Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) Page 12

  Tears stung Dera’s eyes. The memory of Peg McConnell writhing beneath him was still vivid and painful to her. She looked down at her hands, clutching the bed sheet. “I saw you and Peg McConnell mating like animals. I went to you after Timothy and Lydia banished me for refusing Avery … but Peg was there with you.”

  “Peg? I remember no such time. Anyway, she meant nothing to me. You’ve always had my heart. ‘Twas no reason to turn away from me.” Her attitude puzzled him. Couldn’t she understand that he was a man? Peg did have a way of turning his head and pleasing him in ways which Dera knew little. Yet, he hadn’t meant for Dera to learn of their relationship or to be hurt by it. He had sent Peg back to her brother shortly after Dera’s marriage because she flew into jealous rages every time he glanced at another woman. He didn’t like feeling tied to someone like Peg, who gave him pleasure, but meant nothing else. Besides, she had headed for Athlone a month past and taken up with someone else.

  The tears spilled down Dera’s cheeks. He cupped her chin and asked her tenderly, “What else?”

  She looked at him, tears in her eyes and said, “I heard you tell her you loved her.” Her voice broke. Like a small, hurt child, he cradled her in his arms, hoping to comfort her and alleviate her pain, but a sense of loss filled him. Because of his unbridled lust, he had lost Dera. Truthfully, he didn’t remember telling Peg of love, but apparently he had … Dera had heard him.

  “I love only you.”

  “I want to believe you,” she said, her fingers brushing against the hardness of his jaw.

  “Let me prove my love to you, Dera.” He wiped the tears from her face and kissed her long and sweetly. He pushed her onto the pillows and savored the feel of her moist, warm lips. Dera sighed, the promise made to Avery forgotten. This man was her weakness, her love forever. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer against her and the tide of passion swept over them once again.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  On a gloomy afternoon, Dera lay in Quint’s arms and listened to the wind howling about his cottage. Stolen hours with him were easier to manage than she had anticipated. She found her love for him was stronger than before; and she accepted the fact that he had always loved her and still did. Avery never questioned her whereabouts. Since the night of the ball, he had been distant and cool. Yet, despite her ambivalence for him, she didn’t want him to discover her relationship with Quint, because she didn’t wish Avery to be humiliated.

  Quint lay motionless, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. Even after making love, he held himself rigidly, ready to react to the slightest noise. His tenseness and long silences caused her increasing worry. Was another burning about to occur? In spite of his love for her, she felt Quint wasn’t going to give up his dream of winning back Fairfax Manor at any cost.

  Dera stirred, and he looked at her, a cautious smile on his lips. “Will Fairfax start searching for you?”

  “I told him that I would be visiting Lydia this afternoon, but he won’t bother looking for me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Avery paid a call upon her after she lost the baby and he vowed never to go back again. He said Lydia isn’t right in the head.”

  “Aye, I agree with him on that point. I’ve seen her at odd hours during the night wandering near the bog. She stops just near the edge, then turns around and heads for home. She has grown a might odd.”

  Dera grew alarmed. “Have you told Timothy? Perhaps she needs someone to watch her. There’s no telling what she might do.”

  “I’m not one to interfere in another man’s business. My guess is that Timothy knows of her peculiarity. After all, he is her husband.”

  She reached out for her gown, determined to visit Lydia that afternoon and to see for herself.

  “Not so quickly,” Quint laughed and pulled her into his arms. “I’m not finished with you yet.” His hands were everywhere upon her body, seemingly not satisfied with the fulfillment of an hour before. She lay under him as his body moved over hers and caught his rhythm.

  Later, after she had dressed, she went to him and laid her head against his chest. “I hate leaving you. Each time it becomes harder.”

  “Aye.”

  “Quint?” She looked up at him, and though he glanced down, it was as if he weren’t seeing her.

  “What?” he asked absently.

  She wished to discover his thoughts, but decided it was best to remain ignorant. “Nothing,” she replied.

  He bent his head and kissed her deeply. “Until tomorrow.”

