“Miss Montgomery does not receive visitors without an appointment.”
“She’ll see me. I happen to be master of this house.”
Sudden recognition flared in the woman’s face. “Oh, sir, I’m so sorry.”
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs, sir. Miss Montgomery keeps, er, unusual hours.”
Savage lines gouged either side of Mark’s face. “We’ll wait in the study.”
“Come this way.”
“I can find my own way.” He waved aside the housekeeper’s offer to accompany them. “Would you bring us some tea, please, while we wait?”
“Certainly.” The woman minced away.
“She’s just the kind of stiff-backed, heartless old dragon my uncle always employed to look after Edwina and me.”
It was dull inside, and the aura of damp decay sent shivers down Amy’s spine. The carpet looked worn, the walls stained and neglected, the portraits hanging on either side of the gallery they passed through adding to the grimness.
“This place is gradually rotting away,” he muttered. “The sooner it falls down, the better.”
“You don’t mind? Your ancestors must have been here for generations.”
“Over two hundred years. It’s a monument to evil. Built with pirate loot and maintained for generations by smugglers and slave traders.”
“Oh, how horrible.”
They entered a large study containing a huge Jacobean desk and matching chairs. Velvet drapes in a dark burgundy color were drawn, and Mark strode over and whipped them open. In the light, the room seemed even more shabby and depressing. Fear filled her heart. This place oozed evil.
A gun cabinet stood against one wall, and two monstrous battleaxes guarded a large shield with a coat of arms embossed on it.
The housekeeper returned with an engraved silver tea service set up on a breakfast tray.
“I’m sorry, sir, but Miss Montgomery’s personal maid says she’s gone out and won’t be back until five o’clock.”
“I’ll have to consider whether we wait here or come back later.”
“Very good, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“No, thank you, we can serve ourselves.” Mark dismissed her.
“I’ll pour,” Amy offered. “Will we wait, or come back later?”
He sat behind the desk with his hands splayed across the top. “What would you like to do?”
Run away as fast as I can from this evil place, was her first thought, but this had once been Mark’s home. Maybe if he showed her through some of the rooms it would help her understand his bitterness, help exorcise some of his demons.
“I’d like to see where you spent your childhood.”
“What!” He shot out of his chair.
“Show me around. Not her rooms, but…”
His face looked as if it had been hacked from stone. “We could start with the attic where my uncle locked me up and deprived me of food. That should be fun.”
She went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I really don’t want to stay here at all, because the place gives me the shivers. I just thought it might help you come to terms with some of the bad things that happened here.”
He held her close and nuzzled her throat. “I’m sorry for snarling at you.”
“If it’s going to bring back too many bitter memories, then we won’t do it.”
“You’re probably right. I do have ghosts to lay. After we’ve seen Louise, I swear I’ll never set foot inside this place again. I often wonder if that’s why Edwina got married so young, but James is a good man.”
“What happened to your aunt and uncle?”
“My uncle died around the time I turned fifteen. He ended up at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean when his ship sank. My aunt joined Edwina in South Africa. I’ll take you to the attic first, so we can work our way down.”
The first staircase was wide, carpeted, and had heavily carved banisters. Amy could easily imagine some beautiful, jewel-bedecked lady, dressed in a stunning ball gown, making a grand entrance from here. She closed her eyes to block out the vision of Maryanne hurtling over the banister to her death.
“If you count the attic area, there are four levels in this place, plus a cellar under the kitchen.”
He took her hand as they climbed the stairs leading up to the third floor. “The servants’ quarters are here.”
Steps leading to the attic became so steep and narrow two people couldn’t walk abreast. The staircase twisted and turned like a demented snake, and by the time they reached the top, her breath came out in gasps.
When he shouldered open a heavy door, the damp smell almost overpowered her. By the number and thickness of the cobwebs, this place had not been disturbed in years. The ceilings were so low Mark had to bend his head in some places. She shuddered as he brushed a few of the cobwebs away with his hand. The filthy narrow window hardly let in any light, and the semi-darkness spooked her further.
“Your uncle locked you up in here? How did you stand it?” She picked up his cold hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
He stood rigid, his feet slightly apart, not speaking. “Mark, say something. You’re frightening me.” She shook his hand.
“Sorry.” He came out of his trance. “What did you say?”
“I asked how you could stand it.”
“I don’t know. Probably wouldn’t have, without Edwina. The last time my uncle locked me up, I would have been about eight.” Mark took a deep breath. “He flew into a black rage, the worst I ever remember. My aunt and Edwina were away visiting friends. He gave me such a thrashing. I escaped out the window. God knows how I got down from the roof without breaking my neck. I made my way to my father’s lawyer, who was also a family friend. He didn’t believe me when I told him what my uncle did, until he saw the welts on my legs and shoulders. He quickly packed me off to boarding school.”
“Did you stay at school all the time?”
“No, I came home if my uncle was away at sea. Holidays were about the only times I caught up with Edwina. She was four years older than me, but we did have some adventures. I missed her when she left.” If only she hadn’t come racing back from South Africa, trying to save him from Maryanne and Louise’s cruelty. She hadn’t meant to, but Edwina’s actions had doomed him to a life of torment.
