Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02

by Emerald Enchantment

  “No, no…” she protested faintly.

  “Shh, pet. It’s much too hot in here for clothes.”

  He pulled her blouse off, then her skirt, but she was so sleepy that she didn’t quite realize what was happening. He tugged her petticoat below her thighs and threw it on the floor. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasped and wiped his mouth in anticipation.

  Quickly he removed his own clothes, then grabbed the half empty brandy bottle and poured the contents over her breasts, abdomen and between her legs. This roused her immediately and she opened her eyes wide.

  “What are you doing?” she cried.

  “I’m going to kiss you, my pretty Beth.” He leaned down, his tongue invading her mouth, and she struggled, but he grabbed her arms, pinning them above her head. “No fighting. It won’t hurt if you don’t resist.”

  She tried to pull away, her mind clearing. She realized he intended to take advantage of her. “No, no!” she whimpered.

  “Quiet, Beth. Just lie still and let me enjoy you.”

  She wanted to scream but there was no one who would help her. Howard Granger was one of the gentry and she was only a servant girl who shouldn’t even be here.

  She felt his mouth moving down her neck, trailing to her breasts while his tongue lapped the brandy clinging to her skin, then circling the ripeness of the mounds.

  “Delicious, my sweet. I’m on fire already.”

  And suddenly Beth too was on fire. The fear she had originally felt dissipated as his hands and mouth moved over her body. Hot, searing desire shot through her. All she craved was release from this exquisite, nameless torture twisting in her loins.

  Suddenly he pulled her hips towards his mouth and lapped the brandy droplets from the spot which shielded her maidenhood. She writhed and unconsciously spread her legs as the fire inside her rose higher.

  He laughed in triumph at her strangled moans and finally when she could stand no more, he mounted her. There was no pain, only a bright, cataclysmic surge which shook her to her very core.

  Howard shuddered and fell on top of her. After a few minutes, he smiled down at her. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it, sweet Beth?”

  She felt drained, unable to speak. Was Howard her lover or a demon straight from Hell? The shame of what she had just done struck her and she put her hands to her face.

  “This shouldn’t have happened. I’ve sinned!” she wailed.

  Howard sat up and looked at her, completely baffled. “You enjoyed it as much as I did.” His dark hair blended in with the shadows, and the candle flickered, growing dim. “It will happen again. I want you, and you belong to me now.”

  Beth clutched at his arm. “I’ve never done this with another man. I couldn’t do this with any other man but you. I love you, Howard.” She lowered her eyes, appalled at her audacity in calling him by his Christian name, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Her long hair streamed like waves across her breasts, and she looked so lovely that Howard wished to keep her with him forever. He felt uneasy at her admission of love, but after all, she was only an Irish serving girl and he was her better. Certainly she loved him. What harm would be done by trifling with her? So there was no harm in saying he loved her, too, which he promptly did. The words of love gained him Beth’s kisses and the delights of her body for the rest of the night. When morning dawned, before he sent her on her way, Howard easily told her that he loved her, and for the first time in his life he began to believe he meant the words.

  5

  There was something unsettling about Paul Flanders, something Cecelia couldn’t pin down but unsettling enough to prevent further sleep. An early morning haze enveloped the room though the drapes were pulled, allowing her to see the objects in her room as she sat up in bed and plumped the pillows.

  It was a lovely room in its way, even if it had belonged to her brother’s low-born Irish wife. 0f course Cecelia had changed certain things when she moved in after the girl’s departure all those years ago, but the ancient tapestry depicting a stag hunt still hung on the far wall and had belonged to the original owners of the Hall.

  Her mind drifted back to the day she had confronted Avery’s widow, the day the girl confirmed her pregnancy and declared she would keep the estate as her own. A small smile curved upwards on Cecelia’s usually solemn face. She had thwarted that plan by stealing the property right from under the unsuspecting girl’s nose. It wasn’t hard since Avery’s wife wasn’t versed in law and didn’t want her child to grow up bearing the stigma of bastard. But there was no way Cecelia would allow the young and not-so-grieving widow to take what she most desired. And hadn’t she been magnanimous to the girl after all? She had even placed funds for the child with a London solicitor.

