“I don’t,” said a deep voice behind her.
Her heart thrummed because it was his voice. She found herself unable to turn around and face him. When he stood beside her, she felt rather than saw him in the darkness.
“I hadn’t realized anyone was outside,” she said lamely.
“I apologize for not making my presence known earlier, Miss Fairfax. It’s a lovely night and your birthday ball. I can’t help but wonder why you seem so upset.”
“I—am not upset.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. I thought that as the guest of honor you would start the dancing. I would be most disappointed if I were not one of your dance partners.”
“You really should dance with Constance.”
He turned her face to his and before she was aware of it, he gently wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I should like to dance only with you.”
His tender touch burned like fire. No man had ever touched her like that or looked at her with such passion in his eyes. The smoldering desire reflected in those dark orbs drew her sapphire gaze up to his. He towered over her by more than a foot, and Allison felt ridiculously small as he drew her gently against the broadness of his chest. She possessed no will of her own, no inclination to pull away and pretend she was properly outraged at the liberty he had taken by holding her thus. Somehow she felt that she belonged in his arms.
He smelled of tobacco, a slight trace of whiskey and an unfamiliar, male musky scent. Part of her wondered why she didn’t berate him for accosting her on the veranda as though she were a woman used to having a man’s arms around her; another part also wondered if he could hear the frantic beating of her heart beneath the silken bodice of her gown. From inside the ballroom she heard the lilting sounds of the harpsichord. Paul began to sway slightly to the melody.
“I’m afraid I’m not a very good dancer, Mr. Flanders.” Her voice quavered.
“Then I shall teach you whatever you need to learn.” He took her hand in his, then drew her more firmly into his embrace and swept her across the veranda, practically lifting her from her feet. “Dancing is very easy, Miss Fairfax, if you have the proper partner.”
His head dipped low, his breath fanning her face. Allison trembled as a delicious shiver coursed up her spine. No one dances like this, so close together, she thought. She knew that if Aunt Cecelia should see them, she’d never be allowed to leave the house again, and she hated to think what fate might befall Paul. But she’d never felt this way before, never had her breath come in tiny gasps, didn’t know what to make of the tingling sensations along her spinal column. Oh, to go on and on like this forever!
Abruptly he stopped, his face shadowed by the flickering torches lighting the veranda. When she looked up, puzzlement and delight in her eyes, he said, “I have a request of you, Miss Fairfax.”
“What is that?”
“I should like permission to kiss you.”
Without waiting for her reply, his blonde head descended and his lips met hers, gently at first, but then he pulled her harder against him and their pressure increased. The suddenness of it stunned her and drew the breath from her. For an instant she moved away and felt his lips moving to the corners of her mouth and downward to the hollow of her throat. She moaned involuntarily and her arms twined around him. Allison longed to be even nearer to him, and this longing forced her to stand on tiptoe and arch her body against his. Her eyes flickered open when she felt the muscles of his arms stiffen beneath her fingers.
A look of wariness crossed his face, and for a brief moment, he appeared as stunned as she originally had felt. Then she realized how bold she must seem to him, clasped wantonly in his arms, her pink-tinged mouth swollen and waiting for his next kiss. She backed away as her good sense returned, and she reddened like a radish.
“I … I’m sorry,” she stuttered and covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what possessed me!”
Paul clasped her wrists, gently drawing her hands away to rest against the brocade jacket which covered his broad chest. “I took advantage of you, Allison. I owe you the apology. I’ve wanted to kiss you from the first moment I saw you. I’ve never felt this way before, never expected to feel this way, so please don’t brand me a bounder or a cad.”
Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over because she felt no shame, and she realized it was only her fear of what he would think that had caused her embarrassment. She admitted that she knew nothing about Paul Flanders, but she was certain he was the man Maggie had foretold and that her life was linked to his. She had to trust him. But why would such a handsome, worldly man, apparently of good breeding, be attracted to her? Why had he wanted to kiss her when so many more beautiful women were all around? For a moment, her doubts threatened to destroy the rosy glow through which she saw him.
He whispered into her hair, “Don’t doubt your feelings, Allison. Trust me.”
This was the man of her dreams, a man who knew her thoughts. She nestled closer, wishing to stay in his arms until the end of time, never mind that she’d met him barely an hour earlier. Their destinies were entwined like ivy on a trellis; this was the man foretold for her. “I do believe you. I know you’ll never hurt me,” she whispered.
Paul’s dark gaze skimmed the fields, hovering in a possessive manner over the endless acres of the estate. His warm breath ruffled her hair when he spoke. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Allison Fairfax, and I mean to have you.”
2
Allison saved all her dances for Paul. She was convinced that old Maggie’s prophecy had come true. Nothing dampened her spirits, not even Cecelia’s worried expression or the fact that Howard appeared terribly hurt and Constance left early in a huff. Her heart sang with love for the handsome stranger, and her face glowed with it.
Shortly before Paul’s departure, he drew her aside. “Tomorrow I’ll call on you and pay my respects to your aunt. I don’t believe she approves of me very much.”
“That’s ridiculous. She hardly knows you.” Allison stole a glance at her aunt who hovered nearby, then looked back at Paul, gazing into his eyes. He was so strong, so self-assured, seeming to have no fear of her aunt, and this made her care for him all the more.