  She held her cape tightly about her as she left the cottage because the April wind blew strong, but spring was coming. The fields were turning green and the farmers were already cutting turf. As she hurried along the road, wild daisies bobbed in the blustery wind.

  She knocked on the door of Timothy’s farmhouse and when there was no answer, she entered. The place was in disarray. Every plate was cracked or broken on the floor; pots and cups were cluttered on the table tops. What shocked Dera most was the sight of Lydia huddled in a chair. Her hair hung about her shoulders in a tangled mass of knots. Her dress was dirty, and she sat with her arms tightly drawn across her chest.

  “I’ve, come to help you, Lydia. Uncle Timothy should have fetched me.” Dera moved near her, but Lydia jerked away.

  ” ‘Tis nothing to be done. I need no help.”

  “How did these dishes break?”

  Lydia grinned, remembering how she had taken everything from the cupboards and hurled them at Timothy, not out of anger but because he wasn’t her Gavin. “No need to trouble yourself. I’ll sweep up the mess.”

  “Your clothes are soiled. Don’t you want to change?”

  “I’m happy as I am.”

  ���Let me help you, Lydia.”

  “Stop it, Dera!” Lydia quickly got up, nearly knocking Dera down. “I don’t want your pity. Pity yourself, not me.”

  ���Why am I to be pitied?��� Dera asked in bafflement.

  “You’ve been meeting Quint Flannery again. Aye, I can tell it from your eyes, that look a woman gets only when she has been satisfied in a man’s bed. Give him up or you’ll become like me … unfulfilled and mad.”

  “I love him, Lydia.”

  “Then you’ll be sorry. Leave me alone.”

  Dera wanted to help her, but decided that in the present situation, it would be a useless gesture. Surely Timothy knew of Lydia’s state of mind. For once, she decided not to heed her own instincts.

  ���I don’t approve of it at all.” Anna clucked her tongue and shook her head as she brushed Dera’s hair that evening. “Doesn’t seem proper for you to be seeing Mr. Quint again, no matter what his lordship has done. I know I���m not your kin, but I feel a duty to warn you.���

  Dera’s voice became soft and wistful. “One day, all will be as it should be. Quint’s home will belong to him, and we’ll be together for always.”

  Anna finished buttoning the back of Dera’s gown. Her eyes misted. “In my younger years, I married me a fine lad. I didn’t love him, but I was sorry when he died. Probably never will find a man to love, being so plain and getting on in age. I don’t know how it feels to be in love, so I can’t sit in judgment of you. Mind, I don’t begrudge you Mr. Quint, but I worry if his lordship ever gets wind of it.” Anna shivered at the thought.

  Dera hugged her. “You’re a loyal friend. I appreciate your concern.”

  Later Dera sat in the drawing room, her fingers busy with her embroidery while Avery sat reading a book. A few times she cast secretive glances in his direction, trying to read his mind. If Lydia were able to see something in her eyes, why not Avery? He had a knack for being intuitive. She suffered immense guilt at deceiving him. She felt, rightly, that she had given her word, then she had broken it almost without thinking.

  Avery put his book down and looked at her thoughtfully. Dera felt his eyes upon her and smiled warily at him. “Did you pay a call to Lydia?” he asked.

  �
��Yes, but she isn’t well. I fear for her.”

  “You noticed her rattled condition.”

  “Losing the baby has unbalanced her. She wanted that child very much.”

  “I presume you would also like children, Dera.” His tone was matter of fact, but Dera felt the color rise to her cheeks and hoped he wouldn’t see the truth in her eyes.

  “Almost every woman wants a child. There are some who don’t, like my mother for instance. She was a terrible mother. For her, it would have been best had I not been born.”

  Avery leaned forward in his chair, a tightness about his mouth. “This discussion does not concern your mother. You are attempting to change the subject. I always believed in your honesty.���

  She quelled an impulse to leave the room and met Avery’s challenging stare with one of her own. She was a young woman with a young woman’s dreams. Of course, she wanted children. Why should she lie about it?

