Devil's Desire

by Laurie McBain

  Giving a last glance to the sea, Elysia headed inland, galloping wildly across the moorland paths, feeling the cool air caressing her cheeks. The golden oranges and yellows of the autumn landscape merged into one blur of color as it flashed past the galloping hooves.

  They jumped a stone wall in one fluid motion, Ariel's hooves clearing it by feet as they sped on across the rolling expanse of ground, mud flying up­wards by the heavy hooves. She felt so free–so safe, to be riding on the familiar back of the big, white horse, and knowing her dear Jims was back at the stable. She could so easily have been back at her home, out for an early morning canter, her brother riding hard to catch up with her, scolding her with a smile for her fool-hardiness.

  Elysia could almost hear the hooves pounding fu­riously behind her, and involuntarily she looked over her shoulder, only to see a rider closing the distance between them. For a brief moment she thought her dream had merged into reality as she watched the familiar figure, then she recognized the big black horse, and knew that it was not her brother–but the Marquis–who was trying to inter­cept her. Elysia felt a spark of defiance and excite­ment race through her veins as she urged Ariel to a faster pace, his mane flying backwards as they in­creased the distance. But Lord Trevegne was still gaining upon them, until finally, he was even with them. He reached across and pulled up on Ariel’s reins, slowing them down until they both stopped abreast of each other.

  "Hell and damnation! What the devil–" Lord Trevegne began, only to stop abruptly when he saw who the rider was. "Elysia!” he said incredulously, his eyes blazing in his white face. "What the devil are you doing on this horse? No one rides him. He's dangerous." He reached across and tried to draw Elysia from her saddle and into his arms, but she jerked the reins and backed Ariel up, moving out of his reach and allowing the horse to rear up. his hooves pawing the air threateningly.

  "Obviously you are mistaken, M'Lord, for as you can plainly see I am on his back," Elysia said, enjoy­ing herself immensely at Lord Trevegne's expense.

  "Yes, I can plainly see that, but how the devil you managed it is a mystery. You could be lying out there with a broken neck!" he said tersely, making an obvious effort to control himself. His black horse nervously pawed the ground as he sensed his mas­ter's anger.

  "It's no mystery, Lord Trevegne, for you did call me a witch one time–if I recollect accurately, so I am merely utilizing my powers," Elysia couldn't resist taunting.

  "I did not think that you would have forgotten that occasion, Elysia," he retorted, both of them well aware of his inference. He always did manage to get in the last word, Elysia thought resentfully.

  "How did you get him out of the stables? I've strict orders that no one is to go near him, he said severely, yet puzzled by her feat.

  "I took full responsibility when I ordered the mount of my choosing," she explained quickly in de­fense of Jims, should he be blamed.

  "Damn, you've no right to go over my authority. My word is law. That Jims would have allowed you to take Ariel out, knowing the danger and that I forbade it, he must be crazed–and I’ll have his–"

  "There was no danger, and Jims knew that."

  "No danger! Good Lord, if anyone knows that horse, Jims does. Granted you kept your seat, but he is dangerous. Jims is a fool to have let you mount him. My God, he trained the brute and–"

  "–and I owned him," Elysia admitted quietly, watching the surprise enter his eyes as the heavy lids momentarily lifted to give her the full effect of those golden eyes.

  "You owned him?" he demanded in disbelief.

  The Marquis looked at her as if she had sprouted horns, Elysia thought in amusement. "Yes. Ariel was mine, until I was forced to sell him at auction, along with all else that my family possessed, to pay the debts when my parents died."

  The Marquis stared at Elysia, his eyes narrowed in thought as he sat contemplating her defiant face. "So, you were the owner of Ariel. I now know why he acted so prickly and stubborn. He takes after his mistress when he refuses to be ridden," he added softly.

  Elysia gasped at his crude comparison, her eyes roving over him in derision as she said acidly, "We both happen to be very discriminating in our likes."

  "What a tragic circumstance for you, Lady Tre­vegne, since I happen to be your loving husband," he told her menacingly as he made a quick lunge and lifted Elysia from her saddle in one smooth sweep. He held her tightly in his arms, hurting her with his strength.

  Elysia struggled ineffectively, staring up fearfully into his angry face, afraid she had taunted him too far this time.

