Money was a problem. I had enough cash to get us to London, but we would need to find accommodation there. Sadly, we decided that Eleanor’s jewels must be sold once we reached the capital. I liked to think that Tynan’s mother would be happy that she could provide the means of securing her beloved son’s freedom from Tenebris.
“My a’th kar. I love you,” I whispered, and squeezed Tynan’s hand. “After tomorrow, my love, we will be gone from this place and our lives can begin in truth.”
* * *
The chapel had been thrown open to Mrs Lethbridge’s ministrations. The servants, although appearing to sense that this occasion was a strange one, had entered into the spirit of the day. Garlands of ivy and white flowers were woven through the heavy balustrade of the grand staircase and the servants wore white rosettes on their uniforms. Vases filled with camellia, the flower of promise, and sweetly scented jasmine adorned every surface. My mind, normally so practical, sought a deeper meaning and was comforted by thoughts of light, purity and heaven.
When I entered the chapel, the cool dimness coupled with the veil over my face created an odd illusion. Two men waited for me close to the altar, but in the blurred light I saw only one. He was tall and broad of shoulder, with the lithe, sinister restlessness of a beast in a cage. The meaning in Uther’s gaze could chill the warmest summer breeze. With relief, my eyes found Tynan at his side. My love, my only.
Demelza stood close by, clad in her favourite scarlet; a line from an old rhyme about wedding clothes flitted incongruously through my mind: white, white chosen right; red, red wish you were dead. I shivered and was grateful when Tynan’s warm hand clasped my cold one as we knelt before the altar. The vicar was reed thin and colourless, with an unpleasant nasal whine that grated on my already jangling nerves. The parish clerk sat close by, watching the proceedings with a jaundiced eye. His pen scratched over the page and I wanted to shout at him to just—for the Lord’s sake!—stop writing while the ceremony was underway.
It was all over in the blink of an eye. The new, unfamiliar weight of the gold band made me hold my hand differently. Helping me to my feet, my husband put back my veil and pressed a chaste kiss onto my chilled lips. I was the Countess of Athal, mistress of Tenebris. Tradition demanded that the bride must sign her maiden name on the register. I stared long and hard at the words Lucia Alleyne. Already my signature appeared unfamiliar, as if it belonged to someone else.
Demelza fluttered over to congratulate us and kiss my cheek. “Lucy, dearest! Or should I say ‘Your Ladyship’?” She tittered girlishly. “I declare, my sweet, you look quite dreadfully pale!”
Mrs Lethbridge and Huddy scattered a few rose petals in our path, and my lips formed into a stiff smile of thanks. And, all the while, Uther never took his eyes from my face. His was a brooding, menacing presence. Triumph and fury warred for dominance in his panther’s eyes. As we stepped out of the gloom and into the calm indulgence of the sunlit garden, I felt a wave of dizziness pound through me. I tried to speak, but the blood roared in my ears and I pitched forward into Tynan’s waiting arms.
“Bad luck for the bride to faint on her wedding day.” Mrs Lethbridge’s acid, disapproving tones penetrated the mists of my brief unconsciousness.
I struggled to sit up.
“Stay where you are,” Uther said close to my ear. His hand slid under my back and lifted me slightly to lean against his strong shoulder.
Tynan said, “I will carry my wife, Uther.” There was a new determination in his voice.
“Nonsense! You are not strong enough.”
But Demelza murmured something and, reluctantly, Uther relinquished his place at my side to Tynan. I was swept up into my husband’s arms and, protesting all the while that I could very well walk by myself, carried up to my bedchamber. As we reached the turn in the staircase, I glanced back at the upturned faces below. Most wore a disconsolate or concerned expression. Only one was thunderous.
Tynan deposited me on my bed and, ignoring my demurral, proceeded to remove my satin slippers. He shrugged out of his jacket and removed his own shoes before lying next to me and drawing me into the comfort of his arms.
“I am quite well, you know,” I informed him.
“How well?” he enquired, his lips against my temple.
“Well enough to be kissed by my husband,” I replied, tilting my face up to his. It was some considerable time before I could speak again and, when I did so, my voice was slightly husky. “I believe one is supposed to loosen a lady’s stays when she faints….”
