Daughter of Darkness (19 page)

Alerted to her presence, Gerard’ s mouth twitched into a smile and his head turned towards her. Lazily, his glance roved over her outfit. ‘It fits you well, but surely you don’t intend to ride at this hour. It’s almost dusk.’

‘It looked so beautiful I just
had
to try it on.’ She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. ‘It’s a thoughtful gift and I thank you from the depths of my heart.’

‘A kiss would be better accepted,’ he remarked, uncoiling from the chair and drawing her into his arms. The warmth of the dimly lit room lent sudden intimacy to their relationship. Her awareness of him increased, her heart began to thump in a most alarming manner and her throat suffered from dryness. Her husband’s caresses and sweetly worded compliments had increased of late. Although she looked forward to them—even put herself in the position of inviting them on occasion—they had a strangely weakening effect upon her body. Her legs turned to warm wax at the very sight of him sometimes. ‘The earl may wake up,’ she whispered, overcome by shyness.

‘He will not wake just yet.’

His lips, which were slightly austere when he wasn’t smiling, softened when they took advantage of her upturned mouth. She was just beginning to enjoy the sensations his kiss evoked, when he began to withdraw. Murmuring a protest deep in her throat, and praying he did not think her wanton, she slid her arms around his neck. ‘Pray, kiss me once more, Gerard. I find it most enjoyable.’

There was a moment when time could be measured by a heartbeat. Their lips were so close their breath mingled in scented confusion, their eyes so tangled, each experience the recognition of mutual pleasure. Her lips parted slightly in surprise and Gerard took advantage of them again, this time more ardently.

She’d had never imagined there could be so much pleasure from a man’s kiss. His tongue explored the contours of her lips before making tiny, flickering assaults into the moist parting she inadvertently provided. Trembling and weak from a rush of heat through her veins, she allowed his plundering tongue to probe deeper, until the response of her own was to flirt with his in a most delicious manner.

It seemed to be a lifetime later that the mantel clock chimed four, but only a minute had passed. Her lips were strangely sated when he gazed down at her. She blushed at the expression in his eyes. They were predatory, like that of a falcon about to swoop on its prey. She shivered slightly. The look was replaced by amusement when Ambrose stirred in the chair.

‘Look who’s come to visit you,’ Gerard drawled, as though nothing untoward had occurred between them. Drawing her forward, he paraded her in front of the earl. ‘She’s come to show us how becoming her new riding outfit looks.’

‘That’s not so.’ Still all blushes, and tingling deliciously all over, Willow felt completely defenseless as she tried to remember why she was there at all. ‘I have two favors to ask of the earl.’ She gazed at Ambrose and smiled with great fondness. ‘I’d not bother you with this if it were not of the greatest importance.’

‘Speak, Willow. You know I can refuse you nothing.’ Ambrose’s voice was much stronger now, the slurring almost eliminated. He was slowly regaining strength in his body. John Grey had devised a way of exercising the earl’s limbs, so he’d find it easier to support himself when he learned to walk again.

‘The favor is not for me, it’s for my maid, Kitty Adams. She seeks permission to marry the groom.’ She hesitated, wondering how to broach the delicacy of the matter. Taking a deep breath, she said slowly. ‘The priest has advised Kitty it’s imperative she weds soon, or her soul will be in mortal peril.’

‘You mean the girl has got herself with child?’ Gerard’s impatient query caused her to jump. ‘If your maid has loose morals, she must not remain in your employ.’

‘She’s been led astray.’ She did not see why Kitty should take all the blame, and jumped to her defense immediately. ‘I hope you’ll see fit to reprimand the man, Gerard. He’s not without culpability in the matter.’

‘And if he does not wish to marry the girl?’

‘That’s not possible.’ Uneasily, she stared at her husband. ‘Brian holds her in great affection. He’d not let her bear this burden alone.’

‘Then I’ll ascertain the truth of this from his own lips.’ He headed towards the door. ‘Brian O’Shea is the best groom we’ve ever had. I’ll not have him trapped into marriage against his will.’

‘And what of the child?’ she snapped, understanding his sudden resentment all to well, and experiencing guilt at her involvement in the trapping of
him
as her husband. Yet if her father had beaten her to death as he’d threatened? She shuddered. It did not bear thinking about. Anger made her forget the earl was in the room, as she cried out in an impassioned voice. ‘Does the child count for naught? Would you cast a mother and her infant on to the street, whilst the man responsible seeks another maid to spoil?’

