Dark Splendor

by Parnell, Andrea

  Your uncle and benefactor,

  Wilhelm Schlange

  Martha hissed. “Benefactor! Ha! He thinks we are all his minions.” She took the note that had thrown her into a state of agitation and crumpled it in her hand. The message had been handed down an hour earlier by Odin as the four of them talked together in the drawing room. Absently, as her head began to throb, she released her hold on the paper and it slipped lightly from her fingers, floating like chaff to the floor beneath the dining-room table.

  Eric smiled and looked at her consolingly. “Hush, Martha,” he said gently. “It isn’t like you to take on so. I believe you’ve got one of your headaches coming on.”

  Martha’s breath came in a great huff. “Yes. And it’s no wonder that I do. He has Vivien order me about like a servant.” She grimaced. “Prepare this dish, Martha. See to the flowers, Martha. He might have the good grace to tell me himself and to allow more than two days’ notice for a special dinner.”

  “You forget, my dear sister, he has been ill and inactive for weeks. Uncle is accustomed to keeping an empire afloat. I think it is a sign he is improving and wants to put a finger in the pie and stir it,” Eric responded blithely, his hand comfortingly on Martha’s arm.

  “Bah!” Martha whipped up her defiance. “He has no right. He has had us do his bidding for years, and now he says things must change.” Tiny blue veins strained against her fair skin. “It’s preposterous!”

  “Martha. Calm yourself.” Roman held the back of her chair and looked down at the braided ring of gold hair that crowned her head. Martha tossed her chin up angrily and he could see how tightly laced her fingers were in her lap. “Eric is right. Give consideration to his mental state. When he is fully recovered and able to talk with us, this will come to nothing.”

  “True, love,” Morgan echoed. “If he’s ready to stir up trouble, he will soon be himself again. Admit now that for a hard man he has been more than generous to us.”

  “I admit nothing,” she snapped. “We have given him our lives in return for his generosity.” She was silent for a moment and her fair cheeks grew a mottled red. “If you should lose your precious ships—” She glanced knowingly at Roman and then at Eric “—and you your mills and crops, then what?” The fine edge of anger in her voice dulled to a whisper.

  “That, Martha, my sweet, will never happen,” Eric said calmly and confidently. He straightened his back as a self-assured glow brightened his eyes.

  ***

  The moment she arrived at dinner, Silvia sensed something was wrong. She was taken aback by the somberness of the gathering and soon the gay smile disappeared from her face. A gleam of anticipation died in her eyes as hollow disappointment registered in the set of her mouth. She had wanted to see their faces alight with the excitement and happiness that lingered in her heart. Hopefully she glanced at Martha.

  “I have a dreadful headache,” Martha explained, wringing the linen napkin in her lap. “Please don’t think me rude, but my head throbs terribly when I speak.” She frowned, setting fine wrinkles in her forehead. It was to her credit that Martha remained at the table until the meal was finished, for the pain had brought a wan look to her face and she was barely able to nibble at her food. Bravely she made no more complaint of her discomfort, though she was quiet and subdued during the remainder of dinner.

  A quick glance around the table was all that was necessary to quell Silvia’s hopes for a pleasant evening. Morgan too was silent, and sullen as well. Eric, who frequently led the conversation, seemed to distance himself from the others this night. Even Roman seemed moodily repressed and, to Silvia’s dismay, treated her coolly. There was an indication something had occurred that had left them all strained and mirthless.

  Silvia was soon lost in thought, wondering if the tension that stippled the air was commonplace among the cousins. Catching a bit of that tension herself, she fidgeted nervously in her chair, causing the linen napkin to slide from her lap to the floor. She bent low to retrieve the napkin and found it lying atop a crumpled scrap of paper. Curiosity reigning, she picked up both and brought them to rest in her lap. Her eyes dropped down briefly. The insignia was the Schlange crest. Glancing about the table and seeing that no one was taking notice of her, she gently smoothed out the wrinkles on the note and read the message Wilhelm Schlange had penned.

