Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) Page 14

  “Are you concealing any knives or blunt instruments?”

  “No. I have nothing.”

  He pursed his full lips. “I better check just to be sure.” She stepped backwards as he advanced towards her and grabbed her around the waist.

  “I don’t have anything,” Dera told him again and cringed at the way his hands intimately roamed over her hips.

  “Just let me touch you.” He cupped her breasts; she struggled, wishing she had followed Anna’s advice and come as Lady Fairfax. No one would dared to accost her then. She had to think of a way to quench this man’s lust or he would rape her in the hallway and not a soul would aid her.

  She pushed suggestively against him. “Listen, this isn’t the place for lovemaking. After I see my brother, I’ll wait for you on the street. Then we can go somewhere and be alone.”

  “Will you do anything I ask you to do?” he asked

  ���Anything,��� she lied and stifled the urge to retch.

  ���All right,��� he said, apparently satisfied though reluctant to let her go. She followed him down another passageway until he stopped before a tiny cell. He took a key from his belt and unlocked the door which squeaked from disuse. The man attached a torch to the inside wall. “You’ve got a visitor. Your sister,” he said. He looked at Dera. “I’ll be waiting outside the door for you.”

  Dera entered the small cell. The stench of excrement and stale urine almost suffocated her. There were no windows to circulate fresh air, and without the torchlight, the cell would have been in utter darkness. She jumped as something scurried past her skirt. Except for seeing Quint against the wall, she would never have guessed that a human being could inhabit such a place.

  “Quint, it’s Dera.” At first, she thought he was asleep. She moved closer, wondering why he wouldn’t open his eyes until she saw with mounting horror that his eyes were opened and that he watched her through tiny slits. His face was so bloody, bruised and swollen she barely recognized him.

  “My God, what have they done to you?” she cried.

  Quint groaned. “I didn’t know I had such a concerned sister,��� he whispered raggedly

  She knelt beside him and took a clean kerchief from her pocket. She dabbed it in a bowl of foul water on the floor and applied it to his face, but he moved her hand away. “Leave me.���

  “Let me do something for you,��� she pleaded.

  ���Why are you here?���

  ���I love you, and I wish to put things right between us before you stand trial.”

  “There is to be no trial, Dera. “

  She sat back on her haunches. “Everyone has a trial, Quint.”

  He laughed bitterly and held his ribs. “How naive you are. I’ve already been sentenced to hang within five days time. Your husband saw to it that my execution will be swift. Anyway, t’would be a mockery for me to be tried by the English system for I don’t believe in English justice.”

  “Not that soon.” She shook her head in denial. “I love you. There must be another way.”

  “Enough of this playacting,” he said tiredly. “You never loved or understood me, otherwise, you couldn’t have betrayed me.”

  “Betrayed you?��� She was dumbfounded, her mind ceased to function at the shock of his words. Then it came to her. He held her responsible for informing the authorities about the meeting place. ���I didn���t tell anyone about the cottage. I tried to warn you. I sent Anna������

  ���Stop lying!��� he hissed. ���You were the only person other than me and my men who knew the location. Like a lovesick fool, I took you there myself, hoping you’d understand what I was doing. Don’t speak to me of love, Dera. You’ve no understanding of what it is. Now go and let me suffer in peace.”

  “Perhaps one of your men was the informant?”

  The slits through which he saw her widened. “My men are true followers of the cause. You are the traitor. I never want to lay yes upon you again. All is finished between us. I wish to God I had never met you.”

  “You don’t mean that!” she sobbed. “I love you. I do.” She wanted him to realize she spoke the truth and to feel her love for him, but he turned his head away and shut his eyes. The thought struck her that she should tell him about the child, but she didn’t want to add to his burden. He detested her so much that her pregnancy would make no difference. Hesitantly, she touched his forearm. “No matter what you believe, I didn’t betray you…. Quint?” Getting no response, she withdrew her hand.

