She had made up her mind. To refuse her now would be cruel. Or so Dallas told himself. The irony never once crossed his mind that, had Lorna but known it, the man who introduced her to sensuality was merely passing on lessons taught to him by her own mother.
She was like a clean page, waiting for him to write his name on it. Dallas’s lips found hers, again and again, feeling her quiver as passion swept all else aside. One hand found her breast, then his fingers slipped inside her bodice, caressing and stroking until Lorna was sobbing with desire. Very slowly, he removed her clothes, kissing each secret place with tenderness. When at last she lay naked and open beside him, Dallas ran his mouth and hands over her entire body before moving away and sitting up.
‘No,’ she moaned, reaching out for him. ‘Come back.’
‘Open your eyes,’ he said softly.
Lorna watched while he removed all his clothes. Her lips parted in awed surprise when she saw the size of his erect and ready penis. ‘Do not be afraid,’ he whispered, leaning towards her. ‘I want you to know me.’
He lay back and she propped herself over him on one elbow, running a finger slowly from his neck, around nipples and down again, her eyes following. ‘You are beautiful,’ she breathed. ‘So different from what I imagined.’
‘Touch me.’
A fingernail softly scratched the length of his erection before thumb and forefinger encircled it. ‘What do I do?’ she asked.
‘What do you want to do?’
‘You will think I’m shameless. Help me, Dallas, for I don’t know what is right or wrong.’
‘Nothing can be wrong between two people who seek the same thing.’
She lowered her head and explored him with lips and fingers until he gently eased her away. ‘Your turn.’ He moved down her body, his tongue finding and probing. Lorna gave herself up to the unknown pleasure and, when he had her trembling on the very brink of release, he rose and swiftly entered her.
Lorna tensed, then thrust back at him with a stifled cry as passion overrode all else. Moving together, time ceased to exist until he heard her call his name. Dallas gave himself up to his own sensations and his seed spilled into her body.
They lay together in silence, one of her hands gently stroking his hair. ‘I had no idea,’ Lorna whispered eventually.
He could feel her heart beating against his chest, wildly at first and then subsiding to calm. Her breath was on his cheek. Finally she stirred. ‘Thank you, my dearest one.’
Dallas propped himself on an elbow. Lorna’s eyes were shining with love, serene with satisfaction. ‘No regrets?’ He too felt relaxed and happy.
‘How could I? When the old man dies we will be wed. He won’t live long. It is right that you were the first.’
She had done no more than voice his own thoughts but a strange disquiet ran through Dallas. Lorna was headstrong, even a little spoilt. Could she be capable of hastening the demise of Lord Dumfries? As much as he abhorred the idea of her marriage, the thought of taking such steps to end it was even more unacceptable.
‘Mmmm.’ She snuggled against him.
He held her tightly, loving the closeness between them yet in despair. From whichever way he looked at things, obstacles seemed to rise up. Most had Alison’s face. He had complicated his life beyond belief and could see no easy solution. In love with this girl, yet lusting after her mother. Dallas knew he’d have to find some way of ending his affair with Alison, it was the very least he could do. Reluctantly, he stirred. ‘We’d better dress. Charles and Charlotte could return at any moment.’
By the time the other two did get back, Charlotte near bursting with happiness and Charles fairly glowing with excitement, Lorna and Dallas were sitting a discreet distance from each other discussing trivialities.
‘You should have come with us. The view was well worth it,’ Charlotte bubbled, glancing coyly at Charles.
By the look on his friend’s face, Dallas suspected that he had found the courage to declare his feelings. And by his sister’s behaviour, they were reciprocated. Lucky them, he thought, with no rancour.
That was nearly two months ago. Since that day, he and Lorna managed to snatch a few hours together each week. Her social commitments, and preparations for the forthcoming marriage, made manipulation of their combined engagements extremely difficult. Extricating himself from Alison’s attention was even more so. In fact, he failed. If he raised the subject of servants’ gossip or the possibility of Lord de Iongh catching them, Alison knew exactly how to take his mind off the subject. On more than one occasion, Dallas ruefully acknowledged to himself that most of his actions and reactions appeared to be ruled solely by one particular part of his anatomy. He was old enough to understand that the only real thing between himself and Alison was intense lust. He was too young, too full of juice, too fascinated by the forbidden to know how, or even wish to know how, to stop it.
