���Is anything wrong?” he asked, slightly perturbed.
How could she tell him her mind was on another man; that her husband���s touch didn���t stir her? “I’ve very tired tonight, Dominick.”
“I don’t think you love me,” he told her with a hurt tone in his voice.
“You know I love you. How often must I tell you?”
���Probably until I believe it. I’m not talking about caring or fondness for me. I want your passion, Dera, not your concern.” He regarded her with perplexity and worry. Something bothered her, and in the recesses of his mind, Dominick decided a change had occurred during the last few weeks���since the arrival of the troops. Had these Irish stirred up her feelings for the rebel who impregnated her? Suddenly, his calm demeanor faded. Angrily he shook her. “Are you in love with me, Dera, or do you still pine for that nameless Irish rebel who left you pregnant? Tell me the truth!���
Something in her snapped. Dominick became Avery wanting the truth, wanting her to be honest with him but not believing her. Why must he keep asking her? His rough handling forced her to lash out at him, to hurt him all the more.
“Yes, I love him. I’ll always love him!”
He recoiled from her as if she had leprosy. His dream of her ever loving him shattered and she saw it in his eyes. She was immediately sorry for hurting him; she threw her arms about his shoulders. ���I���m sorry. Forgive me. I didn’t mean it.” She lied to him, hoping he would again look at her with love, but he disentangled himself from her arms and pushed her away.
���You aren’t sorry for meaning it, Dera. You’re only sorry for saying it.��� He got up and took a valise from the wardrobe and withdrew clean clothes and tossed them into its depth and silently closed it.
���Where are you going?” she asked.
“It doesn’t really matter.���
It was only after she heard the tinkle of the bell above the shop door that she knew Dominick had really gone. She wanted to run after him, to beg him to stay, but she couldn’t. He knew the truth and was too proud to stay under the circumstances.
As the gentle glow of evening gave way to the soft darkness of the night, she parted the curtains and watched Dominick walk down the street.
���Why did you make me tell you?” she whispered.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Rosette woke early the next morning and left the house before anyone was up. She thought it strange that Dominick, who was usually an early riser, wasn���t in the parlor drinking his morning cafe au lait. Yet she was grateful that he wasn���t up, because she wouldn���t have welcomed his probing questions or disapproving stare.
She quickly walked the distance to the barracks. The early morning sun wasn’t strong, and she was glad an autumn chill permeated the air since it gave her the opportunity to wear her new gold cape. She grinned to herself as she thought of what lay beneath the material.
Many of the soldiers were at breakfast, so no one waited in the anteroom when she knocked on the office door. Quint opened it, surprised to see a smiling Rosette loaded down with a basket of fruit.
“Mademoiselle, is anything wrong? Are your sister in law, your nephew, all right?”
She grew a bit annoyed, the smile momentarily disappearing, because he had asked about Dera. “Nothing is wrong, ” she said, hiding her feelings.
“‘Tis an honor to see you again, but what are you doing here so early in the day?”
She handed him the basket, loaded with ripe red apples and dark luscious plums. “This is to thank you for helping my brother.”
“I did only what I thought was right,” Quint said and smiled his thanks. He placed the basket on the desk .
“I hope you don’t always do what is right colonel,” she said, smiling seductively.
She unbuttoned her cloak, allowing it to fall to her ankles, revealing to Quint that she wore nothing beneath it. A slow, sensual smile spread across her face to see desire flame in his eyes.
He should have been shocked but he wasn���t. He suspected Rosette wasn’t the naive girl Dominick believed her to be. He was more amused than stunned by her brazen behavior, but he couldn’t deny that she was beautiful. She waited by his cot.
���You should cover yourself and return home, mademoiselle.���
���Do you really want me to leave? I am no virgin,��� she assured him with a tempting smile and laid upon the cot, holding her arms out to him.
Quint locked the door.
