Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) Read online

  “What of Quint Flannery? Is he also involved?” Dera asked casually, but her eyes never left Peg’s face.

  Peg pursed her lips as she thought of a reply. ���The English are questioning him also,��� she answered slowly. ���But he will not be arrested for the burnings.���

  ���Why is that?���

  Peg laughed, her eyes shimmered with devilment. Her full lips turned up into a satisfied smile. ���Quint was with me last night. I told them we were together.���

  Dera turned slightly away and fiddled with Lydia���s sewing basket. Would Quint have stayed the last night with Peg when he knew she waited in the meadow for him? Did he love her that little? ���It was kind of you to lie for him.���

  ���I lie for no one Dera Brennan. Think on that for a moment.��� Hatred surfaced in Peg���s voice and Dera knew then that somehow Peg was aware of her love for Quint. ���What���s this?��� Peg asked after a few silent moments as she noticed and fingered the velvet box Lord Fairfax had given to Dera.

  ���Only a gift,��� Dera said.

  Peg picked up the box and opened the lid. ���Oooo, how pretty!��� Her face was bright with questions. ���Is this comb for you?���

  ���Yes.���

  ��� ���Tis a might expensive gift. Who might be giving you such a present?��� Peg���s self-assurance deserted her for a moment. She looked warily at Dera then she lifted an eyebrow and closed the box. ���The only person who can afford such an expensive frippery as this would be Lord Fairfax himself. Would he be the bearer of such a gift?���

  Dera���s face burned, but she was spared from replying when Timothy appeared, tucking his nightshirt into his trousers.

  ���Let���s be goin���, Peg.���

  ���I want to go also,��� Dera said.

  ��� ���Tis after midnight, Dera. Why trouble yourself with this nasty business?��� Timothy grabbed for his warm cloak and opened the door for Peg.

  ���I wish to see what is happening, uncle.���

  ���Dera������ he started but was interrupted by Lydia as she waddled into the room.

  ���Let her go, Timothy.��� Lydia pulled her robe around her expanding waistline, her golden hair hung down her back. ���Dera needs to learn the truth.���

  In silence Dera took her own cloak from the wall peg and dressed in it. Timothy sighed and shut the door after ushering the two women outside.

  The walk to the village was cold; the wind howled like a baying dog. It seemed a long time before they spotted the torches ahead.

  Uniformed soldiers of the king milled about the village square. The villagers stood respectfully near, but no one dared to utter a sound for fear of being carted off to Dublin. A group of soldiers ringed Jem, and the fear Dera expected to see on his face was absent. Instead he seemed quite proud to be the center of attention. He tilted his dark head, a silly grin split his mouth. Timothy walked briskly to the circle of men and bowed politely. ���I am Timothy Brennan, Lord Fairfax���s overseer.���

  A young soldier addressed Timothy. ���We believe McConnell is one of the rebels responsible for the series of burnings in the area. He was seen with Quint Flannery before Lord Granger���s home was set ablaze.���

  Timothy stroked the stubble on his chin. ���I see. What of Flannery?���

  The soldier pointed, and Dera noticed Quint for the first time, He stood with his hands tied behind his back, his body proudly erect. The torches emphasized the glint of hatred in his eyes. Never had Dera felt such pain. He neither smiled or nodded at her presence, but for a painful moment their eyes locked and held until she couldn���t bear to look at him any longer. ���We believe McConnell to be the leader,��� the soldier continued.

  Timothy shook his head. ���Nay, McConnell isn���t your man. He isn���t capable of organizing a group of women at a basket weaving much less inspiring men to rebellion. You best look elsewhere.��� Some in the crowd tittered and snickered openly at Timothy���s words and Jem shot Timothy a black scowl. ���What about Flannery?���

  ���The McConnell wench says he was with her last night.��� The soldier licked his lips and grinned at Peg. ���I envy him.���

  Peg laughed deep in her throat. ���You���ll not taste my charms, Englishman. Only Quint.��� Smug satisfaction glittered in her eyes.

