. They’ll be recompensed of course, but go they will.’ He surprised a look of resignation on Bascombe’s face when he turned.

  ‘Come, Bascombe, things won’t be too bad. I’ll address the meeting of tenants myself. If there be dissent I’ll take it upon my own head. You are aware of the system’s benefits?’

  ‘Yes, Sir. My son is one of its firmest advocates. He’s often sought to convince me of its advantages.’ Bascombe managed a smile. ‘Robert informs me the growing population needs a more productive and efficient farming system. The system achieves that, I believe.’ ‘How is Robert these days?’ he asked, reckoning that Robert’s line of thinking was more compatible with his own than that of Bascombe senior. ‘Wasn’t he apprenticed to a counting house in Dorchester?’

  Bascombe’s face grew long. ‘Gambling has put my son’s employer deeply in debt. Robert’s worried about the future of his family and is seeking a position elsewhere.’

  ‘Perhaps we could use him here if he’s conversant with the enclosure system,’ he suggested. ‘The estate needs a secretary, and I a clerk.’ He smiled reassuringly when concern registered on the steward’s face. ‘He’d not object to working under his own father, I hope?’

  Bascombe smiled. ‘No, sir, and there’s a cottage on the estate which goes with the position.’

  ‘Fine, fine… it’s settled then, if Robert is willing.’ Dismissing the man, Gerard summoned Rodgers to bring him his warmest cloak and hat, then set off towards the stables.

  Brian O’Shea was grooming an emaciated stallion when Gerard entered. The man was crooning softly to it whilst he worked. Eyes half-closed, his ears pricked towards the sound, the stallion appeared to be dozing. He crossed to the pair as he waited for the stable boy to saddle his gelding. First, he ran his hand over the stallion’s gaunt rib cage, then walked along its length. ‘Hmmm,’ he muttered, taking the stallion’s head between his hands. ‘It’s got nice lines, but why is the beast in such poor condition?’