Anna stopped unrolling a bolt of fabric and looked in astonishment at Dera. “But why did Mr. Dominick leave?” she asked.
Dera dreaded to reveal the truth, though Anna would learn it sooner or later. She took a deep breath and said, “Last night he asked me if I was in love with him or my Irish rebel. All a sudden he reminded me of Avery and I shouted back that I wasn’t in love with him, that I still loved Quint.”
“Lord have mercy, girl! You mentioned Quint Flannery by name?”
“No. But I’m worried about Dominick just the same. I asked Henri to find him.” ‘
“Well, you should be worried. He is a good man. I’ll never understand your unthinking tongue. Quint Flannery still has the power to hurt you. Can’t you see what he has done to you without your knowing it?”
Dera sat near Anna, realizing the wisdom of her friend’s words. There was something in her which allowed Quint to hurt her. Just knowing he was nearby made her act like a complete fool.
���I’m sorry for what I said to Dominick, but I feel like a tremendous weight has been lifted from me. I don’t have to pretend I feel things for him when I don’t.”
“My girl, I can’t say anything to that. Your feelings are your own and no amount of talk can change them.”
The tinkle of the bell announced a grim-faced Henri.
“Have you found Mr. Dominick?” Anna asked him.
“He is at Vaudry’s Tavern and refuses to return.”
“No doubt he is involved in a game of cards,” Dera said, and Henri nodded. “I expected as much. Cards are his second love.”
“What will you do?” Anna asked.
“There is nothing to do but look after the shop until he returns … if he returns,” Dera said, deciding that it was time to take her life into her own hands, to make her own decisions and not to be at the mercy of any man’s whim. All of her life she had relied on others … Mandy, Timothy, Quint, Anna … even Avery, and then Dominick. She was no longer a romantic young girl with silly dreams, but a woman with a small child. Well, she would survive. She would make it on her own.
She raised the shades up and allowed the morning light to fill the shop. “We’re opened for business,” she said.
Dominick slumped in a chair. A bottle of whiskey rested upon the table before him. His glass was empty, so he poured a generous amount and drank it, relishing the burning sensation as the liquid coursed to his stomach. He had become used to whiskey during the last week. He had never cared for it before, but now it seemed to calm him and ease the stiffness in his left arm.
Each day Henri gave him reports. Dera and Anna were doing a fine job of running the shop. Dera was doing remarkably well without him, but Henri insisted she missed him and worked to escape her pain. Dominick wanted to believe that, but he had always known that Dera was capable of surviving without him. He hadn’t wanted her to know her own capabilities because he needed all her attention.
Dera was on Dominick’s mind day and night. Rosette blamed Dera for his departure, as she had told him when she had visited days earlier. She looked with contempt at the small room he rented over the tavern and demanded to know why he had left. He refused to tell her. Angry words ensued, and to hurt him, she confessed she was in love with Quint Flanders. He wanted to take her across his knee and give her a good spanking, but he decided she was a lost cause. Since he wasn’t home to look after her, she was free to do as she pleased. He wondered why women w
ere so hardheaded when it came to affairs of the heart.
He surveyed the scene around him. Some of his acquaintances lounged at the far end of the room, laughing and sharing a drink, but not one of them made an effort to speak with him. No one wanted to know the sordid details of his problems and frankly he had little desire to confide in any of them.
Various types of men came and went. Some were seamen, others soldiers. The scarlet color of the Spanish uniforms was all too noticeable even in the semi darkness of the tavern. He gritted his teeth, hating them all. He wanted to ram his fist down their throats.
“May I join you, monsieur?” The deep, resonant voice of Rosette’s beloved hovered above him.
“Colonel Flanders, not an unexpected surprise. Are you checking up on me for my sister?”
“No, sir.”
Dominick’s features became colder than ice. “For my wife, then?” He still hadn’t forgotten Quint’s intercession on the night of his arrest and wondered how Dera had persuaded him to order his release.
