Lizzie, My Love

by Sara Bennett - Lizzie, My Love

  “To Lizzie!” the captain said, raising his glass.

  Zek drank, and Kitten waved her glass without attempting to salute the other woman, her eyes gleaming with jealousy. What was it about Zek Gray, Lizzie sighed, that brought out the very worst in women? They made fools of themselves over him while he sat and let them.

  “You know, Lizzie,” the captain went on in his abrupt way, “you’re a damned fine woman. Damned fine.”

  Lizzie flushed, trying to laugh it off, but the captain wouldn’t be side-tracked. Kitten was rubbing her face on Zek’s shoulder, her eyes hectic.

  “Damned fine,” he repeated. “I reckon Zek here’s a damned lucky man.”

  “Damned lucky,” Zek murmured, and winked at her over Kitten’s smooth coiffure.

  “Oh Zek,” Kitten murmured, and Lizzie saw with outrage that the other woman’s hand was running over his chest, while her pink tongue darted into his ear. He was enjoying it too, the toad!

  With sudden blind determination, Lizzie turned to the captain and smiled. He blinked at her, and after a moment smiled back, a light she couldn’t mistake coming into his rather protuberant blue eyes.

  “That color suits you, Lizzie,” he said with approval, eyeing her bosom where it showed over the neckline of her gown.

  Zek had chosen it. It was red, a deep, blood-red, and showed off her white skin and dark hair and eyes to some advantage. She had protested it was too low at the front and too tight in most other places. He had laughed at her, and from the look on his face when he had viewed her in it tonight she knew he approved.

  Lizzie smiled at the captain, allowing her hand to pause over his shoulder, before resting her fingers lightly on the insignia on his red jacket. “It suits you too, Captain. I always think a uniform so... so distinguished.”

  Maybe it was the wine, or anger and wine both, but suddenly she felt quite as outrageously flirtatious as Kitten. Her fingers smoothed the captain’s well-cut coat, and she smiled at him, fluttering her lashes.

  “Zek’s been my friend for more years now than I care to name,” he said, meeting her look, “but damn, ma’am, if I don’t wish he weren’t! Damn, if I don’t. Friendship can be a damned nuisance sometimes, Lizzie, eh?”

  His hand slipped about her trim waist, and he squeezed her rather more enthusiastically than was comfortable. Her eyes slid around to the other couple. Kitten was still murmuring sweet nothings in Zek’s ear, but Zek himself was watching her. And his face was like thunder.

  The party broke up after that. He was barely civil in his goodbyes, though fortunately the Barretts were rather too buoyed up with wine to notice.

  They had hardly reached the bedroom when he pushed her back against the door and began to kiss her with a savage single-mindedness that sapped all Erotests. His hands slid over hips and breasts, bruising tender flesh as though he meant to hurt ...

  “That’s to remind you whose wife you are,” he said breathlessly, staring into her face, his own pale and sharp with some hitherto unseen emotion. “And remember it, Lizzie!”

  ‘”Zek!” she gasped, and then, eyes narrowing, “Why shouldn’t I flirt? I didn’t see you pushing that... that woman away!”

  “You didn’t see me urging her on, either, did you?”

  “I wasn’t urging anyone on! Besides...” and her eyes grew sly, “I thought he was sweet.”

  He caught her arm as she went to walk away into the room, and swung her around against him. His eyes were ablaze and she felt fear before his kiss shut it out. His hands were tangling in her hair, raking it down so that the pins fell to the floor like rain. Lizzie squealed, struggling to escape, but he held her, tugging her head back so that he could further his exploration of her long throat and half-naked bosom.

  Her fingers were shaking as she tried to tug his head away, shaking as much with the strain of wanting him to go on as wanting him to stop.

  “Zek!”

  He looked up then, frowning. His eyes delved deep into hers, and read there the truth. After a moment he relaxed into laughter. The rage was gone as if it had never been. His mouth curled, his eyes narrowed wickedly, and he stepped back.

  “So that was it, eh?” He pinched her cheek in an almost brotherly fashion. “You minx. But don’t ever let me see you acting that way again, hear?”