  Dera searched Quint���s face for some assurance that Peg was lying but saw only a rock hard defiance.

  ���Have you sufficient evidence against them?��� Timothy asked.

  The soldier shook his head. ���Nay.���

  ���Will they be released?���

  ���Yes, I believe so.���

  ���Good night then.��� Timothy took Dera���s arm and turned toward home. ���There is naught more to be done. All has been settled.���

  Dera longed to hang back, to wait until Quint was released, but Peg slithered over to him like a garden snake, staking out her territory. Peg stood on tiptoe and kissed Quint deeply, causing the soldiers and the crowd to laugh and joke with one another at her brazenness. Quint���s icy expression melted like a pond after a freeze and he smiled at Peg. A sharp, bitter pain shot through Dera���s chest, not unlike the one she had experienced years ago when she thought he might not wait for her.

  She stifled a sob and blinked away sudden tears. She fell into step beside Timothy and decided Quint was playing a part. He loved her, not Peg, and they were going to be married. He couldn���t give away their secret so he played along with Peg. No matter what Lydia thought, Quint loved her. Yet Lydia���s words echoed in her ears. ���Dera must learn the truth.���

  ���Something wrong with you?��� Timothy asked.

  ���I���m cold. Let���s hurry. I want to go home.��� Dera quickened her steps, her heart beat faster than a hummingbird���s wings. Lydia was wrong, she would prove her wrong. Quint loved her. Loved her. She repeated the words over and over in her mind, but she couldn���t dismiss the seeds of doubt already planted in her heart.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A week passed with no word from Quint. At first, Dera was hurt and wondered if she had done something to upset him. By now, Peg must have told him about the comb she had received from Lord Fairfax. But even so, it was no longer a secret. Timothy had informed almost everyone on the estate and in the village. He had not mentioned the proposal of marriage, fearing his lordship’s displeasure at having his private business bandied about. He badgered Dera to give her answer, but she adamantly refused to discuss it. She would never marry Lord Fairfax; she had to speak with Quint and explain the proposal.

  The cold moderated for a few days that November. The sun peeped through the clouds and drove the dampness away. Putting on her cloak one morning after breakfast, Dera walked in the meadow. The meadow shone like spun gold in the sunlight; everything smelled sweet and familiar. The sky shone a brilliant blue, dappled here and there with soft, fleecy clouds. Beauty surrounded her, but despite the warming rays of the sun on her face, she didn’t smile or feel contentment. Her heart felt heavy.

  From a distance away, she noticed a rider atop a dark horse. The rider stopped short for an instant, watching her, then he urged the horse in her direction. She took a deep breath when she recognized that it was Quint on Devil Man.

  Quint reined in the stallion in front of her. She patted the horse’s nose. “Hello, Devil Man, you remember me. What a beauty you are,” she said.

  “My eyes are feasting on beauty also,” Quint said softly. Her heart fluttered. He was so handsome and she loved him so much, but she hardened herself to his compliment.

  “Ah, my fine steed, ‘tis a pity that some humans aren’
t as noble as the horse. What a shame people must pretend love when they don’t feel it, that they throw away a love that is truly given for a moment of lust.” She stroked Devil Man, refusing to notice Quint. He was mistaken if he thought he could come to her after spending the night with Peg McConnell.

  “Look at me, Dera,” Quint said. She ignored him and continued to stroke the horse.

  “Dera,” he repeated again. The time she caught the unmistakable hint of a command in his tone. Still, she refused to look at him, though she knew he was becoming angry; Devil Man sensed Quint’s tenseness for he began to move nervously about.

  Tears stung Dera’s eyes. Without knowing why, she turned and ran as fast as she could, not caring where she was going—as long as it was as far away from him as possible.