“Nay, I am spy for no one, but it has come to my attention that you have left your home.”
“Very astute of you,” Dominick said.
A muscle flexed in Quint’s cheek. “Your family needs you. Madame Saucier should not raise her child alone.���
A spiteful grin formed on Dominick���s mouth. ���I had no idea you were so concerned for my family’s welfare. As I recall, you thought nothing of murdering my friends and leaving their loved ones to suffer great pain.”
“I refuse to apologize for that.”
“Colonel, you’re a stubborn man with no heart.”
“I am a soldier, monsieur, and obey orders.”
Dominick hated Quint’s arrogance and loathed the colonel’s forced concern. He wanted Quint to suffer some sort of humiliation, some indignity; he wanted him to pay for the executions, for seducing his sister. But how? Fighting was out of the question. He would be carted off to jail in an instant for striking O’Reilly’s officer.
His left arm hurt again, and as his other hand moved to massage it, he felt the cards in his top pocket.
“A game of cards, colonel? To pass the time? Winner take all.”
���I���ve heard you are a master with the cards.���
Dominick smiled smugly. He would beat the Irish colonel and humiliate him before his cronies. “Are you afraid?”
Quint sat down and leaned back in his chair and said, ���Fear is one thing with which I’m unfamiliar, monsieur. Please deal.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
A cool afternoon breeze touched Dera’s cheeks and billowed the black skirt about her as she walked in the garden.
Had it only been that morning that Dominick was buried? It seemed like months had passed instead of hours. The shock of his sudden death had barely sunk in. His health had been poor, but she hadn’t expected him to suffer heart failure over a game of cards.
She had been told his end had been quick, presaged by an agonizing pain in his chest. Then he slumped across the table at Vaudry’s Tavern, all life gone. The news left her dumfounded, but the irony of the situation shocked her. Dominick had been playing cards with Quint!
It was rumored that Dominick had incurred heavy losses, bringing on the attack. Dera had no inkling what Dominick had gambled away. He had packed very little when he left. She wanted to speak to Quint about this and was a bit surprised when he showed up at the funeral. Instead she had ignored him out of grief and anger since she felt he had contributed to Dominick’s death.
The creak of the garden gate caused her to turn. Quint walked towards her, a serious and business like attitude in his demeanor. She would never get used to seeing him in a uniform or help noticing how the golden beard brought out the blackness of his eyes.
“How are you, Dera?” he inquired.
“Don’t pretend you really care,” she said, brushing away a dark hair from her cheek.
Quint couldn’t help thinking that even in widow’s weeds, she was beautiful. He wanted to hold her tight against him, but he recalled another windy day as he waited on a mountain side and watched her bury the man he hated. That pain reasserted itself. He said very formally, “I have a proposition for you, Madame Saucier.”
She lifted an eyebrow, not trusting him. “What might that be, Colonel Flanders? Have you come to collect on my husband’s debts to you? You never said what you won from him. Whatever it was, you succeeded in killing him.���
“Don’t be a witch, Dera. But you’re right. I.am here to collect. Your poor deceased husband was obsessed with gambling, and once he started, couldn’t stop.” He withdrew a piece of paper written in Dominick’s handwriting from an inside pocket of his jacket. “This explains the loss.”
She read the paper he handed to her, then reread it to be certain her eyes hadn’t deceived her.
���Dominick must have been insane. He would never have done this.”
“He was in his right mind. See the stamp on it. He had the foresight to send for the notary and make the bet legal. Your shop and property are mine. I own the piece of ground you stand on.”
Dominick’s fascination with gambling had proved greater than Dera could ever have foreseen. Numbness gave way to anger at Dominick’s vice. She, Paul and Rosette had nowhere to go. Quint had taken the roof over their heads, but if he hoped to see her beg, he was mistaken. She had begged for his love in Kilmainham. Gaol and humbled herself on the night of Dominick’s arrest. But no longer.
