“It is not as you think. This is no ordinary marriage. It is...” she paused, weighing her words carefully before going on.
“Arranged? That I know. Uncle has related to us that already you find the arrangement lacking. That you may require certain attentions Willy cannot fulfill. But does the poor health of a husband make the vows less sacred or binding? I can only hope that since Willy is not worldly he will not detect the lack of...”
“My virginity?”
“Yes.”
Silvia’s teeth tugged at her lower lip. “How well do you know your cousin?”
He leaned toward her and stared intently at her face. “We played together as very small children. We correspond. My cousin is a sensitive man with delicate health. That I know. I regret his seclusion. But it is self-enforced, as he finds conversation and activity strenuous since the accident.”
“You know of his accident?”
“It is common knowledge that his mother had hold of his hand when the accident occurred. When the riverbank gave way she fell, pulling him with her so that Willy was badly injured when his mother was killed.” He paused to take a deep breath. “Perhaps now that he has taken a wife, Willy will end his seclusion.”
“I think not,” Silvia flared. So Wilhelm truly had not confided even to family members that Magda’s death was no accident. When Vivien had told her so, Silvia had not believed her. It seemed impossible that no one would uncover the truth; that all would believe Wilhelm unconditionally. Yet therein lay Silvia’s gravest worry. Would they all believe Wilhelm so strongly that no one, not even Roman, would trust what she had to say?
“Oh, Roman...” She fought to gain control of her tumbling emotions. “You must know that things are not always as they appear.”
His jaw twitched. “If I would forget, you have given me a sharp reminder.”
“Roman, you must understand. Willy is...” She bit her lip. A burning image of Wilhelm Schlange’s cold, threatening countenance flashed in her mind and she relented of saying more. Willy’s life rested with her, and the risk was too great. Nor was she certain Roman would believe her. She realized that at this particular moment, he might not believe anything she said.
“If you are about to tell me Willy’s health precludes the vigor you require, I can only state that you entered willingly into the marriage. I do not desire the dubious honor of warming your bed when your husband is indisposed.”
She laughed, a sad, hopeless little laugh that he mistook for sauciness.
“Have you no shame, Silvia?”
“Indeed I do, an endless amount,” she answered sadly. “More than you can ever know.”
He hesitated a moment. “I wish that I could see it, that I could believe it.”
“What do you see, Roman, when you look at me now?” She stretched out her hands to his chest, remembering sorrowfully how that day on the beach he had said she was a treasure more valued than gold. Her fingers desperately clutched the ruffles of his shirt as her eyes pleaded for his understanding.
“I see a woman aptly named, Silvia Schlange. I see another viper for this island, one who masquerades as a pretty, tempting scrap of ribbon and once touched becomes a poisonous, biting snake.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes.” The scorn in his voice made her tremble. “A viper.” A snarl twisted his face. “And still I find it hard to stay my hand.”
He took her in his arms roughly, his mouth coming down on hers hard and searching. There was no gentleness in his kiss. It was a bittersweet assault to her senses, like being set on fire, wanting him and wanting him to let her go because she knew his thoughts. She was caught up in the fury of his embrace as if she had been captured by a sudden storm. His arms crushing her were like thunder, his kiss a searing bolt of lightning, and then, too suddenly, it was over and he was gone like an angry gust of wind.
Silvia stood alone in the semidarkness, trembling, remembering the rage etched upon his face.
***
Martha busied around in her parlor, smiling gaily as she took a pinch of herbs first from one silver-topped jar and then from another. She blended the assortment together into an empty container and measured out an amount of the new mixture, adding it to a small teapot. On the sofa, Eric sat very upright and stiff.
“I fear you are right, Martha dear. In spite of Uncle’s reassurances, there are bound to be changes.”
“Do not concern yourself about it, Eric.” Her voice was light and consoling. “I am confident they will amount to little.”
You say that, and yet Uncle has removed you as mistress of Serpent Tree Hall.” Eric’s vexation was evident. “I am surprised, Martha. You don’t seem at all disturbed, and just a few hours ago you were furious at him.”
