The Secret Kiss of Darkness

by Christina Courtenay

  ‘And what exactly are you going to do about it?’ he muttered. ‘Nothing, that’s what. Nothing at all.’

  Was he having a mid-life crisis already? Was it possible to have one before you were even forty? If it meant lusting after young students, then he could only conclude that it was.

  A thought hit him. What if she was a mature student? Maybe she’d worked for a while first and then gone back to do a degree. That would change things. He’d have to find out.

  ‘But bloody hell, how do you ask a woman how old she is?’ He’d been taught from an early age this was a subject that was definitely taboo. You just didn’t mention it. End of.

  He grinned to himself as his brain came up with another option – he’d get Nell to ask. Surely Kayla couldn’t object to that? Nell was just a child so she wasn’t constrained by grown-up rules, or not much. Wes felt vaguely ashamed to even contemplate using his daughter this way, but how else was he to obtain the information he needed so badly?

  He just had to know, it was driving him crazy.

  ‘Okay, so if she’s younger than, say, twenty-five,’ he told himself, ‘I’ll stay the hell away from her. But over that, she’s fair game, surely?’ Or would she think him too old?

  Damn it all, why was life so complicated?

  Just before sleep claimed him at last, one more question occurred to him. Why had she thought there was someone in her room?

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Oh, Jago, I’ve longed for you so. I thought John would never leave, but he’s gone at last. Left for London this morning.’

  ‘And I you.’ Jago felt the tension leave him as he smiled at Eliza and opened his arms to her, pulling her close. For days he’d been fretting, wondering if his half-brother would smell a rat once the initial euphoria about the pregnancy had abated. Although the rational part of his brain told him he couldn’t protect her against her own husband, he’d still wanted to rush over to Marcombe Hall to make sure she was all right.

  ‘Mmm, you smell like the wind and the sea.’ Eliza buried her face in his shoulder and breathed in. ‘Do you know, whenever we can’t be together, I close my eyes and remember that. It sustains me until our next meeting.’ She stroked his velvet jacket. ‘In fact, I’ve memorised everything about you – the feel of your clothes when you hold me, the strength of your arms, the hardness of your chest against me.’ She laughed self-consciously. ‘It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it, but I love everything about you.’

  He crushed her to him. ‘No, I do the same. If I was blind I could still pick you out from among a thousand women.’

  Eliza sighed. ‘It’s unbearable, this waiting, wanting. It gnaws at me constantly. Is there nothing we can do?’

  ‘No, love, we must be patient.’

  ‘I do not wish to be patient! I want to be with you, always. Oh, take me away, my darling, please take me away from here.’

  ‘Where would we go? And you can’t travel in your condition. Think of the babe.’

  ‘I am thinking of it. I don’t want it to grow up here, living a lie. We could go to the colonies, perhaps, or the continent? No one would find us there, surely?’

  ‘It’s too late, you are too far gone. You must be patient, sweetheart. I will think on what you have said and see what I can arrange, but we have to wait until you are strong and fit and the child also. We can’t risk harming it.’

  He bent to kiss her to stop her from arguing further, and as always the merest touch of their lips lit the fires within. They both knew it was wrong, they shouldn’t want each other, but there was no way on earth they could stop themselves.

  Not now, not ever.

  ‘Kayla, I have a proposition for you.’ Wes breezed into the kitchen the next morning, startling both his guest and his housekeeper. Kayla, who had been daydreaming about the joking offer he had made the night before, choked on a mouthful of tea when he said the word ‘proposition’. He slapped her helpfully on the back.

  ‘I’m sorry, what?’ she managed finally.

  Wes pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table, turned it round and straddled it, leaning his arms on the back. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt this morning and Kayla couldn’t help a glance at his arms, slightly bronzed and dusted with fine dark hairs. There was something very attractive about a man’s arms when they were just the right side of muscular, she thought. Not body-builder type, but still solid enough to give you the feeling they could protect you, keep you safe. She tore her gaze away and fiddled with her breakfast.

