Daughter of Darkness

by Janet Woods

  Brian had changed since Gerard had taken him to task. As with Kitty, the difference in their status was becoming more and more apparent, and the easiness between them had gone. Propriety forbade discussion of the mating of her horse. Once, she would have discussed Circe’s coupling and the likely outcome. Now she held her tongue. The subject had become men’s business. The stallion had been broken that morning for a reason. When he was taken to cover her mare, much of his energy would be spent and he’d treat his mate more kindly.

  Brian saddled up a mettlesome chestnut mare. It would give her a good ride. She ran her hand over the rippling flanks to quiet it and said to Brian. ‘I daresay you’ve heard Kitty no longer works as my maid?’

  ‘That I have, My Lady.’ Brian straightened up from what he was doing and gave her a direct gaze. ‘Kitty was wrong to endanger your life. The viscount showed remarkable restraint in the matter.’

  ‘I did not think you would take his side.’ Tossing her head, she took the reins from his hand and mounted in her usual manner. ‘Where does your loyalty lie?’

  Anger came into Brian’s eyes, but his voice remained even. ‘Have I given you reason to question it, My Lady?’

  ‘You give me reason by siding with my husband against Kitty. What am I to do without a maid?’

  ‘That’s not a question the groom need answer,’ Gerard said harshly as he strode into the stable. ‘Leading his horse from the stall, he set the saddle on its back himself. ‘About your business, O’Shea. I wish to speak to my wife alone.’

  Alarmed by his furious tone, she edged the chestnut away from him. Even Brian hesitated about carrying out his order.

  ‘Get out!’ Gerard hissed, causing Brian to scurry off.

  ‘I’ve no wish to speak to you, Gerard.’ She took a deep breath to control the apprehensive quaver in her voice. ‘What I said to you this morning still applies. You are no gentleman, and I… I despise you.’ Tension seared between them and communicated itself to her mount. It stamped upon the ground and attempted to jerk the reins from her hands.

  ‘Do you indeed?’ Gerard forgot his resolve about winning Willow’s heart. He intended to bring her to heel, and now was a good time to start. Expression grim, he impaled her with one hard stare. ‘Despise me or not, you’re my wife. It’s time you started to act like one. A lady does not question her husband’s lawful orders, nor does she gossip about him like some common washerwoman.’

  Willow gasped. ‘I was only— ‘

  ‘Do not interrupt!’ Gerard thundered. ‘You placed O’Shea in an untenable position. You presumed on past friendship to encourage a man in the division of his loyalty.’

  ‘I did no such thing.’ Willow’s outrage overcame her earlier timidity and manifest itself as stubbornness. ‘If I did, you drove me to it with your high-handed attitude. You had no right to dismiss my maid without consultation, and less right to make me look a fool in front of Mrs. Breton.’ Indignation and hurt pride made her voice rise an octave. ‘How dare you tell her to imprison me in my room if I refused to cooperate? Do not take me to task over the lack of propriety I learned from you.’

  ‘Take care, woman,’ Gerard snarled. ‘You’re going too far.’

  Her grip tightened round her whip and she was hard pressed not to strike him with it. ‘Stand aside, Gerard, or I’ll run you down. I’d rather ride alone than put up with another minute of your company.’ The chestnut surged forward when she gently dug her heels into its side. Gerard flung himself sideways into a pile of clean straw. The chestnut’s reaction was unexpected. She fought to bring it under control when it reared in the confined space. Unseated, she tumbled from its back and landed on top of her husband in a tangle of arms and legs. Immediately, his arms closed around her like bands of steel. It was no use struggling against his superior strength as she glared into eyes as furious as her own.

  ‘You deserve a good beating, woman.’

  ‘So do you,’ she hissed, her voice equally threatening. ‘If I were a man I’d give you one.’

  ‘If you were a man I’d run you through.’ He gave a short, mirthless bark of laughter. ‘I’ve never known another woman quite so obdurate, unreasoning and disagreeable.’

  ‘Do not let the fact I’m a woman stop you,’ she taunted, showing her displeasure by scorching him with the fury of her eyes and voice. She wished her hands were free so she could strike him. ‘I will quite willingly engage you in a duel if you’d but let me go.’

