The Secret Kiss of Darkness

by Christina Courtenay

  ‘No, no, Alex, I didn’t go out with anyone. I just went to …’ She stopped abruptly and if she hadn’t been wearing so much make-up, he was sure she would have been blushing.

  ‘The Hall?’ he finished for her. She turned away again. ‘Please tell me you didn’t go there again?’ He didn’t like that destination any more than the one he had imagined and she knew it. In fact, it was worse.

  ‘So what if I did?’ She tossed her head and sent him a defiant glance. ‘I have a right to see my daughter. I gave birth to her, for heaven’s sake. She doesn’t belong to just Wesley, you know.’

  ‘You have the right to see her in daylight, Caro,’ Alex reminded her. ‘Wes told me the agreement was that you can visit her at any time, as long as you don’t take her away with you. There’s no need to go creeping around at night. How do you get in anyway? I suppose you still have your key?’

  ‘Uh-hmm.’ She stared at the floor.

  ‘Caro, I want you to promise me not to go there again until this business is finished. I really can’t risk you getting caught at Marcombe late at night. Wes would be bound to get suspicious and then everything we have worked for would be ruined. No deal, no money, get it?’

  ‘He won’t catch me. He doesn’t even know I go there,’ Caroline sneered. ‘He’s too wrapped up with that new woman of his, whatever her name is.’

  Alex sighed. ‘Her name is Kayla, and I told you she’s only his secretary. I haven’t seen any evidence that anything’s going on between them.’

  ‘Just shows how little you know about women. She’ll get her claws into him soon enough. You wait and see. A man like that, with a huge house, a title and loads of money, she won’t be able to resist. Filthy little gold-digger.’

  ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, not every woman thinks that way, strange as it may seem to you. Could we concentrate on what we’re supposed to be doing here? Wes and his secretary are not important at the moment.’ Alex knew he was starting to sound almost desperate and tried to control his breathing. Normally he was very laid-back, but this latest venture was getting to him. There was too much riding on it and he just couldn’t afford to fail. He’d really be up shit creek if he did and so would Caro. Not that she seemed to care, and as if to confirm this, she shrugged. Alex wanted to shake her, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  ‘Fine,’ she conceded at last. ‘Let’s get some sleep then. I sincerely hope this won’t go on for much longer.’

  ‘It won’t, I promise. All is ready.’

  At least, he hoped it was.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The candles in the library at Marcombe Hall had burned low and Sir John sat staring morosely into the fire. Jago, entering soundlessly with his men, could see his half-brother had consumed copious amounts of brandy – the brandy they risked their lives to bring to gentry such as him – and it was obvious Sir John didn’t hear the door close silently nor the key being turned in the lock, since he didn’t stir.

  ‘Good evening, Sir John.’

  The man jumped and swivelled in his chair to stare with dawning terror at the group of thugs coming up to form a circle around him.

  ‘Are you drowning your sorrows or celebrating the death of your wife?’ Jago held his temper in check, but his voice came out hard and grim.

  ‘What are you doing in my house? Out! Out I say. By what right do you invade my privacy in this manner?’ Sir John spluttered, his face alternating between the paleness of fright and redness of anger.

  Jago laughed mirthlessly. ‘By what right did you murder your wife?’ he countered.

  ‘I’ve no idea of what you speak. As far as I know, Eliza is upstairs resting. Now leave before I call my servants to have you evicted.’ This time all the men guffawed and Sir John squirmed in his chair. Slowly he stood up to face them, swaying slightly from the effects of the brandy. ‘Why have you come? What do you want?’

  ‘We want you to write a little letter for us.’ Jago walked over to the massive oak desk and opened several drawers until he found what he sought. He placed a clean sheet of paper, as well as a quill and ink bottle, on the desk. ‘Bring him over here, men.’

  Sir John was hauled over to his own desk and pushed into the chair unceremoniously. Jago watched as anger warred with defiance in his half-brother’s eyes. For a moment the anger won and Sir John tried bravado. ‘You want me to write you a letter? And here I thought my father had had you educated, Kerswell. Mind you, I always considered it a great waste of money. You obviously didn’t learn anything. Told him so.’