She stiffened. “I’ll get our things together. We’ll leave this night.”
She moved away but he halted her with a hand on her arm. “Dera, I’m not here to turn you out, but to offer you the chance to make good your debt to me.”
“I have nothing to repay.”
“Aye, you do, and by God before this day is over, you’ll marry me and give me the chance to raise my son.”
A coldness squeezed her heart. He knew! She longed to throw her arms around him, to tell him she wanted him to know his son, but the bitterness in his eyes stopped her. This offer wasn’t made out of love, but out of revenge.
���I’m pleased you aren’t as blind as you seem, Quint, but if this offer is made only to have Paul, I’ll not be doing it.”
���Damn it, Dera! You’ve no other choice. I won’t have my boy living with you and any man you may happen to attract.”
She raised her arm to strike him, but he grabbed her wrist. “This time I was expecting your wrath.”
���You think I’m a whore.”
His grip relaxed and his voice softened. “You’re the mother of my son, and I demand that you marry me.”
She wanted to refuse, but she realized she really didn’t have a choice. “I have no other alternative,” she said. “But people will talk. We���ll be the topic of conversation for months.”
He smiled ruefully. ���After the shock has worn off, they���ll accept it, because you will be the wife of a powerful man.���
���This is all done for that reason, I think, to show me how powerful you are.���
“Dera, you still don’t know me,” he said. “But if it will make you feel better, I don’t expect you to primp for our wedding night. I promise you that I won’t dirty you with my touch. My nights will be spent at the barracks.”
She winced. How he must hate her to offer her such an arrangement!
“I hope your nights at the barracks will be comfortable,” she said, leisurely walking away without giving him the opportunity to see he had affected her. But her heart cried and not for the reason he would have thought.
Quint wasn’t in his office at the barracks when Rosette arrived. She sat in his chair and waited, wondering what could be keeping him. Her eyes wandered around the room until they rested on the cot near the wall; she laughed and hugged herself. The memory of making love with Quint were vibrant and clear. Never, never had she felt so alive. Never had her body burned like fire u
nder his expert hands. Quint made her feel like a real woman. He didn’t have to ask how to please her. He just knew.
If she hadn’t been so contented, she might still be jealous of Dera’s obvious attraction to him. But Dera was no longer a threat. Dera still mourned Dominick. Of course, Rosette missed him a great deal and wondered just how much Dera had contributed to poor Dominick’s misery. At the moment, Quint was foremost in her thoughts; her life revolved around his smile, his kiss, his touch and the memory of the day he made love to her and she showed him just how much she desired him.
Yet, she sensed something different about him lately. Her secret visits didn’t lead to lovemaking. In fact, he hadn’t touched her since before Dominick’s death; he only looked absently at her, as if she weren’t there. Once she had even begun to remove her clothes, but he had stopped her.
The door opened and she looked up expecting to see Quint’s handsome face, but it was only his crude friend, Jem McConnell.
“Pardon, Mademoiselle, but I thought the colonel had returned.”
“I have been waiting for him myself. Do you know where he is?”
Jem stroked his chin. “Maybe, but I don’t know if I should be telling you.”
Rosette shrugged her shoulders in apparent disinterest. ���Whatever you wish,��� she said cooly .
���He has gone off with a bottle of whiskey, pining after his lady love.”
���He has no need for that. I am here and will tell him of my love,��� Rosette said.
Jem threw back his head and laughed. ���You women be all the same, thinking a man dotes on a smile from you. There are other women in this world, especially the one the colonel can’t get out of his bloody system.”
Rosette sprang from the chair like a gazelle. Heat rose to her face and turned it crimson. “He is in love with someone else? Who is she? I demand to know the trollop’s name.”
Jem grew more amused by the second. “The woman is not a trollop, but the colonel’s wife,” he said, laughing.
The blood drained from Rosette’s face. She clung to the desk for support. “I didn’t know he was married.”
Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) Page 21
