The Secret Kiss of Darkness

by Christina Courtenay

  Kayla didn’t agree but his olive branch was too large to ignore so she nodded. ‘Yes, okay, maybe we can talk about it in a couple of months or so. I guess it’s not that urgent.’

  He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. ‘That’s my girl.’

  And then he changed the topic of conversation as if the argument had never happened.

  Kayla let him as she didn’t want to spoil the evening further. By the time the coffee was served, however, she was beginning to feel distinctly queasy. Mike frowned at her, obviously noticing that something was wrong.

  ‘What’s the matter? You’ve gone all pale. Did you eat too much? Maybe having clotted cream was overkill? You should have had ice cream with your strawberries.’

  ‘No, no, I didn’t eat that much, and in fact I left half the cream. I just don’t feel very well, Mike. Do you think those oysters were off?’

  ‘No way. Mine were perfect. If they’d been off you would’ve smelled them a mile away. You must be sickening for something. Come on, I’ll take you home.’

  Kayla hardly noticed as he took care of the bill and propelled her out to a taxi. She was grateful for his arm round her waist, steering her in the right direction, and merely concentrated on breathing deeply so as not to be sick. She didn’t want to disgrace herself in public.

  Mike insisted on accompanying her into the flat, by which time she had started to shake uncontrollably. He guided her over towards the sofa. Halfway there, however, he stopped dead in his tracks and his mouth fell open as he stared at the enormous painting facing them.

  ‘What the hell? Kayla, is that what you bought at the auction the other day? I don’t believe it.’ Mike couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the man in the portrait. He stared at the fierce blue eyes, apparently as mesmerised as Kayla herself had been, but instead of being impressed by it he looked distinctly uncomfortable. The painting was life-size after all and its subject had been a big man, maybe six foot two or three. He certainly dwarfed Mike, who unconsciously ran a finger around the inside of his collar as if it suddenly felt too tight.

  ‘Yes, isn’t he gorgeous?’ Kayla tried to joke, but followed this with a groan while she clutched her stomach and sank onto the sofa. ‘I just had to buy him as there’s a possibility he’s a distant relation of mine. Remember Uncle David’s family tree? I’m pretty sure he’s on there somewhere.’ She hated having to lie like this, but she didn’t think the truth would go down too well right now, if ever. And who knew, it could be true, couldn’t it? Stranger things had happened.

  Mike’s eyes were still glued to the painting and he didn’t seem to be listening.

  Kayla swore inwardly. This wasn’t quite the way she had envisaged breaking the news to him. They were supposed to be spending the weekend at his flat, and she had planned to bring up the subject when he was in a particularly good mood. Now it was too late, but at the moment she really couldn’t care less. She had other more important matters on her mind. Such as rotten oysters. Just the thought of them made her shudder. She swallowed hard as bile rose in her throat.

  ‘Gorgeous? What do you mean?’ Mike turned to look at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Are you telling me you find the man in the picture attractive? Is that why you bought it? You fancy him?’

  ‘No, of course not, Mike. I was kidding. Sorry, bad joke.’

  ‘You told me you were buying something for investment. Something that would give you a return on your money if you sold it in a few years’ time. You never said anything about portraits of good-looking men. Don’t think for a minute you can hang this on the walls of my flat.’ Mike’s own boyish good looks were marred by a petulant expression worse than any Kayla had ever seen before.

  ‘I wasn’t going to. It’s staying here when I rent my flat out.’

  ‘Damn right it is!’

  ‘Anyway, don’t you mean our flat?’ Kayla asked sarcastically, clutching a cushion to her aching belly. ‘Really, Mike, don’t be silly. I think it’ll be worth loads in a couple of years, that’s why I bought it. Or I might be able to sell it to Uncle David if we can prove the connection.’ She crossed her fingers underneath the cushion. After all, there was no need to tell Mike exactly what effect the painting had on her. Nor that she had already decided to return it. And surely a person had a right to her own private dreams even after marriage? Or was that forbidden?

  ‘I just don’t believe this.’ Mike was shaking his head, glaring at the picture. ‘You know what? This is going back where it came from. I’m not letting you squander your money like that. How much did you pay for it anyway?’