  “Yes, I would like children.”

  He settled his back against his chair, satisfied with her answer. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you any, but one day after I am gone, perhaps you will remarry and achieve motherhood. All I’ve ever required of you, Dera, is forthrightness. I hope I shall never have cause to think otherwise.”

  Dera continued her embroidery, but her hands trembled as Avery resumed reading. She refused to look at him, suspecting the guilt of her betrayal was etched on her face. She wasn’t certain if he suspected her, perhaps the conversation meant little, but she knew Avery well enough to know that he rarely made a frivolous comment. Common sense warned her to stop seeing Quint, but she couldn’t. Every moment away from him seemed an eternity; not to be loved by him any longer would be torture.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Anna, rushing into the room. “Sorry, my lord, but have you seen the flames? The fire can be seen for miles around.”

  “Fire?” Avery quickly rose and followed Anna who parted the drapes. Toward the east, red-orange flames licked the night sky and illuminated the entire horizon. Dera put her embroidery down and got up slowly, a sickening feeling roiled in the pit of her stomach. No one had to tell her that Quint and his band of rebels were responsible for the fiery destruction.

  ���Boody Irish bastards!” Avery hissed under his breath. His usually pale face was flushed with rage. “I’ll wager they’ve burned Monty Webster’s house.”

  “Who is he?” Dera asked.

  “Lord Webster. The one married to that little French cream puff sitting next to you at the ball.” He turned, his green eyes harder than jade. “Her cousin, young Saucier, was quite taken with you as I remember.”

  Dera nodded mutely, glad that he turned to face the flames. After a few moments, he ordered Anna to close the drapes. “Have my carriage brought around at once.”

  ���Yes, my lord.”

  “Where are you going?” Dera asked him after Anna departed.

  “Monty is a close friend of mine. Helped me out of a scrape once. I intend to repay him by insisting he and his family reside with us until he decides what to do.���

  “That’s kind of you.” Dera was touched by Avery’s willingness to help his old friend. “I’ll have everything arranged for them by the time they arrive.���

  ���Thank you. I knew you���d be up to the task at hand, especially since you���ll be able to complete your tete-a-tete with young Saucier now that he’ll be staying with us for a few weeks. I’m sure that will please you,” he said cooly.

  “Avery …” she began, but he had already walked away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Mon Dieu, I cannot believe this has happened!” Adele Webster wailed into a kerchief. “All is gone, the house, the clothes. Everything is lost.” Her accent was thicker than usual due to the tragedy she had suffered, and Dera, who didn���t particularly care for Adele, pitied her situation. Lord Monty held his sobbing wife in his arms. His face was blackened from soot and his clothes soiled from fighting the flames of the night before. His dark hair, streaked with silver, smelled of smoke.

  “Sweet love,” he crooned to Adele. “We’ll replace whatever we lost, but let’s get some rest. Later today, we’ll sort through the rubble, and I hope we shall be able to salvage something.” He smiled at her tenderly, and like a small, whimpering puppy, Adele followed him upstairs.

  Avery shook his head and turned to Dominick Saucier who was also blackened with soot. “Do you wish to retire?”

  “I am not calm enough for sleep. Dawn will be breaking soon, and I have never been one to sleep the day away.”

  “As you wish.” Avery glanced at Dera. “And you, madam, are you ready for sleep?”

  “Perhaps later.”

  ���I see. Then I shall leave the two of you to enjoy each other’s company.” Avery walked from the room.

  Dera poured a cup of tea for Dominick and handed it to him. “I’ve asked that your bath be prepared. I’m certain after you’ve bathed and rested, you’ll feel much calmer.”

  Dominick sank into a chair and sipped the hot tea. “Such destruction. You’ve no idea how horrible it was.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Dera pressed gently.

