The Secret Kiss of Darkness

by Christina Courtenay

  Finally, when she obviously realised she couldn’t possibly stay any longer, she nodded to the groom and said, ‘Hobbs, would you be so kind as to ready my mare for me, please?’ The tone was imperious, brooking no argument, even if the groom had been so inclined.

  ‘Yes, of course, my lady.’ The young man, who’d remained silent during the entire visit, jumped up to do her bidding, and Jago was alone with her at last, out of earshot of the other customers.

  ‘Meet me tonight,’ she whispered so quietly only he could hear her. ‘Please, Jago?’

  He nodded, stood up and bowed to her again. ‘It has been a great pleasure to have you here, my lady. I hope you will come again soon.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Kerswell. Your cider is excellent.’ She swept out of the door without a backward glance. And Jago knew that although she would never again visit the inn, he would see a lot more of her from now on.

  The party was as dreadful as only large family gatherings could be.

  ‘You’re late,’ Mike hissed, as Kayla arrived with her parents, ‘and what the hell are you wearing?’

  ‘It’s a new dress and I thought it was rather nice, thank you very much. I was sure you’d like it.’ Kayla pushed past him into the house, trying to swallow her annoyance and disappointment. They were only five minutes late, and that was because her father had insisted on taking what he called a short cut, which of course turned out to be no such thing.

  ‘I do, I mean, it’s great, but … my parents.’ Mike looked flustered, then added unwisely, ‘Well, for God’s sake don’t sit down whatever you do!’

  Kayla ignored this comment and helped her mother find somewhere to hang her coat. Choosing what to wear for the party had been way down on her list of priorities that morning. So far Sotheby’s hadn’t rung to tell her when the painting would be delivered and Kayla was almost frantic with worry. What if there wasn’t enough money in her account and her cheque had bounced? She’d been so sure there would be sufficient funds, but she could have miscalculated. Or what if the painting had been lost or stolen on the way to the warehouse?

  ‘Stop it,’ Kayla had told herself sternly while she tried to concentrate on her choice of clothing. She hesitated between a rather conventional little black dress, which she knew became her well, but which his parents had seen before, and a new one in lilac, which was a bit on the short side but came with a pretty little matching cardigan. She finally chose the lilac one. Although she wasn’t very tall, she had quite long legs and they were one of her best features. She didn’t see why she shouldn’t show them off. Besides, the Russells may as well get used to the way she looked, she reasoned, and if they didn’t like it, too bad.

  ‘Shouldn’t you have worn something a fraction longer?’ was her mother’s first question when she arrived with Kayla’s father to pick up their daughter.

  ‘Oh, Mum, don’t fuss. This is a perfectly respectable dress.’

  ‘That’s debatable, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, short is all the rage at the moment.’

  Her mother smiled as Kayla bristled. ‘Seriously, dear, there may be staid old aunts and uncles present.’

  ‘They’re not marrying me,’ Kayla said, echoing Maddie’s comforting words. ‘Anyway, there’s no time to change now.’

  Overhearing Mike’s comment when they arrived, her mother gave Kayla a meaningful glance, which made Kayla even more determined to disregard them. The awful truth was that she didn’t care what the Russells thought and it bothered her. She ought to care. She should want to impress Mike’s relations, but at the moment all she could think about was the man in the painting. When would he arrive?

  Giving herself a mental shake, Kayla went to do her duty by Mike’s relatives, tugging surreptitiously at the hem of her dress every so often. She made her way around the room, answering every banal and unoriginal question with a polite smile.

  Yes, she was very nervous about the ceremony.

  Yes, she was a very lucky girl.

  Yes, she was looking forward to the honeymoon and no, she wasn’t in the family way already.

  This last question was asked with a wink and a nudge by an elderly uncle, and Kayla quickly removed herself from his vicinity. As soon as she could decently manage it without offending anyone, she poured herself a glass of wine and then skulked in a corner for a while, observing the assembled company.

