Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02

by Emerald Enchantment

  A glimmer of delight, like a cat cornering a mouse, gleamed in Constance’s eyes. “Paul isn’t here, dear Allison. Why ever would you think so?”

  “Because he spent the night here last night!”

  “He did? That is news to me. He was here for a few hours last evening but I sent him home straight away. I knew you would be waiting.”

  She smiled so sweetly that Allison wished to retch all over her impeccably attired person. “I don’t believe you.”

  Constance sat down on the brocade sofa and waved her long slender hands in the air. “Well, you’re free to search the house and the grounds. But do be quiet about it, as father is feeling poorly this morning.”

  Suddenly Allison realized that Constance was telling the truth, though fencing with her. She caught a glimpse of her face in the huge mirror above the mantle and shrank away. God, what a mess she was, with her disheveled hair hanging loosely down her back and her eyes wide like blue china plates! She resembled a madwoman in contrast to Constance’s stylish clothes and dark beauty. No wonder Paul was infatuated with this woman.

  “I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake,” Allison said lamely. “I’ll leave now.”

  Constance rose from the sofa. “Do pay me a visit again, dear. I’m sorry Paul wasn’t here.” She kissed Allison’s cheek and smirked. “But then, he is here so often lately that it is only natural you’d assume…” Her voice lowered suggestively. “I’m certain he’ll visit tonight. Paul and I are such good friends.”

  Allison’s spine stiffened. She hadn’t been wrong about Constance and Paul! The woman was treating her like a foolish child. She hated Constance so much at that moment that she wished she did have the nerve to slash her face to bloody ribbons with the crop. Instead she managed to smile sweetly. “I hope you treasure each moment of that friendship, dear. Paul tires of his playthings so easily. Good afternoon, Constance.”

  She left the drawing room and found her horse waiting in front of the house, its reins held by a patient stable boy. Before she could mount she heard Howard call her name and cursed to herself. She didn’t wish to speak with him now, not when she trembled so badly she thought her knees might buckle.

  “Allison!” he said and hugged her. “I thought I heard your voice. Whatever did you say to Constance? When I asked her where you were she just about bit off my head.”

  A light of pleasure sparkled in Allison’s eyes. Her closing remark must have stung the woman. “Just girlish prattle, Howard,” she purred.

  “About Paul, I presume.”

  His straightforwardness unnerved her. “Yes,” she admitted and looked away.

  He turned her chin and smiled sadly into her face. “You’re much too good for him. I’d have made you a better husband.”

  She didn’t like his familiarity or the way his fingers stroked her jawline. Howard had never repulsed her before now. She had always thought him rather dull and colorless, someone not to be taken seriously. However, his appreciative, too-small eyes traveled over her face to where the riding costume parted to reveal the slight swell of her breasts. She flushed and broke away. “I must leave, Howard. Good day.”

  Reluctantly she allowed him to help her mount her horse. When she was settled and held the reins in her hands, he said, “When you tire of that arrogant cur you’re married to, I’ll be waiting, Allison. You know how I feel about you. “

  She smiled tightly and took her leave. She was becoming cynical. She wondered if Howard really cared for her or only her inheritance. Were all men destined to desire only her money? Retracing her path, she sharply reined in her horse when she reached the tenant cottages on Fairfax property. She shielded her eyes with her hand to block out the bright sunshine, not certain what she saw. But there was no mistake. Paul stood shirtless alongside the tenants, helping to whitewash a cottage. She watched enthralled to see how the corded muscles of his back strained with each brush stroke and the powerful muscles of his upper arms rippled. His deep laughter floated to her ears, and he looked so happy, so young as a slight breeze ruffled the burnished gold of his hair.

  She was oddly touched by this sight and didn’t know whether she should disturb him; but at that moment, he saw her. Laying his brush down, he walked over to her. Streaks of paint were slashed across his cheek and chest, and he looked almost ferocious, like a savage in war paint. The softness she had felt vanished. Moments ago his eyes had been full of happiness, joy. Why couldn’t he look like that when he saw her?