  ‘That’s none of your business, Mike.’

  ‘Oh, really? I suppose that means it was much too expensive. So you expect me to pay for the honeymoon on my own, do you?’ He threw up his hands in a theatrical gesture. ‘This is just great. We’ll be starting married life in debt at this rate. As if I don’t have enough problems.’

  ‘What problems? And I didn’t say it was that expensive.’ Another white lie, so she continued to keep her fingers crossed.

  Mike ignored her interruption. ‘Well, there’s only one thing for it,’ he announced.

  ‘What?’ A wave of nausea rolled over Kayla and she winced.

  ‘You can take it right back to Sotheby’s and buy something else instead. Some little still life or landscape or something that we can have on the walls of our flat, and perhaps pass on to our children one day.’ His way of imitating her sarcasm in such a childish fashion was really getting on Kayla’s nerves. Besides, she was starting to feel extremely ill and she didn’t need this hassle right now. It was too much. Rebellion stirred inside her. She clenched her jaw and prepared for battle.

  ‘I’m not taking the painting back, Mike, and that’s final. I like it and I bought it with my own money. I’ll keep it somewhere other than in our home if you hate it so much, but I’m not selling it. Ever!’ She wanted to shout, but kept her voice at a steely low pitch instead, which always had more effect on Mike.

  ‘I see.’ The expression on Mike’s face was getting uglier by the minute. ‘So you’re telling me my views don’t count? You’d rather own a portrait of a man who’s been dead for hundreds of years than listen to the man you supposedly love?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is a totally stupid argument and I really don’t feel well enough for this right now. Can’t we talk about it tomorrow, please?’

  ‘No. I want you to promise that you’ll get rid of him,’ he pointed over his shoulder, ‘or you can forget about our marriage. I will not take second place to anyone in my wife’s affections.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, he’s dead!’ Kayla groaned again, the spasms of pain in her abdomen were coming more frequently now, and she was overwhelmed by bouts of nausea. She wished Mike would just go away. ‘And you have a Playboy calendar in your kitchen,’ she added.

  ‘That’s different. And I was going to take it down when you moved in anyway.’

  ‘Well, I never said a word about it. Besides, I was only joking about him being gorgeous. I mean, look at him, he’s not exactly Brad Pitt.’

  ‘Uh-hmm. So why did you buy it then?’

  Kayla made a vague gesture with her hands and Mike clenched his fists.

  ‘I mean it, Kay, take him back. Damn it all, a man’s got to be master of his own house.’

  ‘Fine, if that’s how you feel, why don’t you go back to your house and find some other stupid female to lord it over. I’m not marrying anyone who can’t see me as an equal in a partnership. This isn’t the Middle Ages, you know.’ She tugged violently at her engagement ring and yanked it off her finger before throwing it at him. ‘And take this with you when you go.’ He caught it deftly out of pure reflex. ‘I never liked it anyway. It’s too damn big and gets stuck everywhere. I’ll collect my things when I’m feeling better. Goodbye.’

  Without waiting for an answer she rushed off to the bathroom to be violently sick, and barely heard the front door slamming shut. She was too
ill to care that she’d just thrown away all her dreams out of sheer stubbornness. Too ill to care that months of planning had been for nothing. And it was all because of a pair of irresistible blue eyes.

  Or was it?

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Tell me more about yourself.’ Eliza reached out and trailed her fingers along Jago’s cheekbone, staring at him almost with reverence. He turned and kissed her hand, awed by the feelings that rose up inside him.

  ‘Why? What do you wish to know? I’m just a simple innkeeper.’ He shrugged, trying to make light of her words.

  ‘Have you always lived here? And who was your mother? She must have been very dark.’ She smiled. ‘You’re what my nanny would have called swarthy, with your tanned skin and this, which I love.’ Eliza’s fingernails grazed the black stubble along his jaw, making him shiver with pleasure. ‘But your eyes, they must be from your father, am I right?’