“That was before I gave it fair consideration,” Martha answered fervently. “Uncle has assured us we have no reason for concern. Why should I despair that Willy has taken a wife?” An expression of satisfaction shone in her eyes as a radiant smile curved her lips. “Perhaps soon I will have a husband of my own.”
Eric looked up quickly, and his voice rose in surprise. “Is there some news you are keeping from me, Martha love?”
Martha’s lashes coyly brushed her cheekbones as she laughed lightly. “None that I will not keep awhile longer.” She hurriedly completed her preparations of the special tea and rang for Anna to take the pot up to Silvia.
“I confess, Martha, I had thought Uncle would divide his estate among us all. Now it seems that may not be his plan. It may be that Willy will inherit in full and we will be as we are now, working the estate and owning nothing.”
“It is not like you to think so, Eric. I fear the brandy has had an ill effect on you.” She moved swiftly to his side and comfortingly closed her hand over his. “One day the land will be yours.” Her smile was reassuring. “Uncle knows how you love it and how you’ve cared for it. It will be yours.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“I am sure because it is what is right. You must believe it too.”
“She has changed our lives,” Eric said broodingly. “Who would have thought it, a woman we have never seen or heard of comes, and all our lives change. Our future is altered.”
“Eric, you must trust me. Nothing will change.”
“I hope you are right, sister.” Eric stood and stretched restlessly. He put his arm around Martha’s shoulder and kissed her cheek affectionately. “Good night, dear Martha.”
Martha smiled and patted his cheek with sisterly consolation. A moment later Anna bustled in and past Eric as he was leaving the parlor.
“You wanted me, madam?”
Martha’s expression had grown aloof. “Take this tea up to Mrs. Schlange,” she said resolutely. “I promised it to her.”
“To Mrs. Schlange, madam? Who would that be?”
“Your new mistress, Anna.” She passed the linen-draped silver tray into Anna’s waiting hands. Slowly Martha lifted her head and smiled her slow, sweet smile. “Silvia Bradstreet Schlange, wife of Willy Schlange.”
“Oh, yes, madam, I’ll take it right up.” Anna’s face reddened and her eyes came alive with the excitement of the gossip she had just learned. How the servants’ quarters would sing when she got back with these juicy tidings. “The new mistress you say?” Her plump cheeks shook with a nervous giggle. “Fancy that, Mr. Willy married and none of us suspectin’ such a thing, him bein’ an invalid and all.”
“That will be all, Anna,” Martha said firmly, her aristocratic chin raised high.
“Excuse me, madam, will Mrs. Schlange still be in the Emerald Suite?” Anna’s eyes fell beneath Martha’s stern regard.
“Yes.” Martha brushed away the bits of dried leaves and a fine powdery residue on her tea table. “I believe you will find her there.”
Anna fairly bustled away in her haste to get upstairs, anxious to further ingratiate herself with the new mistress of the hall. It would be a welcome change, to her mind. She had liked the young wo
man from the beginning. She was friendly and polite even to a servant girl, so unlike Martha Muller, whom all the servants thought cold as a fish. Yes, she surmised as she rounded the gilt rail at the head of the stairs, Serpent Tree Hall could do with a mistress that had a sunny disposition.
Anna helped Silvia undress and brushed out the raven locks she herself had so carefully arranged earlier. Silvia had accepted her congratulations rather reticently and Anna had marked it down to shyness, never guessing the trepidation filling her mistress’s heart. A scarce quarter-hour later Anna was back in the kitchen spreading her surprising news to any she caught sight of. By morning the word would be spread to even the remotest corners of the island and everyone on the Schlange estate would know there was a new mistress at Serpent Tree Hall.
***
The same news that caused a spirited commotion in the servants’ quarters brought pandemonium of quite another sort to the Toller brothers. Roman had left Silvia and gone directly out-of-doors, thinking the cool fresh air might restore his temper to a tolerable level. He had not expected to encounter Morgan also taking the night air, and certainly he was in no mood for his brother’s pointed gibes this evening.