  ‘Tell me, do you have to go back to your part-time job and your studies straight away or are you on holiday?’ Wes asked.

  ‘Er, I have the next couple of weeks off.’ She wasn’t about to tell him that thanks to an infatuation with a painting of his ancestor she wouldn’t be returning to her previous job at all, but was in fact at a loose end.

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘Is it?’ Kayla was getting more confused by the minute.

  ‘Yes, well it could be. For me. What I mean is, would you consider staying here for say, two weeks? To work that is. You did a great job yesterday, better than any other secretary I’ve ever had around here, and I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.’

  ‘What, as a temp you mean?’

  ‘Precisely. Until I can replace Emma with someone like you who can spell more than her own name and possibly her boyfriend’s. Not that there seem to be very many girls around here who can, but I live in hope. Anyway, I’ll pay you double the going rate. So what do you say, will you do it? It would give you a chance to explore Devon a bit too, and I’m sure a lot of the stately homes around here have Gainsborough paintings for you to study. I could even find out for you. Or did you have other plans?’ He was looking at her expectantly, if somewhat impatiently. He was obviously a man used to making decisions in an instant.

  ‘Well, not exactly.’ Kayla took a bite of toast and considered his proposal carefully. On the one hand, if he paid her well, it would give her longer to look around for a more suitable job back in London. Time as far away as possible from everything associated with Mike and the wedding was clearly also a good idea right now. Not to mention her disbelieving family, who had probably not yet forgiven her for ruining all the planning.

  On the other hand, was it advisable to stay in this lovely house with its charismatic owner, to whom she was becoming more attracted by the minute, and his equally charming daughter? Wouldn’t she make more of a fool of herself than she already had?

  In the end the lesser of two evils won.

  ‘All right, I’ll do it,’ she decided.

  ‘Brilliant! Could you start this morning? I have so much to do and I really could use some help.’ He stood up and put the chair back under the table. Behind him Annie shook her head and muttered something about patience being a virtue.

  ‘Sure.’ Kayla laughed. ‘Can I finish my breakfast first or do we eat on the job?’

  He had the grace to look sheepish. ‘No, no, please take your time. Sorry, didn’t mean to hassle you. I’ll be in the office.’

  Kayla and Annie exchanged glances. ‘Men,’ they exclaimed in unison after he had left, and burst out laughing.

  The two weeks flew by and Kayla enjoyed every minute. She wasn’t sure if this was because she and Wes worked so well together, or just due to the attraction she felt for the man himself. She tried not to think about it, since she had no way of knowing whether that was part of Jago’s magic. He had said she was under some sort of spell, but hadn’t specified exactly what that entailed. She thought it would be logical to suppose it could include liking all Jago’s descendants too. Not that she knew if it applied to Wes, but the more time Kayla spent with him, the more she became convinced her cuckoo theory was right. When she went back to London she was determined to find out.

  On a beautiful, sunny Saturday in early May, Kayla had the morning off. She wandered into the garden behind the house, but for once she barely registered the lovely setting or the gorgeous weather.
Almost by touch, she made her way to a stone bench without really seeing her surroundings. Everything was a blur because her eyes were filled with tears that refused to stop flowing. Kayla swiped at them angrily. She didn’t want to cry, but somehow she couldn’t help it. Today should have been her wedding day, the happiest day of her life. Instead she was sitting in somebody else’s garden crying, wondering what went wrong and what she was going to do next.

  If everything had gone as planned she would have been having her hair and make-up done by now, before putting on the exquisite dress which made her look so tall and elegant. The shoes that went with it had very high heels, but she had thought it worth the discomfort in order to feel really beautiful on her special day. And she’d wanted to look absolutely gorgeous for Mike.