  The smile remained on his mouth, his stance was relaxed, but looking into his eyes she saw the order, and the anger, and turned nervously away.

  “I will if I want to,” Lizzie muttered, like a rebellious child, and shrugged one shoulder.

  “Oh will you now? Well I warn you, this is what you can expect by way of retaliation.” He swung her around against him, and then tossed her on to the bed as easily as if she had been thistledown. Lizzie squealed, trying to clamber up, but he was already beside her, struggling to pinion her hands.

  It was the work of a minute to capture and subdue her. He gazed down into her flushed face as she squirmed half-heartedly. Her hair was quite untameable, her gown indecently low from the fight. His eyes, brilliant with triumph, darkened to desire. She saw the demon come leaping, and was still as he bent. Her lips parted of their own accord before he reached them. His kiss was tender, but urgent. Her hands, free now, crept around his nape and pulled him closer.

  He began to undo the hooks and eyes on her bodice, kissing the flesh as each inch was revealed, and she watched him with fascinated wonder. That he should do so to her, plain, puritan Lizzie; that she should love the devil in him. Zek...

  His smile made her head spin, his body caught fire with hers. Some cold corner of her mind thought—Making love with one’s husband should be done in a dark room beneath the bedclothes. Not... not... well!

  She pictured herself, lying half-naked on the covers, tossing feverishly, Zek still in his shirt, clothing spread from hasty disrobing all about them.

  Her long lashes lifted and she looked up into his dark eyes, alive with a hundred emotions, and knew in her heart that he was the only man for her.

  Afterwards, when they lay quiet, he said, “I think it’s time we went home.”

  “Home?”

  “Your home, Lizzie, and mine.”

  She shifted uneasily. Angelica.

  “What is it?”

  She felt him watching her in the half-darkness, and forced herself to say lightly, “Oh nothing. I was just thinking of facing everyone.”

  His laugh was arrogant. “You’re my wife, Lizzie. You needn’t make excuses to anybody for your behavior.”

  Somehow she loved him all the more for that.

  ***

  And so here they were, bumping over the dusty road, on their way ‘home’. Her home. Strange, but she had never had a home before. Not a proper, permanent one. She had been shifted and shunted about. She supposed the town house had been a sort of a home, until she was shuffled off to the workhouse. And now she had a real home.

  Zek was talking about having some sort of celebration dinner, inviting people from around about so that she could get to know them officially as his wife. It terrified her, thinking of all those mocking faces, but she agreed to it evenly enough, winning an approving smile from her husband.

  Jessie Grant was there to welcome her, and whatever she felt was carefully cloaked beneath an attitude of respectful obedience. Mary too seemed more respectful and perhaps even more friendly. The other servants were subdued, and Lizzie, expecting perhaps resentment and dislike, was grateful for that. Ralph Grant smiled at her and congratulated her quite cheerfully, and tried to pretend he had known they were in love from the moment he saw them.

  “There’s a letter for Mrs. Gray,’ Jessie said, and it took a moment for Lizzie to realize that was herself.

  The letter was from Jane, and she read it avidly, nearly weeping over the spelling errors and the great blot at the end. Dear Jane! She sounded very happy. The tavern was going well, and Johnny was building on to it. She hoped Lizzie had settled in, and was glad to hear from her. How was Mr. Gray?

  Dear,
dear Jane. How Mama would have exclaimed, if she were alive and here now. Jane had always been the beauty, and her mother had hoped one day she would marry well. Lizzie had been expected to do no more than work hard and be respectable. And look how things had turned out. Lizzie had made the brilliant marriage, while Jane... but Jane was happy, wasn’t she?

  Zek had laughed at her excitement over the letter, and listened to her ramblings with a patient look. That annoyed her slightly, but she was too pleased to take him up on it. After dinner, they sat in the cozy sitting-room, and Lizzie hurriedly wrote off to Jane. Zek sipped his brandy, and sat staring into the fire.

  “Will you still redecorate the house?” she asked, pausing with pen held over paper.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder, where she sat at the desk.

