Devil's Palace
Page 21
Charlotte fought the urge to fling her arms around the good doctor’s neck and forced herself to remain sitting.
‘Then there is nothing more for me to say to you, mademoiselle,’ said the inspector, ‘except to offer you my deepest sympathy for the ordeal you have undergone.’
With a sweeping bow he took his leave of her, taking Dr Deslys and his entourage with him.
Monsieur Blanc wiped his brow with relief as he closed the door after them. Another scandal had been avoided. Lady Beston would no doubt be distressed at the manner of her husband’s demise, but all in all the outcome had been satisfactory. When he turned to say as much to Count Karolyi, he found the Count otherwise engaged.
The second the inspector had left the room, Sandor had swept Charlotte into his arms, kissing her like a man demented.
Charlotte clung to him, ecstasy and despair inextricably mixed. He was grateful to her. That was the reason for his wild kisses. Zara was now a widow. There was nothing to prevent their marriage.
Monsieur Blanc gave a discreet cough. Sandor raised his head from Charlotte, his arm still circling her body.
‘There is a side entrance and I think it would be most wise of you to avail yourself of it, Count Karolyi. Gossip is still rife in the gaming rooms and will only be intensified if Mademoiselle Grainger appears in her present condition.’
‘Thank you. I am deeply indebted to you for your handling of the affair,’ Sandor said, as Monsieur Blanc led them down his private stairway and out into the moonlight where the Karolyi carriage in which Charlotte had arrived in such distress still waited.
The men shook hands, Monsieur Blanc kissed Charlotte gallantly on each cheek and then Charlotte was entering the dark intimacy of the carriage with Sandor at her side. Apprehension flooded over her. He had thanked Monsieur Blanc. Would he now thank her? If he did so, she would be unable to bear it. It was not his gratitude that she desired, it was his love.
‘Charlotte! Oh my God, Charlotte!’ His arms were around her, his lips were on hers, hot and sweet. At last, as his lips moved to her eyelids, her temples, she could bear it no longer.
‘Will you now marry Lady Beston?’ she asked in a voice little more than a whisper.
Every muscle in his body was struck with such rigidity that she pulled away from him in alarm, certain that he had been taken ill. The carriage rattled at high speed towards Beausoleil and in the moonlight that streamed through the windows she could see the stunned incredulity in his eyes, the thick tumble of his hair, the lean, high planes of his cheekbones.
‘What did you say?’ His voice was frightening in its intensity. His hands seemed to crush the bones in her wrists, so tight was his grasp.
‘Lady Beston,’ she faltered. ‘I know that you love her and now that Lord Beston is dead …’
He groaned, pulling her against him. She could feel his heart beating strongly against hers. Feel the strength and safety she always felt when in his arms.
‘Oh Charlotte! My sweet, foolish, beautiful Charlotte.’ Tenderly he raised her face to his. ‘It is you I wish to marry, Charlotte. You that I love.’
She gazed up at him in wonderment, all the love she felt for him shining in her eyes.
His fingers wound caressingly in her hair. ‘If you are to be my wife, Charlotte, you must know things about me no other person knows save for my sister.’
‘Your sister?’ She remembered Lord Beston’s incomprehensible words and her eyes widened.
He took her hands, holding them in his.
‘Lady Beston is my sister. Beston only discovered the truth tonight and he was determined to use the knowledge to ruin me.’
‘But how? I do not understand.’
He lifted her hand to his lips, searing her upturned palm with the heat of his kiss. She trembled, overcome by love for him.
‘My mother was the wife of Count Istvan Karolyi, but Count Karolyi was not my father.’ His eyes burned with anguish. ‘Zara is my twin. When we were born Count Istvan, out of love for my mother, reared me as his own son and gave Zara to Prince and Princess Katzinsky who were childless.’
She pressed close to him, wanting to ease his suffering, wanting to tell him that none of it mattered any more. The thing that mattered was that they loved each other. That they would have children who would live life without any dark secrets, any burdens.