  “How clever you were, Cecelia,” she spoke aloud and patted the bed covers in self approval. Then she sighed in exasperation because something about Paul Flanders still nagged at her. She was positive he wanted her money, and her property. Why else would he wish to court Allison? No one really knew anything about him, but Cecelia didn’t need to know the details since she had already surmised his motives. But why did he want Fairfax Manor so ardently? There was just something in his face, his eyes, his tone of voice when he was in the house—almost as if he caressed it and already loved it…

  She threw the covers back and got out of bed, pulling open the drapes to find the morning misty with just a peep of sun illuminating the horizon. The fields were barely visible, but she didn’t have to see them; she knew how they looked by heart. It always surprised her how much she loved this place, how much she had loved it even before it was hers. But now that she did own it, no one was going to take it from her, certainly not some young bounder, no matter how polished and handsome he was.

  A noise in the hall startled her, and she opened her door just in time to see Allison entering her room, cape thrown over her shoulders. What is the little chit up to now? Cecelia wondered and stepped into the hall. “Allison,” she called.

  The girl halted, hand on the doorknob, and straightened her back before turning around to face her aunt’s stern countenance. A blush suffused her cheeks in a rosy shade, and though she smiled timidly, a sense of defiance crept into her tone. “Yes, Aunt. What do you want?”

  “I should like to know if you’re creeping in or out of your room, though I fear I know the answer.”

  “I … I…” The words failed to come.

  “Silly chit! Come into my room,” ordered Cecelia and pointed a finger to a chair. Allison meekly sat, looking as if she were a puppet manipulated by invisible strings.

  “Well, if I ever had any doubts about you, they are dispelled now, Allison Fairfax! You are your mother’s daughter and my brother’s child. I tried, honestly endeavored to curb the impulsive nature I discerned in you when you came here to live. I thought I had succeeded, but I suppose the hot blood of your parents flows too strongly through your veins.” She waved her hands in the air. “I’m not certain what to do with you!”

  “Why is it necessary to do anything with me?”

  Cecelia was startled, then realized that Allison didn’t completely understand. She drew nearer to her, her eyes blazing like two emeralds. “Because you may be with child, you little baggage!” she hissed. “Your father got your precious mother in the same condition, and I’ll not have that happen to you! Don’t you know that a child may result from this dalliance of yours with that horrid young man? I knew Paul Flanders would cause trouble!”

  Allison trembled. “How do you know anything happened?”

  “My God, girl! The truth is written all over your face. Besides, Flanders wanted you for his own purposes and now probably thinks I’ll be forced to give you in marriage to him. Well, I won’t!” She moved away, her thin hands tugging at the belt of her robe.

  “But I love him and he loves me!”

  “He loves only your inheritance and my property!”

  Allison stood up, fists clenched. “He loves me!”

  H
er open defiance shook Cecelia. She was used to Allison’s docility and realized that Paul Flanders had unleashed long dormant rebellion in the girl. “Perhaps he has convinced you of that,” Cecelia said calmly, almost gently, “but he isn’t the type of man to love any woman. He is interested only in Fairfax Manor, of that I am certain. I am determined to discover the truth. I want to spare you, Allison, from the pain this man will surely bring to you.”

  “Paul and I are going to be married! He is doing the honorable thing by me, and I hope I do carry his child,” Allison burst out.

  “We’ll know soon enough, my silly niece. However, you will not see Paul Flanders again, and even if you are with child, you will not marry him. I’ll send you away until the baby’s birth; then you shall marry Howard Granger, and I don’t believe your lack of’ virginity will matter overmuch to him.”

  “But you don’t know that I am going to have a child, and I shan’t marry Howard anyway. I don’t love him.”

  Cecelia stopped beside her and grabbed her arms, the thin fingers tightening. “You will marry Howard, but until we know for certain whether or not you have conceived, you’re to stay locked in your room. You see, I don’t trust you, Allison.”