  “Of course.”

  When she had finished, and was sealing the missive, he said, “Come here,” in such a gentle voice she could not argue. Smiling, she came, and he snuggled her down beside him on the sofa, his hand smoothing over her wild curls. They sat a moment in silence, and Lizzie thought that if he were to leave her in the morning, she could never have been happier than she was at this moment.

  “Ralph tells me Angelica is spreading rumors,” he said softly at last.

  She looked up sharply into his eyes, but he was staring into the fire, his face closed.

  “She says I married you because her husband suspected we were... well, lovers, or some such nonsense, and that I wanted to put his mind at ease so that we could carry on regardless.”

  She stiffened, wondering if this was all some sort of cruel game to prepare her for just that eventuality.

  “Lizzie? I wanted to tell you in case you heard and... well, Angelica once had ambitions in that direction, but it’s over. I told her so the night I went to see her. The night you and I...”

  “I see,” she said, her voice strange and stilted.

  His hand stopped smoothing her hair, and he suddenly forced her chin up, staring down at her. His mouth went straight and grim, his black eyes hard and narrow. She gazed back at him, thinking how dangerously handsome he was, and how much she loved him.

  “You already believe it, don’t you?”

  His soft question threw her thoughts into confusion.

  “I… ”

  “You do,” he repeated, in a harsh, grating voice, and stood up, swinging around to face her.

  “I... oh Zek, she’s so beautiful!”

  “She’s so beautiful!” he mocked savagely. “You’re a fool, Lizzie, by God you are! Can’t you see... but no, I suppose you can’t!”

  He flung his glass suddenly and viciously into the fire. The brandy in the bottom burst with a sudden bright flare, while the glass shattered. Lizzie jumped, her eyes wild in her white face.

  He was staring into the flames, watching them die a little, his shoulders hunched.

  After a moment he turned back to her, his face pale and almost haggard. She thought she saw despair in his eyes, and knew then that he really did love Angelica, and that he was breaking his heart over her, just as Lizzie was breaking hers over him. And she couldn’t bear it.

  With a cry, she jumped up from the sofa and ran out of the room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SOMEHOW things didn’t seem the same after that. Zek worked twice as hard, or so it seemed to Lizzie, and she herself worked in the house and garden. Work commenced on the house, and the constant noise drove her out of it, seeking solace in the orchard. Summer drew on and the wheat had to be harvested and the fruit picked. The place seemed to swell to ten times its normal activity, and extra labor had to be hired and housed and fed. There was plenty to do.

  The celebration dinner was shelved—there didn’t seem much to celebrate now—and the few visitors Lizzie had were mostly curiosity seekers or friends of Zek who considered he had made a grave error of judgment in marrying Lizzie, or so she thought.

  Angelica came riding over, blase about the whole thing. She smiled a lot at Lizzie, but her blue eyes were mocking and Lizzie knew that the other girl was aware of the truth. Zek had probably already told her, or at least been to reassure her over the matter. She pictured them lying together, and clenched her fists to try and counteract the shaft of pain this caused. Love was supposed to be unselfish, wasn’t it? Well then shouldn’t she be happy for her husband, if Angelica was what he wanted? If she truly loved him she would be glad, and bear with it all uncomplainingly, a gentle, understanding smile on her mouth day and night. Only it wasn’t like that at all! It hurt, and her smile was ragged at the edges, and Zek looked so tired sometimes she wanted to weep.

  Sometimes she longed for the days of their honeymoon in Bathurst. They had been happy then; they had! If only they could recapture some of that easy camaraderie. Even the sometimes bitter arguments they had had before their marriage were preferable to this.

  He took her into the little town one day, before Christmas. It was very hot that day, a warm wind blistering the earth, and drying her skin, she was sure, like a prune, despite her big hat and sunshade.

  The town was sweltering, and Lizzie was glad to go inside the little shop there, where it was relatively cool. There were sweets in jars, and bags of flour and the like. Everything one could think of. There were even bales of cloth, and Zek confused her by buying a length she had admired. The town had its own hall, and a stone church with a wooden bell tower near the doors.