  "So, you do not care for my caresses, my kisses," he whispered in a hard voice before his mouth closed down upon her lips, pressing hard against them in his anger, bruising them beneath his. The painful pressure lessened as his lips softened on hers, persuasively moving against them–parting them and invading their softness. This altered and gentle attack was far more devastating than his pre­vious brutality. She was crushed against his hard chest as he continued to kiss her determinedly, until he felt her body relax against him, and Elysia gave a small sigh of surrender.

  "Are you sure you do not desire my kisses, Ely­sia? he demanded against her softly trembling mouth. She kept her eyes closed, refusing to look into his golden eyes-knowing she would find them mocking her. "Look at me, Elysia," he persisted, giving her a little shake.

  Elysia opened her eyes at last, and stared up into his, which reflected her hatred of him in their dark­ened golden depths.

  "You shall admit your true feelings one day, Ely­sia–I shall make you," he said arrogantly, his proud, dark head held high as he stared hypnotically into her flushed face.

  He rode over to where Ariel had grazed and lifted Elysia back onto her saddle, giving a deep, al­most violent laugh at her obvious relief at being out of his arms. Elysia shot him a murderous look, and turned Ariel, urging him into a gallop as they headed towards the house. The Marquis followed, easily keeping pace with Elysia.

  "Ariel is fast, Elysia, but Sheik is faster. You could not outrun me, you know." He grinned at her stubbornly-set jaw, yet Elysia heard the warning in his voice.

  Still, she was able to answer him casually. "Sheik it a beautiful horse, and more than likely he is faster than Ariel. Ariel has stamina–can you say the same of him?" she asked.

  "I can push him hard, but very seldom will he lath­er up, or become winded. He can hold his own, never fear. I see you have, been taught well how to ride. Jims was your family's groom since you were a child, no doubt. In truth, I must admit that I have seldom seen a better seat on a horse than you have, my dear," he was forced into acknowledging as he watched Elysia ride–a hint of admiration in his voice.

  "Yes, Jims was a superb teacher, as was my fa­ther. But thank you, M'Lord, for the compliment," Elysia replied, flustered by his praise, and added re­luctantly, "you handle Sheik extremely well, I have also noticed"

  The Marquis laughed loudly, in genuine amuse­ment. "That is the first compliment my wife has paid me. This is indeed a historic occasion—not only do I find that my wife can nearly outride me, and on a horse that no one else can mount, but also that her acerb tongue has a light coating of sweetness when she so desires."

  Elysia sent him a scowling look under drawn-to­gether brows, but he continued to laugh deeply, ig­noring her lifted chin and pouting mouth. They rode on towards the big house in the distance, its mullioned windows reflecting the light from the pale morning sun as it struggled valiantly to domi­nate the cloudy sky.

  Elysia breathed in awe as she stared down at Westerly, unaware of Lord Trevegn’s scrutiny until he asked with interest, "Do you really approve my home? Most claim it to be too isolated and deso­late to visit for long-let alone to live here."

  "It is isolated, but then I have always lived in the country, and in less populated places than the Home Counties. I enjoy the wide open spaces in preference to crowded, and noisy town life."

  "There are certain advantages, like amusements, which a
re offered only by life in London."

  "Yes, I am sure you have availed yourself of all the 'amusements', M'Lord." Elysia paused delicately over the word. "However, if one can afford but one way of life . . . then I would much prefer life in the country than an existence in London. Those who have access to both ways of life can travel between the two when ennui sets in, which is indeed to be envied, for then you have the best of both worlds."

  "My wife will envy no one," Lord Trevegne said arrogantly, "for I have many estates, and a town­house in London which we shall make use of during the year."

  "I shall miss Westerly," Elysia confessed, a trifle begrudgingly. She felt reluctant to admit a liking for anything belonging to him. "It is an interesting house, especially the Great Hall, with its Spanish tiles and ornaments."