  She tried to wriggle from his grasp, but found herself pulled closer until she could hardly breath. He was using his strength unfairly. ‘I may suffer defeat,’ she gasped, ‘but it would give me great pleasure to slice your ears from your head first.’

  ‘My ears?’ When laughter came into his eyes she scowled ferociously at him. ‘I daresay you would not find it so funny when it occurred.’

  ‘Indeed not. My hat would fall over my eyes without their support.’

  Up close, Gerard’s eyes had little black smudges in the grey, the irises were dark and deep. His firm chin contained a small dimple, and the side of his mouth crinkled most attractively when he grinned. She would not allow herself to return his grin. His face smelled deliciously of the soap his servant had shaved him with, his dark hair was neatly dressed into a silk-encased pigtail. She was glad he didn’t wear a wig, though if she cut off his ears… ? Despite her intention to the contrary, she smiled at the ludicrous picture his words conjured up. ‘That would cause you no end of inconvenience, would it not?’

  ‘Indeed.’ The amusement in her eyes matched his own now. Her pulse gave an elated little leap. ‘Would you relax your arms just a little, she murmured. ‘I can hardly breathe, and your buttons are exceedingly uncomfortable.’ She discovered she had no desire to leave the comfort of his arms altogether. Now her anger-tensed body had relaxed, he was most accommodating to lie against.

  Unbidden, what had taken place the night before came into her mind. Blood raced to her cheeks. This man, who’d been a stranger to her until just recently, had touched her body most intimately, her reaction… ? His touch had been wonderful, she thought dreamily. Quivers of ecstasy raced through her flesh and she became moist with anticipation. She’d seen the desire she evoked in his eyes, and guessed she craved the same thing—the union of the flesh. He would have experienced this mysterious union already. Men lived by their own rules and needs, it seemed. She’d heard there were woman who took coin to cater to them.

  She enjoyed Gerard’s pursuit of her. She’d heard he’d refurbished the room next to his for her comfort. It was being prepared for her initiation into womanhood. His sensitivity had endeared him to her. Now she was unsure. Had she been left intact last night? Would he consider it forward if she asked? His grey eyes seemed to be reading her most intimate thoughts. Lowering her eyes from the knowing light in his, she blushed. The fiery centre of each breast thrust against the cool silk of her shirt as she half-remembered a caress of fingers upon them. The awakening of her body had been ecstatic, with a promise of untapped pleasures.

  ‘Why do you blush, wife?’ His arms had relaxed, his voice was soft and teasing. ‘Is the closeness of my body uncomfortable?’

  ‘Indeed, no.’ Her voice was so hesitant she could hardly hear it herself. ‘If I blush it’s because… ‘She hesitated, out of her depth. ‘I was wondering, Gerard. She took a deep breath before she ran out of courage under his half-amused scrutiny. ‘Last night… I remember only pleasurable feelings. Did we… ?’ She could not go on. Gasping at her own temerity, she buried her face against the warmth of his neck.

  ‘We did not.’ Gerard smiled, finding her naivete refreshing. At the same time he recognized his pride had been stroked by her words. ‘What you experienced was only a small part of lovemaking. I’m delighted you were pleasured by my attention, but would rather you experience it when fully conscious.’

  ‘It’s natural to feel thus?’

  The eyes gazing up at him were overflowing with shy innocence. Tenderness rioted thr
ough his body, the power of it nearly overwhelming him. Thank God he hadn’t given in to his baser instincts. ‘My, sweeting. It’s natural to experience so much pleasure in lovemaking that it drives every other thought from your mind.’

  Her heart beat faster at the endearment. She remembered Lady Edwina’s advice on the subject of relationships between husband and wife. ‘Will you teach me these pleasurable ways of love then, Gerard?’

  He would have most willingly set about teaching her then and there, had they had not been lying in a pile of straw. A stable, with the smell and sound of horses all around—not to mention a strong likelihood of being disturbed without notice—was not a fitting place to initiate his lady.

  ‘We’ll reach nirvana together,’ he promised. He kissed her most lovingly before they rose from the straw, appeased when her lips clung to his in an entirely enjoyable manner. She’d be easy to teach.

