Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy)

by Lynette Vinet

  CHAPTER THREE

  Eager, full of love and hope, Dera waited for Quint in the meadow. Visions of herself locked in his arms occupied her thoughts. Then he was beside her, holding her and smothering her with kisses, almost before she realized he had come.

  “Darling,” she whispered against the hardness of his chest; the manly scent of him enveloped her. Quint held her face in his hands and tenderly gazed at her for a long moment.

  “I’ve waited for you, Dera. You are the only woman I will ever love. Believe that.” There was an urgency in his voice; he wanted her to realize he spoke the truth.

  She put her hand against his mouth. His lips were warm and moist on her fingertips.

  “We have no need for words, Quint. I know what you feel for me.” She encircled her slender arms around his neck, cherishing the sweet warmth of him. He groaned into her hair, his hands beginning to explore her body. She pressed herself against him as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, causing delightful tingling sensations along her spine.

  Expertly he undid the lacings on the front of her gown. His warm hand stroked and kneaded her breasts. The warmth flowing through her body suddenly became like liquid fire and she clung to him as he lowered her onto the soft blanket she���d brought from her bed.

  She felt no embarrassment when he removed her clothing and then his own. He kissed her breasts, his hands exploring what she freely gave to him. Her body molded, naked and writhing against him. Desire coursed so strongly though her that she thought she would die from the ecstasy of it. He touched and kissed parts of her that she had never known could give such pleasure, and when she could stand it no longer she arched her body against him. He entered her, and the glorious pleasure turned to a momentary pain which she ceased to feel when desire again assaulted her in waves.

  They were carried along the crest, oblivious to everything except their mutual hunger. He tensed and shuddered. At the same moment, her own body exploded, and then subsided into a lulling calm.

  Quint lay quietly, his arm thrown across her waist. In the darkness, she felt his eyes upon her face. “Are you sorry?” he asked her.

  Dera stretched cat-like and smiled up at the moon. “I could never regret this moment, Quint. We were born for one another.”

  “Aye,” he agreed.

  “Do you remember your promise, Quint, about our marrying?”

  “I do,” he said and released her, folding his arms behind his head. “We’ll marry. Trust me.”

  “When?”

  “Soon, but first I have things I must attend to.”

  “What things?���

  “Nothing that concerns you, Dera. Don’t question me further.”

  “Does it have anything to do with Lord Fairfax and the hatred in your heart?” she asked.

  “I don’t wish to speak of it.” He turned away from her. “We shall marry one day.”

  “One day” sounded a long time away. Tears formed in her eyes. Loving Quint had been the most wonderful experience she could ever hope to have. Perhaps she had lost him by letting him make love to her. “Perhaps my wantonness has driven you away already? Maybe you think I’m like my mother?”

  “Never, Dera! You are yourself and I love you. This changes nothing except to deepen my love for you.” Quint cradled her in his arms and stroked her hair. He kissed her, the embers of their earlier passion ignited, and once again, they became one.

  Afterwards, they stood and dressed in silence. When they had finished and faced each other in the moonlight, he kissed her tenderly. “I love you and worry that this time you’ll not wait for me.”

  He puzzled and frightened her. She feared she might lose him, that something terrible was about to happen. She embraced him tightly, wanting to keep him near her.

  “I’ll wait for you,” she told him.

  Seconds later, she watched him turn and walk away into the darkness. Then she made her own way back across the meadow to Timothy���s.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Lord Granger’s house is still burning,” Lydia said, as wispy traces of smoke swirled about the noonday sky. She stitched Timothy’s shirt, shaking her head slightly. ���T���is a shame. The renegades will not get away with this destruction much longer. The authorities are certain to capture them this time.”

  Dera looked at her from under lowered lashes and continued to till the soil in the small garden, her hands tightening on the spade. Lydia sat on a stool in back of the farmhouse, her body swollen as a goose egg. Dera remained silent. The possibility that Quint was responsible for the destruction of Lord Granger’s house, and two other burnings in the past month, filled her with dread.