  Lord Trevegne smiled at her praise. "One could almost call the hall our trophy room. My ancestors enjoyed these objects d’art with an added enthusi­asm–plunder from the sixteenth century. It was also rather daring to decorate one's hall with Spanish possessions and architecture when England was at war with Spain. One of my ancestors told Queen Elizabeth that he enjoyed feasting his eyes upon the bounties from the vanquished–rewards of a success­ful freebooter. I do believe he actually admired and cherished these Spanish trophies–recognizing some of them as priceless pieces of art," the Marquis elaborated with relish as he noticed Elysia's look of distaste as he described his ancestors. "I wonder how my ancestors would have treated such a spir­ited wench as you, my dear? I rather doubt that you would have enjoyed it. Although I have heard that my ancestors were quite charming at Court, rivaling perhaps even Sir Walter Raleigh in gentle-manly courtesies."

  "Apparently in that aspect you inherited very lit­tle, and too much perhaps of their pirate instincts," Elysia said sarcastically.

  "I knew it was too good to last–this false sweet­ness of yours. I shall have to prescribe a spoonful of honey each morning to help sweeten that sour dis­position of yours," Lord Trevegne told Elysia warn­ingly, "for I am not accustomed to being talked back to in such a disrespectful manner. You will have to show a little more affection when in com­pany, my dear. Try to act like the loving wife, and I shall pretend to be your devoted slave."

  Elysia was saved from her angry retort by their entrance into the stable yard where Lord Trevegne dismounted quickly and lifted Elysia down before she could protest. His hands felt hard and cruel about her small waist as he held her close for a mo­ment, and they stared into each other's eyes like protagonists. He flicked her lavender plume "with a careless finger, and set her free as he sent a quelling glance to Jims who had been standing quietly, and apprehensively, in the doorway to the stables.

  "Had I not known beforehand how bewitching my wife could be, Jims, you would now be on your way from Westerly, and all of Cornwall, for diso­beying my orders. Elysia has a way of twisting a man about her little finger to get her way, and I would imagine she has had years of practice with you. But I shall expect my wishes to come first from now on. You answer to me, Jims."

  Jims came forward, relief written across his face. "Aye, Yer Lordship, but I didn't think ye'd be mind­in' her ridin' Ariel, seein' how Miss Elysia raised him from a colt. And they both looked as if they could use the exercise," he answered, smiling at Elysia. "Did ye and Ariel enjoy ye ride?"

  "I can answer that for you," Lord Trevegne said grimly. "I saw her and that damn horse racing madly across the moor, and could scarcely believe my eyes–and I had a damnable time catching them. In future, you will go out with a groom or myself­ but never alone. And if I might inquire, why was she alone, Jims?" he asked softly, turning to Jims with a frown on his face.

  "Didn't see any sense in it, Yer Lordship, seein' how Miss Elysia would've lost him," Jims answered practically.

  "Sensible as always, Jims, but Lady Elysia, is now my wife and she will take a groom in future-or not at all," he warned them both.

  Jims chuckled, shaking his head as he watched them walk toward the house, making a striking looking couple. The Demarices may not have de­sired the Marquis as a husband for their daughter, but he was beginning to think that His Lordship had just what Miss Elysia needed–a good firm hand to guide her. He might be a bit wild and have a bad reputation, but he was a cut above the rest, thought Jims, even though he was not the jovial sort of bloke that liked to joke around. He'd been sur­prised to hear of His Lordship's marriage, but since it had been to Miss Elysia he could understand His Lordship giving up being a bachelor. There was no one as lovely as his Miss Elyisa. Must have been love at first sight, for he knew as well as anyone that Miss Elysia had no money, and His Lordship was as rich as can be–anyway you could tell by the way he looked at her that he was crazy about her. Miss Elysia was a very lucky young lady, he thought happily whistling a tune as he entered the stables.

  Elysia shuddered as they entered the Great Hall with its obvious glories of war and bloodshed, and some of the beauty, which she had admired before, faded before her eyes as she glanced about.

  As if divining her thoughts Lord Trevegne said, "It was a long time ago, and no ghosts linger within these walls."

  "I know, but it still saddens me to think of these things having been taken from others," she .com­mented, indicating a row of gold chalices encrusted with jewels, gleaming brightly in display, on a mar­ble-topped, pier table against one of the walls.

  "There is always a victor–and a vanquished in any confrontation. You of all people should realize that," he said, taking her elbow firmly as he guided her up the broad staircase.