  So that was the cause of the discontent. Business. At the very least she could rest assured it had nothing to do with her. Business matters had absorbed the thoughts of the men, and Martha suffered with her headache. Of course they did not want to discuss business while she was present; nevertheless, she did feel a pang of disappointment that Roman could so easily dismiss her from his mind.

  She sat quietly for a while, having lost interest in her meal. If Mr. Schlange were coming down for dinner, then he was much improved. Soon she would meet him herself, though she expected if he meant to discuss business with his nephews, she would be excluded from the dinner on Thursday. Quietly and carefully Silvia tucked the note in her pocket. And now that Mr. Schlange was better, it meant among other things that her life at Serpent Tree Hall might change.

  The thought brought her a sinking sensation. As her own light mood grew heavy, it was as if the sudden onset of a slow, steady rain pattering against the windows added to the dark and dreary tension in the room. Soon the drops changed to thin black streams that fell endlessly, and it seemed as if the deluge would drain the heavens dry. Silvia sighed. She had hoped for a moonlight walk in the garden with Roman. But nature had conspired with the oppressive mood of the group, and when dinner ended, she received only a cursory good night from him as he rose from the table.

  It might be just as well, she told herself when she was curled beneath the sheets in her darkened room. She had sipped a few swallows of Martha’s herbal tea, brought up by Anna, at Martha’s insistence, with an apology that she had been too ill to sit with Silvia after dinner. It had taken only those few swallows to settle her ruffled nerves, and now as she lay in her bed, she tried to think logically about her attraction to Roman Toller.

  Her mind fastened languidly on memories of the hours spent with him. In her state, it was decidedly best for her to be alone. She needed a clear head, and when Roman was near she could not trust her thoughts. She was forgetting too easily that her life as an equal in Serpent Tree Hall must soon end. As she faced her dilemma, she found only one flaw in her insistence on reality. When she closed her eyes and thought of Roman, it was far too easy to lose herself in a wishful dream.

  She willed herself to think instead of the island and the castle. They were parts of a world in itself, a world that changed with the shifting wind. When the island was bathed in the clear bright light of the sun, it was like being in the clouds and near to heaven. At other times a melancholy darkness ruled and she felt she was descending the narrow winding steps toward purgatory.

  Her lids grew drowsily relaxed as she moaned and curled up tighter beneath the sheets, remembering, as sleep sought to claim her, Martha’s talk of ghosts. She shivered. Roman too had mentioned ghosts. Sleepily Silvia rubbed her eyes. She felt warm and terribly tired and wished she had not remembered the talk of ghosts. They were not a suitable subject for a dark, rainy night when one’s thoughts drifted aimlessly. She wanted no more nightmares, no more restless nights. After a time, her breathing slowed to a slumberous rate and she lay on the brink of sleep, thinking it was only her disappointment and the gloomy weather that made her think of such things.

  Drowsily she locked her fingers together and pulled them beneath her chin. Roman’s face appeared in her mind, the bold, strong features and bright blue eyes as clear as if he were beside her. She tightened her lips and sighed listlessly. “Roman...Roman” she whispered to herself. You are free enough with words of praise and affection when we are alone. But why is it you take no notice of me when others are present? Is it simply to steer Morgan away as you say?” Another listless sigh sounded from her lips as she clutched a pillow to her breast
and rolled over to find herself feeling quite wide-awake again.

  She would do well not to give her heart so freely where it would surely soon be tossed back shattered and broken. Yet as she closed her eyes again, a nagging little seed of doubt sprouted in the recesses of her mind, telling her a heart given cannot be easily recalled.

  She lay awake awhile longer thinking sleep had become as elusive as a woodland fairy, but eventually the steady pelting of the rain and the complaining whine of the wind lulled her to sleep. She rested quietly in the restoring deepness of pleasant slumber until a dark shadow, a vaporous murky cloud, entered the depths of her dreams.

  Restlessly Silvia rolled her eyes beneath closed lids. The shadow was bold and black and filled the room with the padded thud of footsteps and the mournful, moaning whimper of an inconsolable child.