  “Enjoying your ride?” he asked, his eyes taking in her appearance.

  Self-consciously she fiddled with the long, loose strands of her hair, aware she appeared a sight. “I wanted to speak with you.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Well?”

  She looked down at him and though she had the advantage of height, she still felt tiny. “You didn’t come home last night, and I should like to know where you were.”

  “Don’t worry yourself over me. I told you I’d seek my pleasures elsewhere.”

  “Then why choose Constance Granger? She hates me! Or is that the reason you want her?”

  He backed slightly away. “I see it doesn’t matter to you whom I bed as long as it isn’t Constance.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “I loved you, Paul, I truly did. Our marriage is over—I know that. So please be honest with me. Why did you marry me? Tell me why!”

  Before she knew it, he had pulled her from the horse and encircled her tiny waist with his powerful arms. There was a dark flash of passion between his lashes as he gazed into her face. His mouth seared patterns along her cheek. “You are the sweetest lover I ever had, Allison. I want you, and I must be in your bed again.”

  She gasped at the desire which bonded his body to hers, and though she knew he hadn’t really answered her question, she didn’t care. She wanted him and still loved him. It had been so long since he’d touched her. Perhaps later she would brand herself a silly fool, but for now she reveled in his desire.

  “Let’s return to the house, love,” he breathed huskily into her ear. “Let me love you.”

  Holding onto his arms, she thought she’d faint from dizziness and passion. She shook her head. “I can’t wait that long,” she mumbled.

  “Then we won’t!”

  Paul quickly mounted the horse and pulled her up beside him, much to the delight of the tenants who cheered and waved them on. Allison lowered her face in embarrassment; Paul, however, accepted their good wishes with a nod and directed the horse toward the banks of the river, where he soon found a deserted section. Low-hanging trees and shrubs shielded them from view. When he lowered her to the soft grass, she was ready for him, her body writhing beneath the hot pressure of his hands and the burning path of his tongue across her partially exposed breasts.

  “Undress me,” she moaned.

  “With pleasure.” And he did so with such deliberate slowness that she thought she’d die from ecstasy as each piece of clothing slid away from her. She moaned and tugged at his garments, eager to feel his skin against hers. “Can’t control yourself?” he asked, laughing.

  She shook her head. “I want you, Paul, I must have you!”

  “The pleasure is in the anticipation, also. Let me pleasure you first in ways you’ve never imagined.” His husky voice sent shivers down her spine.

  “Yes, oh, yes,” she breathed and molded her body to his hands, his tongue. He circled her breasts with his hands and sucked each one until the nipples stood firm and hard, then traced delicious, fiery patterns down her abdomen and the inside of her thighs, to seek her sweet, pulsing nest of love. Allison moaned his name as hot waves lapped over her, and she arched against his mouth, unable to stand the desire which coursed so strongly through her. She whimpered, and he lifted his head, knowing that the time was at hand to end her exquisite torture. He pulled off his trousers and mounted her, the stark passion on his face matched hers.

  He slid into her, his hands cupping her breasts. She met his thrusts and suddenly w
aves of ecstasy throbbed and pulsated through both of them. He pulled her tightly against him and shuddered.

  Allison grew dimly aware of chirping birds, the gentle lapping of the water against the shoreline. She realized that the grass pricked her backside and she felt cold, but she didn’t care. She was wrapped in Paul’s arms. Constance Granger might be his mistress, but she was his wife. For the first time she thought perhaps he did love her a little. In time, maybe he would come to love her in the same way she loved him.

  “You’re a remarkable lover,” he praised.

  “I know,” she said lightly but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. After long moments of silence while they stroked each other’s bodies in contentment, they then stood up and dressed. When she finished, he turned her toward him and buried his hands into a handful of loose tresses.

  “You’re mine, Allison! Totally and completely mine.” His mouth swept across hers in a possessive kiss which left her breathless.