  The jailer outside the door informed her that her time was ended. She didn���t want to leave, her very heart was breaking. She kissed his cheek but he didn���t respond. ���I love you, only you,��� she whispered, her voice trembling. Dera. stood up, tears streaming down her cheeks. She took one last look at the man she loved, his face caked in blood, his bones broken and she knew that no man, ever again, would possess her heart.

  The jailer led her back to the street and patted her on the rump, telling her he would only be a few minutes longer on duty. She nodded as if she intended to wait, but the second he was inside she ran to the waiting carriage and sobbed hysterically in Anna’s comforting arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Dera sat in Avery���s library before a crackling fire, her thoughts black as night, for there were only two days left until Quint was to be hanged.

  She pulled the comforter up to her neck, feeling guilty for being comfortable while Quint was forced to spend his last few hours in that hell hole of a cell. She felt totally helpless. Returning to Dublin and pleading for Quint’s life was the only solution she could think of, but she knew that Avery would thwart her at every move.

  The rain pounded on the roof; the hard wind howled through the darkness. Dera didn’t hear the library door open and shut, nor did she hear the wet footsteps behind her chair. Suddenly a prickling sensation crawled along her spine, the same odd feeling that had crept over her months earlier when Quint had taken her to the meeting place. Slowly, she got up and turned around, clutching the blanket about her. Jem McConnell, his face distorted from the flickering firelight, grinned lustfully at her.

  His clothes were soaked and clung tightly to him. She couldn’t help but see the bulge in his trousers. She backed away. The two of them were alone, since Avery was still in Dublin and Dominick was in Athlone with the Websters while Anna stayed the night in the village at a friend���s. Jem’s eyes traveled the length of her, and he licked his lips.

  ���‘What do you want?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  ���I’ve come for that which I’ll not deny myself any longer.” He advanced toward her, his intentions clear. She picked up a heavy candlestick and held it at an angle, prepared to strike.

  “Leave, Jem. I won’t say a word about your having been here.”

  “T’would be useless, Dera, for I know Lord Fairfax is in Dublin and the Frenchman isn’t here. Your Quint is as good as dead so there be no one to save you this time. Besides, I come with an offer.”

  “What can you possibly offer me?” she asked warily, still clutching the candlestick.

  “I can arrange Quint’s release.”

  She eyed him warily. “No one can do that. It’s impossible.”

  “Not if one happens to know that a guard can be bribed for a pittance to look the other way when a prisoner makes an escape. ‘Tis a common happening. Just a few gold pieces will do.”

  “You know such a guard?” Dera was disbelieving, but she was desperate enough to grasp at any straw, any hope offered to her, even from someone as loathsome as Jem McConnell.

  “Aye, give me some money and I will take care of it, but I wish something for myself.”

  “I assume—you’re not referring— to money,” she stammered; her blood chilled in her veins.

  Jem laughed. “Money isn’t what I had in mind for myself, Dera.”

  ���If you are able to bribe a gua
rd, then I can bribe him just as well.���

  ���Aye, but you will not know the guard���s name nor will I tell you, and you cannot brazenly enter the jail with your gold pieces and ask now, can you? You might just ask the wrong man and you will find yourself hanging alongside your beloved Quint.���

  ���What if I refuse your offer?���

  ���Aye, you can, my lady, but your Quint will still be dead, and I know he is your weakness.���

  She trembled in fear, knowing he could hurt her, but she managed to make her face a mask. She had thought life was unfair to have allowed her to marry an impotent, aging man when she loved another, but to give herself to Jem McConnell, whom she detested, nauseated her. It was more terrible than anything she could imagine. She wanted to run, to hide, yet she knew she would stay. Life was more than unfair at this moment, but she must help Quint at any cost. Quint was her weakness, and he couldn���t die unless she helped him, and if her body was payment for his life, she would do what she had to do to save him. She looked at Jem and knew what had to be done. She made her mind a blank.

  Woodenly, she placed the comforter on the Persian carpet before the fireplace and faced McConnell. “I’ll do what you ask. Just begin and be done with it.”