Chapter Twelve
The afternoon sunlight was surrendering to evening when I rested my chin on Tynan’s chest and, with one fingertip, drew a circular pattern in the dark hair that tapered to his waist. Our abandoned clothes lay in a heap beside the bed. Beneath the coverlet our legs were entwined, and Tynan’s hand lazily traced the curve of my spine.
“They will know,” I said.
“Hmm?” It was a sleepy murmur.
“When we go down for our wedding supper,” I explained patiently, “they will know that we are already lovers. That we didn’t even have the decency to wait for nightfall. They will see it in our faces.”
“That is because you, madam wife, are depraved and insatiable,” he said.
“I shall strive to be less so in future, my lord and master,” I promised humbly, keeping my eyes downcast.
“Don’t you dare!” he ordered, fully awake now and pulling me down on top of him so that my hair curtained our kiss.
My body clenched with remembered pleasure and new anticipation. After we had discarded our clothing, our first touches had been gentle and hesitant. With curious fingers, we each explored the other’s body. There was no shyness—no boundaries and no limits—between us. Tynan’s hands gained in assurance as his slightest touch made me quiver with desire. We lay on our sides, facing each other and he stroked the curve of my waist, the length of my thigh and skimmed the flat plain of my stomach.
My breathing came shallow and fast as he turned me onto my back and raised my hands above my head, holding them there as he followed my collarbone with his fingertips. I arched my back in silent supplication and at last his adoring fingers caressed my breasts.
I moved my hands impatiently and he released them instantly. I slid my palms upward across his shoulder blades and drew him close, exulting in the feeling of his skin against mine. Breathing deeply now, he moved his mouth along my jawbone. With infinite gentleness, he used his teeth to part my lips just far enough to slide his tongue inside and circle the tip of mine.
His hand brushed my nipple and I whimpered in unashamed delight. The sound made his eyes darken to the colour of autumn leaves, and he repeated the movement. This time his touch was sure, his thumb deliberately circling the hardened flesh. I moaned, the sound muffled as I bit down on my lower lip and sank my nails into the silken flesh of his shoulders.
Too impatient to remain slow and cautious, neither of us could wait any longer. I opened my body up to him and, raining soft kisses on my face and neck, he began to push into me. Pausing as I cried out, he raised his head to study my face. With my hands against his buttocks, I urged him on and he slid deeper, all the way inside, filling me.
My moans grew louder as he moved in and out of me, his breathing harsh and ragged in my ear. I matched his movements, lifting my hips to draw him ever closer. He filled my mouth with kisses and the plunge of his tongue.
Just as I felt my body give way to ecstasy, Tynan stopped and said hoarsely, “Tell me you love me. Now. Look into my eyes and feel me inside you. Feel nothing but me.”
And, as he moved again, I said it, “I love you, Tynan.” The first shudders began to ripple through us both. “I will love you…only you…forever.”
Now, Tynan murmured against my lips, drawing me back to the present. “Since, as you say, we are already indelibly stamped with our guilt, do you suppose it would make any difference if we did it once more before we join our guests?” As he spoke he l
ifted my buttocks so that his hardness strained against the moist heat at my core. I stayed in that position for a moment, debating the matter and ignoring his groan of impatience. Deciding, given the circumstances—and the fact that I had so recently agreed to obey this new husband of mine—that it would be churlish to refuse, I obliging lowered myself onto him.
* * *
Demelza and Uther were already waiting for us when we at last made our way downstairs. Uther made a point of studying his fob watch and Pascoe invited us to go immediately to the dining room, pointing out that dinner had been ready for some time. Uther moved automatically toward the head of the table, but Pascoe, a stickler for formality, forestalled him.
“If His Lordship will be seated?” He held the master’s chair out and waited while Tynan took his seat. The stately little butler bowed low to me before guiding me to the foot of the table.
“Well, Lucy, I am pleased to see that Tynan has managed to put the roses back in your cheeks!” Demelza told me as the footmen began to serve soup. Blushing as a hidden meaning occurred to her, she floundered on. “What I mean is, he appears to have taken good care of you.”