  She wished she could say the same words to him, but knew he’d not allow himself to think she possessed him. All she said was, “I love you.”

  “I have chores to finish,” he said, dampening her ardor. “I’ll dine with you and my family at supper.” He turned and left her as he walked back to the tenant farms.

  A burning ache clawed at her throat and she suppressed her tears. She’d never understand him, never! However, she knew one thing. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he might love her even in a small way. But she wasn’t going to let him leave her like this. Even if he didn’t love her, she loved him. She called after him and mounted her horse. When she reached him, he turned to look up at her. “I want to come with you.”

  He looked baffled, then understood. “To the farms?”

  She nodded. “I think it’s time I saw how my tenants live. Aunt Cecelia never allowed me to visit any of them. I used to sneak away and see old Mag sometimes, but I thought her cottage was in poor condition because she was ill and frail and had no one to care for her. I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  She stuck out her chin belligerently. “Then mount up and show me! In all respects, I’m mistress of Fairfax Manor now, and it’s past time for my first lesson in running the estate.”

  He started for the horse, then paused. “You will not find it pretty, Allison.”

  “I expect I won’t,” she admitted.

  Allison was distressed at what she saw. Most of the cottages were well-tended and clean, but many of them needed whitewashing and some required extensive repairs and felt damp despite the hearth fires. Though the tenants nodded politely as she inspected with her husband, Paul was the one to whom they gravitated, apprising him of conditions which needed attention. They seemed to regard him as one of them, speaking freely in a way they’d never have dared speak to Cecelia or another Fairfax.

  When they reached old Mag’s cottage, Allison entered without knocking, hearing a wracking cough from inside. Mag reclined on a small pallet before a smoky peat fire which was dying on the hearth. Spasms of coughs engulfed the old woman, and Allison knelt down beside her and helped her to a sitting position. When the spell passed, Mag leaned weakly against her.

  “Be on your way, Miss. I’m sorry to be such a burden to you,” Mag gasped.

  “Don’t be silly. You’re ill. I’ll send for a doctor.”

  “Nay, I’ve no need for a leech. The coughing has stopped now. I’m much better.” Mag pushed herself up and sat against the wall, her eyes lighting on Paul. “So, this is your husband, Miss.”

  Allison worried at the woman’s pallor, but nodded and took Paul’s hand. “This is Paul. Your prophecy came true.”

  Mag grinned, pleased with herself. “Aye, it did, but not completely. Not until there are babes. Remember about the name, Miss. They’ll not carry the Flanders name.”

  “Yes, of course,” Allison said gently and covered Mag with a thin blanket. She remembered Mag’s original words, but she realized that Mag was old and unwell and that she shouldn’t put much stock in her predictions. Though she had accurately predicted the arrival of Paul, Allison felt the rest was absurd. “You need warmer covering. I’ll have Beth bring you heavier blankets from the house.”

  Mag’s eyes brightened. “Thank you, Miss. Now be on your way and don’t fret over an old woman like me. Tend to your husband.” She lay back upon her pallet and closed her eyes, letting them know that their visit was at an end.

  Allison and Paul quietly left. As they stood in the sunshine beside the cottage, she took his hand in hers. “I hope Mag’s right about children—though I don’t understand what she means about the name.”

  Impulsively, Paul leaned down and kissed her pink mouth. Allison looked so charming, still showing signs of disarray after their tumble by the river, that he felt again the surge of passion he thought he had quelled by making love to her. Would he ever get his fill of her? he wondered. But he also felt a twinge of guilt because of Mag’s words. He wasn’t certain if the woman had the gift of second sight or had somehow surmised who he was, but it was only a matter of time before Allison learned the truth. But he couldn’t tell her just yet, not now—not after she had made the effort to visit her tenants and had offered some suggestions on how to improve conditions.

  As she stood silhouetted against the bright blue sky which matched the color of her eyes, he feared he might be falling in love with her.

