“You will leave in the morning, Etienne,” she’d said.
He’d looked at her and slowly said, “I want you to pleasure me again, Arielle.”
She’d stared at him.
“I never got to have you, as my father promised me. Tonight, nay, right now, come with me upstairs.”
He couldn’t harm her, he couldn’t force her. Paisley was dead. No one could force her now. “I wouldn’t go to the grave with you.”
Etienne looked genuinely bewildered. “But why? I am not my father. You have already pleasured me, and I have seen you. Now I want you beneath me, I want to be inside you. You will enjoy it. My father told me you loved to be fondled and caressed. I want you, Arielle. I want you with me, always. I want to wed you once a decent period of time has passed.”
Arielle walked to the bellpull and gave it a yank.
“What are you doing?”
She simply shook her head at him. When Philfer arrived not three minutes later, she said, “Please have Monsieur DuPons’s luggage packed, Philfer. Then see to it that he is out of Rendel Hall and off my property within the hour.”
“Very well, my lady.”
Etienne waited at least until Philfer had left the room, then shouted, “Non. You can’t do that. This is my home—my father wanted me here. I want you, Arielle.”
It was too much. Had he really believed she’d been enamored of him that awful night Paisley had forced her to—She shook her head. “Listen to me, Etienne. I don’t like you, and I don’t want to have anything more to do with you. Your father made me do those things. I didn’t want to. Do you understand me? I never wish to see you again.”
“You are thinking of the proprieties. You English are so very concerned about such nonsense and—”
She wanted to kill him. Instead, she said in a voice of surprising calm, “You will leave. Now.”
He turned, and his pale eyes glittered at her. She took a step back, unable to stop herself.
“I will have you, Arielle. My father told me I would have you. He promised me.”
“Your father is dead. Dead and buried.”
Etienne gave her one last, long look, bowed, and left.
That was another reason, she supposed now, that she was afraid to go into society, even the narrow society of Castlefields and beyond to East Grinstead. Etienne had believed she’d enjoyed doing that despicable act to him. He’d expected her to want to continue with him. Was it something about her, something in the way she looked, or spoke, or held her head? Could he have told others? She heard a small broken sound and realized it was from herself. She had to snap out of this. It had been many months, and she was free, truly free.
“Where are ye going, my lady?”
Arielle forced herself back. “Nowhere in particular, Geordie. Have you a suggestion?”
He gave her a very straight look. “Aye. I should like to beard a mangy lion in his den.”
She became quite still. “Any particular mangy lion?”
“Aye, one that’s in truth a damned bounder, if ye’ll excuse me language.”
“The thin mangy lion,” she said.
Arielle had never said a word about her half brother to Geordie. Where had he heard about him? She thought about it. She had been a coward, a pitiful coward, for more than seven months now. Laying the shame on herself, feeling the guilty one. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could exorcise one ghost. “All right,” she said, turning Mindle as she spoke. “Let us see the lay of the land. Let us see if Monsieur DuPons is residing with Evan Goddis.”
Geordie rubbed his hands together. “Aye, the little weasel.” Arielle laughed, an honest, pure sound, but deep down she felt fear turning like sour milk in her stomach.
They rode onto Leslie Farm land a little less than an hour later. Arielle looked about, waiting for homesickness to strike, but there wasn’t any. The manor house soon came into view. The place looked rundown, not as if there weren’t enough money, but as if the person living here simply didn’t care about the appearance of the manor house.
“Miss Arielle.”
“Hello, Jud. How are you? Is Mr. Goddis at home today?”
“Yes, he is, ma’am. I’m fine, as is my missus. You want to see the master?”
“Why not?” Arielle allowed Jud to help her dismount. She turned to Geordie. “I can’t very well permit you to come with me, but I would ask that you remain near those windows over there. I shall ensure that I am in that room. You are feeling like Saint George, Geordie?”
“Aye, indeed, my lady.”