  “I see no need for such harsh measures, Aunt Cecelia. I don’t wish to be locked in like a child, but neither will I beg for my freedom.”

  Cecelia had never truly been able to figure the girl out. Of course she was docile, always doing what she was told, but Cecelia understood now that Allison had always obeyed only because she had never found sufficient reason to defy her.

  “What do you plan to do with me then?” Allison asked.

  “I’m not used to being disobeyed, and I vow to you that I shall disinherit you if you cause me grief!”

  “I suppose that is a chance I shall have to take, because I love Paul Flanders, and I know he will marry me for the same reason whether I inherit Fairfax Manor or not!”

  Cecelia sighed. “Then you’re a fool, Allison, but you’ve made your bed—quite literally made your bed. Now you must lie in it.”

  A light twinkled in Allison’s eyes. “That is one thing which I shall gladly do, Aunt!” She turned and left Cecelia’s bedroom.

  ~

  Allison counted the chimes of the clock in the hallway, knowing that each hour drew her nearer to becoming Paul’s wife. Cecelia hadn’t bothered her but stayed sequestered in her own room all day, and this puzzled Allison. She had never known her aunt to give up so easily. But she knew something was afoot when a message was dispatched to Dublin.

  Allison didn’t have the time nor the inclination to care. All she thought about as she packed her belongings that afternoon was Paul, and more than once she caught herself daydreaming about him, anticipating his touch, the feel of his lips on hers, and wondering what it would be like to wake beside him every morning for the rest of her life. “Paul,” she breathed aloud.

  “My lady?” came Beth’s voice as she poked her head from inside the wardrobe where she was gathering some of Allison’s gowns.

  Allison smiled, aware that time grew short and she must hurry instead of mooning around. “I think I’ll go to the attic in search of my mother’s trunks. I should love to find something that belonged to her to take with me.”

  “You must be quick, Miss. Mr. Flanders plans to meet you in a few hours. But I don’t know how you’re going to fend off her ladyship. There’s no way she’ll be letting you marry him.”

  A stab of fear shot through Allison suddenly as she worried that Cecelia would somehow prevent the elopement. But she hadn’t been locked in her room as Cecelia had threatened. Her aunt really didn’t seem to care. “I just have to hope that God is on our side,” she whispered.

  “I’ll pray for you, Miss Allison,” said Beth.

  “Thank you,” she told the girl and headed into the hall. Tiptoeing past her aunt’s room, she held a candle aloft and climbed the staircase which led into the attic. She hadn’t been there since she was a little girl, and though faint daylight filtered through the tiny windows, she was glad of the candle and placed it on an old table.

  Cobwebs caught and clung to her face, dust rising around her as she moved about the large attic. She searched until she found her mother’s trunk. When she opened it, she felt a surge of love for the lovely woman to whom it had belonged. Silken gowns swished in the air as she took them out and held each up for inspection. All were sadly out of date, and she sighed because she wished for something to wear that belonged to her mother. There was no jewelry—Allison remembered a remark Cecelia had once made about her father’s selling everything of worth to finance the ship which had sunk, taking her parents’ lives.

  Sighing, she reverently refolded the gowns and closed the trunk. A small wooden box with the initials D.F. engraved in the wood caught her eye. She pulled it from the top of another box where it rested.

  The contents offered nothing in the way of valuables, just sewing trinkets and the like, but hidden beneath the embroidery hoops was a small locket of finest gold.

  The sunlight, streaming from the attic windows, caused the locket to sparkle and gleam. Allison opened it, entranced by the face of a young woman who gazed in misty wonder at her. The artist had done a remarkable job of capturing the beauty and obvious intelligence of’ the raven-haired, violet-eyed woman. Allison immediately decided she wanted to keep it and would wear it when she married Paul.

  Allison picked up the candle and descended to her room. Almost before she realized it, night had fallen and it was time to leave. Beth handed her a valise which contained a few of Allison’s favorite gowns. “I hope you’ll be happy, Miss.”

  Allison hugged her. “I shall. I love Paul very much!”