  He whistled through his teeth in surprise. He walked over towards her, and piece by piece, he removed his wet clothes. She tried not to look at his body, the muscles rippling across his chest, but she couldn’t help noticing the hugeness of his private part. She thought of her unborn child and the possible damage this man could do if she resisted, but Quint would die unless she tried to save him.

  “Do you like what you see, Dera?” He placed his hand on the buttons of her gown and began tugging.

  “Stop it!” she cried. “I’ll undo my own clothes before you rip them to shreds.” She turned her back to him, unfastened the front of her dress and removed it. She felt his gaze upon her as she stepped out of the chemise; her body turned a hot pink under his lecherous stare. He stood in back of her, one hand cupping her breast and the other her buttocks. She felt the hardness of his manhood rubbing against her.

  “I want you so much,” he whispered hoarsely, pushing her onto the comforter and turning her towards him. He slobbered over her breasts, his hot, hands hurt her as he explored her body. Panting, he moved lower down upon her, demeaning her with the intimacy of his kiss. Then he moved upon her and forced her legs apart.

  “Open for me, Dera or I just might hurt you,” he said. He pushed into her and she bit her fist to keep from crying out. She prayed he would finish soon, but it seemed an eternity had passed until he finally groaned and shuddered atop her.

  Her eyes glazed with tears, but she refused to let him see he had hurt her. No matter the humiliation and the pain, she tried to remember she had done this for Quint.

  Jem smiled smugly at her, his hand holding her face to look at him. “I always knew I would have you, but I wanted you to moan for me as you did for Quint that day at the meeting place.���

  Dera gasped. “You were watching us! You are the one who betrayed the rebels!”

  He laughed, pleased with himself. “I’ll not say.”

  “I know you did. You’re a filthy pig!”

  “Hold your tongue, Dera. I can hurt you real bad if I want. Now be quiet and kiss me.”

  She pushed against him with all of her strength and rolled away. She stood up and eyed him with contempt, as much for him as for herself. “Our business is completed. You’ll find some gold pieces in the top drawer of the desk. I’ve kept my part of the bargain now you must fulfill yours.”

  “I’m not ready to be going yet.” He got up, and to her horror, she saw he was ready for her again. His huge frame moved toward her, and in a single movement he grasped her around the waist. “Now pant for me like you did for Quint.” He pulled her head back, his lips clamping down upon hers and his tongue ruthlessly invaded her mouth. She fought the urge to gag, to run. She was terrified of him, but she would rather die than moan in forced ecstasy or give herself to him again. Her body grew stiff and no amount of fondling could elicit the response Jem wanted. He pushed her at arm’s length. “Don’t play games with me, Dera.”

  Though inwardly she trembled, she eyed him with as much coldness as she could muster and used the last tactic left to her. “We made a bargain. Touch me again and I’ll be forced to turn you over to the authorities for attacking me. Then you’d have to explain why you weren’t captured with the other rebels. I don’t think you’d be happy in Kilmainham Gaol, Jem, for I’ve seen it. I’d gladly let you rot there.”

  He glared at her with such intensity that she thought he would strike her, but to her surprise he released her and dressed quickly.

  Jem went to the desk and took the gold pieces from the drawer. He walked to the veranda door. Without turning around, he said, “I’m not finished with you, Dera.” Then he was gone.

  She collapsed into a heap in front of the fireplace. The spot between her legs burned like fire, and she imagined slimy creatures crawled upon her flesh. A part of her longed to die, hoping to be cleansed by the fires of hell, but she remembered her baby. Quint’s child. She sat up and gathered her dress about her then ran the distance up the stairs to her room and locked the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Dera hummed a tune to herself. The previous day, when word arrived of Quint’s escape, she had known a sense of peace. She had decided that giving herself to Jem in exchange for Quint’s life had saved him. Quint was free and that was all that mattered to her, even if she never saw him again.