  Willow had already learned her first lesson. Her husband’s temper could easily be deflected if she went about it the right way. That her husband was thinking exactly the same thing about her didn’t enter her head.

  They returned from their ride to find her new chamber prepared. Her delight in it was evident in her eyes.

  ‘There’s a separate bathing chamber through that door, beyond it the maid’s room, Gerard said, enjoying her pleasure.

  ‘It’s so pretty.’ She touched the delicate hangings of the white and gold gilded bed, then gazed at a plump, trumpeting cherub. Her fingers strummed across the strings of her harp and the room was filled with a shivering, exuberant sound. ‘You did this for me, did you not?’

  The joy he found in her reaction made his voice unaccountably gruff. ‘I can think of no other I’d be inclined to go to all this trouble for.’

  ‘How can I thank you?’

  Did she need to ask? He grinned, saying to Mrs. Breton. I’ll attend My Lady until her bath is prepared. We need to ready ourselves to pay our respects to Mrs. Tupworthy.’

  ‘But I have no maid.’ Seizing the opportunity to trade on his improved disposition, her eyes widened. ‘Mrs. Breton has not the skill to dress my hair properly. May I not make use of Kitty until we hire another maid?’

  Her eyes were luminous as they gazed with helpless innocence into his. Her dark lashes had separated into entrancing, feathery spikes where a light shower of rain had dampened her face. Although captivated, Gerard found it hard to keep a straight face. She was a consummate flirt. He enjoyed the way her lashes dipped over her eyes then fluttered upwards, to reveal them again. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed a few raindrops from her nose before handing it to her. He smiled, letting her know he was not fooled. She was not beyond laughing at herself if her amused expression was anything to go by, but would the amusement stay there when she couldn’t get her own way on this?

  ‘You may not.’ There was enough firmness in his voice to let her know she would not win with this issue. ‘There must be someone who can act as a maid.’

  ‘Bella is skilled, and can be spared for most of the day by her mistress,’ Mrs. Breton suggested.

  ‘Then fetch her.’

  Willow pouted prettily when the housekeeper went about her business. It was obvious he would not be swayed on this matter.

  She’d accepted his ruling on this, Gerard thought, but begrudgingly if the way she shredded the handkerchief between her fingers was any indication. Suddenly, her shoulders stiffened. Stabbing him with an anguished look, she gave a cry of rage, and dashing the flimsy piece of material to the floor, ground it under the heel of her boot.

  What the devil! As he stooped to pick up the square of muslin, he noticed the name embroidered in the corner. He gazed at his smoldering wife with instant awareness. Affairs had progressed swifter than he’d imagined. She was jealous. Two steps took his to her side. Taking her face between his hands, he gazed down at her for long moments. Gradually, the tension left her, the corners of her mouth crinkled into a smile. He kissed her then, with enough passion to tease a response, but not enough to endanger his own comfort. ‘Honor is the name of my overseer’s daughter on the plantation in Virginia,’ he explained a little later, watching her inspect her hair in the small silver-backed mirror Bella held up for her. ‘I don’t know how I came to have the handkerchief. She must have slipped it in my pocket as a keepsake before I left.’ He slid a hand inside his waistcoat and explored the tiny inside pocket. ‘It’s yours I keep close to my heart.’

  It had been a long time since he’d observed the ritual of a woman at her dressing table. Willow had been self-conscious at first, but had found it hard to maintain her disapproving countenance whilst he paid her pretty compliments. Her vanity would not allow it. ‘She’s but a child of fourteen,’ he added.

  Her eyes met his squarely in the mirror and her mouth curved into a faintly contemptuous smile as she reminded him. ‘I was but fourteen when we married.’

  While she dismissed Bella Gerard considered his answer. ‘You were also a child.’ His finger stroked along the creamy skin of her shoulder, bringing a delicate shiver to the surface. ‘My absence allowed you the time to grow up.’

  ‘And what of this Honor, the girl who gave you a token of her regard? Is she pretty?’