  She and Quint continued to meet and make love in the meadow. Whenever she tried to speak to him about marriage or his hatred of the English, he would stare darkly and grow quiet. She thought the first burning had been accidental, but then another English home was destroyed. On the nights of the burnings, Quint never met her in the meadow. He hadn’t come to her the night before.

  Lydia placed her mending in the basket beside her and stood up. She placed her hands on her thick waist and arched her back. “I wish the child was here, Dera. You’ve no idea how ugly 1 feel.”

  “One day I’ll know.”

  Lydia brushed a stray curl from her face. “Perhaps you’ll be a mother sooner than you think if you continue to meet Quint Flannery.”

  Dera colored, her mouth opened in surprise. “How did you know?”

  Lydia sniffed, a tiny frown touched her mouth. “I have eyes. You’re just lucky Timothy knows nothing about how you sneak out of the house. Quint didn’t meet you last night, did he?”

  “Of course he did,” Dera lied.

  “I heard he was seen with Jem McConnell at the time of the fire. That was in the early hours of the morning, near the time when you returned to your room.”

  “You’re wrong. Don’t speak false rumors.”

  Lydia faced Dera, arms akimbo and tilted her head. “I warn you to stop seeing him or I’ll tell Timothy. If Quint is arrested and Lord Fairfax learns of your relationship with him, Timothy will be removed as overseer. Do you want that guilt on your soul?”

  “Quint is going to marry me.”

  “Ha! Dera, you’re a fool. The man has known other women before you. More than once I’ve seen him with Peg McConnell. He’ll never marry you.”

  The blood drained from Dera’s face. “You’re wrong. Quint loves me.”

  “Love? What’s love, Dera? I once loved a man like Quint, so handsome he could make my heart stop beating just with a look. We were betrothed, but he married a wealthy widow. 1 decided to stop crying and marry Timothy when he asked for me. Your destiny isn’t with Quint in the same way mine wasn’t with the man 1 loved.”

  Dera shook her head in denial. “1 think you resent my happiness. Are you unhappy with my uncle, Lydia?”

  Lydia turned away and picked up her mending basket. “Just heed my warning.” Dera stared after Lydia who entered the house just as Timothy returned from the meadow. Sweat beaded his brow, his clothes were splattered with blood.

  “Slaughtering animals is nasty business,” he said to her.

  Each November the farmers killed off the dry stock of cattle so there would be adequate supplies of meat for the coming winter. Timothy hated this part of farming. He liked being Lord Fairfax’s overseer, but when it came to actually killing the cattle or sheep, he had no stomach for it. “Lydia’s inside?” he asked.

  Dera nodded in an absent fashion as she toyed with the spade. Her thoughts were on Lydia’s warning about Quint. The knowledge that he may have known other women intimately, Peg McConnell in particular, gnawed at the pit of her stomach.

  “Come inside and eat,” Timothy said. She followed him and helped Lydia remove the roasted lamb from the spit.

  “Mind what 1 told you about Quint,” Lydia warned her in a harsh whisper.

  Dera pretended not to hear her, but Lydia gripped her arm. “I will tell
him.” Her eyes narrowed at Timothy who sat at the table and Dera no longer doubted that she would. She realized Lydia resented Quint because of her own lost love, that somehow she connected the two men. Her reasoning eluded Dera, because Lord Fairfax would never learn about them, and if he should, it would concern him very little.

  Timothy cut into the tender meat, took a bite, chewed it a bit, then washed it dawn with a gulp of ale. His small eyes examined Dera as he ate. Finally he turned toward Lydia. “I’ll not be working this afternoon. We are to change into our good clothes and celebrate Dera’s birthday.”

  Dera was startled by this news and forgot the food on her plate. No one had ever celebrated her birthday before. “Uncle, I fail to see any reason to celebrate this day. As I recall, my birth brought shame upon your house.”

  “Dera!” Lydia exclaimed.

  “Don’t upset yourself, Lydia,” Timothy soothed his wife. “Calm down. By the by, Lord Fairfax will be paying a visit this afternoon.”

  “I had better sweep the floor,” Lydia said.

  “His lordship isn’t coming to see how well you clean house, woman.”

  She looked at Timothy and then at Dera. “I see,” she mumbled.

