The Secret Kiss of Darkness

by Christina Courtenay

  She giggled, a slightly hysterical little sound which ended on a sob. ‘Yes, I believe I do, but if you don’t want me …’

  Not want her? She was tempting him beyond reason. ‘Why me?’ he ground out from between gritted teeth. ‘You don’t even know what I look like.’ He knew he was clutching at straws, but his mind refused to function properly when the mere scent of her was tantalising him, distracting him.

  ‘Does it matter? I know that you’re an honourable man or you would have used me already. You are also kind and compassionate and honest. What more do I need? I sleep with a man who is none of those things every night.’

  He struggled with himself for perhaps another ten seconds, but it was no use. He knew she had won the battle even before it began. There was no way on earth he could resist her invitation, even though he knew he should. He was only human.

  ‘Very well, Eliza, it will be as you wish. I am honoured that you trust me.’ He took her tiny soft hand into his and laced his fingers with hers. ‘Let us go to the summer house and I will show you the meaning of making love. But only this once. It must never happen again. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, Jago Kerswell, I hear you.’ The words were meek, but in her voice he heard excitement and hope.

  ‘Come then.’

  Kayla had almost decided to give up on that particular auction when, out of curiosity, she wandered into the final room which seemed to contain only portraits of various sizes. And there in the corner she found it.

  The painting she had to have.

  A tall, dark man looked down at her almost defiantly, with his arms crossed over a powerful chest and one foot nonchalantly perched on a rock. As she stared into his eyes Kayla found herself unable to turn away. His gaze kept her rooted to the spot, utterly mesmerised, and a strange languor crept into her body as if he had somehow sapped her of all willpower. She wanted nothing more than to stand there and stare at him for the rest of the day. The noises around her faded into the background and nothing existed in that moment except the two of them.

  Of an intense, piercing blue colour those eyes seemed to penetrate into her very soul as they gazed into hers in silent challenge, holding her spellbound. She noticed that they’d been painted in such a way that whenever she moved her head, even slightly, the eyes followed her. It was as if he were standing in front of her, watching her. Kayla shivered. It was uncanny. With difficulty she blinked and moved back a few paces to better study the rest of the portrait. She was quite sure it hadn’t been included in the catalogue, because she would have noticed it immediately.

  She simply had to have him.

  She peered at the card on the wall next to the frame. ‘Portrait of a Gentleman. English School, late eighteenth century.’ Incredibly the estimated sale price was a mere £10,000, which was much lower than most of the other portraits on sale. Even if the bidding went higher she should be able to afford him. For a long time Kayla stood staring at him, then rational thinking reared its head.

  ‘Where on earth are you going to hang a painting that size?’ the little voice inside her asked reasonably. It was a full-length, life-size portrait with quite a lot of background, making it over seven feet tall and at least five feet wide. Impossible. She and Mike were going to share his two bedroom flat in Battersea after they were married and, although it was quite spacious, there wouldn’t be anywhere suitable to hang a picture of this magnitude. Besides, Mike’s taste ran more to modern art than eighteenth century portraits. She knew even a pretty landscape would probably be relegated to their bedroom.

  Mike! Good grief … He would think she’d gone mad if she bought this. Kayla took herself severely to task and, after a last regretful glance at the man, she forced herself to leave the gallery.

  The following two days, however, had seen her return again and again to gaze at the portrait. She spent her lunch hour there, all thoughts of food forgotten, and popped in on her way home from work. The unknown man occupied her every waking thought and even invaded her dreams at night. She started to wake up each morning feeling bereft, as if something vital was missing. She forgot about Mike, relegated all thoughts about her forthcoming wedding to the back of her mind and performed her duties at work like a zombie. And she couldn’t keep away from the auction rooms.

  There was a woman on duty at a small desk in one of the viewing galleries and Kayla asked her for more information about the painting.