Lying in Lorna’s arms, a heart full of young love, his resolve remained strong. Easy. He’d simply tell Alison it was over. But the older woman held a strange power over him and, with her, he weakened time after time.
In one way or another, Dallas’s complicated love-life occupied most of his waking thoughts. Lorna’s wedding was set for a week hence and, as much as he dreaded the occasion, knew it would provide a partial solution to his problem. Then, as if life wasn’t convoluted enough, came the final and inevitable catastrophe. Lorna told him she was with child.
‘This is perfect,’ she’d said happily. ‘If it’s a boy he will inherit the estates and title. The old fool will think it’s his. When we wed, it will be your son, not his, who is heir.’
The winter sunshine had a watered-down appearance as it crept, triangular-shaped, over the tangled sheets. As usual, Dallas found himself cursing his weakness in allowing Alison, yet again, to waylay any more honourable intentions. The trouble was, even though his primary attraction lay at a most basic level, he liked her. As well as being gifted in matters carnal, Lady Alison de Iongh was intelligent and entertaining. Lying next to her, Dallas knew. I’ve got to get out of this mess before it’s too late.
He stirred and sat up. ‘I must go.’
Alison pouted. ‘Stay a while, what’s the hurry? My husband returns the day after tomorrow and remains until the new year. This might be our last chance.’ Strong fingers gripped his arms. ‘Oh, my dearest, I will count the days until he leaves for London again.’
Dallas had his mind set on the logistics of leaving the house undetected. He would have to reach the stables equally invisibly, and in a manner that made Lorna believe he’d only just arrived. Stopping in the act of pulling on linen under-breeches, Dallas glanced over his shoulder and smiled. ‘You will appreciate me more after the enforced abstinence.’
Again she pouted, but her eyes teased him. ‘I could not possibly appreciate you more than I already do.’ She reached out and tweaked a buttock. ‘You look so damned fetching in your underwear.’
He turned and fell on top of her, hands holding both arms above her head. ‘You are utterly shameless. I could –’
Alison was never to know exactly what it was that Dallas could. They both heard the disturbance in the hall – a man’s voice demanding to know what ailed his wife and the housekeeper imploring him not to disturb Lady de Iongh.
‘Oh my God! It’s the earl!’ Alison gasped.
But it was too late to do anything about it. Dallas dived for his shirt. The door opened and a smile of greeting died on Lord de Iongh’s lips. Behind him, Mrs Kelly smirked spitefully.
‘You young puppy!’ Lord de Iongh stepped into the room and slammed the door shut in the housekeeper’s face. ‘What is the meaning of this, sir?’
Dallas felt around for his buckskin breeches, his mind frozen.
Alison clutched the covers under her chin and began to weep. ‘He forced himself on me.’
Dallas gaped at her.
Suspicion had replaced the initial shock on her husband’s face. ‘Have you no voice,
madam, that you might have called a protest? Or do all our servants become deaf in my absence?’
‘I swear, the intrusion so terrified me I could utter not a sound.’ Tears tolled down her cheeks in a thoroughly credible display of misery.
‘Alison!’ Dallas protested unwisely.
‘Silence!’ roared the earl. ‘How dare you address my wife in such intimate terms? What say you, sir?’
Dallas eyed the earl’s silver-topped cane. So far, it hadn’t occurred to him to use it. There was nothing he could do but take the blame. Alison, in protecting herself, hadn’t hesitated to place him in an impossible position. Unfair as it was, and the implications were only just beginning to sink in, Dallas had no option other than to behave like a gentleman. ‘This was entirely my doing. The lady is innocent of any misdemeanour. My feelings for her overcame all reason. I implore you, Lord de Iongh, take whatever retribution you deem necessary.’ He steeled himself for the stinging blows.
