Theirs to Eternity
Page 11
Davina untethered Blanche before she replied.
“What brings me here is no business of yours, Jed Barker.” She hoped she sounded calmer than she felt.
“Bin having your palm read by a gypsy, is my wager,” smirked Jed. He watched Davina as she attempted to mount.
With his eyes on her, she lost her usual confidence and her foot slipped from the stirrup. Jed heaved himself away from the tree and, interlacing his fingers, offered her his hands as a step-up. She had no choice but to accept.
She felt herself lifted and in a second was perched sideways in her saddle. She extracted her whip from where she had thrust it through the bridle and only then did she meet Jed’s eyes. Their intense glare unsettled her and she looked away.
“T-thank you,” she said. She reached quickly for the reins and only then realised that Jed had kept a firm hold of them.
“W-would you let go, please!” she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady.
In answer, Jed twisted the reins more tightly round his fingers.
“Oh, I don’t let what I catch go that easily!” he crowed. He whistled through his teeth for a moment, his eyes fixed on Davina. “So what did the fortune teller reveal about your future, eh?”
“Nothing. I did not come to have my fortune told,” replied Davina.
“Nothing?” Jed looked surprised. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, clearing away some white flecks that had gathered there. “She plays her cards close,” he muttered.
Davina was puzzled. Who was he talking about, herself, or Esmé? The next moment she started as Jed laid his free hand on her foot.
“How – dare you!” she cried, trying to wrench her foot free.
“How dare I what? Touch your foot? I’ll touch more than that if I so wish.”
You – must be mad,” she gasped.
“Mad?” Jed bared his teeth in what passed for a smile. “Oh, yes, that’s more than likely. Mad for what is denied me, mad for what is mine by rights.”
“You can’t – you can’t mean me?”
“You? Let’s put it this way, my beauty. Having you would get me what’s mine, to be sure.”
“You forget yourself,” said Davina desperately. “I am to be married, very soon now.”
“I’d a-thought she would have changed your mind for you on that score,” murmured Jed. “But if she hasn’t, I can. When you hear what I’ve got to tell you, you’ll turn to me, my beauty. And you’ve no idea what pleasure I can give you. Pleasure you can’t imagine.”
Desperately Davina tried to tear the reins from his grasp, tried to urge Blanche away, but Jed hung on tight. He pulled the horse’s head lower and pressed his body against Davina’s leg so that she felt herself pinned to the saddle.
Then, to her horror, he slid his hand under the hem of her skirt and began to caress her ankle. She struggled to kick him away again, but the weight of his body held her leg fast. In despair, she raised her whip. He barely flinched as the lash met his flesh. A thin line of blood appeared on his cheek and began to trickle into his mouth but he paid no heed.
“Oh, I did not mean – I did not mean – ” Davina could not finish her words, for she did not know what it was she wanted to say. She had never hurt a human being in any way in her life and it shocked her. For a moment she was unable to move or think.
“Don’t you worry none!” Jed muttered. “Hurts no more than the bite of a gnat.”
“I-I’m sorry,” whispered Davina again.
Jed released her ankle and wiped his mouth. He looked at the red smear that now lay on the back of his hand, turning it this way and that. Then he raised his burning gaze to Davina’s face. It seemed to scorch her flesh, yet she was held fast by him, transfixed.
“What a thing to do,” muttered Jed, “when all I wanted was to give you my treasures. Just look here, look here. Look at all the pretty things I have here for you. More than Howard Delverton could give you.”
Davina gazed, mesmerised, as Jed drew back and plunged his hand into a pouch hidden beneath his greatcoat. Gold coins spilled through his fingers, jewels, watches. All tumbled into the ferns at his feet. Then he held a sparkling brooch out on his palm.
“Lean down, my lovely. Lean down.”
His eyes, gleaming with unreason, intrigued her. His voice, low and coaxing as when he tamed foals, soothed her. In a daze, she slowly leaned from the saddle. He kept his gaze fixed on her as he drew aside her cloak and began to pin the brooch to her bosom.