I looked up and encountered a bland stare from Tynan that made me bite back a smile. Uther had either not heard, or was pretending he had not. The meal was a curiously silent affair and, as soon as the last course had been removed, Uther rose from his seat. “Your Ladyship, Demelza, you will excuse us, I know.” He directed a stiff bow in my direction. “I must discuss a few estate matters with your husband.” He reached for the decanter of port and offered it to Tynan.
“Shall we take tea, my dear?” Demelza asked as we rose from the table. “Oh dear! I do not wish to usurp your position, Lucy. Pray forgive me. It is just that I have become so used—”
“Let us not stand on any formality, aunt,” I reassured her as we closed the dining room door behind us. “In any case, I have no wish for tea. I will retire to my—our—room.”
I left her and went to sit in the earl’s bedchamber, waiting for Tynan to come so that we could steal away at last under the cover of our wedding night. I looked around me and thought of those generations of Jagos who had inhabited this mausoleum. The vast four-poster bed, set on a dais in the centre of the room, kept silent its secrets of intrigue and plot.
The walls were covered with exquisite tapestries. One series told the story of the English rebellion and the subsequent restoration. The gory execution of one Charles was followed by the coronation of another. Another set of hangings depicted risqué scenes from Greek myths. I decided there and then that, wherever we should go, any future home of ours would not contain a single dark panel or tapestry.
I was impatient now. Where was Tynan? I still wore my white wedding dress, but I had laid out a more practical gown, sturdy boots and a warm cloak in preparation for our flight. Seated at the dressing table, I studied my face in the mirror. My familiar features gazed serenely back at me. I could not believe that my experiences here at Tenebris had not changed how I looked.
The door opened behind me and my heart beat a little faster. I felt a shy smile tremble on my lips as I turned. “What kept you, my love?”
“Forgive me, little Lucy. It was not my intention to keep you waiting. I had a few matters to attend to first.”
A horrified gasp escaped my lips. For it was Uther, not Tynan, who stood, broad shoulders propped against the door, champagne bottle and two glasses in his hand. His eyes glittered dangerously, and he was uncharacteristically dishevelled. His cravat had been discarded, shirt halfway unbuttoned and his dark hair was in wild disarray. As he approached me, I could smell the brandy fumes. There was blood on his shirt. My dismay deepened.
“Where is Tynan?” I asked, striving to maintain a level tone.
He drawled. “Worried we may be disturbed, little Lucy? Fear not. I have made quite sure we will not. You may safely forget about Tynan henceforth.”
My heart beat so wildly, I felt he must hear it. I knew what this man was capable of. Dear God, was Tynan already dead? I tried desperately to convince myself that murdering Tynan now—before Tenebris had its heir—could not be part of Uther’s plan. But the wildness in his eyes terrified me.
Battling to disguise the trembling of my limbs, I rose from my seat. “I am waiting for my husband, for Tynan,” I stated. “The man you wanted me to marry, remember?”
“And you have been very obedient.” He moved to stand before me, and his nearness unnerved me. I tried to sidestep, but he put his hands on the wall on either side of my head. I was effectively imprisoned. “It is time for you to claim your reward, Lucia.”
As his lips swooped down on mine, I turned my head and his mouth connected with my jaw. “No!” I could no longer keep the revulsion from my voice.
Uther’s eyes narrowed. He pushed me hard against the wall, one hand gripping my throat like an iron vise while the other began to haul at the skirts of my wedding dress. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this!” he snarled. “Before God, you were begging me not so long ago!” His breath was fiery on my face as his lips continued to seek mine, despite my frantic twisting and turning. “‘When, Uther? Now, Uther! Please, Uther!’” His voice parodied my own panting, passionate pleas, and I did not know who I hated more in that moment: him or myself. “I know you feel it exactly as I do! This heat between us is beyond anything mortal! By God, we will make a child this very night, a child born of a passion so earth shattering—”
“Your child!” I gasped, trying to get away from the hand that was forcing my thighs apart. “No! The agreement was that I would marry Tynan and bear his son!”