  “Not much perhaps,” he murmured on the way home, “but it’ll grow, Lizzie. They’re already talking about a school, and when our kids come along we could send ‘em here instead of Bathurst. Unless, of course, you want a tutor.”

  She said nothing, wondering bitterly how he thought they would have children when he totally ignored her bed, and she slept alone in the great thing while he slept alone in his own room. She had expected one of them to move, but he had never mentioned it, and she knew now he didn’t want her nearer. She supposed, with Angelica to turn to, he would hardly want anything more to do with Lizzie. It was only common sense.

  He was watching her. She felt it, and turned her face to meet his stare. Suddenly the wicked light came dancing into his eyes, and he smiled. It was the old smile, the warm, rake’s smile.

  “Hardly the thoughts of a modest woman, eh, Lizzie?” he murmured, and she realized he had known.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she retorted, and glanced away.

  But he laughed again. Perhaps that was why he had come to her bed that night. He was absurdly tender, for such a wicked lecher, and when she woke in the morning he was smiling at her in the old, possessive way, the light from the shutters slanting across his cheekbones.

  He took her wrist in his fingers, brushing his thumb back and forth, his eyes on hers. “I can feel your pulse,” he said, smiling. “I can feel you living and breathing and being.”

  His mouth went straight, and his body tensed. She watched, a little puzzled, as he bent his head so that the shadows hid his expression from her.

  “It’s always fascinated me, to feel a person living like that, and to know that that little beat could stop so suddenly, for whatever reason. Fascinating, and terrifying.”

  “Zek, don’t,” she whispered.

  “Sorry.” He laughed, an oddly strained sound, and bent to kiss her rather bruisingly on the mouth before climbing out of the bed.

  She watched him stretching, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement, before moving to the door, completely unconcerned with his nakedness. He was a beautiful man, strong and sleek and brown from the sun. She let her eyes drink in his beauty, as he turned to smile at her.

  “If you look at me like that, Lizzie-mine, I won’t be doing any work today,” he mocked, and she blushed and turned away. His soft laughter lingered long after he had closed the door.

  ***

  Angelica invited them to a party some weeks after. She came over to issue the invitation herself, and Lizzie privately thought it about time she did so. Christmas was only
days away, and Christmas should be a time of kindness and happiness. Not that she could expect much of either from Angelica.

  “Zek always comes to my parties,” the girl said, with a laugh.

  “So he said.”

  “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it! Do come with him.”

  As if she would let him go alone! She was certain though that she wouldn’t enjoy it. Zek seemed pleased she was going, however, and she made an effort to appear at her poor best. Any best would be poor alongside Angelica.

  Lizzie put on her blue silk, that Zek had admired so, and put up her hair so that it fluffed out softly about her sharp features, adding some of the jewels that Zek had bought her to her ears and throat.

  He smiled when he saw her, and kissed her cheek. “You smell all clean and fresh,” he said, his arms about her shoulders. His fingers squeezed. “You had a letter, from that sister of yours, I believe.”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “She wished us happy but... she sounded so odd. As though she were worrying about something. I don’t know. I wish I could talk to her face to face; I’d soon drag it out of her!”

  “Invite her to stay.”

  “I will, but I know she won’t come. They’re too busy with the building and everything.”

  “Maybe she thinks I ill-treat you,” he said, in a quiet voice.

  She glanced at him, knowing the white look would be tensing his jaw. When she didn’t reply, his mouth hardened even more.

  “Come on, we’d best get going to the Baileys’.”

  She came willingly enough, but beneath the expensive gown her heart was aching. He was thinking of Angelica, and how much more he’d rather be married to her.

  Lizzie had not been to the Baileys’ place before.

  She found it almost as large as Zek’s house, though not so well-run and tidy looking, if she did say so herself! The house was all lit up, and the gardens had been cunningly filled with colored lanterns. Angelica came to meet them, resplendent in a gown of pink and mauve, cut so low Lizzie felt sure she would fall right out of it. Her eyes shone like sapphires, and she laughed rather a lot, showing her pointed white teeth.