Geordie watched her walk to the double front doors, her thin shoulders squared, her chin high. Poor little mite, he thought, but she needed to come here and face down that devil half brother of hers. She’d been too long locked into herself. She had to come back to life and deal not only with her own fears but also with the Rendel estate, which was now her responsibility. Then perhaps she could return to a more normal way of life. He remembered six months before, when he’d met a fellow who’d just been fired from Rendel Hall by Lady Rendel. The man had been full of spite, insults, and information. The next day Geordie had presented himself to Lady Rendel, and she’d hired him immediately. Don’t lose your head, lass, he told her silently. At least she was showing some backbone. He watched her disappear through the front doors. Quickly, he moved to the east side of the house and saw that the windows were open.
Evan accepted the news from his portly butler, Turp, that his sister was waiting for him in the small front drawing room. He frowned. How odd that after all these months she would come to see him. He’d been wondering how to get to her, for the several times he’d visited Rendel Hall he’d been denied entrance. Let her wait a bit now, he thought as he reviewed what he had to say to her. He would keep Etienne out of it for a while. He was beginning to doubt Etienne’s real uses in any case, the devil curse the man.
He walked slowly into the drawing room. “My dear Arielle. How lovely you look. Not at all a mourning widow.”
Arielle felt herself pale, felt her palms become clammy. “Hello, Evan,” she said, relieved at the calmness and lightness of her tone. “How well you are looking. Of course, there is no reason for you not to appear well-looking, is there?”
He bowed. He was wearing morning clothes, and his smart superfine jacket hid the thinness of his chest and shoulders. But his legs in the buckskins looked like two straws.
“What an honor to see you after so long,” he said.
“Yes, I suppose it is.” Her gaze went slowly about the room. “My father loved this room. We played chess in the evenings by the fireplace.”
“Your little charmed circle. Well, it no longer matters, does it? I have been wanting to see you for the longest time, Arielle. I have been very concerned about you.”
“I believe I shall sit down,” she said and seated herself on an Egyptian claw-footed chair and arranged her riding skirt. She sent a surreptitious look out the window, and sure enough, there was Geordie, standing still as a statue in the shade of a yew bush.
“As I said, I have been worried about you,” Evan said, his voice even and cool. The little chit seemed different. She was trying to control him, that was it. “You don’t seem to believe me, Arielle. You are my sister—”
“Half sister, Evan.”
“You have only me, Arielle. Who knows where Nesta is at the moment or when we shall see her and the baron again?”
Arielle looked at him closely. Exorcise the ghost. “Paisley told me what you did, Evan. There is no reason for you to act the loving brother at this late date. I know that you sold me. Paisley said he paid fifteen thousand pounds for me, then five thousand pounds that time when I came here begging you to protect me. He said you were holding me for ransom.”
Evan paled, and his hands fisted. “That is a bloody lie. God, you would believe that dissolute old bastard? It’s not true, Arielle, I swear it to you.”
She regarded him calmly. “It isn’t? Perhaps it is perverse of me, but I think it is tr
ue. All of it.”
“Listen to me, Arielle. I had to let him take you that morning. I had no choice! He is—was—your husband; all the legal rights were on his side. He threatened me. He said he would ruin me.”
She didn’t believe him. She wouldn’t believe him. Slowly, Arielle rose from her chair. “I am vastly sorry that I share any of your blood,” she said and walked toward the door.
“Arielle. Wait. Listen, he swore to me that morning that he wouldn’t strike you again. He swore. I made him. I told him what I thought of him and he swore he wouldn’t hurt you again.”
She said nothing, merely kept walking.
“Stop—you can’t leave.” She felt his long, thin fingers wrap about her upper arm. She had a moment of horrible, paralyzing fear, then forced herself to be calm until he released her. She would not be afraid. Not any longer. Even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true. She wondered if she would be afraid for the rest of her life.
“Listen to me, Arielle. It wasn’t a question of ransom, dammit. If you would know the truth, Paisley had information, damning information, about my father. He threatened to make it known if I didn’t give you to him in marriage. It’s the truth. I’m not proud of it, but I love my father and I couldn’t allow Paisley to ruin his name. He had sworn to me that he would turn over the information at your marriage, but he lied. He used it again when you came to me. I had no choice.”