But Alison’s husband was not convinced. He turned to her. ‘In my opinion, madam, a man intent on ravishing a lady does not stop to remove every stitch of her clothing.’
Alison’s performance did her credit. Her eyes filled with more tears. ‘He said he would kill me. I was too afraid to resist.’
The earl looked back at Dallas for confirmation.
‘It is as my lady says,’ he confirmed stiffly.
Lord de longh nodded. ‘Very well. I will wait for you in the library. As for you, madam, stay here. I will see you later.’ With that, he turned and left. Dallas heard him bellowing at the housekeeper. ‘What are you gawping at, woman? Go about your business.’
‘Dallas,’ Alison breathed.
‘Do not trouble yourself with pretty excuses, Alison.’ His voice was cold. ‘I know my duty.’
‘What else could I do?’ she pleaded. ‘Please, my dearest . . .’
‘A seducer is one thing, Alison. A rapist quite another. You have condemned me to hell in order to save yourself.’ He pulled on his boots. ‘Good day to you, madam.’
‘Wait,’ she cried.
Dallas retrieved his waistcoat and coat. ‘I will see the earl in private.’
‘What will you tell him?’ she asked fearfully.
‘Trust me, Alison, the damage is already done. You can rely on me to behave impeccably. I only hope you sleep untroubled by your mischief. Since you accuse me of rape, my death at the gallows should relieve you of worry that the truth will out.’ With that, and with Alison’s now genuine sorrow filling the room, Dallas made his way down to the library.
Lord de Iongh stood facing the window, hands behind his back. He did not turn around. ‘Your manners do you credit, Acheson, though I fear it is a little late in the day to remember them. My lady’s accusation, and your own admission of guilt, leave me no course of action other than to inform the proper authorities. In deference to my friendship with your father, I will delay doing so for forty-eight hours.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘If you know what’s good for you, young man, you’ll leave this country and never return.’
‘Sir –’
‘Silence!’ roared the earl. ‘I have no wish to hear more lies. Get out.’
Dallas waited but Lord de Iongh had finished. He gave a stiff bow to the ramrod-straight back and left the house. In the stables he had the groom saddle his horse and went through to the coach-house where Lorna waited.
‘I cannot stay,’ he said, holding her at arm’s length.
‘Whatever is wrong, my love?’
Dallas gave a twisted smile. ‘No doubt the gossip will reach your ears soon enough. Try not to think too ill of me. I have been a fool but I am no criminal.’
‘My darling, what are you saying?’
He bent and kissed her cheek. ‘Forget me. It is best that you do.’
‘Forget you!’ Lorna stamped her foot. ‘How? I carry your child. What has happened, Dallas? At least let me hear it from your lips.’
How could he tell her? He turned away. ‘Goodbye, my love. We shall not see each other again.’
Lorna ran sobbing towards the house. Dallas strode to his horse and mounted, spurring it immediately to a gallop. He’d been caught out, as he well and truly deserved to be. Angry as he was at Alison’s betrayal, furious with his own weakness and how it would cause Lorna pain, the overwhelming emotion of grief ran through him. He couldn’t have the girl he loved but now he was unable even to remain in the same country. He had to get away. Fast. Turn his back on all he knew to save his own skin. Forgive me, my darling. How could she? Eyes streaming from the cold – or were they tears of terrible sorrow – Dallas did not look back, nor slow his pace until reaching the Grange.
Lady Dalrymple was in the drawing room, writing letters. Of his father, there was no sign. Dallas knew he had to tell his mother everything if she were to help him get away. And leaving was his only option. The disgrace when his supposed conduct became common knowledge would make his ongoing presence in Edinburgh, indeed, in the entire British Isles, impossible. Lord de Iongh had given him forty-eight hours. After that, he would be a wanted man.
Lady Pamela looked up and smiled when she heard his step. The smile froze as she sighted his expression. ‘Something is amiss?’
Time was of the essence. She’d learn the details sooner rather than later. This was not the time to hesitate. Dallas told her everything. Well, everything to do with Lady de Iongh. There was no point in burdening his mother with Lorna and the baby as well.