  ‘Lot three hundred and four did you say?’ The woman was very friendly and keyed in the number on her computer to find the necessary data. ‘Oh yes, I remember this one, a late addition to the sale. He’s that dark-haired man in a red velvet coat, right? Isn’t he just divine?’ She giggled conspiratorially. Kayla grinned back. The man wasn’t classically handsome, but he was definitely attractive. There was something arresting about him, some indefinable quality which drew the eye. His obvious self-confidence perhaps, the ‘bad boy’ glint in his eyes, or the way he looked as if he could read her innermost thoughts.

  ‘Yes,’ Kayla replied. ‘That’s the one. Can you tell me anything more about the actual painting, though? The artist, its provenance, that sort of thing?’

  ‘Not much, I’m afraid. There was a bit of a to-do about it, I remember. Our experts thought at first it might have been by Gainsborough, or possibly his nephew. But although it looks like his style, it’s a bit sloppy in places as if the artist was trying to finish it quickly. There’s no signature. We have dated it to around 1780 because of the man’s clothing, but there were no other clues to his identity. In fact, it says here the background is “a rather hazy seascape with dark cliffs”, which could be anywhere. And the only other items that could be distinguished were some barrels and a pistol. Perhaps the man was a retired soldier turned vintner? I’m sorry, but your guess is as good as mine.’

  ‘I see. Well, thank you very much.’

  ‘Not at all. Good luck in the sale.’ The woman smiled broadly and Kayla turned away, blushing like a schoolgirl caught having a crush on the current sixth form heart-throb.

  As she headed back to the far gallery, a thought struck her – she did have a crush on the man in the painting, in the same way she’d swooned over pop stars during her teens. Just looking at him made her heart beat faster and her legs turn to mush. It was like being hopelessly, passionately in love with the man you wanted to marry.

  Like Mike?

  She stopped in front of the painting yet again and gazed at that enigmatic face. No, what she felt for Mike didn’t even come close to the crazy sensations that washed over her every time she came here. So what on earth did that say about her? About her relationship with her fiancé?

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Kayla swallowed hard and closed her eyes. She and Mike would be fine. This was a temporary aberration. Like all crushes it would run its course and she’d return to normal life and her future with her husband-to-be. Her love for him was more ordinary perhaps, down-to-earth, but at least he was real. The man in the painting could never be anything other than a fantasy. Everyone had fantasies, didn’t they?

  She knew it was crazy, but she just couldn’t let anyone else buy him. Although she had tried to stay away from the actual auction, it hadn’t worked. And now he belonged to her.

  ‘So there you have it, a full confession of my recent crimes,’ Kayla said with a sigh the following evening and took a sip of her drink. She looked at her best friend, Maddie, and waited for the verdict, but for once, uncharacteristically, Maddie remained silent for a long time.

  They were seated in a small booth in one of the new wine bars near Maddie’s office and thankfully the music hadn’t yet been turned up to the level where conversation became impossible. Kayla had poured out the tale of the painting without leaving anything out. She and Maddie had been inseparable since they’d first met on a course for legal secretaries and they didn’t have any secrets from each other. If anyone could understand her feelings, it would be Maddie, so her friend’s continued silence unn
erved Kayla slightly.

  ‘Well?’ she prodded anxiously, watching Maddie twirl a long coppery curl around her middle finger.

  ‘I don’t really know what to tell you,’ Maddie finally said, ‘except, I think you’re in big trouble.’

  ‘I’ve figured that out for myself, thank you very much.’ Kayla laughed. ‘The question is, how do I go about softening the blow? I’ve got to tell Mike, obviously, but I don’t really know how.’

  ‘You’re absolutely sure you want to keep this monstrosity? I mean, you don’t even know who this guy is, so it’s not like he’s an ancestor or anything.’ Maddie was frowning, deep in thought. ‘Although, that’s an idea. Perhaps you should claim that he is? Didn’t you have some uncle down in Devon or something who was drawing up your family tree? Blame him.’

  ‘The man in the picture is not a monstrosity. Just wait till you see him. He’s incredible! The artist who painted him must have been a genius. Every time I look at him I think he’s about to step out of the frame and talk to me. I swear, I thought he winked at me the other day.’