  Jago nodded. ‘Yes, they are the only feature of his I’ve inherited. My mother Lenora was a Gypsy, you know, and bequeathed me her exotic colouring. I’m told she was beautiful, enticing and full of life. A temptation to any man, but particularly to someone like Sir Philip.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘He’d just lost his wife, he was lonely and needed to be swept out of his grief. My mother didn’t ask much of him, or so I’ve been told, but she cheered him with her zest for life. They both knew it wasn’t a lasting relationship, but they each got what they wanted out of it.’

  ‘You?’ Eliza smiled teasingly and Jago chuckled.

  ‘No, I doubt that I was part of the plan. Whether I’d arrived or not, Lenora would have continued her carefree life, moving around with her band of Gypsies, had she not died giving birth to me. I would’ve been raised with the other children, as indeed I was at first by my grandmother, but then Sir Philip found out about me. He was a nice man. He had me educated and even left me some money in his will. Enough for me to buy the inn and a decent boat.’ He spread his hands. ‘There you have it, my life story.’

  ‘So you’ve never wanted to go roaming with your kin?’ Eliza put her head to one side. ‘I’ve heard tell anyone with Gypsy blood feels the pull of such a life irresistible.’

  Jago grinned. ‘Oh, I’ve done some roaming over the years – leaving the inn in the capable hands of a friend – but not often. My mother’s blood only surfaces in me occasionally.’

  Eliza sighed. ‘It sounds so romantic, such freedom. I wish …’

  ‘What do you wish, my love?’ He tangled his fingers in her lovely blonde hair and pulled her close so that he could smell the flowery fragrance that was uniquely hers – honeysuckle and roses. He inhaled deeply and stored it in his memory yet again.

  ‘Nothing, except to be with you.’

  ‘You are, sweeting, you are.’

  But he knew they were both wondering the same thing. For how much longer?

  Kayla’s South Kensington flat consisted of just one large room, with a sleeping platform constructed in one corner on which she had placed a plump, comfortable futon. The Victorian house had such high ceilings that there would have been plenty of room for two floors, and the small platform didn’t detract from the sense of spaciousness in any way. The ceiling was ornately plastered with a border of fruit and small animals, and normally Kayla loved to lie in her bed and look at it from all angles. Tonight, however, her legs felt like boiled vermicelli and she was too weak to climb up the ladder. Instead she collapsed onto the sofa with another moan.

  ‘Oh God, I feel awful,’ she muttered. She started to tremble and soon she was shivering violently while her stomach continued to cramp as if it wanted to expel every last ounce of food inside her. Well, you have, so leave me in peace, Kayla thought grumpily. She pulled a plaid blanket down from the back of the sofa and covered herself, but it was no use. The shivers wouldn’t stop. Teeth chattering, she finally reached for the phone and dialled her parents’ number. ‘Mum?’

  ‘Kayla, dear. What’s the matter? I was just getting ready for bed.’

  ‘I’m s-sorry, Mum, but I-I’m afraid I’m i-ill. F-food poisoning, I think. Bad oysters. D-do you think I should c-call the doctor?’ Kayla’s mother was a nurse, the oracle to whom all her children turned whenever they had any questions of a medical nature and she was invariably right in whatever measures she suggested.

  ‘Have you been sick? Do you have a temperature?’ she asked in what Kayla thought of as her professional voice.

  ‘Y-yes. There’s nothing left inside me, I can g-guarantee it. And I’m pretty sure I have a bit of a temperature. Maybe more than a bit, actually. I’m shaking like a leaf.’

  ‘Well, wait a while longer, dear. If the temperature goes up even more, then perhaps you should call the doctor. You might need antibiotics; some cases of food poisoning can be nasty. But if you feel a bit better in about half an hour or so, then it should pass. Your body has rid itself of whatever it was, now it has to calm down again. I’ll call in a while to check on you, shall I?’

  ‘Okay. Th-thanks, Mum.’

  Kayla lay back down and concentrated on relaxing her body, breathing deeply to weather the continued spasms of pain in her stomach. The shivering slowly subsided and an unnatural heat began to spread over her instead.