  The violet of her eyes deepened, drew him into their azure depths. She has the most damnable effect on me, he thought, his mouth twisting in wry acknowledgement of the fact. ‘No doubt Honor will grow into a handsome woman, but you’ve gone beyond mere beauty now, you’re exquisite. The most glittering gem you own would pale into insignificance when placed against your skin.’

  ‘The effect would not be hard to achieve.’ Her laugh was silver bright as she flipped open a small jewelry casket and drew out a string of red glass beads.

  They did not enhance the soft blue gown she wore. Gerard frowned. Upending the casket, he spread its contents across her dressing table. ‘Is this all the jewelry you own?’

  ‘This is what my father sent with my dowry. It’s all that’s left of that which belonged to my mother.’ Her dainty fingers caressed a gold brooch in the shape of a flower, exploring the indentations where gems had once been set. ‘Lady Edwina said this had a diamond at its centre, and the petals were covered in tiny sapphires. It was given to my French grandmother by her lover, she believes.’ Dropping the brooch, she selected a silver pendant and flipped it open. ‘I prefer this. See, there’s a likeness of my mother.’ Shyly, she held it out for his inspection. ‘I resemble her, I think.’

  There was certainly a likeness. He smiled, detecting in her a need to relate to the woman pictured in the locket. ‘The resemblance is remarkable.’ He watched her face light up in a smile. A dark tendril of hair curled against the creamy nape of her neck and he experienced an irresistible urge to press his lips against the spot. He found a perfect excuse. Taking his leave, he returned within a minute and placed a circlet of pearls around her neck.

  ‘You bought these for me?’

  The happiness of her smile made him feel guilty. He’d paid scant attention to Willow in his absence, and had bought the pearls as a gift for his mother. To save answering with a lie he inclined his head and kissed the curl against her neck. He enjoyed the delicate little shiver she gave and the way she arched her neck to accommodate his caress. She moved with a show of reluctance from his embrace, and rising from her seat turned to face him in a slither of pale blue silk, embroidered lace and the delicate fragrance of her perfume. ‘I’m ready. Do I meet with your approval?’

  ‘You’re too perfect,’ he growled. ‘I prefer you in a chemise with your hair about your waist.’

  Color crept under her skin. A self-conscious smile flitted across her lips, then faded when her eyes engaged his. ‘I’ve not thanked you for the gift, Gerard.’ Placing a perfumed hand each side of his face, she guided it down to hers to be kissed. Surprisingly, she made a thorough job of it. She learned fast.

  Annie Tupworthy was appreciative of the visit by the Viscount and his wife, but embarrassed th
at her shortage of staff meant she was unable to entertain them properly.

  ‘We’re not here to be entertained,’ Gerard said, noticing her distress. ‘We’re here to inquire after your welfare and that of your son. The loss of your husband must have come as a shock. If there’s anything I can do to help, please feel free to ask. I’ll put my clerk at your disposal and he can sort out your husband’s business affairs, perhaps?’

  ‘Thank you, My Lord. I’d be most grateful for the help.’

  ‘Carlisle is so handsome.’ Willow was bending over the crib making soft, cooing sounds. ‘Gerard, do come and see him.’

  The daughter of the house was a pretty child of about five, Her quiet demeanour and good manners were a credit to her mother. She gave him a shy smile, then giggled when he tickled her under the chin. He grinned at her, enchanted by her petite perfection. Having a daughter would not be too bad, if this little maid was anything to go by. He made the appropriate noises whilst he did what was expected of him. The infant boy resembled a skinned rabbit. Milk dribbled from the corner of his pursed up mouth and his blotchy face seemed screwed into a permanent frown. No wonder the child frowned, he thought, feeling sympathy for him. He was bound from shoulders to toe in a piece of linen, and couldn’t move anything except his head. Willow seemed enamored by the infant. When the nurse gave in to her pleading and placed the infant in her arms, she promptly cuddled him against her breast and covered his face in kisses.

  He pictured their own son snuggled against her, and experienced a strange contentment. She would be a good mother. He must get her with child as soon as possible. It might take her mind off the village orphans. The issue was fast becoming a bone of contention between them. She refused to admit her scheme to fund an orphanage was unworkable. Her capital could not support it long term, and he wasn’t prepared to squander any of the Lytton funds until the estate was making a profit again. That could take several years.