  Her eyelids opened slowly, like doors on old rusty hinges that had been shut too long. She felt her lips go dry. A nightmare should fade when you wakened. But the shadow stayed, rippling above her in a ghostly gray shape that seemed to move and stand still all at once. She tried to move herself, but found her bones brittle and her blood as cold as a rushing stream beneath a layer of ice.

  Wetting her lips with her tongue, she thought of one refuge, one set of strong protective arms. It was that thought that gave her the strength to swing out of bed and fly to the door. There she found the key in place, and somehow her shaking fingers managed to free the lock.

  A moment later she raced over the cool stones of the hall toward Roman’s room. She never looked back, could not look back, just as she could not cry out with a voice frozen in her throat. If she turned her head and saw that black form in pursuit, her legs would crumple beneath her and she would be lost.

  She reached his door, holding her breath lest the menacing shadow be there behind her in the darkness and the sound of her breathing should lead him to her. She knocked on the door, and finally, sobbing, fell against the heavy wood. The rain was a loud, roaring monster outside the walls, and alone in the hall, even the darkness seemed to swell into coiling black snakes and move against her.

  “Please,” she cried, choking out the word as she knocked again on his door.

  She heard the whimper, a faint sound in the distance. Her hand gripped the knob, rattling it desperately. Footsteps sounded softly behind her, and as her heart lurched, Silvia closed her eyes and flattened her body against the gray stone wall. From somewhere she heard the clank of metal and her lips moved in a silent plea.

  “What...” Roman saw her by his door, trembling like a frightened lamb, her face pale as a winter moon.

  Mindless of his nudity, he opened the door wider and reached for her arm.

  “Nooo,” she cried as her knees gave way beneath her and she slid to the floor.

  Roman caught her, swept her up in his arms, and carried her inside, pushing the door shut with his shoulder. She hung limp in his arms, her head wobbling against his bare chest.

  “Silvia, Silvia,” he whispered, carrying her to his bed.

  A candle burned on a table. Lighting it had taken him only a few seconds when her knocking had roused him. The flame waved in a slow dance above the tallow. When Roman stretched her out where he had lain a few minutes earlier, the soft candle glow lit her face and he saw that her skin was as white as the linens and her breathing shallow and irregular.

  Roman moved quickly, pulling a pillow beneath her head and hurrying to the washstand, where he poured water in a bowl and dipped a cloth in, wetting and wringing it. Beside her on the bed, he patted the cool cloth to her temples. She stirred, turning her head aside and raising her arms to push the cloth away.

  Her eyes flickered open.

  “Oh!” she cried out, raising up hurriedly, her glazed eyes darting around the room and coming back to settle on his face.

  Roman caught her by the shoulders and lowered her gently to the pillows.

  “Be still,” he whispered, smoothing the hair from her temples. His hand lingered gently on her cheek. “You fainted.”

  “Fainted?” she whispered. His soft smile calmed her and she soon felt the blood returning to her face.

  “I found you beside my door looking as if the hounds of hell were pursuing you.”

  “Roman! There was someone, something in my room. I woke up and it was there.” The words came too fast and her voice caught as she sat up hurriedly again and looked anxiously at the door. “It was behind me in the hall.” Her mouth quivered and her eyes glittered with fear. “I was so afraid.” Sobbing, she threw her arms around his neck, gripping him with frightened fury, her body trembling against him.

  “You had a nightmare,” he said softly, stroking his hand over the thin silk nightgown that covered her back.

  “I didn’t.” Her head jerked back from his shoulder. “No. It was there.”

  “Well, it isn’t here,” he said, tightening his embrace as his tender gaze searched her eyes. “There’s no one here but you and me and you’re safe now from all odious monsters of the night.” His hands were at her waist, his fingers spanning her back. Gently he slipped them beneath her hair, finding the curve of her shoulders and gliding over skin as lustrous and smooth as the silk of her gown. He felt a sudden tremble start in his own flesh.