“That’s it, my pretty,” he breathed. “You can trust me, you can trust Jed. Such treasures he has for you, for all his madness.”
It was only the sharp prick from the brooch, as Jed manoeuvred it into place, that brought Davina to her senses. With a cry she pulled away. Blanche reared in fright at the sound and her right hoof caught Jed a blow on his temple. As he staggered back, Davina tugged hard on the reins, turning Blanche about. With a hard kick to her flanks, they were off.
Jed’s roar of anger followed their flight.
“If I can’t have you, no one shall. If I can’t have what is rightly mine, no one shall. D’you hear? No-one!”
Davina flew careering through the woods. She did not dwell on Jed’s parting words. The man was mad, pure and simple! All she wanted was to put distance between herself and him.
She had no idea if she was riding in the right direction. She trusted that Blanche would find the way. Mud flew from under the horse’s hooves, spattering Davina’s skirt, her hands, even her face, but she did not care. Home – home and safety was her only concern.
The sun was low in the sky by the time Blanche broke from the wood and, neck stretched taut, galloped around the lake and towards Priory Park.
Which way should she go? She did not wish to be questioned nor seen in her dishevelled state by her father or Regine. How could she tell them what had happened to her on a journey she should never have made? She remembered a door on the kitchen side of the house that led into the passageway for the flower-room, the silver room and gun room. If she slipped into the house that way she might avoid encountering too many prying eyes.
She tried the handle. The door was locked. What was she to do now?
There was nothing for it but to slip around to the terrace and hope no one was in the drawing room at this hour.
She was shaking by the time she reached the terrace steps and anxiously scanned the windows for any sign of life. She did not notice the glow of a cigar in the dusk, did not see the figure sitting on the balustrade above.
She lifted her skirts and began to climb. Each step seemed the height of a mountain to her. Reaching the top, her fragile strength gave out. She sank down onto the cold stone and, palms to her face, burst into tears.
A hand grasped her elbow firmly and a voice murmured into her ear.
“Hush now, hush. Let me help you up.”
The voice was no balm to her. Its familiar tone struck her rather with fear and disgust. She tore herself free and scrambled unsteadily to her feet.
“Not you. Not you,” she panted to an astounded Lord Delverton.
She swayed as she stood before him, her eyes full of anger. She might have stumbled on but that her legs began to buckle again. Charles threw his cigar to one side before he grasped her arm and held her firmly.
“Pardon me, madam, but you must accept my support. Whatever ails you, you do not seem strong enough to continue on alone.”
“I do not wish you to touch me or – speak to me. Ever!” cried Davina.
Then, all sense fled her and she fell sobbing against his breast.
He waited patiently, staring out over the lake.
After a while her sobs subsided. She raised her head and stared around, as if uncertain as to her whereabouts.
“Are you ready to go inside?” asked Charles calmly.
She passed a hand over her brow. “Y-yes. But not – with you. I am – steady now.”
“As you wish, madam.” He gave a slight bow and then stiffened.
“What is that?” he asked, before she could protest.
“T-that?” Looking down, she saw a silver brooch, fashioned in the shape of a pineapple pinned to her bodice.
“I – do not rightly know – it is not mine.”
“I have no doubt that it is not yours. May I ask who gave it to you?”
Davina faltered under his cold and enquiring stare.
“J-Jed Barker,” she whispered.
Charles’s jaw clenched and hardened. “Jed,” he murmured abstractedly. “Of course.”
“I did not ask for it and do not want it,” muttered Davina.
“Then may I take it from you, madam?”
“Take it if you will!” cried Davina. “Take it from me!”
Charles reached forward. His eyes met hers for one stinging moment, one moment in which his fingers hovered at her bosom, one moment in which she cursed the blood that rushed to her face. Then the brooch lay glittering in his palm and it was as if she did not exist.