  Mike. It was strange, but she felt nothing at all when she thought of him now. She had no regrets, so she must have done the right thing after all. Thinking back she remembered that she hadn’t even received a very romantic proposal. Out of the blue Mike had just asked her one day whether she thought it would be a good idea to get married since they made such a great couple.

  ‘Are you serious?’ she had asked suspiciously, thinking he was teasing her. He’d never before indicated that he was contemplating marriage, at least not for quite some time yet.

  ‘Yes, perfectly. Actually, I heard old Mr Martin say the other day that men who are married climb to the top of their professions much faster than single ones. A wife is a real asset, he said.’

  Kayla made a face at him. ‘Well, if you think I’m marrying you for the sake of your career, you can think again, mister.’

  ‘No, no, darling, of course I want you to marry me because I love you,’ he protested, and somehow he’d persuaded her that he was sincere. Now she wasn’t so sure. To Mike, his career was everything, and Kayla was certain she would have come a poor second, if not immediately, then definitely later on.

  ‘So what are you crying for, idiot?’ she asked herself. She should be thanking her lucky stars she had come to her senses before it was too late. Having to go through a divorce later on would have been infinitely worse.

  Kayla closed her eyes and tried to redirect her thoughts. It was peaceful here in Devon. No traffic, no shrieking police sirens at all hours of the day and night, no tube trains rumbling under the buildings. Just birdsong, wind sighing in the trees and the distant sound of the sea. She let the tears flow down her cheeks silently. She wasn’t sure why she was still crying, but it was cathartic. Perhaps she needed this cleansing of the past so she could move on, and she promised herself that after today, she wouldn’t think of it again, ever. That part of her life was over. Maybe the tears were also partly from fear of the unknown. What was to become of her, what would she do with her life? She couldn’t stay here forever. It was just a way of postponing the inevitable search for a new job.

  She would miss Marcombe when she left. There was no doubt she had enjoyed her stay, despite the strange circumstances of her arrival, but now it was almost time to move on. Wes had been interviewing girls for the position of private secretary, although as far as she knew he hadn’t made a decision yet. He would have to choose soon.

  ‘Kayla? Why are you crying?’

  A small clammy hand appeared out of nowhere and rested on her arm. Nell looked up at her in concern, her little face as serious as it could possibly become.

  ‘Nell! You’re always startling me.’ Kayla tried to wipe her face with the sleeve of her T-shirt, and gathered the child close to her side with her other arm. ‘I’m just a bit sad because I was supposed to be getting married today. But things didn’t work out.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Er, well, my boyfriend and I had a fight and then we decided that maybe we didn’t suit after all.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. I thought I loved him, but really I don’t think I did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just because.’

  ‘Because is not an answer. Annie says.’

  Kayla couldn’t help it, she had to smile. Nell was relentless in her questioning and completely logical in her thinking. She believed that every question had an answer and she would never stop asking until she was satisfied.

  ‘Do you know what? I have no idea why I don’t love him anymore. Sometimes you love someone and you don’t know why, you can just feel it. But sometimes you discover that the person wasn’t really worth your love, so you stop loving them.’

  Nell frowned. ‘My mummy and daddy stopped loving each other. At least, I think so. Otherwise, why did she go away?’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. And now they are happier apart, don’t you think?’

  ‘I guess.’ Nell looked up at Kayla, her eyes big and questioning. ‘You wouldn’t stop loving me, would you? Even if I was naughty?’

  Kayla laughed. ‘No, sweetheart. I’m talking about love between a man and a woman. The kind of love grown-ups feel for children is quite different and that never changes.’

  ‘Oh, good.’ Nell hugged her fiercely. ‘Have you finished being sad now?’

  Kayla held the tiny body close and returned the embrace. Nell felt so small and fragile, her little chicken chest pressed hard against Kayla, but it was a wonderful sensation. A child’s love was indeed different, trusting and unquestioning. If only she could find that kind of love with a man she would have no hesitation in marrying him. She sighed again.