‘The child could belong to any man unfortunate enough to have— ‘

‘Enough, Gerard!’ The earl only raised his voice a little, but Gerard immediately fell silent. His body was one stiff column of tension as he turned back towards his father. Sadly, Ambrose reminded his eldest son. ‘You treat both me and your wife with much disrespect. It was
my
advice Willow sought, not yours.’

‘I most humbly beg your pardon, father.’ Gerard neither sounded or looked in the least bit humble as he stood tensely by the door, awaiting permission to leave. Ambrose left him waiting and turned his gaze back to her. ‘What’s your second request?’

‘I’ve been thinking about the village orphans. If, in your generosity, you could let me have a vacant cottage, I should like to provide for them with the money from my dowry. They could be trained to work for the estate.’

‘I’d be willing to donate a cottage for such a cause, but as for your dowry.’ Ambrose was regretful, but firm. ‘That’s for Gerard to decide, my dear.’

Gerard was not disposed to grant any favors at that moment. ‘Your dowry is little enough considering the circumstances of our marriage. Such a scheme will bring every beggar child to our door. Permission is not given.’

Receiving a dismissive nod from the earl, he gave a stiff bow. Leaving Willow bewildered and hurt by his reference their hasty marriage, he strode away without another word. Wounded by his thrust, she turned to the earl, close to tears. ‘I’ve been the cause of discord between you,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’

The earl indicated the chair opposite him and she settled herself in its comfortable depths. ‘Gerard is proud and his masculine arrogance takes precedence over his good sense at times. However, you must learn not to argue with him in my company. It’s demeaning for us both when I’m forced to rebuke him.’

Her tears spilled over as she accepted the earl’s censorship. She fumbled for her handkerchief. ‘I would not have him stripped of his pride. It will be as you say.’

Ambrose gazed at Willow and blessed all that she was. She had all the qualities of her mother, yet her character had more resilience. He’d have liked to give her the security of knowing she had her mother’s love, but unfortunately, Marietta had sworn both he and Lady Edwina to secrecy.

Although Marietta’s downfall had not been her fault, she did not want her daughter to assume the burden of it. Her story was so horrifying, that reluctantly he’d agreed Willow was better kept in ignorance of it. Marietta’s rape, and subsequent marriage to the marquis had been violent in the extreme. Although it was accepted she’d died shortly after childbirth, Marietta had been beaten by the marquis, then left for dead in a shallow grave in the forest. Some gypsies who’d witnessed the crime had dug her body up for the clothes. When they’d discovered her alive, she’d been nursed back to health, then sold into slavery and shipped to America. Only her extraordinary powers had saved her from a life of complete degradation. She’d become the property of a shaman, who’d nurtured her darker powers. When he’d died, she’d returned to England to plan her revenge.

Despite her horrifying past, Ambrose loved Marietta all the more for her courage. He smiled to himself. Even his formidable mother-in-law had been moved to tears over her fate once she’d recovered from her initial horror. Edwina had not demurred when he’d offered Marietta the protection of his home for as long as she wished to stay.

‘You can tell your maid permission to wed is granted,’ he said as John Grey quietly entered the room and busied himself lighting the candle sconces. ‘She may continue in your service for the time being, if you so wish.’

‘I do so wish.’ Rising to her feet, she kissed the earl’s cheek. ‘You’re a good man, Lord Lytton. I pray your full recovery is not too far off.’

‘I could not wish for a better daughter-in-law.’ Ambrose’s eyes twinkled suddenly. ‘I must tell Gerard to stop his procrastination. Kissing will not beget me a grandson.’

‘Oh!’
Mortified, her face turned the same color as her new riding outfit. The earl had been feigning sleep. ‘You’ll excuse me father,’ she whispered faintly. ‘I’ll go and tell Kitty the good news.’

Ambrose smiled as she fled from the room. He was pleased Gerard had the sense to take things slowly. Willow needed love like a plant needed summer rain. Love made her bloom, and like a flower, she gave back beauty and love in abundance.