  “It was real,” she whispered beneath her breath. But was it? Her heartbeat slowed, returning to a normal rate, and the fear faded from her eyes. She felt warm and safe in his arms, as if nothing in the world could harm her when he held her near. Silvia looped her arms around his neck, and his closeness soothed like an opiate, stilling her fear and giving her a euphoric peace.

  Roman’s pulse quickened as hers subsided. Her arms tightened around his neck, her fingers laced tightly into the golden hair at his nape. Her lips were a soft, warm torture on his chest. A hot ache grew in his throat and with a groan Roman lowered his face to hers, brushing his cheek against her. He placed soft kisses on her lips as he pulled her closer, his warm breath fanning her face.

  She was a lovely vision in the soft luster of candlelight, her black hair lit with silver, her eyes glowing like the flame itself. He felt the full curves of her breasts against him, the steadied beating of her heart thumping against his chest.

  Her face was that of a little girl afraid of the dark, but the feel of her in his arms was that of a woman who responded to his touch and his embrace.

  “Are you afraid now?” He pulled back a little to look into her eyes and saw that the sharp edge of fear was gone. “I can take you to your room and make sure it’s safe,” he said, tracing a fingertip sensuously across her lips.

  Silvia’s lips parted, quivering beneath his touch. She couldn’t bear the thought of being alone, of being outside the circle of his arms. She feared it more than the dark and any dangers lurking in the shadows of her dreams.

  “No, Roman, I want to stay,” she whispered, taking one of his hands in both hers and holding it to her cheek. She looked at him longingly, a gentle fire beginning to glow in her eyes.

  Roman’s hands gently cupped her face as his breath caught in his throat.

  “There are other monsters a woman should fear,” he whispered, lowering her to the pillow. “Monsters that make a man want to know all there is of a woman.” Like a warm promise, his breath caressed her throat.

  “That monster is not one I fear,” she whispered, placing a finger on his lips.

  His gaze skimmed over her like a soft breeze rippling the air. The sheer gown she wore hid little from his eyes as they hungrily searched for every secret. The dark peaks of her breasts strained the gossamer fabric and wielded a torturous satin touch against him. Roman moaned at the delectable crush of the soft mounds on his chest, delighting in the sweet, wonderful feel of her in his arms. He kissed the top of her head and combed his fingers gently through her hair, arranging the dark tresses in a flow of curls over the pillow.

  Her heart fluttered as wildly as the wings of a young bird about to make its first flight. When Roman stretched out beside her
, the heat of his body was a draft of pure nectar warming her skin. Nymphlike, she wrapped her arms about him, tracing the swell of powerful muscles in his back and seeing how the patina of his skin caught the candlelight like beaten gold in the sun.

  “You are not a monster,” she whispered as he cradled her in his arms. She nuzzled her head to his shoulder, breathing in his spicy male scent.

  He answered with a kiss and stilled with his embrace the tremor that shook her flesh. A moment later, the length of his body pressed against her and she could feel her skin tingling where they touched. Passion flamed in his eyes, and his hands roamed freely to her hips, easing the silky gown upward over her thighs. He slipped it beneath her hips, uncovering the flat satin plane of her stomach to his gaze. A dark forest covered the gentle swell where his hand rested for a tormenting moment.

  Silvia met his eyes and smiled softly as he made gentle work of easing the filmy garment over her head and quickly tossed it carelessly to the floor. Desire consumed her as a slight tremor shook his shoulders when he touched her skin, soft as silk.

  Silvia had no fears now; only the searing burn of desire flooded her veins. Roman’s eyes feasted on her curves, delighted in the beauty of her charms. His hands treasured them all with touches that drove her to soft, yearning sighs.

  Roman’s breath was a low rumble in his throat as he lifted her ebony tresses and sought the curve of her neck. His mouth wandered to the soft valley between her breasts as his hands cupped the full, sensuous mounds. Moving lightly, his teeth teased at the tight buds with gentle nips that left her trembling, but soon he raised his mouth to hers and branded her lips with his fiery kisses. His hands stroked her skin, finding and bringing to life every inch of her until she writhed with pleasure.