  ‘Well, that’s a great help,’ Maddie muttered sarcastically.

  ‘No, seriously, I’m not taking him back. I’m keeping him no matter what.’ Kayla was adamant, but as she said the words she wasn’t entirely sure whether she was trying to convince Maddie or herself. ‘Besides, I’ve nearly bankrupted myself to buy him. I can’t back down now.’

  ‘How much overdrawn are you?’

  ‘Not overdrawn exactly, but I had to use up all my savings, as well as the money from Auntie Em, so I’ll have to borrow money from my mother to pay for the wedding dress. And if Mike wants a contribution towards the honeymoon, well, that could be a bit tricky.’

  ‘Oh, Kayla.’ Maddie shook her head. ‘You realise you might be jeopardising your wedding here? What’s Mike going to say when he finds out you’ve spent every penny you have? And on a painting of a handsome bloke?’

  ‘Not handsome exactly, but … I don’t know.’ Kayla hung her head. ‘Actually, I was going to ask you something.’ She hesitated before plunging on. ‘The thing is, yesterday Mike was being really irritating and suddenly I had this feeling that maybe I’m making a huge mistake. How well do I know him really? We’ve kind of rushed into things, haven’t we? I mean, we’ve only been engaged for a short time and hadn’t been going out all that long either when Mike proposed. It seemed like it was meant to be, but now I’m not so sure. What do you—’

  ‘Hang on a minute.’ Maddie held up a hand to stop Kayla in mid-flow. ‘It’s not because of this painting business, is it?’

  ‘No, it has nothing to do with that at all.’ Even as she said the words, Kayla knew she was lying. It had everything to do with the mystery man. He’d made her realise that perhaps there was something missing from her real life romance. Something vital. She looked away and thankfully Maddie didn’t argue the point.

  ‘Well, you know everyone always gets nervous before their wedding. It’s entirely normal. You have to expect it.’

  Kayla shook her head. ‘I know, but right now I suddenly feel I need more time to think about it. It happened so quickly – the proposal and all that, I mean – and I was swept up in the preparations before I knew what was going on. Perhaps we should have had a longer engagement, but everyone kept saying there was no point in waiting, and somehow I just went along with it.’

  ‘Oh, stop worrying. You’ve been going out with the guy for what … a year? And you haven’t wanted to leave him once in that time. Okay, so maybe Mike isn’t the demonstrative kind, but he did propose without you having to prompt him. That’s got to mean something, right?’ Maddie flashed her a grin to show she was joking. ‘Seriously, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Everyone has their off days and I bet he’s getting a bit jittery himself, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose, although Mike doesn’t really get nervous about things. That’s what makes him such a good lawyer.’

  ‘This is different, personal. You don’t get married every day. It’s bound to affect him.’

  ‘Maybe, but then there’s this party on Saturday. You know I don’t get on too well with his mother and if the rest of his relatives are the same, it’s going to be absolute hell.’

  ‘Well, you’re not marrying them or her, you’re marrying Mike. And you love him, don’t you?’ Kayla nodded slowly, annoyed with herself for hesitating even a fraction of a second. ‘Right, so stop worrying and help me come up with some cunning plan about this painting of yours instead. Perhaps it will be okay if you introduce the idea to Mike gently and promise not to hang it in his flat? Oh, and tell him it’ll be worth loads of money within a few years.’

  Kayla hesitated. ‘You think that’ll do the trick? I suppose it’s worth a try, although he’s bound to see through it.’

  ‘Rubbish. Just bat your eyelashes at him and smile sweetly and he’ll forget everything else. Anyway, you’re going to keep your flat after the wedding, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I was going to rent it out. It’ll give us an additional income which might come in handy if I should become pregnant or something.’ Maddie gave her a searching look and she hurried to add, ‘Not that I’m planning on starting a family any time soon.’ Thankfully Maddie let it pass, even though she knew how much Kayla loved kids.

  ‘Well, then, just leave the picture there as part of the furnishings.’