‘I loved the Count as my father and he grew to love me as if I were indeed his son. He wanted me to inherit his title and his lands when he died but he made no legal will.’ He ran a hand through his tumbled hair, his eyes tortured.
‘When Zara married Beston, I feared his wishes would not be fulfilled. Beston had no love for Zara. He married her believing the Katzinskys were wealthy and that as their only child, Zara would inherit. When he discovered differently he treated her with coldness and callousness. It was obvious that if he ever discovered the truth of Zara’s birth, he would not keep it secret. And I would lose Valeni.’
Tears glistened on Charlotte’s cheeks. ‘Oh, my love! Is that the pain you have carried within you all these years? That Count Istvan’s wishes would not be fulfilled? That you would lose all you hold dear?’
Wonderingly, he lifted her face to his, tenderly kissing away the teardrops, his voice hoarse with love.
‘In these last few days, Charlotte, I have discovered that all I hold dear is you. I love you Charlotte, and I will love you till the day I die. You are my fortress and my peace. I want you to be my wife. To bear my children. To be at my side every waking moment of every day. To lie in my arms every night. If I lost Valeni and I still had you, I would still be the richest man on earth.’
She smiled up at him, her voice unsteady. ‘You will have me and you will have Valeni, Sandor. Just as Count Istvan wished. Lord Beston is dead now. He is a threat no longer.’
Sandor’s voice was tight. ‘ I did not wish him to die but God knows, I cannot grieve for him.’
‘And nor will Zara.’ Charlotte said with sound practicality.
‘And your English fiancé?’ His hands tightened on hers so that she gasped. ‘You will write to him immediately? You will tell him that you are marrying elsewhere?’ Every nerve in his body was tensed, his eyes blazing with heat as he waited for her answer.
‘Oh Sandor! There never was a fiancé in England. It was only silly pride which made me say there was. I loved you so much and I thought you did not care for me.’
‘God’s teeth!’ Sandor blasphemed as the carriage rocked to a halt outside Beausoleil. ‘Have I tortured myself in vain over a man who does not exist?’
Charlotte’s eyes sparkled at the thought of Sandor suffering jealous rage on her account. Her gurgle of delighted laughter was her answer and Sandor swooped his dark head to hers, silencing her with fiery kisses that rendered her breathless. She was his without reserve. His, as she had been since the moment she had first set eyes on him.
‘From now on you will remain in no doubt of the depths of my love for you,’ Sandor said grimly, when at last he raised his head from her flushed and radiant face. ‘ I’ve been patient long enough. I can be patient no longer.’
With consummate ease he swept her into his arms and carried her from the coach.
‘I’ve been teased and tormented till I’m nearly insane and I’m damned if I’ll stand for it another moment!’
Charlotte sighed and clasped her hands even tighter around his neck; his black curls brushed her skin, sending her senses tingling.
‘But it could be weeks before we are able to be married,’ she murmured provocatively.
‘It will be days!’ Sandor growled as he strode purposefully with her towards the villa. ‘Hours if I can arrange it, and I shall move heaven and earth to do so!’
‘Good evening, sir. Good evening, mademoiselle,’ Georges said, disguising the anxiety he had suffered during the last few hours, and gallantly averting his gaze from Charlotte’s entrancingly near-naked breasts.
‘Lady Beston is sleeping. Shall I wake h
er and inform her of your return, sir?’
‘No, Georges. I have a matter of extreme urgency to deal with first,’ Sandor said, not halting in his progress across the vast hall. ‘I do not wish to be disturbed, Georges,’ he continued, mounting the stairs, Charlotte’s arms still tightly entwined round his neck, ‘Not for anything, is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Georges said with a dazed expression on his face as Count Sandor Karolyi strode with his willing captive towards the master bedroom and, on entering, kicked the door firmly shut behind him with a booted foot.
Copyright
First published in 1983 by Mills and Boon
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