  As they entered their salon, Elysia remembered that she had not thanked him for her new wardrobe from London, and she turned abruptly to face him, a shy smile curving her lips.

  "I had forgotten, in my excitement at riding Ariel, to thank you for the clothes you had made for me so quickly in London. It was very kind of you," she added hesitantly.

  "Kind? Hardly that, my dear. I merely did not want you to shame me in front of my friends, look­ing little better than a servant. In fact, my staff was better dressed than you, and they find enough to gossip about as it is," he explained in a bored voice.

  "Oh, you insufferable cad! I think I hate you more than ever!” Elysia exclaimed, the color flaming uncom-fortably into her cheeks. "You shall never hear of me thanking. you for anything again, Your Lordship," she spat at him as she ran from the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving Lord Tre­vegne standing speechless where he was.

  Elysia pulled her hat from her head and threw herself onto the bed, burying her head in her folded arms on the pillow. The beast, she thought angrily. Would she never understand him? One minute he jokes with her, then the next he kisses her, and then snaps her head off the following minute. Life was certainly not easy, she thought in dismay, as she remembered his passionate kisses on the moor. He was right, Elysia thought with disgust. She did want to be kissed by him–at least sometimes she felt this strange need for him, but most of the time she felt as if she could have callously murdered hirn—feeling no regrets.

  Elysia rubbed her forehead wearily and stood up. How could she possibly want to be kissed by someone so cruel? she thought in exasperation. She despised herself for her weakness. She ought to put on one of her old woolens, and see what His Lord­ship would have to say to that, she thought defi­antly. Elysia looked through the rows of dresses, but couldn't find them among the peacock colors, nor could she find her old shoes or cloak. Dany must have thrown them out when they put away her new ones.

  Oh, well, she did not really want to wear them again, even if it would anger him. She was struggling with her boots when Lucy appeared with a couple of chamber-maids, carrying a tub and pails of hot water.

  “Mrs. Danfield thought ye'd be wantin' to freshen up after ye ride, Lady Elysia," she said timidly, staring at Elysia as if she were a ghost.

  “Thank you, and would you help me off with my boots?" she asked Lucy as the girl slowly came for­ward, looking frightened.

  “Wha
t is the matter?" Elysia demanded as the two chambermaids stared goggle-eyed.

  "Oh nothing, Lady Elysia," Lucy mumbled, help­ing Elysia unlace her boots with shaking fingers.

  “Tell me, Lucy," Elysia persisted, seeing the girl shake at the contact with Elysia's ankle.

  "Oh, Yer Ladyship! Ye rode the horse. The one even His Lordship can't ride and he be almost like the devil himself!” She rolled her eyes nervously.

  “Listen, Lucy, and both of you too. I won't have you go telling tales around the house," Elysia said to the other two .who stood cowering together. "That horse before he came here, belonged to me. I raised him from a baby with wobbly legs and downy-like coat. He has only known me, and will only allow me to ride him," she explained patiently, watching the relief come to the three faces, “and you know Jims, you trust him?" They nodded their capped heads. "Well he has known me since I was a baby, and can' vouch for my lack of any mystical powers." Elysia held her hands out in supplication.

  The three girls smiled and giggled as they began to prepare her bath, Lucy helping efficiently when Elysia dressed afterwards.

  If only she really did have mystical powers, then she would find a way out of this situation she was in, taking care of His Lordship once and for all in the process, Elysia thought with relish, as she walked slowly downstairs. She wore a white, muslin dress embroidered with green and blue flowers and tied with green velvet ribbons beneath her breasts. The ends trailed down her back to the hem, with similar bandings around the ruffled cuffs of the long sleeves and high neck. Her hair had been dressed high on her head a la Grecque the thick red-gold curls cascading about her shoulder. Odd how new clothes could give one a feeling of confidence and self-respect. She need no longer feel ashamed of her appearance—nor need anyone else!

  Elysia walked soundlessly across the tiled floor of the Great Hall in her green, kid slippers. A footman opened the door of the salon, and upon entering, Elysia saw the Marquis in conversation with a thick-set gentleman sitting comfortably in one of the chairs before the fire. They stood up as Elysia en­tered, Lord Trevegne's golden eyes going over her figure with approval as she came forward.