‘What does it matter, I hate him!’ she half wept to herself as she stumbled towards the French windows. ‘What does it matter?’ Yet as she pushed open the window, she could not help but turn for one last look at his tall figure, outlined now against the rising moon. Of all that had happened to her today, the worst was this. Knowing the perfidy of the man and knowing his habits, her flesh had still burned with pleasure to have his hands so near.
How could she excuse or forgive her own heart, her own too treacherous heart?
CHAPTER EIGHT
All along the driveway, torches burned. Servants had spent a great part of the afternoon driving in the staves. Now the flames flickered in the night breeze like so many glow worms dancing in the dark.
Throughout the ground floor of the house, candles flared in their sconces. Only in the upper storeys were oil lamps lit for the evening.
Downstairs the rooms were fragrant of roses and cedar from great bowls of pot pourri and from huge logs burning in the many hearths.
Supper was in progress. Lord Shelford sat at one end of the table, Davina at the other. In the candlelight, her cheeks bore the gleam of marble, her hair the sheen of silk. Her eyes seemed huge, the irises of a deep and almost mysterious hue. Many a gaze was drawn to her.
Only two men failed to look her way.
Her fiancé, Howard, kept his head low, his eyes on his plate or, with greater frequency, on his glass. All evening, he had avoided being alone with Davina. It was clear he wanted to avoid the topic of the brawl that she had witnessed yesterday. His eye looked somewhat swollen and he seemed generally ill at ease. He spoke so brusquely to his neighbours that in the end they turned away from him to discourse with others.
Charles, meanwhile, sat staring straight ahead, his jaw tight, his gaze hooded. When addressed, he responded with considerable but remote courtesy. Every so often his hand wandered to his breast as if he kept something concealed there, something that troubled him.
Regine, who had devoted so much energy to this event, was sensitive to the strange currents that seemed to pervade the table. Whatever was the matter with Davina and Howard? One would think they had nothing to do with each other! As for Charles, he was as cold as a mummy! At least her Duke was in good form, having found that the Reverend Gee, seated to his left, was extremely interested in the intricacies of cattle breeding.
After supper, there was to be music and dancing in the hall. As the guests prepared to rise, however, Lord Shelford exchanged a glance with Charles and then requested that all the gentlemen present withdraw to the library for a few moments.
The women rustled ahead, whispering to each other behind their fans.
“I have heard that some information has come to light that may at last lead us to the main perpetrator of these attacks,” Davina heard Aunt Sarah say as she and Lady Criston passed.
Davina sank onto a chair in the hall. She barely heard the strains of the music around her.
She wondered if the brooch she had yielded to Lord Delverton had anything to do with this recent development. But she quickly dismissed such an idea from her mind. She was certain that he had not mentioned their encounter on the terrace to anyone.
If he had done, her father or Regine would have asked for explanations as to where she had been and why she had returned in such a distressed state.
As it was, the household had been too busy to remark on her absence.
Yet all through supper she could not help but notice the way Lord Delverton’s hand constantly strayed to his breast, where she was certain the brooch was hidden. She remembered his response when she explained who had given it to her: “Jed Barker. Of course.” Her cheeks reddened every time she thought of what those words meant.
Lord Delverton suspected her of an intrigue with Jed Barker!
Her apparent desire to be rid of the brooch, he may well have read as evidence of a lovers’ quarrel. She looked up as the doors to the hall opened and the men returned.
Their faces were grim and determined. She wondered what had been discussed in the library. Her curiosity was soon dispelled by Regine, who, after a brief interchange with their father, hurried over.
“A brooch belonging to Sir Vincent’s wife, that was stolen when they were attacked, has been recovered,” said Regine excitedly.
“H-how was it recovered?” asked Davina tremulously.
“Oh – Lord Delverton recovered it, though he did not specify how.”
Davina closed her eyes in relief – a surprised relief, since she could not see why Lord Delverton should protect his source in this way. She had, after all, treated him with undisguised revulsion!
“Anyway,” continued Regine, “Lord Delverton is now convinced he knows the identity of the man behind all the attacks. A posse of men is being sent out to apprehend him.”