  Her parents were chatting to Mike’s parents. Kayla noticed they were all icily polite to each other, but there was no real friendliness and everything they said appeared to be some sort of competition.

  ‘Well, of course, dear Mike is aiming to be a QC and he’s doing awfully well at that firm where they work.’

  ‘Yes, but our oldest daughter’s husband is a heart specialist and he’s seeing patients in Harley Street several days a week now. So lucrative, you know. I really don’t know who can afford to go there these days.’

  ‘You should see our latest grandson, he’s so clever! And his sister …’

  Kayla had a vision of endless Christmases and birthdays spent listening to the same kind of thing and she turned away in horror, looking for more congenial company. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be.

  ‘Darling, there you are. Come, you must meet Aunt Phyllis, she has been so looking forward to seeing you.’ Mike was at her elbow, steering her away from a girl of her own age who had looked like a promising candidate for decent conversation. ‘And for heaven’s sake, try to pull your dress down a bit when you talk to her,’ he whispered between his teeth. Kayla scowled at him, since that was precisely what she’d been doing already.

  There followed another seemingly endless parade of aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents and Kayla smiled until her jaw ached. When she couldn’t stand it any longer she fled to the bathroom, where she stayed, daydreaming about the blue-eyed man in the portrait, until the banging on the door became too irate to ignore.

  It was the party from hell, just as she’d been afraid it would be. And when Kayla finally arrived home, having developed a monumental headache, it was to find a message on her answerphone saying that Sotheby’s had called to arrange delivery of her painting, but since she wasn’t at home they would call some other day. She swore and threw a cushion at the wall.

  The wind from the sea caressed her hair and tore at her skirts, but Kayla hardly noticed. She closed her eyes and leaned her back against the solid chest behind her as two strong arms came up to hold her in a tight embrace. He leaned his chin on her shoulder, putting his cheek next to hers and she felt the stubble rasping her delicate skin. She shivered with delight.

  ‘I wish we could stay like this forever,’ she whispered with a sigh, and turned in his arms.

  He smiled and drew his thumb gently along her cheekbone. ‘Me too.’

  Her arms came up to circle his neck, and the gesture pushed her breasts up so they brushed against him. She trembled once more, rocked by a desire stronger than any she had ever felt before. There was no need for words after that. She gazed into his heavenly eyes as his mouth descended on hers, not wanting to miss the slightest look from him. When he kissed her, she knew she would be oblivious to the world around her, and she ignored the fact that she couldn’t have him, forgot everything but the feel of him. She never wanted to let go …

  Kayla woke up abruptly with tears of frustration running down her cheeks and her heart beating rapidly. The dream had been so real. She had felt his arms around her, his lips on hers, and tasted the salt in the air. Her body was tense with unfulfilled desire. She wanted the man in the portrait and she wanted him now.

  ‘Damn it!’ She sat up and picked up her pillow, shaking it roughly and ramming it down onto the bed again. Perhaps Maddie had been right after all. She should return the painting before it was too late, before it ruined everything. The weeks leading up to her wedding were supposed to be some of the happiest times of her life. She should be immersing herself in the preparations, becoming caught up in the excitement, but all she had done was to dream
of making love with a man who didn’t exist. A man she had absolutely no chance of ever meeting because he’d been dead for hundreds of years, if indeed he had even existed in the first place.

  It wasn’t right. It had to stop.

  ‘All right, I’ll sell him.’ She nodded to herself, pleased to have come to a decision. But a little voice inside her whispered that it was too late, all too late. She wanted him too much. More than she’d ever wanted Mike.

  Was it fair to her fiancé to marry him, feeling like this? She was beginning to have serious doubts.

  At last he arrived and he was every bit as wonderful as he’d been in the showroom. Perhaps more so because now he was definitely hers.

  For a short while, she reminded herself.

  Kayla sat on her sofa and gazed at the large portrait which was standing on the floor, leaning against the fireplace. She had no idea how she would hang him on the wall or if it would even fit. The painting must weigh a ton. She thought vaguely that she should have asked Sotheby’s for advice, but right now she didn’t care. He was fine where he was.