  Devil Man galloped after her and Quint picked her up roughly with one arm, placing her in front of him. His breath felt warm on her neck and he kissed the back of her ear. She squirmed and tried to break his hold.

  “Let me go. I want you to leave me be.”

  “Stop being foolish, Dera,” he whispered. His lips trailed to the nape of her neck. “I have something to show you.” He turned Devil Man around and they rode away from the meadow. She started to protest again, but he held her tightly. After a few moments, she ceased her half-hearted struggle and relaxed, enjoying the familiar warmth of him against her body. The angry hurtful words she longed to say vanished on her tongue.

  They rode along deserted roads she never knew existed. When they were a good distance from the estate, they stopped before a bleak and empty farmhouse.

  Quint dismounted and helped her down. She looked at him in perplexity, but he said nothing. He took her hand and led her inside.

  “Who’s house is this?” she asked, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  “I’ve no idea. The place has always been here, empty for years. I discovered it as a boy. Evidently no one remembers it’s here, since the main road is a distance away.”

  Daylight touched the far corners of the room and she could see blankets covering the rushes on the floor. Cracked plates and mugs lined a shelf above the hearth; a huge cauldron hung over the hearth itself. A man’s shirt was draped across a broken chair.

  “Someone must live here, Quint. What’s all of this?” she said, gesturing with her hands.

  “These things belong to me … and others,” he said slowly. His face was solemn, his tone serious. “It’s time you knew the truth with no uncertainty, Dera. I am responsible for the burnings. I am the leader.” He took her hands in his, pride shining within the depths of his dark eyes. “This is our meeting place.”

  Sorrow flooded Dera’s heart. She shook her head in dismay.

  He let her hands drop. “I didn’t expect such a sour look, Dera. You don’t approve?”

  “I can’t approve arson. This hatred in you frightens me. I know what these burnings are leading to. I know what your ultimate goal is.”

  “You do? Tell me. I wish to know just how well you think you know me.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. An icy chill enveloped her. The unyielding man before her was no longer Quint, but some stranger obsessed with hatred.

  “You intend to kill Lord Fairfax. The burnings are a ruse to throw the authorities off. You’ve changed, Quint.”

  “I’m still the same. You’re the one who is different. Nay, you aren’t the girl I pledged myself those many years ago. That girl was ready to join me, to take up the cause. You’ve no understanding of me or what 1 hope to do.”

  “I love you,” Dera said. “The cause you fight for is just, but your vengeance is not. Lord Fairfax knows nothing of your hatred, but if he learns the truth, he’ll kill you. Give this up. Marry me and let’s leave this place.” She was filled with such intensity and longing that she thought he would understand how much she wanted to be his wife.

  His face grew even more implacable. “Your concern for Lord Fairfax is touching. Have his gifts turned you from me?” He grabbed her by the arm. “Have you let him make love to you, Dera?”

  “You use his lordship’s horse as your own and you accuse me of turning against you because he gave me a gift. Then there is no difference between us. Have you and Peg McConnell made love?” she spat.

  “Peg means nothing to me. She is Jem’s sister and she is a true follower of the cause.”

  “I see. Seek out Peg McConnell if you want a woman who thinks as you do.” She turned away, tears stinging her eyes.

  With a sudden gentleness, he was beside her and touched her chin. He wiped away a stray tear coursing down her cheek and smiled the tender crooked smile that always made her heart pound. He drew her to him. She quivered when his arms encircled her waist.

  “I love you so much,” he said. “I do admit Peg told me about the comb. Fairfax gives nothing unless he wants something in return. He is a powerful and wealthy man. I have nothing to offer you.”

  Quint’s face was a blur through Dera’s tears, but now they were tears of joy. Quint did love her. “You’re the man 1 love. Marry me and leave with me,” she whispered, feeling the beat of his heart against her breast. Every nerve in her body, every part of her being, was aware of him. He bent his head towards her.

  “Soon, Dera. 1 promise you.” His lips touched hers, sweetly, teasingly at first, then the pressure of his mouth became more demanding. Her body burned with the same familiar longing his touch always produced.