  He received a cuff on the ear for this piece of impertinence and Jago went around to lean on the desk opposite Sir John, his hands resting flat on the surface, his face too close for comfort.

  ‘I’m a lot more learned than some people I could mention, and what’s more, I know how to treat my womenfolk. Now write what I dictate, Sir John, or I will not be answerable for the consequences.’ He emphasised his half-brother’s title, making it clear it didn’t weigh with him.

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  Jago grinned. ‘I don’t think you’d be that unwise, brother.’

  ‘You’re no kin of mine,’ Sir John muttered, but he swallowed hard nonetheless and looked at the menacing leers on the faces of the other men. Without another word, he dipped his quill in the ink-bottle with shaking fingers and waited.

  ‘Jessie, you’re an absolute angel. You must have worked like a slave to produce a family tree so fast. And such a detailed one at that, I can’t believe it. Thank you so much.’

  Kayla had been astonished to receive a letter from Jessie after only a week and called immediately to say thank you. She’d thought it would take ages to put together a genealogy chart for Sir John, but Jessie had proved her wrong.

  ‘No, no, it was really easy, you know,’ Jessie protested. ‘Marcombe is a very unusual name so it wasn’t hard to follow Sir John’s descendants, and they all pretty much stayed in that area, which helped too.’

  ‘Well, I can’t thank you enough. This was just what I needed. It should prove very interesting reading.’

  ‘Any time, I’m happy to help. It’s always fun when you find what you’re looking for, so this family tree was very satisfying to draw up. Anyway, I circled all the people whose wills you should look for, did you see?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. I’ll go to Exeter Record Office and have a look, like you said.’

  ‘Well, good luck. Let me know how you get on. You’ve made me curious now.’

  Kayla decided she’d go the following day since Wes was out at meetings and had said she could have some time off. Exeter Record Office was situated in the city centre and she found it easily. She’d called up for directions and been told to use one of the park-and-ride facilities which stopped nearby. The staff proved to be very helpful, and she soon settled down to work her way through indexes of wills, some of which she checked more closely than others.

  Sir John himself didn’t seem to have left a will, but she found one for Sir Wesley, his son, who for some reason had left money to a group of Travellers, as well as the right for them to camp in one of his fields in perpetuity. Kayla smiled to herself – she detected Jago’s hand here. He must have somehow informed the boy that his true grandmother was a Gypsy, perhaps even arranged for him to meet some of them. She must remember to ask him about it next time she went to London.

  Disappointingly, there was no mention of any paintings in the will. The hall and all its contents had passed to his eldest son, another Wesley, with bequests to his other children. There were several items of furniture and jewellery, but no artwork of any kind so Kayla had to assume the paintings were included with the house and had passed to the heir.

  She ploughed on, working her way through as many wills as she could find, including those of some of the daughters of the family who had married, and their husbands. By four o’clock she had to admit defeat. Just about every senior member of the Marcombe family had left a will, but not a single one of them had mentioned any la
rge portraits or artwork of any kind. It was unbelievably frustrating.

  ‘Oh, Jago, what are we going to do now?’ she whispered, but nothing sprang to mind. She would have to think about it and perhaps confer with Jessie again. There must be something she had overlooked, some way of finding a clue to the portrait’s whereabouts, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of one.

  She returned to Marcombe Hall in low spirits, but just as she reached her room her mobile shrilled.

  ‘Kayla, I have some news for you.’ It was Maddie, sounding excited and slightly breathless, as if she’d been running. ‘Jessie asked me to give you a call because she’s had to go away for the weekend and she tried to ring you this morning but you weren’t there.’

  ‘I was at Exeter Record Office with the phone on silent so I probably didn’t hear. What did she want? She already sent me all the stuff she’d put together.’