“Let me go, Evan.”
He did. She said very quietly, “Your father is dead. He was dead then. I wasn’t. You cared more for a dead man’s name than your own sister’s life. You are despicable, Evan. I suppose I came here to say that to you.”
Her voice was low, contemptuous, and he retreated. “Arielle, please, you must try to understand.”
“I came here to exorcise a bogeyman. I have done that. You are really a quite paltry person, Evan.”
“My father isn’t dead. He would have met the hangman had I not saved him.”
“You’re a liar. A long time ago I can remember the servants speaking in hushed whispers about John Goddis and his scandalous life and his sordid ending. But no matter. If you care for me all that much, why is Etienne here?” She waited, but he was silent. “I see you have no answer for that. Good-bye, Evan. I never wish to see you again.”
Her hand was on the doorknob, her fingers tightening about the latch, when he said, almost in a whisper. “Etienne DuPons is in love with you. He came to me begging that I intercede for him with you. He hated his father. He never even knew him, you know that, Arielle. He is not like Paisley Cochrane.”
She felt a slight stirring of uncertainty, but then she shook her head. She could never forget that terrible night when Paisley had forced her to pleasure his son. She could still hear Etienne’s moans, feel his fingers tangling in her hair as he pressed her head against him. She realized she was trembling. “No,” she said and jerked the door open. “No, damn you.”
“You have become a cold woman, Arielle,” Evan said. “Poor Etienne, he hasn’t anything now.”
She could only stare at him. “He doesn’t deserve anything. Good-bye, Evan.”
He said nothing more. He watched her stride across the long, narrow entrance hall, saw her speak quietly to pathetic old Turp, that witless fool, before she left.
Evan wasn’t completely disappointed. He’d sensed that brief uncertainty in Arielle, and now he would determine how best to make it grow. He whistled as he strode up the stairs, bound for Etienne’s bedchamber.
“Well, lassie?”
“Paltry,” Arielle said with relish. “My half brother is really very paltry.”
But, like Evan Goddis, Geordie heard the lack of complete conviction in his young mistress’s voice. He frowned at her profile but said nothing.
“You know what I should like to do, Geordie?”
“Not a clue, lassie.”
“I think I shall go to Bunberry Lake. Alone. There is never anyone there, truly. I believe I have some thinking to do.”
“Ye mean that pathetic little slice of water between Drummond and Leslie land?”
“Aye, that’s the one. You make it sound like a tiny, scummy pond.”
He said nothing more. She was mocking him and smiling. Not a tremendous smile, but a smile nonetheless. Perhaps she was beginning to heal now that she’d seen that Evan Goddis was naught but a man, and not a very nice one at that. He took his leave of her, watching until she was out of sight.
Arielle slowly guided Mindle to the edge of the gentle blue-green water. When Mindle raised her head and whinnied, Arielle automatically stiffened.
Then she saw a man. She couldn’t make out who he was. But she recognized his stallion. It was Ashes.
Burke Drummond was home.
Three
Arielle was flooded with feelings she’d believed had never really existed; feelings that, if they had existed, had belonged to that other girl, the one with the soft, gentle memories.
That stupid, gullible, naive other girl.
From the distance that separated them she thought he still looked the same. He was standing beneath an oak tree, tall and lean and powerful. Very handsome he was, a hero, a man who’d been very kind to a young girl those three long years ago. That spring afternoon they’d met for the first time, here at Bunberry Lake, flowed through her mind, and she felt a strange sort of inevitability.
She realized belatedly that he was home because the war was over. She’d been so isolated, not only on the estate but in her own mind, that she’d paid little attention to the happenings in France. Napoleon, she’d heard from someone, had been incarcerated on an island somewhere.
Burke was waving to her. “Come here,” he called.