“Let’s leave this place.” A tremor wracked her body. “It’s got a horrible aura.”
Amy was sure she would choke if she didn’t get into the fresh air again.
“Are you all right?” He stared into her chalk-white face.
“Yes, just give me a minute. Why don’t we find somewhere cozy to stay? We can see Louise later. I don’t feel up to traveling back to London tonight. I’ll ring Olive so she won’t worry about me.”
They made their way downstairs and left the house without seeing the housekeeper.
As Mark helped her into the car, he said, “There is a quaint little village only a few miles from here. It’s got a nice pub where we can stay.”
He opened the car window to let in some fresh air. She rested her head against his shoulder.
“I shouldn’t have taken you up there.” Regret deepened his voice.
“No, I’m being silly. It’s my own fault for insisting, but I wanted to understand what it must have been like for you. I’m afraid I let my imagination run away with me.”
“I’ll go back and see Louise on my own later, after we’ve got ourselves settled into the pub.”
“A nice cup of tea, a little rest, and I’ll be fine.” She forced herself to sound cheerful because he looked so worried. “We could both have a little afternoon siesta.”
“My love.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “If I lie down on a bed with you, we won’t be doing much sleeping.”
They arrived at the village and drove down a long grass-verged main street. Timber-fronted houses, with dark beams standing out starkly against the white stonework, intermingled with houses built
from locally quarried gray flint.
The pub was some little distance away, hidden by a small forest of oaks. Built of dark stone, it had a large, heavily carved black door and would have looked dull and forbidding except for the garden. Neatly tended rose beds graced the front yard, and a huge pine tree grew against an ancient, moss-stained wall.
“This is beautiful, exactly how I imagined a little village pub to be.” She smiled at him, happy because they would have this extra time together before he returned to the trenches. The village wasn’t the closest one to Mark’s place; it would have been too indiscreet going there under the circumstances.
“What name will you sign us in under?” She touched his arm.
His lips tightened, and through clenched teeth he said, “I hate having to sneak around like this. It’s so sordid.”
She put her finger to his lips. “Don’t worry. It makes me feel rather wicked.”
A white-haired lady in a print overall greeted them cheerfully.
“We’d like your best room for tonight, please.”
“Certainly, Major. On leave from France?”
“Yes.”
They followed her upstairs to a pretty, warm room. A fire burned cheerfully in the grate.
“It gets quite chilly here at night,” the lady explained. “Breakfast is served in the dining room from seven-thirty onwards.”
“Thank you.” Amy locked the door after the woman left.
“What did you sign us in under?”
“Major and Mrs. House.”
“That’s priceless.” She gave a girlish giggle.
He pulled her into his arms. “I couldn’t think of anything else on the spur of the moment. I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to sign in at all.”
I’ll make you forget all the terrible pain you suffered in that horrible house, she vowed, fumbling with the buttons on his jacket.
“My God, Amy, I want you so desperately.” He edged them toward the bed.
“I want you, too, Mark.”
After he disposed of her clothes, he caressed her from head to toe with his long, sensuous fingers. She stood naked before him now, her breasts swelling under his touch.
As her hands worked frantically at his clothing, excited passion seared through her when she realized the extent of his arousal.
“I love you so much it frightens me.” She shocked herself as much as him by cupping his manhood.
“Oh, God.” He gasped with pleasure.
“You like this?” She ran her fingertips along his silken shaft, starting at the rosy crown and working backwards until she reached the mat of tight curls.
“Yes. Yes.” He trembled as he lowered them onto the bed.
The weight of his body, the rasping of his hair-roughened thighs against her skin, added to the tumultuous heat scorching along her limbs. Her breasts throbbed, her insides ached with need by the time he parted her thighs and caressed the silken folds into blossoming life. There were no barriers between their lovemaking this time. Skin against skin, heated flesh against heated flesh, free to feel every sensitive, pulsating sensation.
Suddenly, his control snapped. He drove his shaft into the deepest recesses of her hot moist womanhood, thrusting, parrying, knowing he could stay there for as long as he wanted. No need for him to withdraw before he reached his climax now. They moved together in a frenzied passion, moaning and gasping with pleasure, wanting more than they had ever experienced before.
When his lovemaking reached its explosive climax, Amy knew an overwhelming surge of happiness. In case he moved away, she wrapped her legs around his waist, using her hands to caress his perspiration-soaked back and buttocks.
“Amy, Amy,” he gasped between deep, carnal kisses. “I love you more than life itself.”
When he started to harden inside her again, their passion re-ignited, but it was a gentle coupling this time. The fierce flames of desire too long denied had been quenched. Now they were left with only an exquisite tenderness, a blending of both body and soul. She felt like weeping at the sheer beauty of what they shared.
“You’re so beautiful. What did I ever do to deserve an angel like you?” He rested his cheek between her breasts. “Even though I’ll be back in the trenches in a couple of days, if we were married, I’d be the happiest man in the world.”
He ran the flat of his hand across her stomach. “You’ve put on some weight already. Another few weeks and people will be able to tell.”