  ‘Yes, definitely a temperature,’ she said to herself and closed her eyes. She was so tired, so very tired. If only she could sleep for a while, then maybe she’d wake up to find it had all been a bad dream.

  ‘I dare say you’ll be as right as rain by tomorrow,’ a voice said bracingly, and Kayla jumped and swivelled her head round to see who was talking to her. There was no one in the room. She struggled into a sitting position with some difficulty.

  ‘Who’s there? Who said that?’ She could hear the panic in her voice and tried to control it. This definitely had to be the worst possible time to be confronted by an intruder. She was too weak to stand up, let alone defend herself. What use were karate lessons if you were unable to even lift your arm?

  ‘Have no fear, no one is going to hurt you, I promise.’ The voice – deep, dark and smooth – made her heart do a somersault. It sounded familiar. She cast another frantic look around the room, but there really was no one there. Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes, and one rolled down her cheek as she lay back down and flung one arm across her face.

  ‘Oh great, I’m hallucinating now. I’d better call the doctor after all.’

  ‘No, you’re not. Look at your new purchase,’ the voice commanded, and her eyes flew to the portrait. The dark man was smiling and she could have sworn he winked at her. Then he raised one hand. Kayla stared for a few moments before a strange buzzing noise began in her ears and the world started to disappear into a dizzying vortex of darkness.

  The last thing she heard was the smooth voice exclaiming impatiently, ‘Hell and the devil confound it! This is not the time for a swoon, woman. I need to speak to you.’

  Kayla opened her eyes and let her gaze roam around the room. She felt extremely lightheaded and it took her a while to focus on the familiar objects around her. She tried taking deep breaths and blinked several times to clear her vision. All was quiet, nothing moved and the man in the painting smiled his enigmatic smile as before without wiggling so much as a finger. She had dreamed the whole thing.

  A sense of disappointment washed over her and then she laughed at herself. ‘Of course you dreamed it, you idiot,’ she muttered. ‘Paintings don’t talk, for heaven’s sake.’

  She crawled off the sofa and managed to fetch a glass of soda water from the little kitchenette that was hidden in an alcove at the back of the big room. She sipped the fizzy liquid slowly, not sure whether her stomach would allow her to keep anything down yet. To her relief, there were only a few rumbling protests, nothing more, but her head pounded like the very devil, so she made a second foray to find some aspirin as well.

  ‘I wish I hadn’t bought you,’ Kayla said, and glared at the painting. ‘I feel so confused and it�
�s all your fault. I thought I knew where I was going with my life, had it all planned out, and now I’m back to square one. What am I going to do? And what about the wedding? Oh hell, it’s all booked and everything.’

  He didn’t reply and she lay down and closed her eyes. ‘Huh, you don’t have any answers, do you? But then, neither do I, I suppose. We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?’

  With a deep sigh she settled down to sleep some more and let her mind drift wherever it wanted to. It returned to the man’s face, again and again, and even with her eyes closed she could see him clearly. She was too tired to do anything about it so she allowed her thoughts free rein and felt herself drifting off.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I really didn’t mean to frighten you to death.’

  The deep voice startled Kayla again and made her turn too quickly to look at the painting, causing a renewed attack of dizziness. The man in the portrait smiled apologetically and shrugged. ‘Please, don’t swoon again, I beg of you. I thought you modern women were made of sterner stuff and you don’t even have the excuse of a tight bodice.’

  Utter silence reigned for a few seconds. Kayla hadn’t realised that she had been holding her breath until she heard the wheezing sound her throat made when she finally drew some air into her lungs. She stared at the now so-familiar face and jumped about a foot off the sofa when he started to talk again.

  ‘You see? I’m not dangerous.’ He smiled again, showing even white teeth in a piratical grin, obviously pleased with the effect he was having on his audience.

  Kayla registered the fact that he spoke with a slight burr. West Country if she wasn’t mistaken. She’d been to Devon and Cornwall for a holiday once and remembered the accent. She finally found her tongue. ‘But … but … how is this possible? I mean … I’m dreaming, right?’

  ‘Are you?’ He became serious again. ‘Perhaps, perhaps not. Does it matter? I need to speak to you because there is something I would like you to do for me.’