“W-which men?” enquired Davina.
Regine laughed. “Oh, none of our guests, you may be sure. Papa insisted on that. He would not have us robbed of dancing partners! No, some of the stable hands have gone out. They’ll think it great sport! Now – you cannot sit there like a wallflower. Where is Howard? I thought I saw him a moment ago. Ah! Lord Delverton. You’ll do. You must partner your sister-to-be, since your brother seems to have disappeared.”
Charles hesitated for a second. He bowed and held out his hand, his face set like stone.
“Madam,” he said.
Under Regine’s pert eye, Davina dared not refuse.
They glided in silence across the floor.
Charles kept his face averted, while Davina stared at her hand resting lightly on his broad, proud shoulders. She had not expected to find herself in this situation. She had determined to avoid this man whom she now considered unprincipled and devious and yet – and yet her heart continued to belie her.
For within moments of being in his arms, she felt as if she was dancing on air. Her blood surged to her fingers where they met his. Where his other hand rested on her waist, her flesh began to burn beneath her bodice. She wished to be gone and yet she wished the music never to end.
As another couple brushed by, Davina’s step faltered. In steadying her, Charles could not but meet her gaze.
The look that passed between them was as charged as a night of storm.
His grip on her waist tightened as his eyes seared into hers. She flinched and his hold tightened yet further. His eyes were full of a fire he could not quench. His fingers pressed harder into her bodice. Her own fingers curled and uncurled upon his shoulder as waves of pain alternating with pleasure swept through her. She felt exhausted and exhilarated by such unfamiliar emotions.
The two of them almost came to a standstill there on the floor, their breath mingling, their lips threatening to meet. Only the sudden,flourishing conclusion of the music and the laughter and applause that followed forced them to stagger apart.
Davina s
tood, bosom heaving, cheeks flushed, eyes unnaturally bright.
Charles passed a hand across his brow and then stepped back, giving a muted bow.
“Madam. – I must escort you to your seat – ”
“Of – course,” Davina performed a quick curtsy and turned away. She did not extend her hand for him to take, but she was all too aware that he was at her side. When they reached the row of chairs against the wall, Charles again bowed and, without another word, departed.
Davina, trembling, lifted her fan to her face. When Aunt Sarah sat down beside her and began to question her about the forthcoming wedding, she found she could barely reply. She longed to be alone with her racing thoughts. Then suddenly she turned huge, despairing eyes to her companion.
“Lady Sarah – ”
Her companion gave her a quick tap on the knee with her fan. “Oh, come now, you must get used to calling me aunt!”
“Yes, of course. A-aunt Sarah, Have you ever seen gypsy women dance?”
“Gypsy women? I can’t say that I – wait, yes, once. I was a girl and I was taken to see some jugglers. There was a gypsy girl there, dancing. Whirling and twirling like a spinning top. A most abandoned manner. The men like that, of course.”
The men like that, of course.
Davina sank back in her chair, her heart heavy as lead again.
Charles meanwhile walked into the hallway and stopped for a moment in the flickering shadows thrown by the candelabra. His features were drawn. How had he allowed himself to be waylaid by Regine and engaged as partner to Davina? To dance with her! Nothing could have been further from his mind.
He had asked himself a thousand times why Jed should have given that silver brooch to Davina and only one answer presented itself. It was surely a lover’s token! Yet he had not voiced his suspicions.
When, in the library, he had shown the brooch to Lord Shelford and the other men, he had simply said that it had been in Jed Barker’s possession – as it surely had. He neglected to mention that he had actually secured it from Davina.
He groaned as he remembered how it had felt to hold her in his arms.
Her body moving with his, the scent of her perfume, the soft touch of her hand, the faint flush in her cheeks when their gaze met – these sensations had almost unmanned him. Almost made him forget that not only was she not his, she was very likely not Howard’s, either! Where the deuce was his brother, anyway? He should be mingling with the guests, dancing with his fiancée and aunt and future sister-in-law.