  Quint unhooked her cloak, letting it fall around her feet in a puddle. He touched the lacings on the front of her bodice, then stopped and smiled at her.

  He reached out and brushed his finger across her cheek before he stripped off his shirt and pulled off his boots. Quickly he undid his breeches and stood before her, naked and magnificent. She had always known he was handsome, but until that moment she hadn’t realized just how powerfully built he was. His shoulders were broad and his body bronzed from the sun. His hips were narrow, his legs strong and muscular, but her attention was held by his swollen member.

  They reclined upon the rough blankets covering the rushes. The warm, hard length of his body touched hers. Her hands followed the planes of his broad back as his mouth scorched her lips with his kisses. He slowly untied her lacings, massaged her breasts, stroking and caressing her until she was caught in a whirlpool of desire. He slowly undressed her and whispered her name over and over, then he was atop her, looking into her passion-filled eyes.

  “You are the only woman I will ever love,” he breathed.

  “Yes,” she sighed.

  His mouth recaptured hers. He parted he legs, pressing himself against her and sliding inside her effortlessly. His movements were slow and deliberate, tantalizing her and teasing her, as he brought her to the edge of ecstasy. She moaned and writhed beneath him, her body longing for the release.

  “That’s it,” he said huskily. “Move with me Dera, Want me as much as I want you.”

  Her fingernails dug into his skin. Her body ignited into a hot flame and she pushed hard against him. Quint’s body grew taut; he held her so tightly that she was hardly able to breathe. With one final thrust, he sent her plummeting over the edge into sweet, glorious fulfillment.

  Later. he held and kissed her gently. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I will never get my fill of you.”

  “That���s because we love one another, and after we’re married, I will give you fine sons.” She snuggled against him.

  “And a daughter with your looks.” He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t believe any other woman, even our own child, could be as lovely as you.”

  Dera was joyous, for he was speaking of their future together, of the children she would bear. She knew that with her love, he would cease to be angry and full of vengeance.

  Then the warm, happy feeling suddenly vanished. Her skin prickled and she shivered. “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “Not really. I feel like someone is watching.”

  He looked toward
s the window. “There’s no one here, Dera. Come, we best be leaving.” He helped her up and put his arms around her. “I hate to let you go.”

  “Soon we’ll be together for always.” She kissed him again.

  They dressed and left the farmhouse. She had almost forgotten it was the secret meeting place for the rebels since it was transformed by their love.

  After they had mounted a skittish Devil Man and rode away, Dera looked back, feeling unseen eyes upon them. She saw not a soul, but the eerie sensation ceased only after they were a good distance away.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Timothy sat beside Lydia, his hand resting on the undulating mound of her abdomen. Dera dried the last pot from the evening meal and placed it upon the shelf above the hearth.

  “Aye. I feel him moving.” A look of pure joy lit Timothy’s plain face. “He’ll be a rough, healthy boy for certain.”

  “What makes you think it shall be a boy, Timothy Brennan? Would you not welcome a daughter?”’ Lydia laughed warmly, delighting in Timothy’s momentary look of uncertainty.

  He withdrew his hand from her belly and kissed her. “T’will be a son,” he said with conviction.

  “1 believe you’re right.” Lydia patted her abdomen in a complacent gesture and leaned back in her chair.

  Dera knew Timothy was proud of his wife’s pregnancy and doted upon her. For the first time since Dera became a member of their household, she sensed contentment in Lydia. She took pleasure in their happiness, but she felt vaguely uneasy, wondering how Lydia could love Timothy’s baby, but not Timothy. She also wondered how Lydia could bed with a man for whom she felt no passion. It was beyond Dera’s comprehension. Her own experience with Quint had been beautiful. He had the power to make her body burn with desire, to make her crave his touch. She pitied Lydia for not experiencing the same feeling for Timothy.