He laughed. “You are mistaken, Lucia. Our agreement was that you would bear the Jago heir! A cruel circumstance made me the second son, but at last that trick of birth is about to be remedied. My son will be the one to carry on the ancient Jago line.”
His lips found mine at last and his tongue forced its way into my mouth, brutally, shockingly intimate. I gagged at the once longed-for taste of him. Where in the past I had shuddered in delight as his hand insinuated itself between my legs, now I felt only revulsion. I wanted to shout out that it might already be too late, that Tynan and I could already have conceived a child, but some instinct for self-preservation stopped me.
“What will you do if I resist you?” I asked. He lifted me as easily as if I had been a child and carried me to the bed. Struggling was useless, so I decided to conserve my energy. I would need it. “Bash my brains out with a rock? Or merely fire a crossbow into my eye?”
He laughed delightedly. “Clever girl. You have the distinction of being the only person to ever understand just how closely I resemble Arwen Jago.” Until that moment, I had not been sure if Uther really was the reincarnation of Arwen Jago, or whether he simply believed he was. As the smile in his eyes deepened, I knew at last. The man who held me in his arms was in truth the evil ancestor who had killed my namesake. I bit back a scream.
He threw me down onto the bed and, despite my attempt to twist away, joined me there, his weight pressing me down into the softness of the mattress. As if to confirm my chilling realisation, he murmured, “You know how long I have searched for you, Lucia.”
I lay still, with my eyes closed so that I did not have to see the gloating passion on his face. Despite my determination to show him no fear, a single tear slid from under my eyelid and traced a lonely path down my cheek.
Uther’s thumb brushed the wetness from my face. “Why do you cry, little Lucy?” His voice was almost gentle. I opened my eyes in time to see his expression change. His eyes narrowed. “So that is it. That puny boy. What does he have that I do not?” It was the age-old refrain of the jealous male.
“He has a heart, Uther,” I whispered.
He was silent, studying my face for long seconds. Then, brutally, he grasped my hair and jerked my head back. “Then I will rip it from him and present it, still beating, to you! I will teach you to love me in his place!” His voice was harsh and guttural. “After
this night is over, I swear you will no longer even remember his name!” I was fighting now in earnest, but my efforts only amused Uther; his demonic laughter vibrated through my body.
But he could not see what I could. Over his shoulder I watched as the door crept silently open and the candlelight flickered gold on Demelza’s burnished locks. “What of Demelza?” I gasped, and he paused. His body still lay across mine, but he raised himself on one elbow so that he could study my face. One finger absentmindedly traced the neckline of my gown. “You will be kept very busy, will you not, Uther? Two mistresses under the same roof, both of us family members….”
His eyes shone with unholy amusement. “Are you jealous, little Lucy? Demelza need not trouble you. Her place is merely that of occasional stand-in. She will do as she is told.”
Demelza’s face contorted in fury at his words. She stood over us now, and the dagger in her hand gleamed silver as she raised it above her head. As it plunged in a wild, downward arc, it was aimed at my throat. With desperate, superhuman strength, I rolled aside and, at the same time, shoved Uther hard away from me. With an awful, grinding sound of blade on bone, the knife buried itself hilt deep between his shoulder blades. He jerked convulsively above me, then lay still. Warm scarlet lifeblood flowed onto my hands as I pushed him, a dead weight now, away and struggled to sit up. His face was still contorted by passion, frothy red bubbles flecked his lips and, as I watched, the light faded from those tiger’s eyes.
Demelza dropped the knife, her eyes widening with the horror of realisation. As I scrambled from the bed, she sank to her knees and an unearthly wail rent the air. Pulling down my skirts, I wiped Uther’s blood from my hands on their virginal whiteness as I dashed from the room. Terror lent wings to my feet as I flew along the corridor and down the staircase. Tapestries, portraits and armour flashed by in a blur. Uther had said I could forget Tynan. That might mean he was already at the bottom of the moat or dashed onto the rocks below the cliff face. Or it might mean that he had received the same treatment Arwen Jago meted out to his rivals….
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