His tongue was bold and seeking, sending shivers of pleasure down to Jane’s very toes until she was tingling all over and soft moans formed on her lips. Owen’s head lowered to her breasts, his hands on her, stroking and exploring, discovering all the secrets that pleased her.
“No, no!” she protested trying to push him away again. “I can’t! I don’t think I can go through with it. Owen—”
He silenced her protests with his lips, this time insistent and intent on the ultimate experience. It was too late now to stop and Owen resorted to sheer force to get his own way.
He was demanding that she yield; demanding a response. Her softness surrendered beneath the assault and Jane cried out against his mouth at the searing invasion. She turned and twisted beneath Owen, trying to throw him off, like an unbroken horse mounted for the first time.
Catching her thrashing head he kissed Jane, whispering comforting love words, gentling her until she ceased struggling. Then he began moving slowly, inevitably like the rolling ocean waves, taking her blissfully past yearning, until unconsciously she responded.
The ghosts between them disappeared leaving no memories or fears, only two people whose love was all the stronger for the sorrows and trials they had been through.
“I love you,” she whispered, her breathing ragged, the compelling force of their rapture driving every thought from her head.
He was filling an aching void in her life that she had been only too aware of and she stifled a cry of pure joy against his neck as thunder exploded in her ears, reverberating endlessly through her whole being.
Angela stood in the hall outside Jane’s room, dressed in a violet robe. She paused frowning at the thought of the butler’s strange expression last night when she had asked if Jane was already home. She knocked gently on the door wondering how things had gone between Owen and Jane. There was no answer and concern overweighed any concession to privacy she might have felt.
Opening the door a crack she looked in and stood stock-still for a minute, her eyes glued to the entwined couple sleeping beneath the tumbled covers. As quickly as possible she silently closed the door, not even trying to suppress the ridiculous surge of happiness. Things had gone well, very well.
There was a knock on the front door and Angela recognized Keith’s voice below. Lifting her robe in both hands she skimmed down the stairs, bare feet flashing and laughingly drew Keith into the morning room.
“You seem in fine spirits this morning,” he observed as she danced ecstatically around the room and ended by throwing herself into his arms and giving him a brief hug.
He would have held her there but she was gone in a flash, putting the distance of a breakfast table between them and pouring two cups of steaming chocolate. Her dimples deepened as she offered him a cup and there was a bright, mischievous twinkle in her aqua eyes.
“Did Jane get home all right?” Keith wondered out loud, glancing uneasily at her bubbling merriment.
That brought a loud giggle. “Yes, she is in good hands!”
“What are you laughing about?”
“I’m just happy. This is better than winning the card game or going to a ball.”
“What is?”
“When something absolutely wonderful happens to a friend, someone you love and care about very much, don’t you feel happy too?” Angela didn’t wait for an answer. “I almost feel as if it has happened to me!”
She hugged herself, leaning back in her chair with a dreamy look in her eyes. Keith had not the slightest idea what Angela was babbling about, but he was glad she was happy for once and not moping around crying over Scott. He hadn’t realized the extent of her love for him until the day he had told her he was dead and the fact that she still felt the same way almost a year after their separation made Keith uneasy.
He had thought that once Scott had gone they could fall easily back into their old relationship. But alas, the most ingenious plans often don’t work. His one overwhelming passion in life was to finally have Angela for his wife, for her to love him as intensely as he loved her. Keith had made a pact with the devil for that and he looked into the future with anticipation and dread.
She had been uncertain from the start but all roads led to marriage with Keith. He wore away at Angela slowly, inexorably like the steady drip of water on a rock until finally the stone gave way to the unceasing persistence. She made a thousand excuses in her mind: the children needed a father, she couldn’t see herself living alone for the rest of her life, she should settle down after her latest adventures in London and be a respectable woman.
Keith’s love was obsessive, making up for her lack and he assured her that they would be happy together even if she couldn’t bring herself to love him yet. But he always assumed that Angela would love him, that at some time in the nebulous future they would have the perfect marriage.
She should have known better! Even marriage with Scott had been a struggle, no matter how much they had loved each other. And after knowing such heights of feeling could she ever forget enough to make another go at a normal life?
Even Owen had warned her against marrying Keith. He had given her no solid facts for disapproving of the match, only that there was something about Keith he didn’t like, no matter that he was his brother-in-law. She should have listened to Owen, to her own heart, but instead had plunged in, both eyes shut to what she did not want to see.
Less than six months after the fatal mistake Angela’s whole life was a muddle. The children were happy enough living at Bentwood and thrived in the country air but Keith and Angela were slowly destroying each other. Their marriage was a total disaster, and she blamed herself for her overwhelming stupidity in thinking things could ever work out.
It had been a blessed relief when Jane and Owen had arrived in April for an extended visit. Jane had insisted that she wanted to have her baby in the house where she was born. Owen had indulged her, smiling gently at his adored, golden-haired wife swelling with their first child.
Their wedding had been small and hasty. Two months after the night of the prince’s ball, Jane at last gave in to his demands to be his wife when Owen threatened to use the same tactics Scott had used to get Angela. But Jane had laughed and said she would have married him anyway since she didn’t relish giving birth to an illegitimate child.