  It was his burgundy-red jacket – or coat as it was probably called in those days – which had first caught her eye. Threadbare and worn in places, it was definitely not the sort of thing an aristocrat would have worn unless he was slumming it around his estate, although from the man’s arrogant stance you could be forgiven for thinking him a ‘Sir’ at the very least. Despite the obvious scruffiness of the material, however, the artist had managed to give the illusion of soft, worn velvet. It looked so perfect that Kayla wanted to touch it, to trail her fingers along the sleeve and feel its smoothness. And the hard muscle underneath. Without thinking she stretched out a hand towards the canvas, but pulled it back at the last moment. She shook her head, which felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton wool. How was it possible to create such an image with only a few strokes of a brush and some paint?

  She tried to study the man with detachment, but her eyes drank him in, etching his face into her brain forever. He had strong, rough-hewn features which appeared to have been weathered by the elements since his complexion was very dark. The artist hadn’t done anything to embellish his looks, but had painted the real man, exactly as he must have seen him. This included tiny crow’s feet radiating from the corners of his eyes and deep laughter lines on either side of his mouth. A shining, blue-black ponytail fell over one shoulder, adding to the overall obscurity of the portrait. The man stared at Kayla with a half-smile playing about his mouth, as if he knew something she didn’t and was amused by her confusion.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she whispered, then closed her eyes to break the spell. He had to go. There was nothing else for it. But until she could arrange for Sotheby’s to take the painting back he would have to stay where he was. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got to leave you now. Mike’s taking me out to dinner.’ She sighed. ‘Hell, now I’m talking to a painting! I must be going mad.’

  The thought sent a chill through her, but she shook it off. She was just a bit emotional at the moment, which wasn’t to be wondered at.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she muttered, then glanced at the portrait one last time. ‘And you’re not staying.’

  But the man’s smile seemed to mock her and she had to force herself to turn her back on him.

  Chapter Six

  The summer house was too close to Marcombe Hall and Jago didn’t want to run the risk of being caught. Not that he was scared of his half-brother, who was much smaller than he was and weak besides. Jago doubted John had ever taken any exercise in his life and, from what he had observed, the man was far too keen on his food. No, it was for Eliza he was afraid. He knew that if they were caught, Eliza would be the one to suffer, and that he couldn’t allow.

  They went sailing along the coast instead and had brought a huge picnic so they could stay out all day. To Jago, the south Devon coastline was as familiar as his own home and there were plenty of secluded coves where they could spend their day undisturbed. A blanket on the soft sand made the perfect mattress for love-making, and he delighted in showing Eliza everything she’d been missing out on. She learned fast.

  ‘Oh, Jago, I’m so glad I ran into you that night,’ she whispered one afternoon. ‘I was contemplating something terrible, something I shouldn’t have, but you saved me. Gave me a purpose in life once more. Thank you.’ She leaned over to stroke his rough cheek with her soft fingers. He caught them with one hand and nibbled playfully on the ends.

  ‘I suppose it was meant to be. The Lord works in mysterious ways, they say, and this is certainly beyond my ken.’

  Eliza hung her head. ‘Yes, but do you really think this was the Lord’s work? I mean, we’re committing one of the cardinal sins, aren’t we? Or I am, at any rate.’

  He gathered her close. ‘Hush, my love, it can’t be that great a sin and from what I hear it’s a very common thing in London, especially in the noble families. Everyone marries for duty and then finds love elsewhere. Besides, your husband doesn’t deserve you, in my opinion, if he can’t treat you as he ought.’

  She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I do hope you’re right, but if not, well, I’m willing to take the risk of eternal damnation. For you I would risk anything.’

  ‘As would I for you, my love.’

  The restaurant Mike had chosen was of the small, but expensive variety with intimate tables in little corners behind huge pot plants. It boasted an impressive seafood menu, which he knew Kayla liked, and she smiled warmly at him, feeling guilty for neglecting him all week. And for spending hours gazing at another man, the little voice inside her head added. She ignored it. What harm could it do after all? He would soon be gone and out of her life. It was Mike she loved and Mike she was marrying. It meant nothing more than Mike’s blatant admiration for a certain busty actress on television. It was a fantasy. A daydream.