Roman swept a hand through the shock of blond hair that persisted in falling across his forehead. He leaned against the wall of the fountain pool and watched water cascade into the air before forming a silver spray that splashed into the dark pool below. Around him gawky shadows crept across the courtyard, a creation of moonlight falling through the turrets and high angled walls of the castle.
Roman rubbed his brow. There was serenity in the water, a soothing peace he needed until he could put his emotions in order. It was not like him to lose his head over a woman. And not, he resolved bitterly, a thing he was likely to do again.
“And what do you make of the evening’s events, my good man?” Morgan Toller cocked his head to one side as he approached his brother. He grinned wryly and a look of mischief sparked an iridescent light in his eyes.
Roman’s shoulders jerked up and his brow creased in a deep frown. The stars were bright and Morgan could see his brother’s face well enough to note the scowl.
“What Wilhelm chooses to do is no concern of mine,” Roman growled.
Morgan regarded his brother with shrewd eyes. “Not even if it costs you your ships?”
Roman tightened his lips and hammered a fist against the stone wall of the fountain. “There are other ships.”
“So there are.” Morgan rubbed his hand thoughtfully across his cheek and paused for a moment with his fingers resting reflectively on his chin. He looked around the garden curiously. “Are you alone, brother? Or perhaps waiting for someone? Martha, by chance?” Morgan’s laugh was a low throaty chuckle ending with a grin that formed tiny crescents of matching dimples in the corners of his mouth.
Roman whirled about and faced his brother squarely. His dark brows furrowed, hooding the fury in his eyes. “I have noticed a change in her attitude toward me recently. So you are responsible for setting Martha on me.” He scowled. “She has been misled, and I should have realized it sooner. And I should have known you had a hand in it.”
“I am falsely accused, Roman.” He laughed. “The poor girl is smitten with you. Hopes you’ll settle down to marry her one day.”
“Dammit, man!” Roman burst out angrily, the blue of his eyes darkening like a tumultuous sea. The stubborn lock of hair dropped over his forehead again and he unconsciously swiped at it with his hand. “Don’t you know when you have passed the point of mischief? A man should not trifle in matters of affection.”
“Ha!” Morgan’s brows rose in feigned surprise. “You dare to accuse me of trifling in affairs of the heart. I have not dilly-dallied with my cousin’s wife. And as for Martha, she has hardly made a pretense of her interest in you. Nor had you seen fit to discourage it until you met Silvia.”
Roman felt his blood boiling. His brother was not above such a trick as convincing poor Martha to pursue him. “I remember well enough when she seemed equally divided in her interests. I think perhaps she even preferred you to me.” So Morgan had falsely encouraged Martha simply to annoy him or to pay back some chicanery. “I seem to recall that on our last visit to Serpent Tree Hall, she underwent a sudden shift in emotions after a morning ride with you.”
Morgan shrugged innocently. “I merely mentioned you would be heartbroken to think she preferred me. That you had spoken of marriage but feared a rejection and hadn’t the courage to speak.” He shifted his gaze to the shimmering water and seemed to concentrate on the play of moonlight there before he looked up and smiled. “An unreproachful remark.”
Roman clenched his teeth and the veins stood out in his temples. “And I suppose it was you who told her my attention to Silvia was meant to make her jealous?”
“Was it not?” Morgan asked teasingly, though he irritated his brother into a fury he did not fully expect.
Roman’s nostrils flared and a muscle convulsed angrily in his jaw. “Morgan, this time you have gone too far. How am I to extricate myself from this entanglement without offending Martha?” It took all his control to repress the urge to punch Morgan’s smirking face.
Set at naught by his brother’s wrath, Morgan replied with smooth deliberation, “Why, Roman, now that Miss Bradstreet is no longer available to distract you, the solution is evident.” A devilish smile flickered on his lips. “You marry Martha.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed with simmering rage, and yet the blazing fury of his gaze seemed to look right through Morgan, to be directed at something far away.