  ‘Yes, I think I’ve finished now. Shall we go and practise your skipping on the front drive?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please. I did thirty-one in a row yesterday. I have to beat my own record now.’ Nell chatted happily as they set off, small hand tucked into Kayla’s larger one.

  Kayla put the past resolutely behind her. It was time to move on.

  ‘Psst. Nell.’ Wes waylaid his daughter on her way back to her room to wash her hands before lunch.

  ‘Daddy? What’s the matter?’

  ‘Shhh.’ He put a finger over his mouth and pulled her into his office, closing the door behind her. ‘Don’t tell Kayla I asked you, but why was she crying? I saw you two in the garden earlier.’

  ‘Oh, she and her boyfriend hit each other or something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She said they were going to get married today, but then they had a fight. So now she doesn’t love him any more. I wouldn’t love someone who hit me either.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I don’t think she meant fight as in hitting, just arguing.’ Wes didn’t want to pry, but he often felt that Kayla was very reticent about her life in London, almost secretive in fact. He had wondered why; perhaps now he had his answer. ‘She was getting married today, did you say?’ Nell nodded. ‘Hmm. Maybe we should distract her a bit then, so she doesn’t think about it too much. Shall we take her down to the secret cove, do you think?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Daddy. Let’s!’

  ‘Okay, you go and ask Annie to pack a picnic and I’ll see if I can find Kayla.’ For some reason he couldn’t bear to think of her spending the day moping. Well, it wouldn’t do to have a sad secretary about the place, now would it, he told himself.

  Nell skipped towards the door, then stopped and spun around. ‘Oh, and guess what? I finally remembered to ask her when her birthday is.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘She said it’s in August, the day before mine. Isn’t that cool?’

  ‘Oh, yes, very.’ Wes hesitated, not sure if he should ask the question he’d really wanted an answer to. He’d told Nell to find out when Kayla’s birthday was and how many candles would be needed for the cake. He figured that was better than Nell asking Kayla’s age outright. Now he had half the information, but not the half he needed.

  Before he could open his mouth, however, Nell added, ‘And we’ll need twenty-six candles, Daddy. Do we have that many?’ She looked awed and Wes almost burst out laughing.

  ‘Er, we can always buy a few more. You’re sure that’s the right number?’

  ‘Yep, she said.’

/>   Wes felt relief flood him. Kayla wasn’t too young and he was only ten years older than her. He could only hope she didn’t think that was ancient.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sir John had been listening to his wife’s screams and moaning for hours on end and was heartily sick of the whole business. Why did it have to take so long, for heaven’s sake? It wasn’t often he thought of God, but it occurred to him now to wonder why He had seen fit to make child-bearing such a difficult task. For everyone involved.

  He slumped down into his chair once more and took a sip of brandy. He had already consumed half a decanter. At this rate he would be too drunk to see his heir properly by the time the wretched infant finally made it into the world. Angrily, he slammed the glass back onto the table, making half the contents slosh over the rim.

  A short while later there was a knock on the door and at his curt, ‘Enter’, the fancy London midwife who had arrived with the physician he’d sent for came in holding a bundle. She curtsied.

  ‘Now then, you have a fine and healthy son at last, sir,’ she announced with a beaming smile and walked forward to place the bundle on his lap. He stared at the baby in stunned silence, but the child immediately decided to remedy this and began to scream. Loud, ear-splitting howls, proof that the infant had a good pair of lungs if nothing else. Sir John looked down on the red, screwed-up little face and the flailing fists, and felt a strange emotion flow through him. His son. His heir.

  In an attempt to soothe the little mite he stroked the downy head, but as his hand dislodged the blanket he stopped and stared at the baby’s hair in stunned horror. It was black. As black as the night outside. As black as Eliza’s soul, damn her to hell. With a roar of anger he surged out of his chair, lifting the baby in the process and dumping the bundle unceremoniously back into the arms of the midwife, who gave a little shriek of protest and fright.