  ‘No, listen to this – she said to tell you she found one of those wills you were looking for here in London. I guess the person must have died here or something, but that’s not all. Just out of curiosity Jessie had a look through the Assize Records for your area, and guess what she found?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your Jago was put on trial for murder.’

  ‘You’re kidding! Who’s he supposed to have murdered?’

  ‘I’m not telling.’ Maddie giggled. ‘You’ll just have to wait until you receive my letter with a copy of the records. See if you can figure it out in the meantime.’

  ‘Maddie, that’s not fair,’ Kayla protested, consumed with curiosity now. ‘Come on, tell me. I suppose it must have been Sir John. Jago can’t have killed Eliza, he loved her.’

  ‘I’m not saying a word. It’ll do you good to have something to think about other than gorgeous men.’ Maddie laughed again and hung up.

  Kayla glared at her mobile. ‘Well, really!’ What on earth had got into Maddie?

  And Jago a murderer? Somehow, she had trouble picturing it. Even though he certainly had a ruthless air about him, there also seemed to be a softer, inner core. And despite his affair with Eliza, Kayla felt he was an honourable man. So why would he have murdered someone?

  She swore out loud in frustration. She would just have to wait until the wretched letter came to find out.

  Her bad mood persisted throughout the day and increased the depression she already felt at having failed to find the painting so far. She started to wonder whether she shouldn’t leave Marcombe Hall after all. Although she enjoyed working with Wes, their relationship had become a bit strained of late. After their excursion to Canonteign Falls he’d been taciturn and uncommunicative, and although Kayla understood his reasons for brooding, she didn’t feel she had the right to interfere.

  She wanted to help him, to comfort him, perhaps even to love him. The thought scared her, but she acknowledged to herself that she was extremely attracted to him. It was agony to watch him every night and not be able to put her arms around him. But would he welcome her love? She didn’t think so. The harsh expression on his face during dinner that time when she’d asked him if he would remarry was etched into her memory. Wes had been badly burned and although he might want her in his bed, he would never contemplate marriage and commitment again. And that was what Kayla wanted. Not necessarily marriage, but definitely commitment.

  The more she saw of Nell and Wes, the more she wanted to be part of their little family. She adored children and she wanted some of her own. It was one of the reasons why she had jumped at the chance to marry Mike, although he’d been rather lukewarm about the idea of starting a family straight away. She’d been confident she could persuade him, but she shuddered at the thought now. Mike would have made a terrible father, impatient and irritable, whereas Wes in contrast was great with Nell, very patient and loving.

  ‘You’re very restless this evening. What’s the matter?’

  Kayla came back to earth and noticed she had been pacing the library and that Wes must have been watching her for some time. ‘Nothing. I was just thinking.’

  ‘About your marriage?’

  Kayla swivelled round and stared at him. Could he read her mind? ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Nell told me something about you getting married, remember? She said it all went wrong.’

  ‘Oh, that.’

  Wes smiled. ‘She said you and your fiancé had hit each other and that was why the marriage was called off, but I’m afraid I didn’t quite believe her. You don’t look like you have violent tendencies.’

  Kayla snorted. ‘I don’t, so just as well you didn’t think that. But I don’t remember telling Nell anything of the sort.’ Kayla frowned and sat down on the sofa next to him, clasping her hands round her knees just to keep them still. ‘I was supposed to have been married though, she got that part right. Only it didn’t work out.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Wes fixed his blue gaze on her and she had trouble focusing on her thoughts. She just wanted to drown in his eyes, to lean forward and …‘Kayla?’

  ‘What? Oh, no. No, I really don’t. There’s nothing to say anyway. I realised I’d made a mistake and I’m just glad I found it out before the wedding went ahead. Although I’m afraid my family didn’t quite see it that way. They thought four weeks before the ceremony was cutting things a bit too fine.’ She made a small face and shrugged. ‘I guess they were right, but I couldn’t help it.’

  Wes grinned. ‘A bit upset were they? Well, they didn’t have to marry the guy, you did, so I wouldn’t pay any attention to them.’