  The warm spring sunshine touched her face and she felt herself come alive. The gardens, undeniably beautiful, had blossomed forth in vibrant colors. She stopped in her afternoon stroll and gazed at the manor, more beautiful as the years passed. Memories of it as a child assailed her, but in her wildest dreams, she had never expected to live there. Yet it was Avery’s home and in that home she had tasted unhappiness. She would leave it willingly when the day came.

  She spotted Dominick and waved to him, but he didn’t acknowledge her greeting. He walked slowly along the garden path. She met him halfway and tucked her arm through his. “I’m glad you’re back from Athlone. I missed our talks.”

  Although he smiled his same warm smile, she detected something was wrong.

  “I have terrible news, Dera. You must be strong.”

  “Something has happened to Uncle Timothy or Lydia?”

  “No, they are fine, but������ He took a deep breath. “I may as well just tell you. Your husband has been murdered on the road returning from Dublin.”

  “Avery is dead?” She clutched her throat, unable to believe that she would never see him again. She felt she should shed a tear for him, but he had been so cruel that all she could feel was the shock of his passing. “How did it happen?” she asked at last.

  Dominick led her to a bench and sat close to her. “It seems he was waylaid by a highway man, but though the murderer wore a mask, the driver believed the culprit was the same man who escaped from Kilmainham Gaol. The rebel leader.”

  “No!” Dera exclaimed. Dominick looked bewildered. “Does the driver have proof?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. There has been speculation that this man probably did perpetrate the deed since Avery had been instrumental in his arrest. You’re shivering,” Dominick noted. “This has been a great shock. Let me take you inside.”

  Dera allowed Dominick to escort her to her room. She lay on the bed after Dominick had departed and once again her thoughts turned toward Quint. She still loved him and didn’t regret how she had obtained his escape, but she wondered if his hatred of Avery had finally resulted in murder.

  “I hate wearing black.” Dera refused to look in the mirror as Anna laid the black veil over her head.

  “You’re a widow,” Anna reminded her. “You’re to wear it out of respect.”

  “I don’t feel like a widow. I don’t even
feel like I was ever married. And I don’t mourn him. All I have is this sense of relief. I wonder if I’ll be punished for it.”

  Anna covered Dera’s face with the veil. “At least no one can tell you’ve not shed a tear.”

  Dera frowned. “Nor will I. The pity I once felt for him vanished long ago. I hated him, Anna.”

  Anna shook her head in dismay. “I dislike hearing you say that. It makes me uneasy to see you become so hard hearted, no matter what he did to you. The man had his private devils.”

  “I don’t wish to hear excuses for him. Avery was evil. He was,” Dera reiterated. “And I shan’t feel any grief for him.”

  “Just don’t let the others see you’re not mourning. I’m speaking especially about Lady Cecelia and the Websters. Lord Webster has taken to his bed with grief, and Lady Cecelia���well, she’s not one to show her feelings. I’m not sure she has them like other folks.”

  Dera and Cecelia had exchanged only a few polite words since the latter’s arrival from London the previous day. Though nothing untoward her had been said, Dera sensed Cecelia didn’t like her. Frankly, Dera didn’t care. She disliked Cecelia and her superior ways just as much. Dera allowed Anna to smooth down the black taffeta gown she wore, and when the woman finished, Dera grabbed her hand.

  “I’m frightened, Anna. Don’t leave me for a moment.”

  “Don’t fret. Funerals are a sad business, but I’ll stay by you. So will Mister Dominick. He cares a great deal about you.”

  “Yes, I know he does,” Dera answered, but she wasn’t worried about the funeral; she was worried about Quint, wondering if he was safe. A few people in the area thought they had sighted him and this had given her hope. Yet she was also frightened that he might be foolish enough to come back to Fairfax Manor. Even if he hated her, she longed to see him again. No matter how hard she tried to put him from her mind, everything reminded her of him, and the small flutters of life in her belly made it impossible to keep him out of her thoughts for long.