Beckoning to John Grey he gave a determined smile, reckoning it was time he stopped skulking in his room. ‘Lift me to my feet. I’m of a mind to walk.’ Supported by the man’s strong arm he took a few shuffling steps. Making it to the other chair he collapsed with a crow of triumph. ‘Fetch a bottle and two glasses, John. We’ll drink a toast to my damned legs. They’ve finally realized they’re attached to my body for a purpose.’

Gerard’s bad humor didn’t last long. His temper improved further when his father sent word that the family would resume the habit of formal dining that night.

He instructed Rodgers to take extra care with his grooming, donning a blue velvet jacket, over breeches and waistcoat of pearl grey brocade. His grandmother was a martinet about dressing correctly for the occasion, and he’d no desire to suffer another put down that day.

Except for Sapphire, they were all assembled when Gerard presented himself. John Grey stood behind his father’s chair, his face expressionless, waiting to attend to the earl’s every need.

‘I seem to be late.’

‘No. It’s we who are early.’ The earl indicated the chair next to him and smiled. ‘Sit next to me, my son.’

Gerard caught his father’s eye, and though he’d rather have done it in private, felt no embarrassment as he offered an apology for attempting to usurp his authority. ‘I ask your pardon first, father. I spoke without thought earlier. He turned to Willow, whose place at the table adjoined his. He gave her an easy smile. ‘I also beg your indulgence, madam.’

‘And I yours. I spoke too boldly.’ Anxiously, she glanced at his father, smiling when he inclined his head and indicated the chair once again.

Gerard had hardly seated himself when Willow’s hand slid into his. Not knowing whether she sought comfort or offered sympathy, he gently entwined her fingers, then without thinking, raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. When he looked around the table every pair of eyes were watching at him with interest. Disconcerted, he dropped the hand back in her lap and fussed with his napkin.

The watching eyes had reminded him of his sixteenth birthday. He’d been on his way to Sheronwood to show Daphne de Vere the horse his father had given him as a gift. He’d come across a woman in the stables. Not recognizing her as a servant, he’d stopped to inquire her business on Lytton land. She’d been about twenty, beautiful to his adolescent eyes, with a luscious ripeness and a knowing manner. It hadn’t taken her long to show him what her business was all about. He’d enjoyed a delightful hour being initiated into the rites of love. When their lovemaking had concluded, a cheer had rung out. It was then he’d discovered they were being watched by several of the male servants, who’d clubbed together to hire the whore’s services for his birthday.

He grinned as he remembered his embarrassment, though he had to admit now. It was the best birthday present he’d ever had.

‘Whatever is the matter with you, Gerard?’ his grandmother said, her voice as tart as vinegar. ‘Did you not hear your father? Stop grinning in that obnoxious fashion and please say grace before we all starve to death.

The snow had almost cleared. A cold wind swept in from the sea as the two men set off for Sheronwood. Dawn had arrived barely an hour ago, Anthony Dowling a short time after, to join Gerard for breakfast.

Gerard had been reluctant to rise from his bed. Sleep had been hard come by. His mind had been unduly active, his thoughts straying to past pleasures. Moreover, his body had sought to remind him, in no uncertain fashion, that he was a man who needed release. He’d almost been tempted to forget his gentlemanly promise and seek the comfort of his wife’s body. Then he’d remembered her bedchamber was situated in the chilly north wing. The combination of freezing cold and distance had dampened his desire as soon as he set a foot out of bed, causing him to hastily withdraw it.

He intended to have her moved to the convenience of an adjoining chamber, and had secretly ordered pretty new window and bed hangings to surprise her. He’d fallen asleep planning her seduction. He tried not to think of her now, but the fascination of her violet eyes seemed to haunt him. Sometimes they were soft and anxious, sometimes sparkling with innocent, childish mischief, or furious like summer storm clouds. He envied the affection she reserved for his father and brother. She did not bestow that favor upon him, regarding him with a certain amount of shy, wariness. Yet sometimes, when he caught her unawares, something stirred deep in the violet depths, a glimpse of dormant passion, as if she recognized the growing attraction between them.

Realizing Anthony had spoken, he jerked his mind back to the present. They were about to enter one of the tracks leading directly to Sheronwood estate. Not used of late, the track was overgrown with nettles and brambles, and pockmarked with rabbit holes. They’d have to pick their way carefully.