  “But does he love you, truly love you?”

  Beth’s question caught her unawares. It was something she had been trying not to think about for the last few hours, but she resented the girl putting her unspoken fears into words. “I can only hope he does,” she said stiffly. She was out of the door, hurtling down the corridor, when Cecelia stepped out of her own room to block Allison’s passage. Allison came to an abrupt stop, her heart beat wildly.

  “So you’re determined to sneak away in the dark of the night like a thief to run off with your precious Paul!” Cecelia stood with arms folded, a malicious gleam in her eyes.

  For some strange reason Cecelia suddenly didn’t intimidate Allison, though she wondered if the woman would try to stop her by force. “Please try to understand how much I love him,” Allison begged. “If you could see things differently, then we could be married here. I would dearly love a wedding with you in attendance.”

  “My dear, don’t expect a celebration from me. You’re getting your way. I don’t intend to stop you but neither do I intend to sanction this union.”

  Allison grew aware she had been holding her breath. She let out a long sigh. “You won’t stop us?”

  “You can have your Paul and the pain he’ll cause you. It isn’t that I don’t care for you, Allison. I do. I do not want your hatred. Go, marry your young man.”

  A smile trembled across Allison’s lips, and she tentatively kissed Cecelia on the cheek. “Thank you so much,” she whispered.

  Cecelia didn’t return the kiss. Her eyes remained as cold as before. “Don’t thank me. I’ve sent for my solicitor in Dublin. He is to change my will. Fairfax Manor and all my wealth shall not revert to you upon my death. You are no longer my heir.”

  “Then who?” Allison asked. She was not particularly surprised, only curious.

  “Upon my death, all properties and monies shall be dispersed among various charities. I hadn’t intended to do that, but your young man planted the seed in my head. I know how he feels about the disadvantaged,” Cecelia said dryly. “I should think he’d be quite pleased to discover this. Do tell him when you see him.” She turned and entered her room without further word.

  How clever she is, thought Allison, looking after her aunt. She slowly began to move once more t
owards the stairs. Cecelia had given her her heart’s desire with no protestations, but Allison knew her devious aunt counted on the fact that Allison would tell Paul about the change in her will and he would no longer desire to marry her. It was a test of Paul’s love. Allison only hoped Cecelia was wrong, and Paul would choose her over Fairfax Manor. He must choose her!

  As she ran across the fields, into the forest and into Paul’s waiting arms, she had already decided her course of action. She would not tell him about the will, not right away. Later, after they were married…

  6

  “Paul, this is all so lovely,” Allison declared two days later as she looked around the lavishly furnished house to which he had brought her in the heart of Dublin. Outside the gauzy curtains, the River Liffey coursed through the center of the city. The warm, dying sunlight reflected off the water, causing the surroundings to look romantic and full of promise. “I had no idea you had a house here!”

  He grinned at her obvious pleasure in her surroundings, watching as she timidly touched the expensive upholstered furniture in the drawing room. “I rented it some time ago, when I entered university. At one point I thought of giving up the lease, but now I’m glad I didn’t.”

  “Why is that?” she asked and looked up.

  “Because, my love, it is the perfect place to bring my bride.”

  She blushed when she realized that he no longer surveyed her with amusement but growing desire. “I still can’t believe we’re actually married, Paul,” she whispered.

  In one long stride he was beside her and took her in his arms. “I knew it would happen from the first moment I saw you, Allison. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I wanted you. “

  She drew back, his words sending niggling doubts to plague her. “I gather you’ve had many women,” she faltered.

  His voice grew low and purposely seductive. “Yes, I admit I have, but you’re mine now. Forever.”

  There was triumph in his tone, as if he had won a great prize, and had the right to do with her whatever he wished. She wanted to tell him the truth, to discover if he had really married her for her money, to see how he would react when he learned she was disinherited. Instead she stretched her arms about his broad shoulders and relished the feel of his hands on her body. She pulled his mouth close to hers. “I love you, Paul. Don’t ever forget that,” she whispered before his lips devoured hers.