His deep, rich voice crystallized the memories. Odd that she should remember that voice so clearly. She touched her fingers to her cheek and smiled at another memory. She was remembering the crimson plume of her riding hat she’d worn that long-ago afternoon. She wondered briefly what had become of it.
Arielle waved back, then directed Mindle slowly and carefully through the shallow end of the lake.
Burke had known, had been certain, she would come. He’d wondered, mocking himself, if this newfound sensitivity of his would prove accurate. This first time he hadn’t wanted to go to Rendel Hall to see her. He hadn’t wanted to see her in another man’s house. He hadn’t wanted to call her my lady and acknowledge that she’d belonged to Paisley Cochrane.
Ashes whinnied again and pulled on his reins, nearly jerking them free of the yew bush branch. Burke felt his pulse increase.
He watched her guide her mare through the shallow end of the lake, some twenty-five yards distant; watched her as she neared. It was fitting, he thought, that he should see her here for the first time in such a long time. So many years. If only he hadn’t been so bloody noble before. It could have been he who had been her husband. He could have taken her at sixteen. He shouldn’t have waited.
She was drawing closer. She looked the same on horseback, her back straight as a rod, her riding skirt flowing about her, an ostrich plume brushing her cheek. It wasn’t red, but a pale gray. Odd that he would remember that. He’d wondered, many times, what he would feel at this moment. Would he look at her and laugh at the romantic fantasies of a young man, fantasies that had staled in the intervening years? Would he still want to drag her to him and make love to her until they were both stupid with it?
When he saw her, he didn’t want to do either. She was pale, and her pure blue eyes were wide on his face, pupils dilated. He wanted to hold her, to press her face against his shoulder, to stroke her rich hair, to pour out all the dammed-up words that were stored inside him.
“Burke.”
Her voice was soft, thin-sounding. Burke realized he was holding his breath and released it. He grinned up at her. He felt wonderful. All the questions, the doubts, had disappeared. She was Arielle and she was his. Her marriage to Paisley Cochrane meant nothing. She would belong to him. Forever.
&nb
sp; He realized, had realized long before this meeting, that he couldn’t rush his fences. She had no idea of the depth of his feelings. Lord knew, he hadn’t either, until just this moment. He must go easy.
“Hello, Arielle. Come down and join me.” As he spoke, he raised his hands to draw her out of her saddle. To his surprise, she pulled back. She kicked her booted foot free, slid out of the saddle, and tethered Mindle next to Ashes.
“I remember the first time I met you, you wouldn’t allow me to assist you, but that was because my arm was in a sling. And this time, Arielle?”
“I’m not helpless,” she said. She wondered where those words had come from. She wondered why she was here.
“You still have Titian hair.”
“What? Oh, that.” Her fingertips nervously touched her hair. “Something I don’t suppose anyone could change.”
“You are taller.”
“Yes. I was a bit later than most girls, but I did grow up.”
He heard something odd in her voice. “Yes, delightfully so,” he said and gave her a warm smile. She didn’t smile back, merely stared up at him, as if he were a ghost.
Arielle wished now that she hadn’t come to Bunberry Lake today. Strange, how many different things he made her feel. He’d changed; she saw that. Oh, he was still charming and kind to her, but his face was more severe, hardened perhaps, as if he’d seen more than a man should have to see. He still had the marvelous dimples that deepened when he smiled, and the thick brows that flared slightly, giving him a slightly rakish and inquisitive look.
“You’re home finally,” she managed to say. “It’s been a very long time. How long have you been here?”
Burke couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was no longer the fifteen-year-old girl, such an open book to him, so completely guileless. This Arielle was nervous and uncertain, perhaps even wary of him. She was also a mystery to him, and she fascinated him. Her body was much the same, he saw. Too slender, he was thinking, but he could see the curve of her high breasts, the narrowness of her waist. No longer the coltish angles of a young girl, but a woman’s slenderness. But it was her face that drew him now, as it had three years before. The purity of her features, the innocence of—He broke off his thinking, realizing that she’d asked him a question and that instead of replying, he was staring at her like a besotted ass. As he had three years before.
Night Fire Page 5