  Dera cried in agitation, “There’s no earthly reason for that man to come here.”

  “I think you know the reason, Dera.” Timothy pushed his empty plate away. He took Lydia’s hand, and she smiled a half-wicked smile as if she had been expecting the news for sometime. “His lordship was taken with you at the fair. He asked to pay his respects on the date of your birth. 1 want you to be here and not go wandering off somewhere.”

  Dera’s mind whirled in confusion. She suspected Fairfax���s interest in her at the fair, but had never imagined that Avery Fairfax would belittle himself to actually visit the niece of his overseer.

  The sun was setting when Lord Fairfax tapped on the farmhouse door. Dera waited with Lydia in the kitchen while Timothy greeted him. Lydia had ordered Dera to wear a blue gown with tiny pink roses printed in the material, claiming that it was pretty enough to catch a man’s eye.

  Dera curtsied when he entered and Lydia told him how pleased they were at his visit.

  He smiled kindly but he gazed at Dera. “Are you pleased also at my visit, Mistress Dera?”

  “Yes, your lordship. You honor me by wishing me well on my special day.”

  “I have a gift for you.” He withdrew a wrapped parcel from the inside lining of his green embroidered coat and presented it to Dera. Lydia and Timothy gathered around as Dera unwrapped it. In a velvet case, lay a small, golden comb, encrusted with tiny rubies in the shape of a rose.

  “Oh, how lovely,” Lydia breathed.

  “Aye. I’ve never seen it’s like before,” Timothy said.

  “Do you like it, my dear?” Avery asked her with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “I commissioned the finest jeweler in Dublin to make it especially for you. I wished you to have it as a remembrance of this day.”

  Dera fingered the comb. It was exquisite, never had she seen anything to compare to it, but instinct warned her the gift was meant to buy her favors. Fairfax reminded her of Jem McConnell who had purchased only a ribbon, but this gift would cost her dearly, and she chose not to be bought.

  “Your lordship, this is truly a magnificent gift. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I cannot accept it. A comb is not payment for what you want of me. Nothing in the world will buy my body.”

  The room grew deathly still. Dera dared not look at Timothy or Lydia.

  Lord Farifax’s chin trembled in controlled rage. His eyes blazed a bright green.

  “Please leave me alone with Dera,” he ordered Timothy. In haste Timothy and Lydia departed into the chilly November air. Dera stood defiantly before Lord Fairfax; her body shook like the leaves on the tree outside the window.

  He sighed, his gaze resting on the cleavage between her full breasts. “Dera, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. For some time I’ve been aware of you, even before the death of my wife. Jem McConnell gave me adequate reason for speaking with you the day of the fair, but I would have approached your uncle anyway.” He inched closer to her, putting his hand on her cheek. His voice became low and husky. “Every night, before I fall asleep, I imagine what it would be like to have you beside me in my bed. I long to hold you, Dera, to kiss you and to touch you. I want to feel myself explode within you as you cling to me. Dera, I want you!” He pulled her hard against him and kissed her savagely.

  “No!” The shrillness of her scream forced him to loosen his hold and drop his arms quickly to his side “You’re no better than Jem McConnell. Because my mother had lovers, because she never married my father, you think you can have your way with me. After all I am only the niece of your overseer. But I won’t let you. No man can have me unless I choose to give myself.”

  She trembled violently and held on to the table for support. Lord Fairfax could beat her, he could take everything away from Timothy, but she vowed she wouldn’t give herself to a man she didn’t love. Her mind screamed for Quint.

  Avery backed off. When he spoke, there was real penitence in his tone. “I’m sorry, my dear.”

  “You’ve dishonored me, Lord Fairfax. Becoming your mistress is offensive to me.”

  “Eh? Mistress? Dear girl, I’ve no thought of making you my mistress. The thought is abhorrent” She looked confused. He frowned and bit his lower lip. “Dera, I wish to marry you. I want you to become Lady Fairfax. I can give you whatever you want. I need you—more than you can imagine.”