Morgan stared back triumphantly, but his gloating was to be short-lived. A moment later his jaw dropped open in astonishment at his brother’s reply.
“Perhaps I will.”
Chapter 10
“She is interfering. You must stop it.” Vivien’s face was mottled with anger; the first sign of strong emotion Silvia had ever seen her display. Her black eyes flashed with a frightening intensity and Silvia had an uncomfortable thought that she much preferred Vivien’s silent hostility to this outburst.
Yet there was no help for it. If in a few weeks the castle had become like a prison for Silvia, how much more so it must be for poor Willy, who was rarely allowed out of his chambers. She would insist on certain changes in his treatment.
Silvia defiantly lifted her face and said levelly, “He is my husband. Am I to have no say in his care?”
Schlange’s eyes roamed deliberately over the rich dark mausoleum that was his sitting room. He had insisted Silvia visit him daily, sometimes demanding that she wear the necklace. On those days his eyes would grow even wilder and she would feel her throat burning with the heat of the Cerastes Stone. It was Wilhelm Schlange’s way of maintaining the level of intimidation that would keep Silvia under his control. In time she had come to realize the purpose of the daily audiences and approached them with veiled resentment.
A part of each morning she spent with Willy, first reluctantly at Schlange’s insistence. Soon, though, her visits to Willy became a welcome part of her day. She had grown piteously fond of the young man. She no longer saw the hideousness of his face but instead saw a childlike longing in his eyes that wrenched her heart. And when he clung to her hand she wanted desperately to bring a smile to his sad face. But most of all, the loneliness in his downcast eyes when she left him made her decide to question his confinement. She knew it would be a battle.
Silvia wrung her hands nervously until at last Schlange rested his eyes on her, a hard mask of annoyance on his face. “He is to see no one.”
Her own features held a look of unexpected defiance. “You mean, of course, no one is to see him,” Silvia persisted. “The fresh air would do him good.”
“It is out of the question,” Schlange said shortly, then broke into a spell of coughing. “If one of his cousins should see him, it would ruin everything.” He dropped back in his chair, obviously angered and exhausted by her demands.
In the weeks since
announcing the marriage, Wilhelm had come downstairs only a few times. Today he looked paler and more tired than usual, and for a moment she felt a pang of guilt for distressing him.
“You have upset the boy.” Vivien angrily poked a finger at her. “He is no longer content with his activities.” She turned her outraged face to Schlange. “Somehow she has put ideas in his head. He sits all morning and watches the door until she comes in, then flies to her as if she were the one who had always cared for him.”
“You’re jealous, Vivien. Jealous because he shows affection for me.” Silvia’s eyes flashed agitation. “Neither of you is concerned for Willy’s welfare. You, sir, think more of your pride than your son.” Her cheeks flooded with color but she fought to remain calm. “Let me take him into the garden. It would do him a world of good. We could go out when everyone is away from the house,” she pleaded. “You would be amazed at the change it would make in his health. Willy is far too pale. He needs the sun.”
“He has the small garden. It is enough,” Vivien said wrathfully. “I take him there.”
“That cage!” Silvia smoldered with anger.
An outdoor stairwell led from Willy’s bedroom to a walled garden below, in which the only open area was latticed overhead by bars almost entirely overgrown with a tangle of thick green vines. The damp, moldy enclosure was filled with the stench of decaying vegetation. High walls were covered with the layer of green moss that soon claimed any island structure not regularly scrubbed, and vines had long ago blocked out the sunlight. What might have once been a pleasant little garden was now more like a dank tomb. It was a cheerless spot, and Willy, whose sensitive nature easily reflected the mood of his surroundings, was reluctant to go there.
“He’ll not go out and I’ll hear no more of it.” Schlange’s gray-streaked brows pulled tight. “I advise you to be more concerned about the edict you seem to have dismissed from your mind, and less about fresh air. A walk in the garden will matter little to anyone if you do not shortly attend to our bargain.”
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