  12

  Paul came to Allison’s bed every night for the next few weeks. She no longer considered Constance a serious threat to her marriage and began to feel secure in the knowledge that her husband preferred her over the dark-haired beauty. One morning she woke early to find Paul was already up and dressed.

  “My, but you’re about early today,” she said, stretching cat-like beneath the sheets. Her golden hair spread across the pillow like a fan.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you. There are more repairs to be made on some of the cottages.” He finished buttoning his blue shirt, which emphasized the tawny shade of his hair and deepened his tanned skin, then came and sat beside her on the bed. She immediately snuggled against him.

  “We have an overseer for this work, Paul. You don’t have to supervise everything yourself.”

  “I enjoy it. I’ve made some fine friends among the tenants.”

  She sat up and looked at him. “You really do care about them, don’t you?”

  “Do you mind?”

  Her eyes grew wide and shimmered. “I think it’s wonderful. I admit I didn’t understand at first, but I was wrong. You’ve made many changes for the better.”

  The morning light rippled over her ivory breasts, and Paul’s hands instinctively caressed them. “My handiwork is evident here, too, my love.”

  She laughed and pushed playfully at him. They fell back upon the pillows and she clamped her arms around his shoulders. “Marriage agrees with me, or else you have magic fingers.” Moving against him, she thrust her breasts against his chest, delighting in the fact that for the first time in her life, her usually small breasts were rounded and full. She nibbled his ear lobe. “Stay awhile and accommodate your wife, sir, or I shall be forced to pour every bucket of whitewash into the Shannon!”

  “I fear I’ve turned you into a wanton,” he teased, his eyes roaming over her rounded figure. He was about to protest that he had work to do, but when she unbuttoned his shirt and planted hot kisses on his chest, he knew the work could wait.

  Afterwards, he dressed again, then lightly smacked her bare derriere. “Get up, wench. You’ve a house to run, and guests to look after.”

  Allison pulled the sheet about her, long hair streaming down below her waist. She resembled a lovely child rather than mistress of a vast estate. “I wish Aunt Cecelia were well enough to look after things. I feel so inadequate at times. I think your mother is a better manager than I.”

  “She managed our plantation, so don’t hesitate to ask her advice.” He smiled at her.

  She mulled this over for
a moment. “I think I shall from now on. The other day I underestimated the number of’ barrels for the wine cellar to be ordered from France, and she corrected my mistake. I still don’t know how she could have figured so quickly how much wine our cellar could stock.”

  Paul withdrew his gaze from her and picked up his riding crop. “Mother is very observant,” he said casually.

  Allison shook her head in disagreement. “There’s more to it than that. She seems to know where everything is around here, almost as though she had once lived here. Sometimes I think I’ve seen her before—but I know that’s impossible.”

  Paul stiffened. Now was the time to tell her the truth, he thought to himself, but he still felt unable to confide in her. Too much time had passed. At first he hadn’t told her about his family’s claim to the estate because he wanted to make sure she married him; but now as he looked at her trusting eyes and beautiful face, he knew he had fallen in love with her in spite of his resolve to hold himself aloof. He believed he fell in love with her that day when they made love by the river. Perhaps he had loved her before then, but that didn’t matter now. He couldn’t tell her how he had deceived her, couldn’t bear her look of scorn or risk losing her altogether.

  Paul lifted her into the cradle of his arms and kissed her so long and lingeringly that she had to break away to catch her breath. “I love you, Paul,” she whispered.

  “Remember that, and never hate me, no matter what happens. Also remember … I love you, too.”

  A gasp escaped her and she trembled so violently she thought she might faint. Perhaps she had misunderstood. “I can’t believe you finally said it! Do you mean it? Really truly mean it?”

  His lips tenderly brushed hers. “I love you, Allison. Forgive me for the way I’ve treated you in the past. I know I haven’t been the best husband…”

  She placed her fingertips on his mouth to silence his further words. “Don’t apologize for anything, my darling. That’s all over and done with. I love you and accept you as you are.”