  ‘I guess I could.’ Kayla giggled. ‘I’ll have to sneak in whenever the tenant is away to look at him for a while, though. Oh, Maddie, just wait till you see him, he really is—’

  ‘For goodness sake, woman, just listen to yourself!’ Maddie rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not sure you deserve my help, but here’s what I think you should do …’

  As Maddie outlined her plan, Kayla had to concentrate really hard. All her brain wanted to do was think about the man in the painting and even when she briefly closed her eyes, his features were all she could see. She took a sip of wine and fixed her eyes on Maddie. Enough already, she told herself sternly. She had to get a grip.

  Chapter Five

  Of course once was not enough. It would never have been enough, and Jago had known it before he even uttered the words. One night with Eliza had sealed his fate, binding him to her forever.

  He stayed away from her of course. How could he do otherwise? It wasn’t as if he could walk up to the Hall and demand to speak to the mistress. He was a lowly innkeeper, a bastard at that, and she was a lady. It simply wasn’t done. But she found a way to overcome this barrier.

  A week after their first meeting, on the afternoon of the day Sir John left for a prolonged visit to London, she entered the taproom of the King’s Head. Her midnight-blue riding habit with its mannish jacket suited her to perfection, and she wore a jaunty black hat, set at a slight angle, with a couple of ostrich feathers adding height. She passed several startled customers and sat down at one of the tables. Her groom, a young, nervous-looking man, hovered behind her until she told him to be seated. He looked as though he would have liked to protest, but was too much in awe of her ladyship to remonstrate with her.

  A serving girl approached her respectfully and bobbed a curtsey. ‘My lady? What can I get ye, ma’am?’

  ‘Ale for my groom and a mug of your best cider for me, if you please.’

  ‘Right away, m’lady.’

  Eliza looked around her with interest, her beautiful eyes seemingly taking in every detail of the establishment. She smiled at the other customers, who were regarding her with a mixture of awe and consternation, and nodded at them. Their mouths fell open in astonishment. This was the first time the new Lady Marcombe had ever ventured out of her eyrie and into the village, and they didn’t know what to make of her. Not to mention the fact that no one had thought to see her set foot in a common inn with only her groom in attendance.

  Jago watched from behind the counter and deemed it time to intervene. He took the tray of drinks from the serving maid and carried them to the table himself, bowing low to her ladys
hip.

  ‘Lady Marcombe, you honour us with your presence.’ He straightened up and gave her a warning look as he set the drinks down on the table. She gazed back innocently, and then he noticed her eyes open wide in startled admiration when she caught sight of his eyes. He knew their clear blue colour was a marked contrast to his otherwise dark looks, and he was aware, without being vain, that women found the combination attractive. They’d told him so. Eliza continued to study his face and smiled again. Perhaps she liked what she saw? A frisson snaked down his back. It shouldn’t matter to him, but it did. Lord help him, it did. He wanted her to like how he looked, not just what he could make her feel.

  ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jago Kerswell, owner of this inn.’ He bowed again.

  ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Kerswell. Would you care to have a mug of cider with me and tell me a bit more about the inn and the village? I fear I have been very remiss in not visiting before and I would like to make amends.’

  It was a highly irregular request, as he was sure she was well aware, but coming from her it sounded innocent enough. She had courage, he had to give her that. He knew what she’d really come for, but at least she had brought a chaperone of sorts and she’d acted as prudently as possible under the circumstances. Just as well, for he felt sure this incident would be reported back to Sir John upon his return. It must never happen again.

  ‘Certainly, my lady. I would be honoured.’ He pulled up a stool on the other side of the table, as far away from her as possible.

  For the next half-hour he sat with her and told her all about the village and any amusing anecdotes he could think of, and all the while he revelled in her smiles. At such close quarters and in daylight she was exquisite, like one of the porcelain dolls he’d seen in a shop window in Exeter once. She played the gracious lady to the hilt for the benefit of their audience, with just the right note of condescension in her voice, but he knew it was all an act. It wasn’t the real Eliza, because he had already met her.