“Loose clothing will hide my condition for ages, so stop worrying about it. Olive will look out for me. Charlie too, for that matter.” She tried to reassure him because he sounded so anxious.
“Let’s have a little snooze before we confront Louise,” she murmured, her eyelids drooping.
When her eyes closed, he levered himself up on one elbow so he could gaze upon her. He wanted to imprint her beauty on his brain so that after he returned to the trenches he would have something special to sustain him, even in his darkest hour.
Olive and Charlie were not his kind of people, but they were kind souls who had taken Amy under their wing and into their hearts. He was grateful and would try to think of some way to repay them. What might have happened if she had not found shelter with them didn’t bear thinking about.
He lay quietly now, listening to her breathing, alternating his gaze from her to the crackling flames in the hearth. His eyes grew heavy, even though he fought to keep them open. Finally it became too much of an effort, so he closed them and drifted into sleep.
Amy woke up first. She yawned, stretching like a contented kitten before cuddling back into Mark. I could stay like this forever, but Louise must be faced. She couldn’t let him go back to that awful house on his own to face a vicious, horrible woman who had turned his life into a living hell, purely for revenge.
She kissed his puckered lips and rubbed her knuckles across his cheek. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
He mumbled something and rolled over.
“Come on. It’s nearly time for us to confront Louise in her lair.”
“What time is it?” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve still got some time left.” He kissed her on the lips, then moved his mouth to nuzzle the warm flesh of her throat. His hand cupped her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple in a slow circular motion, and passion flared like an incendiary device between them.
When he pulled Amy onto his throbbing manhood, she laid her palms on his chest. Her breasts almost touched his face. Groaning with pleasure, he pushed them together so he could take both nipples into his mouth at once. Excitement coursed through him when she reared back, leaning against his drawn-up knees, taking him in even deeper until his shaft was buried up to its hilt. Her head was thrown back, her neck arched, her hair flowing down over his legs.
“Move on me, darling,” he pleaded huskily.
Amy shocked herself by doing as he asked. She felt wanton, uninhibited, because she was with Mark, a man she loved more than life itself. Feeling satiated and at peace, they dozed off again.
“Hell, it’s nearly five.” He jumped out of bed. “I suppose I should have a shave, but there isn’t time.” He rubbed his palm across his jaw.
He threw a couple of logs on the fire so the room would be nice and cozy when they returned. As they hurried toward the car, Amy was glad the hotel lady didn’t see them and guess what they had been up to. With luck, they might miss her when they came back tonight, as well.
“How did a well-brought-up young lady like you, er, how did you know, well, I mean, in our room.”
She watched in surprise as red tinged Mark’s cheeks. “I read about it.”
“What!”
“Didn’t you like it?” she teased, feeling wanton; she certainly wasn’t “a good girl” anymore.
“You know damn well I liked it.” He gave a low, feral growl.
“I found a ripped-out page from a book screwed up under a chest of drawers at Olive’s. I couldn’t understand the foreign writing, but I memorized the pictures.”
“Hell, was there only one page?”
“Yes. I searched the place thoroughly, too. Must have belonged to her son Freddy. I know it used to be his room. Olive would kill him if she knew.”
“I think I’ve corrupted you, Sister Amy, turned you into a wicked, wanton woman.”
This teasing banter was yet another facet of the complex character of Major Mark Tremayne, and she loved it.
He drove fast, but as he got closer to the house, his mood changed and he became tense, morose.
The housekeeper greeted them at the door again, her welcome as frigid as before. “Miss Montgomery will be with you in about ten minutes,” she said, showing them into the study.
What a horrible old battleaxe.
While they waited for Louise, Amy kept glancing at Mark, who sat behind the desk with his hands clenched. His features might well have been cast from granite.
Ten minutes turned into fifty, and her back started to ache from the hardness of the chair. Time passed slowly, as they did not speak after the first few minutes. He had sunk into a brooding silence she felt powerless to penetrate.
“What are you doing in my house?” asked a chisel-sharp voice. Mark stood up, his twisted smile scarcely veiling his hostility.
“This house happens to be mine. Hand over Edwina’s letter, and the house is yours, with a generous lifetime allowance, as well.”
The tall, ebony-haired woman swept up to the desk. “Never.”
“Name your price.”
She pulled a letter from her pocket and waved it near his face. “You couldn’t afford to pay it.” She swung around to face Amy. “Is this the trollop you wish to marry? Rather on the insipid side. I thought your tastes ran to dark, sophisticated types.”
“I’m warning you, watch your mouth,” he snarled. “I could easily cut off your allowance. Then how would you play lady of the manor?”
Amy stood up and took a couple of steps toward the door, as hate reverberated around the room. “I think I’d prefer to wait outside.”
Pebble-hard eyes probed every inch of her body until she felt naked. She suddenly knew for certain Louise would never agree to hand over the incriminating letter. She might love money, but hatred of Mark consumed her. This woman was insane. Her heart constricted, because he would never be free to marry her until this witch was dead.
A Rose in No-Man's Land Page 25