  Kayla smiled back. ‘I didn’t. I just avoided talking to them for a while.’

  Wes stared at her mouth, as if he was mesmerised. ‘Do you know, when you smile you have a tiny dimple just here.’ He touched her cheek with one finger and Kayla drew in a sharp breath. That small contact sent a frisson through her and her nerve endings were suddenly on full alert, waiting to see what he’d do next.

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t marry someone you would have been miserable with,’ he continued. ‘Your mouth was made for smiling and maybe …’ He bent his head forward and touched his lips to hers softly. A pleasurable warmth spread down to her stomach as if she was slowly melting inside. Kayla held her breath, not daring to make a sound or move so much as a muscle in case she scared him off, but to her great chagrin he pulled away. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.’

  The disappointment which flooded through her was so strong it was almost a physical pain. ‘Why?’ she whispered hoarsely. She couldn’t help herself, she had to ask. Had to know why he’d turned away when she so desperately wanted him to continue.

  He shrugged. ‘You might take me to court for sexual harassment or something. You are my employee after all.’ His flippant tone of voice suggested what had happened had meant nothing, was a temporary aberration. Kayla swallowed down a sob.

  ‘Oh, no. No, I wouldn’t do that. Goodnight, Wes.’

  She stood up abruptly and stumbled from the room before the tears burning her eyelids had a chance to materialise.

  ‘Well, damn, you handled that well, didn’t you?’

  Wes glared at himself in the mirror above the mantelpiece. Why had he kissed her like that and why on earth had he then tried to joke about it?

  ‘Idiot,’ he muttered.

  He stared again at his face, wondering how Kayla saw him. He wasn’t bad looking, but he didn’t think he was special either. Caro had bragged to her friends that she’d caught a man who was both rich and handsome, but she stopped saying it after a while. Wes had a suspicion she’d only been in love with his title and the house, as well as her own social standing. So perhaps praising him had just been a way of obtaining this.

  Besides, that was eight years ago, he was older now. He came back to the question he couldn’t seem to find an answer to – was he too old for someone like Kayla? If he made a real pass at her would she think him a sad old git?

  She hadn’t run away screaming this evening. She’d just looked a bit stunned,
then sad. And she hadn’t kissed him back. Wes didn’t know if his kiss had made her remember what she’d lost or if he’d confused her. Did she like it? It was hard to tell.

  Maybe he’d lost the knack? It was ages since he’d kissed anyone after all. Just because he was still shaking with desire didn’t mean he’d had the same effect on Kayla. He’d have to try harder.

  He took a deep breath. Yes, that was it, the only way to find out, and he could deal with rejection, couldn’t he? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The walk down to the cliffs seemed to pass all too swiftly and John’s few token attempts at resistance were met by guffaws from the men. He was almost paralysed with fear and had trouble making his legs move fast enough to keep up with the long strides of Jago and his helpers. The two brawniest of the men held his arms fast so that whenever he stumbled he still stayed upright. He didn’t register pain, however, as his terror threatened to erupt into full-blown panic at any moment and blocked out any physical sensations.

  The night was as black as the previous one, but the roar of the surf below the cliffs could be heard clearly. Louder and louder, the noise reverberated inside his head, making him want to scream. Why hadn’t he realised how loud it was the night before? He suddenly understood how Eliza must have felt and bile rose in his throat.

  Eliza. He now knew he’d been correct in his suspicions. She had indeed cuckolded him, and with his half-brother of all people, a common innkeeper despite the Marcombe blood which ran in his veins. The thought was unbearable, slicing through him like a sharpened scythe. Jago’s son was lying in the Marcombe nursery, not his, never his. It was so unfair.

  However, he wished he had taken less drastic measures to punish Eliza. He should have waited until morning, when the first heat of his anger would have subsided, as well as the effects of the brandy. A sound beating and divorce would have been enough. Then he could have kept the child, since he was never likely to have another. He could acknowledge it now, when it no longer mattered.