She heard him out in silence as he paced up and down in front of her, eyes never leaving his face. Aside from turning very pale, Lady Dalrymple remained expressionless. ‘There is no time to waste,’ she said when, finished, he dropped to one knee at her side. ‘You must leave here immediately.’ Picking up a small silver bell she rang it urgently. A housemaid appeared.
‘Ah, Abigail, have Mrs Potter and Victor report to me.’ With the girl gone she went on. ‘We’ll need their help. Victor can go with you to Tynemouth.’
‘Tynemouth!’ Dallas said in surprise. ‘Surely it would be better to head north.’
‘It’s winter,’ his mother reminded him. ‘Sailings are few and far between. North is exactly where the police will expect you to head. It will take some time for them to start looking over the border. I have a cousin in Newcastle and will provide you with a letter of introduction. He may be able to help.’
Panic rose within him. ‘But where should I go?’
‘The colonies,’ his mother said calmly. ‘Australia, Africa, Canada or India. Take whatever ship leaves first. I understand that life can be quite tolerable in the dominions.’
‘Mama, I did not force myself on Alison.’
‘Lady de Iongh,’ his mother cut back coldly, ‘is a strumpet with no thought for anything but herself. I am appalled by her betrayal. Come, Dallas, rid yourself of this woman. She is not worth the trouble. You are far from the first young man to fall for her charms.’
Dallas hung his head. The shame this scandal would heap on the shoulders of his family almost too much to bear. ‘I am sorry, Mama. I have been a fool.’
‘No more than many before you,’ his mother continued in brisk tones.
She went to say more, but stopped as Mrs Potter and Victor knocked and entered. ‘Come in. Close the door behind you.’ When the housekeeper and head groom stood before her, she spoke calmly, with no trace of panic. ‘Lord Acheson will be leaving Britain immediately. Mrs Potter, pack his belongings for an extended sea journey. Victor, you will travel to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne and deliver him safely to my cousin. Neither of you are to discuss this matter with the other servants. Victor, prepare the wagon. I want you ready to leave within the hour.’
They left to carry out her bidding. ‘Dallas, come with me.’ Lady Pamela rose and moved swiftly towards the door.
He followed her upstairs and along the passage into her boudoir.
‘Wait,’ she ordered, stepping up to a painting and lifting it from the
wall. Behind sat a small safe which Dallas had not known existed. Carefully, his mother withdrew two small pouches. She tipped the contents onto her vanity chest before crossing the room and sinking down on a chaise longue. ‘They are rightfully yours. Take them and use their value as you see fit.’
Dallas stared at the jewels. Emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, rubies and pearls set in necklaces, rings, earrings and brooches of the finest gold. He’d never seen his mother wear any of them.
‘Mama, this is too much. I cannot.’
‘They’re yours anyway,’ she replied.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will. Come and sit by me.’ She patted a place next to her. ‘I too have something to confess.’
Dallas hesitated then joined his mother.
‘Those jewels belonged to your father’s mother.’
‘Then surely they now must go to Thomas.’
Lady Pamela shook her head. ‘Under normal circumstances I would never have admitted to this but now you need to hear it.’ She bit her lip, gave a little sigh, and went on. ‘Lord Dalrymple is not your real father.’
Dallas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Not my –’
‘Sshh, my darling. There’s so much to tell and so little time. Hear me out.’ She took a handkerchief and touched it to her eyes. ‘It seems so long ago. I was young, foolish and desperately unhappy. The earl is a dear man and I’m very fond of him now but, back then, I dreamed of being swept off my feet. The chances of that happening were remote to say the least. Here was I, a respectably married woman with three sons. I had position, a title and wealth. Unlike some women, and I’m afraid, my dear, that includes Alison de Iongh, the taking of lovers was too vulgar to consider. Men sense when a woman might . . . indulge in such things.’ She flushed with embarrassment but continued. ‘I resigned myself to accepting that true love was the price to be paid for everything else in my life.’
Lady Pamela worried the handkerchief into a small ball in her hands. ‘Then I met Jonathan.’
Shadows in the Grass Page 5
