A strangled sound came from Angela’s throat and Owen went to her side, his green eyes widening at the sight.
“He’s dead!” said Angela. “And I killed him!”
“No, don’t look,” Owen said turning her away and pressing her face against his shoulder. She clung to him for support closing her eyes but she could still see Thurston with a grim smile on his face.
Chapter Eight
Angela sat next to Keith in the darkened carriage covered from head to toe in an all-concealing cloak. They were on their way to the Prince of Wales’ masquerade ball. She was tired and the evening had just begun. Ever since the discovery of Thurston’s body two days ago Angela had hardly slept and when she did she dreamed of him staring accusingly at her from his opulent bath.
She shouldn’t feel guilty, everyone kept telling her. After all Thurston was the one that had instigated the whole affair, Angela had only named the price. As if all London wasn’t shocked enough by what had happened at Madame Saisset’s, Thurston’s suicide had added the extra spice that was conducive to exaggeration. The whole town was buzzing!
Angela’s reputation was colorful already without it being added to, and now her name was linked with Thurston’s. She was credited with having affairs with him, Owen, Keith, and the Prince of Wales all at the same time. When she went out everyone pointed rudely and called her the Queen of Hearts. At twenty-one she was fast becoming a legend.
She would have to leave the city soon, it was like living in a goldfish bowl. Everyone wanted to poke their noses into her private life and discover something new. Angela was seriously thinking of closing Harrington House and spending the winter at Brightling Castle. At least there she would have some peace.
Angela smiled at the conspiracy she and Owen had entered into. The first step was successful, he was escorting Jane to the ball. She was dazzling in the costume Angela had helped to design. She was the sun, in yellow silk embroidered richly with golden rays. Her long blond hair only added to the gilded illusion. Owen’s eyes had almost popped out of his head when he had seen her.
She had to laugh when Owen had appeared dressed as a shepherd complete with a long staff. Angela threatened to evict him from the Twenty-Eight Club and Keith and Jane had stood there exchanging puzzled looks, wondering what in the world they were joking about.
The crush of carriages outside of Carlton House was an impossible jumble. It took them half an hour just to get to the front door. Fortunately Keith and Angela had made their peace and were on far friendlier terms than they had been in months. Tonight he was very happy and handsome, dressed all in green as Robin Hood.
“Don’t forget your bow and arrows,” warned Angela. “Are you sure you aren’t Cupid instead?”
“I wish I were,” he said, his blue eyes gleaming catlike in the dark. “Then I would have you at my mercy.”
“Do you want me at your mercy?”
“I want you any way at all!”
Much to Angela’s relief the door was opened and they descended from the carriage, walked through the Corinthian portico and into the hall. Just as Angela removed her cloak Jane and Owen arrived.
“Oh, Angela!” gasped Jane. “You will outshine every woman here! No wonder you wouldn’t let me know what your costume was. Where did you ever get such an idea?”
“Surely I won’t outshine the sun!”
“What are you supposed to be?” asked Owen, critically surveying Angela and glancing at Keith. “Sherwood Forest?”
“No,silly! I am autumn!”
Keith just stood there gaping.
Her dress was silk chiffon,the same creamy shade as her skin. It floated in the air as she moved giving the illusion that she was naked beneath it. Multicolored velvet leaves of yellow, russet, orange, brown, and red were strategically placed at the bodice and hips, scattering in windswept profusion over the flaring skirt. Actually it was very modest, the only skin visible was her arms gleaming through the long sheer sleeves, but at first glance it seemed otherwise.
The leaves were embroidered with realistic-looking veins, dew drops and an occasional bug or butterfly, but the crowning touch was her headdress. Over Angela’s unbound black hair was a spider web of gold threads that she had made herself. A tiny jeweled spider resided in the center and randomly caught in the web were leaves and flowers. The whole thing was spangled with minute crystals sparkling like dew on a sunny morning.
They were greeted by the prince dressed as a Roman emperor and he insisted on opening the ball with Angela.
“Marvelous, just marvelous,” he said unable to tear his eyes off her costume. “You are the most original one here. I’m afraid there are already dozens of Romans, not counting the gods and goddesses. I have already counted twenty shepherdesses, and Lady Stanton even has a lamb on a leash!”
The whole atmosphere was of a garden party, even inside. The floors were thickly strewn with new mown grass giving off an aromatic scent. Screens tapestried with moss and flowers were interspersed with illuminated arabesques providing numerous hideaways for would-be lovers. Colored lamps and thousands of flickering candles glittered like fireflies and in the ballroom, stretched across the length of one wall, was a transparent landscape of moonlight glinting off a lake. Five hundred flambeaux lighted the garden paths.
The prince started the dancing, whirling Angela out onto the ballroom floor to the strains of a waltz. They all knew who the lady was even though she was masked, and fans waved as furiously as the tongues. The prince’s new mistress, the Duchess of Brightling, who had managed to scandalize even shock-proof London. Look at the way she flaunted herself just as she flaunted her long list of lovers, reputable and disreputable. The Queen of Hearts, a predatory creature as deadly as a black widow spider. Her lovers and husbands were predisposed to dying of love for her. Hadn’t the Duke of Remington gambled everything to make her his wife, and when he lost went home and drank brandy while bleeding to death of self-inflicted wounds? She was a cool one all right.