  The absurdity of the situation struck through her disbelief and horror. Lady Fairfax! This pompous Englishman wanted to marry her! Seconds before, he pawed her like she was a doxy, and now he intended to dignify it by telling her he wanted her for his wife. “I don’t know how to respond, Lord Fairfax.”

  “Take however long you wish. I’ll give you as much time as you need,” he said too pleasantly and too quickly. “When you’re ready to give your answer, have Timothy come for me. By the way, your uncle and his wife will prosper from our marriage.” He touched the velvet box on the table where she had placed it. “No matter what you decide, I want you to keep the gift. I’d like you to remember this day, Dera. Our lives have changed whether we know it or not.” He bade her farewell. After he departed in the Fairfax carriage, Timothy and Lydia rushed into the house.

  “What happened, girl?” Timothy looked sternly at her.

  She could barely mouth the words, so stunned was she by what had just transpired. ���Lord Fairfax asked me to marry him.”

  “Marriage?” Timothy sunk into a chair. “It can’t be possible.”

  Lydia waited in the doorway, her eyes bright with surprise. Slowly she removed her cloak and hung it upon a wall peg; she clapped her hands together and fairly danced around the table, her movements suddenly lithe despite her bulk. “Dera is going to be Lady Fairfax! This is grander than I imagined. I thought he wanted her as his mistress.”

  “So did I,” Timothy admitted. “Aye, Lydia, this is the most wonderful day of our lives.”

  Resentment flared in Dera. Timothy, her own flesh, was pleased to give her to Lord Fairfax as his bride; and Lydia who should have understood what it meant to marry a man she didn’t love, didn’t care. As long as they prospered in some way, her feelings were of little consequence.

  “I’m not becoming his lordship’s wife,” Dera said. “1 don’t love him nor do I wish to try. He can choose any woman in Ireland. I refuse him.”

  Lydia raised a hand to her, but then she dropped it, thinking better of striking the woman Lord Fairfax wished to marry. “Of course you’ll marry him,” she said, and Timothy nodded in agreement. “Remember what we spoke of this morning,” Lydia said. “If you refuse, things will be unpleasant for us … and for you.”

  “What are you jabbering about?” Timothy asked her.

  ���Dera understands my meaning.”

  Sunset bathed the kitchen in a rosy
glow, but for Dera, the world was dark and ugly. Never had loneliness touched her so deeply. She needed Quint and she had no idea if he would come to her again. Somehow she had to convince him to marry her and marry her soon. She couldn’t tell him anything about Lord Fairfax’s proposal. The only way open for them and their happiness was to run away together and put the hatred behind them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The sound of pounding on the farmhouse door startled Dera into wakefulness. Timothy came out of his room, cursing loudly.

  “Stop all your noise!” he hollered. “Quit your blasted hammering.”

  Dera rolled off of her bed, still dressed in her birthday gown, and followed him into the kitchen just as he opened the door.

  On the threshold stood Peg McConnelL Her brown hair was tousled from the wind. Her eyes glowed wild and feverish. The shawl she pulled tightly about her did nothing to conceal the voluptuous curves of her body.

  “What the devil is the matter with you, girl? Have you taken leave of your senses? Waking me from a sound sleep, banging on my door. … “

  “Please, Mr. Timothy,” Peg interrupted. “The English have arrested my brother. Come with me and speak for him. They’ll listen to you.” Her breasts heaved, her full lower lip quivered.

  Timothy ruffled his hair, his nightshirt dragged the stone floor. “Arrested for what?” he asked sleepily.

  “The burnings,” she answered, her eyes widened with fear.

  Timothy sighed, but he nodded to her. “Come in while I get my trousers on.” He scurried into his room to dress, and as Peg entered the kitchen, she noticed Dera for the first time. Dera tilted her head at the girl’s presence, but said nothing to her.

  Dera examined her silently. Peg was pretty in a wild sort of way, reminding Dera of a mare in heat. Her blue eyes burned brightly in her serpentine shaped face and she thrust her breasts forward, almost as if she waited to be taken by any willing man. Perhaps it was Lydia’s shrewish words ringing in Dera’s ears about Quint and Peg, or the way Peg seemed so self-assured, but jealousy pricked Dera���s heart like a steel blade.