  Kayla put all thoughts of the man in the painting out of her mind and concentrated on Mike and reality. ‘This is a lovely place,’ she told him and he looked pleased at her praise, as he prided himself on his excellent taste when it came to restaurants.

  ‘Yes, isn’t it? Only just opened a couple of weeks ago.’ He studied the menu gravely, as if the choice of food was a matter of the greatest importance. ‘Derek and I had lunch here last week and I would recommend the oysters, followed by Dover sole Walewska or the lobster in Mornay sauce.’

  Kayla wasn’t too keen on oysters. To her mind they tasted only of seawater with lemon added to it and she really couldn’t see the attraction, but she decided to humour him for once. She didn’t precisely hate them either and if it would help to keep Mike in a good mood, then so much the better.

  ‘All right, oysters it is, then and, uhm … the Walewska, please.’

  Mike beamed at her and ordered the same, plus an expensive white wine, which tasted fresh and fruity, just the way Kayla liked it. They had a very nice meal, during which they discussed various aspects of the upcoming wedding in perfect harmony. But over dessert, Kayla decided to broach a subject that she’d been mulling over for some time.

  ‘Mike, I’ve been thinking. I would like to switch jobs with one of the other secretaries after we’re married. Working together can’t be very good for our relationship in the long run, so I thought I’d speak to Human Resources about it soon and ask for a transfer. What do you …?’ She trailed off as she saw the expression of incredulity on his face.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about? I swear you’re becoming more difficult to understand every day. This wedding stuff must be really getting to you.’ He was growing red in the face and Kayla braced herself for an explosion. She didn’t have long to wait. ‘Do you mean to say I’m a bad boss? Is that it? And there was I thinking we’d always had a good working relationship. Well, what do I know?’

  ‘No, Mike, calm down. That’s not what I meant at all. You’re getting the wrong end of the stick.’ Kayla tried to explain. ‘We have worked well together. Extremely well, in fact. It’s jus
t that when we’re married we are supposed to be partners, equals, but in the office you’re always the boss. It doesn’t feel right to have to follow your orders all day long and—’

  Mike cut her off, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘No, I’m not having this. How will it look if my own wife doesn’t want to work for me? Huh? For Christ’s sake, Kayla, use your brain.’

  ‘Really, Mike, there’s no need to be like that.’ Kayla was clenching her fists in her lap and glaring at him. ‘I am using my brain and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. It’s every bit as good as yours. Only you don’t seem to be able to listen to other people’s arguments once you’ve made up your mind about something.’

  ‘Hah! That’s rich coming from you. Who was it that wouldn’t listen to my arguments about buying a stupid painting with your aunt’s legacy?’

  ‘Oh, here we go. I knew we’d come back to that again sooner or later.’ Kayla rolled her eyes and sighed, even though he did actually have a point there.

  ‘Well, you won that round, but you’re not winning this one. Either you stay on as my secretary or you’ll have to go and work in another practice. It would be too embarrassing otherwise.’

  ‘I’ve been there longer than you have. By two years, in fact. So you can move, if it bothers you so much!’

  ‘That’s beside the point. And I’m a partner now, I can’t just up and leave.’

  ‘And I can? Because I’m only a secretary?’ Kayla was trying her best to keep her temper in check, but Mike was going too far.

  ‘Well, it is rather different, you must agree.’

  Kayla stood up. ‘I’m going to the ladies’ room.’ She was shaking now with both anger and frustration. Why couldn’t Mike understand what she meant? Or was it that he just didn’t want to?

  When she returned he’d obviously realised that he had overdone things. He held out his hand until she reluctantly placed hers on the palm. ‘I’m sorry. Maybe you’re right and it’s something we need to think about, but perhaps not straight away? It really would look bad, you know, if you abandon me the minute we’ve tied the knot.’