Indians, a harem girl, knights in armor, blackamoors and exotic birds joined in the dancing making colorful circles across the floor. Angela danced with Owen unaware of the hostilities surrounding her.
“Tonight, Owen,” she murmured with a secret smile and he nodded, his green eyes blazing like emeralds.
The dining table seated two hundred and Angela found herself in a place of honor next to the prince. A small velvet-covered box lay next to her plate and she eyed it apprehensively wondering what it was.
“Open it,” urged the prince. “It’s for you, for furnishing me with one of the most stimulating and diverting evenings in years.”
The comment was overheard and whispered down the line, embellished many times over. There could be no doubt now that she was the prince’s mistress. Greedy eyes watched as Angela covertly opened the box beneath the prince’s beaming smile.
A diamond bracelet winked and sparkled on a bed of black velvet. It was set with six large heart-shaped stones and countless smaller diamonds. The beauty of it took her breath away.
“I couldn’t possibly,” Angela stammered, “accept. . .”
“Nonsense,” remarked the prince, “I had it made especially for you and you will displease me greatly if you don’t put it on now!”
“But—”
“That, my dear Duchess, is a royal command!”
So under the malevolent and amused gaze of two hundred pairs of eyes Angela allowed the prince to clasp the bracelet around her fragile wrist.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” was all she could say and Keith looked across the table at her with a contemptuous twist to his mouth.
The dinner lasted hours and they ate and drank their way through tons of food and interminable courses. The table setting was a masterpiece that must have taken a week to create. A stream of water flowed in a meandering channel down the center, surrounded by sand, rocks, moss and miniature trees. Bridges crossed the tiny river where real silver and gold fish swam. The speculation was that the
whole affair was costing the prince one hundred and twenty thousand pounds!
With a firm grip on Jane’s hand Owen steered her off the garden path and led her away from the gently swinging colored lanterns into the darkness.
“I don’t want to go,” she protested but he silently propelled her on. “It’s too dark. I can’t see!”
“Just let your eyes get accustomed to the night.”
“You are always dragging me into gardens!”
“But I want to be alone with you. There are far too many people in the house. Ah, here we are!”
The full moon chose that moment to slip from behind a concealing cloud, washing the secluded bower in a properly romantic light. Owen looked down at Jane’s moon-silvered face and hair that had turned from gold to a platinum blaze. His eyes followed the curve of brow, cheek, chin as if memorizing a beauty about to be snatched away.
“Things are not as they were before, Jane. I think it’s time we had the truth between us. I can’t stop loving you in spite of your rejection and what it did to me. I wanted to hate you for your pettiness but Angela led me to believe it wasn’t the real reason.”
His hands were warm on her shoulders and Jane felt feverish in spite of the cool breeze playing through the garden. She had known this was coming ever since Keith had wakened her at dawn several days ago and related an outrageous story. She had thought him drunk and had made him repeat it three times. But it had been true and now the lie she had told Owen didn’t matter anymore because he was rich.
Almost hesitantly she looked up into Owen’s face, partly shadowed, the rest thrown into harsh relief in the moonlight. He seemed carved out of granite, everything but his lips as they moved saying things she didn’t want to hear. His lips when smiling reminded her so much of Scott she wanted to cry, and the few times they had touched hers made her feel more alive than she had in years. Just thinking about his kisses sent her emotions into such a tangle it took days to straighten them out.
As if sensing her thoughts Owen stopped speaking, his mouth lowering slowly to hers. She could have escaped if she had wanted to. He was only touching her lightly and she could have swung away from what she knew was coming. But throwing caution to the wind Jane lifted her lips to his, twining her arms around his neck.
The touch was gentle but electrifying and their breathing merged as the kiss deepened and became a mutual possession. Their bodies molded together and liquid fire spread through her body deciding the question once and for all.
“I love you, Owen,” she whispered as his lips burned in the hollow of her throat. “Take me now!”
His head jerked up sharply at her last words. She couldn’t have said that! His imagination must be playing tricks on him.
“Now, Owen!” Jane moved his hand from her waist to her breast watching his eyes darken as his fingers curled around her softness. “I’m not teasing, and I know that you want me.”
“No!” Owen jerked his hand away. “Not here, not now! After we are married—”
She laughed and he broke off confused at the turnabout. What was happening? She had been so reluctant before and now it was as if she was seducing him.
“I never said I would marry you.”
“I don’t understand you, Jane. First you say you love me and then that you won’t marry me. Why? It doesn’t make sense.”
“But it does. People can love without getting married.”
“Now just a minute!” Owen was growing angry and more puzzled by the minute. “We love each other, we are both free and there are no more barriers to keep us from getting married.”
Pressing close to Owen again Jane kissed him. “Don’t talk, just love me. We can talk later.”
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this right now! What kind of a game are you playing and why me?”
“All right!” Jane stepped back, her anger fueled by his. “I love you but I won’t marry you. I’ll be your mistress but not your wife! Does that explain things simply enough? For a tutor you can be incredibly stupid!”