  “Just after supper, we heard a loud crash and screaming. At first, we had no idea what had happened until we saw the servants scurrying away into the countryside like frightened rabbits. They didn’t stay to help. That’s why everything was lost. It was almost as if they expected it. Then all at once, the flames were everywhere.���

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “Just shadowy figures on horseback. No one that I could identify. Besides, they were gone before we had our bearings about us. Truthfully, we were thankful to be unhurt.”

  Dera. looked away, a sense of relief flooding through her. Quint was safe! Finally she lifted her eyes to Dominick. “Maybe these rebels have reasons for what they do.”

  ���Madame Fairfax!” Dominick was visibly shocked. “These Irish are capable of violence and murder. You can’t believe their cause is just, no matter how they feel about the English.”

  “I happen to be Irish, Monsieur Saucier,” Dera said icily. “Over the centuries, the English have persecuted us for no reason. Perhaps they are getting their just due.” Immediately she regretted her words. She realized she was echoing Quint’s sentiments and not her own. In subtle ways, Quint was changing her.

  Rising from his seat, Dominick grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly along with him. “What are you doing?” she asked in a terrified whisper.

  “You shall see the damage these rebels have wrought in the name of justice.” He dragged her outside into the early morning light and placed her beside him in a cart; then he drove down the winding road, saying nothing to her. She held onto the seat while the cart jerked and tumbled. When he reached his destination, he stopped and all Dera could do was gasp in astonished horror at the sight before her.

  Gone was the lovely and graceful house of the Websters. In its stead was a mountain of debris and pieces of once beautiful furnishings reduced to piles of ashen rubble. The smell of smoking embers caused her eyes to burn and tear. She had never imagined such total devastation. Knowing about Quint’s activities was one thing, but actually witnessing the result caused her to falter when she alighted from the cart. Dominick took her arm in support. “This is all that is left to Monty’s home. Can you condone these men for destroying another man’s dream?”

  “I, I never imagined anything this terrible.” She looked at Dominick through tears of bitterness and shock. How could the man she loved be capable of such a crime?

  “Monty lived here as a boy. Imagine the happy memories he holds in his heart. Now he must rebuild, but no matter how grand the new house will be, the one he has lost is dearer.���

  Dera thought of Quint and his fanatical love for Fairfax Manor; she understood now what drove him. The horror of the destruction was nothing in comparison to the torment of his soul -to lose the home of your family, only to h
ave it used by an enemy, a man he detested. Still, she couldn’t find it within herself to forgive his actions.

  That afternoon, after a short rest, she found herself alone. She discovered that everyone, including Avery, had gone to the Webster estate to sort through the rubble. She dressed in a simple gray gown and hurried off to the stables. “Quint?” She stood just inside the doorway until she heard his voice drawing her into the room. He knelt by Devil Man, and when he saw her, he stood up.

  “He lost a shoe,” Quint said.

  “Did it happen last night after your attack on the Webster estate?”

  “Aye.” His answer was so simple as to take her aback. He faced her squarely, with no sorrow or regret in his eyes. “You’re aware that I’m the leader. Do you think my love for you has softened my heart toward the English or toward the impotent dog you married?���

  She was surprised how well he could read her thoughts. No person knew her as well as Quint. Why couldn’t she agree with him? “I saw the destruction. What you did was wrong,” she found herself saying.

  “So, it starts again.”

  “What?”

  “You’re nagging me to give up my cause and to play dead. I won’t, Dera. Not for you or anyone. We have acted out this scene many times before. I am weary of it.”

  “Quint, this is one fight you’ll not win.”

  “You don’t believe in me, Dera. I see that fully now.”

  “I believe in you, but not in this senseless violence. There’s no chance you’ll accomplish your dream in this way. Could it be you no longer have a dream but wish only for revenge and love the danger?”

  “A man must fight or he is not a man. To give in would be worse than death.”

  She tugged at the front of his shirt. “Why can’t you listen to me? Understand what I’m saying to you. I love you and I don’t want you harmed.”

  He removed her hands from him. “Try understanding me for once. This time I allowed myself to believe that you were one with me, but I am a fool for loving you. Go back to your husband.”