Paul Vaughn was born at Bentwood in June, a delightful baby that came into the world with the minimum of fuss. He was three months old now and still they lingered at the insistence of Keith. Angela hated thinking about the time when they must return home. Keith would then go back to his quiet, watchful, brooding manner, drinking himself insensible on most nights and spending his days she didn’t know where.
That was better than having him underfoot though, and having nothing to look forward to but the long dreadful nights. Angela supposed that was where the trouble began—in bed. Keith had thought to pick up their old relationship where they had left off years ago and that was not possible. In the intervening time too much had happened and when he touched her it was like a betrayal of Scott. There was no passion there, at least on her side, and Angela thought of it as a distasteful duty, lying passively until he finished.
Heaven knew she had tried but that had been a pretense and Keith saw through it at once. So Angela, who had always been troubled by her hot blood found her husband accusing her of frigidity, of bringing Scott to bed with them every night.
It was true. There wasn’t a minute that passed that she didn’t think of him. When she looked at the children, especially Robert who was just like Scott, he was always in her thoughts. Everywhere she went she had been before with him, even the house she now lived in. There was no escaping it and sometimes on days when she was particularly depressed Angela rode Pegasus to the lake where they had met and loved after his long absence. That place with the blue water, brilliant green grass, and wildflowers had the power to soothe her.
Angela always went by herself to her secret place and only there did she allow her mind to s
lip back into the past; remembering her straw hat floating on the lake, the daffodils huge and golden, the creation of a new life. Angela wondered what would happen if Keith stumbled on her lying in the long grass by the lake’s edge watching the clouds pile into fantastic shapes.
She had lingered far too long, dreaming the afternoon away and they had guests coming for dinner. Keith had arranged it to cheer her up. Just a small dinner party, he had said, but it turned into twenty-six people. Angela sat up and ran her fingers through her long, loose hair, shaking bits of grass and flowers out. Wearily she headed home wishing the evening was over and it was tomorrow.
The night was warm and Angela dressed in a violet gown embroidered with tiny gold flowers. Small puffed sleeves left her arms bare and on impulse she clasped the bracelet that the Prince of Wales had given her on one slim wrist. She really shouldn’t wear diamonds with such a simple dress but heedlessly she slipped her wedding ring on. Keith would be furious when he saw the heart-shaped stone on her ringer but it felt so right on her hand, as if it were a part of her. She hadn’t worn it since their marriage, maybe it was just one more sign of its downfall.
Going downstairs Angela paused for a moment by the library door. It was early and the guests wouldn’t be arriving for a while so she went in. Her eyes ran swiftly over the golden titles on the spines of a myriad of books. One thing she could lose herself in was a good story, concentrating on the characters and their problems rather than her own. Choosing a novel bound in blue leather she went to the window to catch the last light of day.
Although the sun lay below the horizon now its glory lingered on. Brilliant pink clouds split the deep blue expanse looking like a vast cobblestone road. She pushed the window open watching as the beauty lingered as if unable to end such magnificence. She couldn’t stand being inside and quickly ran from the room out into the garden.
The whole sky was illuminated and changed imperceptibly to a deeper color until the clouds blazed magenta. The garden seemed on fire with glory and at that moment Angela was glad she was there and alive to enjoy the spectacle of nature. Heedless of the dew soaking her satin slippers she wandered breathing the air fragrant with the smells of flowers, newly mown grass, and wet fallen leaves.
Her skin tingled with unknown anticipation and she ran her hands up and down her bare arms as a cool breeze sprang up and played through the trees. Bending to smell a full blown rose she heard a door slam and angry but quiet voices. The window! She had forgotten to close it. It was too high for her to look in but the voices were familiar and one made her blood run cold. Captain Latham! What was he doing here?
“I don’t care if it was an emergency. I told you never to contact me! I make the payments quarterly and on time; you have no right to abuse my privacy. What if my wife saw you? She might well put out your other eye!”
Captain Latham grimaced touching the black patch briefly. He had no desire to run into that firebrand again. Twice was enough, and those times when he had been on the witness stand she had stared at him with such loathing he wouldn’t have been surprised to see her pull out a pistol and shoot him. How Lord Montgomery could stand her as a wife was more than he could understand.
“I’m short of funds,” Captain Latham explained facing the glowering Keith. “I need more!”
“Well you won’t get an advance!” Keith’s fist smashed down on the desk sending the inkwell and letter-opener dancing. “We have an agreement and I have stuck to my end of the bargain. Now get out of here!”
“No!” The word was quietly emphatic. “I did not ask for an advance; those payments will continue as before. I would like ten thousand as a gift for services rendered.”
“You bloodsucker! And if I give it to you what then? Will you be back next month for more? Will you demand more the next time? Oh, no, I’m not playing your little game!”
“You have no choice.” Captain Latham’s voice was as deadly as slow poison. “Unless you want your wife to find out—”
“You wouldn’t dare! She would kill you on sight!”