“Why?” When she didn’t answer, Owen grasped her arms and shook her. “Why?”
“Do you insist on knowing all the deep, dark, ugly secrets in my past? Well, all right! I’m not good enough for you. No, don’t interrupt me now.” Jane’s blue eyes spit sparks at him in the half light. “I am not what you think I am. I’m no shy, retiring little maiden waiting for Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet. He already came and went and took my virginity with him. Oh, yes, I loved him and still do and, heaven help me, I love you at the same time.”
Owen was visibly shaken. “Why didn’t you marry him?”
“He wanted me to and I wanted to but he was bad, reckless—a criminal. I still would have married him but I found out that he was in love with another woman, a married woman. Do you want to know the worst?” Great silver tears slid down her cheeks as Jane relived the agony of her past. “Can you stand another shock? It was Angela, my best friend and his stepmother!”
“Scott Harrington!” Owen staggered as if he had been shot.
“Yes, he was carrying on an affair with both of us at the same time and Angela was pregnant with his child.”
“Lorna!” The pieces of the puzzle were fitting together and the picture was not a pretty one.
“It was then that I found out the worst about him. I already knew he was a smuggler and a murderer but to discover that he could rape and beat an innocent child like Angela was too much. She was only fifteen! He still wanted to marry me, but I just couldn’t. I was sick with disgust and jealousy and hate!
“He went away for years and when he came back he married Angela. I still loved him and nothing could change that even though he was married to her and they had two children. Scott is dead now but part of me will always feel the same way about him.”
“Jane, Jane.” Owen folded her close to his chest, his cheek resting on her bright hair. “Nothing matters. The past is gone, dead, and we have to live for the future. I know exactly how you feel because I too had a lost love. Part of both of us will always feel the hurt, but the important thing is that we can feel again and love again. Be brave. Take the new chance that life is giving us.”
“I won’t marry you,” she still insisted, her tall slim body stiff in his arms.
“We will talk later. Right now I am taking you home.”
The short ride was silent except for the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestone streets. A great weight, that Jane had not known existed, was lifted from her and she felt like a young girl once again, not a spinster of twenty-eight.
The butler took their wraps inside the front door and as he was retreating Owen swung Jane up into his arms and started for the stairs. She gave a surprised squeal, not believing what was happening. Owen, so gentlemanly and proper, reluctant to even touch her without a ceremony had changed in to instant into a reckless adventurer.
“It’s quite all right,” he told the silent redfaced butler as he mounted the stairs. “She’s my mistress!”
“How could you?” Jane beat on his chest with her fists as he set her down in her bedroom, kicking shut the door. “Tomorrow everyone will know!”
Grasping her flailing arms firmly he couldn’t help laughing. “If you are going to be my mistress I want no secretive, hole-in-the-wall affair. You must be a proper demimondaine. I will set you up in your own house and parade you before my friends in French gowns, dripping with jewels—”
“Stop it!”
“Just as I thought. You really wouldn’t like that life. So tonight you can be my mistress.” Owen’s fingers nimbly unhooked the back of her dress. “And tomorrow you will marry me and be my wife. But we will start our family now, a little girl with your lovely blond hair and—”
His mouth found hers in the semidarkness, softly urging until the stubbornness went out of Jane. Angela was right, the language of the body was far more eloquent than even the words of a poet and he knew that now was the time to claim Jane as his own.
It had been six long years since the affair with Scott and she was suddenly embarrassed and shy, covering herself with her hands.
“Don’t,” groaned Owen, going to her and turning her around until she faced the pier glass. “Look. You are beautiful!”
And Jane couldn’t help staring at her reflection in the mirror, Owen in the shadows just behind. He pulled the pins from her hair loosing its glory, brushing it aside from one shoulder as he placed a fiery kiss on the tender flesh. His fingers cupped her quivering breasts brushing the swollen peaks until they tightened with an agony of released desire.
Her breath came faster between parted lips as he held her against him with one strong hand and with the other loosed her from the confines of the rest of her garments. They slid to the floor in a heap about her feet and Jane stood there in just her shoes and stockings. Her glazed blue eyes fastened on Owen’s passion-darkened face and his fingers traced a trail downward over her flat belly.
Then he turned her away from the mirror, his hunger past all control. He laid her on the bed, hurriedly stripping off his clothes and her shoes and stockings. When the hard, hot length of Owen’s body touched hers all the lethargy of the hypnotic moments before left Jane, and a turmoil of feeling surged wildly through her.
She was frightened and exhilarated at the same time, his expert kisses and fiery caresses only increasing her confusion. She wanted him but Scott kept getting in the way. His eyes should be brown not green, and although he was hard-muscled and lean, his shoulders weren’t as wide and he wasn’t as tall. She alternately fought him and acquiesced like a half-wild creature unsure of its end.
He could tell what she was thinking, the battle her heart and mind were waging with her lovely, passion-starved body. It had been the same with him after Beth, almost a betrayal, but a landmark hurdle that had to be passed. Leisurely he let his kisses fall on her closed eyes, her ears and cheeks and back to the sweetness of her mouth.
Across Captive Seas Page 17