“Don’t be so sure.” Sweat popped out on Keith’s forehead as Captain Latham continued, his eye glittering evilly in the candlelight. “What do you think she will do when she finds out you were the one that dug up all the dirt to throw on Harrington, that you found Sally Grey and paid her to testify against him, that you financed the expedition to Scotland in the hope he was there?
“Oh, I’ll admit I was only too happy to go along with you in the scheme, there was no love lost between Harrington and myself, but you are the one that instigated the whole damned plot and carried it through to completion. But it didn’t work out quite the way you planned, did it? Transportation instead of hanging and your wife was left still bound to him.”
He smiled briefly, confident of the outcome. “But you managed to see to that nicely too! I wonder what Lady Montgomery would say if she found out that Harrington is—”
“Enough!” Keith shouted, then lowering his voice, “All right. Ten thousand, but I don’t have that much here.”
“Within the week will be fine. Just send it to the usual place and we will forget this whole conversation ever took place.”
Angela stood frozen beneath the window, the book clutched tightly to her bosom. Her blood congealed in her veins at the pernicious deception Keith had perpetrated. It was beyond believing, but she had heard the hateful truth with her own ears. Blackmail, lies, and murder going on right under her nose, cleverly concealed by her husband. Husband be damned!
The hot eruption of rage turned her blood to boiling lava. Keith was responsible for Scott’s death! Murderer, liar! She silently mouthed the words but the shock let no sound escape from her lips. Every curse she had ever heard fought for release and Angela slowly sank down onto the wet grass. She felt as if a mountain had just fallen on her, burying her beneath tons of rock and dirt. She hurt all over and gasped for air, at the same time fighting the sickness that threatened to engulf her.
Captain Latham’s words rang hatefully in her ears. She would kill them both! Such treachery could not go unpunished and the thought of killing them with her own hands took over, spreading like wildfire. She stood up suddenly and the darkening sky spun crazily over her head. Putting out her hand Angela steadied herself against the rough, weathered brick house.
What else had he been about to say when Keith had interrupted him? The trailing sentence was instantly of utmost importance. There was still something she didn’t know but must find out. With a burst of energy Angela ran around the back of the house and up the service stairs.
Before her dazed eyes she could see the large chest at the foot of Keith’s bed. The one that was always locked, the only key always in his possession. Once she had asked him what was in the chest and he had replied that it just contained old letters and memorabilia. But she had a feeling that the answer would be found there.
As she rounded a corner in the hallway Angela ran into Jane and Owen, barely pausing in her flight. They stared at her in astonishment and Jane started after her only to have the door of Keith’s room slammed in her face.
“Angela.” She knocked on the door. "Are you all right? Angela!”
“What’s going on?” questioned Owen, a worried frown marring his forehead.
“I don’t know,” replied Jane with a bewildered look, “but something is wrong. Did you see her face, and her dress all wet and stained with grass?”
Angela locked the door, leaning with her back against it trying to still the booming of her heart. She had barely noticed Owen and Jane and didn’t even hear the knocking on the door. The chest was there, right in front of her; solid wood, bound with brass and with a stout padlock secreting the contents. Her eyes scanned the room looking for something to break it open with.
The poker! She inserted the tip through the shackle and leaned on it with all her weight. She tried again twisting it this time, bracing it against the chest. With a snap that threw her to the floor the lock gave way and she opened
the lid. At first Angela thought the chest was empty and thrust her hand into the dark recess in a panic. But paper rustled and she withdrew a sheaf of papers tied carefully with a black ribbon.
Black, a fitting color to bind such documents. She untied the bow, scattering the papers over the carpet. It was all there; receipts for hiring the ship, notations of damning incidents in Scott’s past, the price paid Sally Grey for her testimony. Impatiently she pushed aside Keith’s riding whip which had fallen off the lid of the chest.
Quickly she scanned the papers, until she came to one that took her breath away. It was the last of all of them, folded together with the letter from the captain of the convict ship telling of Scott’s death. The letter that Keith had showed her was a forgery! The original revealed something else.
He was alive! The whole thing had been a perfidious hoax, dreamed up to pull the wool over her eyes. With Scott safely out of the way the path lay clear for Keith to take over in her life as her husband and lover.
Tears coursed down Angela’s cheeks falling unheeded on her already ruined gown. Anger and joy chased each other in circles like a dog after a cat. He was alive! That’s what Captain Latham had left unsaid, the most important part of all!
Her heart leaped with jubilation. Somewhere across endless seas and oceans Scott lived, so far away that it might be impossible for a lesser woman to find him. But Angela’s love was stronger than any force bent on keeping them apart.
“I will go to him. I will find Scott,” she cried out loud pressing the blessed piece of tearstained paper against her breast. “He is not dead! My love is alive!”
But there was one more thing she must do to avenge the cunning deceit. Unconsciously she grabbed the whip she had pushed aside before, holding it tightly as a frenzy of fury shook her slim body like a storm. Keith would pay for his betrayal. The man who was her bigamous husband would regret the day he had ever laid eyes on her.
Across Captive Seas Page 18