As soon as he left with Howard, Allison hurried to her room, realizing that a confrontation with Cecelia was inevitable but hoping to delay it as long as possible. After Beth had helped her into her nightgown, Allison danced around the room, her feet barely touched the floor. “Did you see him, Beth? How much I love him already!”
“Aye, I stole a peep and saw the gentleman. He is handsome, Miss, but are you certain of your feelings? And what of the gentleman’s?”
Allison threw herself onto the bed, sinking into the feather mattress. “He asked to call on me tomorrow, and I just know that he’ll marry me! He’s the one old Mag told me would come.”
“I suppose you know your own mind, Miss Allison,” Beth murmured.
Diamond sparkles glittered in Allison’s eyes. “He kissed me, Beth, on the terrace, and I kissed him back! Oh, I do love him!”
“How wonderful and romantic.” Beth sighed and turned away to hang the discarded ball gown in the wardrobe. “Was Mr. Howard very upset that you spent all evening with another man?”
“I never noticed,” said Allison dreamily.
“He is such a fine gentleman and kind. I’d hate for him to be hurt.”
“I’ve no intention of hurting him. Anyway, he was Aunt Cecelia’s choice for a husband, never mine.”
A tear rolled unchecked down Beth’s cheek. “But he is more sensitive, I think, Miss, than you realize.” Her voice broke.
Allison stared in astonishment at the young girl. “Why, Beth, you’re in love with Howard Granger!”
“Oh miss, I could never…”
Jumping from the bed, Allison grabbed Beth’s hand. “Yes, you are. Don’t be ashamed.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Beth tearfully pleaded, trembling. “I never meant to tell a soul about my fee
lings for Mr. Howard. He is so grand, and I’m just a nobody, a peasant girl. It can never be, and I know it.”
“Beth, I’m sure that if Howard was aware of how you felt, he would be honored.”
Beth seized Allison’s arm in alarm. “Oh, please don’t tell him! I’d die if he knew I loved him! He’s a gentleman, and I’m nowhere near being a fine lady. My mother never cared about me, Miss. She sent me to live with Mrs. Lacey and took off. I’ve not seen her in years. I don’t even know who my father was. Please don’t be judging other people’s motives by your own. You’re far too kind to worry over me.”
“Let’s ask old Mag to tell your future,” Allison suggested.
Beth vigorously shook her head. “I’m not like you, Miss. I don’t want to know it. Anyway, Mr. Howard won’t be in it. There’s no one like him in my future.”
Allison critically examined Beth as if seeing her for the first time. Her figure was voluptuous and full-breasted and she was tall, with unblemished skin. Her brown hair lay in wispy curls about her face, and her cinnamon colored eyes, which usually danced, were now full of apprehension. “But someone is meant for you. You’re far too pretty not to have a young lad fall in love with you.”
“The problem, Miss,” Beth stated matter-of-factly, “is that I only want Mr. Howard.”
Allison wished to comfort her, to tell her that all things were possible, but just then Cecelia walked into the room, dismissing Beth with a grand wave of her hand.
“I see,” she said icily as soon as they were alone, “that you completely forgot your manners.”
“I don’t understand, Aunt.” Allison felt her stomach tumble, almost as if it rolled down a hill, and she knew the moment of reckoning was at hand.
“Don’t play the innocent with me, Allison Fairfax! You know quite well that you ignored Howard for that boorish houseguest of his and peeved Constance so much she felt she had to leave. Now, I suppose you’ll tell me the old woman’s jabbering came true—that that young upstart is your true love.”
Paul’s kiss and attentions had given Allison unexpected courage. Suddenly she straightened, not flinching for once under Cecelia’s disapproving gaze.
“I love him, and I think he loves me, too!”
Cecelia sputtered, her face turning from pasty white to red. “What a little simpleton you are! You think you’re in love, and you know nothing about the man in question.”
Allison interrupted, feeling she must defend Paul. “I know he is a gentleman and well bred. Why, he even conversed in French with Monsieur Dauzat.”
Cecelia’s mouth curved downward. “The man is obviously a fortune hunter. It matters little how many languages he speaks or how nobly he acts. He wants your money. Why else would he take such an immediate interest in you? Evidently Howard told him about your prospects, and he views you as fair prey.”
The blood drained from Allison’s face. Cecelia must think very little of her to say such an uncomplimentary thing, as if she were so homely and unattractive that no man would look at her unless she were an heiress. Her newfound courage faltered, but she wouldn’t back down. “Paul intends to call on me tomorrow and pay his respects to you.”
“Then I shall have the pleasure of informing the cad to stay away from you. I expect you to do the same.”
Allison stubbornly shook her head. “I love him. I will see him again!”
Cecelia’s eyes darkened to forest green, and she grabbed Allison by the shoulders. “See that man again, and I’ll cut you out of my will. I raised you as my heir, but I’ll not allow you to throw everything away for a ne’er-do-well because an old peasant filled your head with nonsense. Once, years ago, I took this .house from my brother’s Irish widow. If I could wrest it from her, I can keep it from you.”
“I don’t care about Fairfax Manor or who inherits it!” Allison cried.
Cecelia looked at her long and hard, then contemptuously released her. “You’re more of a fool than I thought.”
Allison wished to say something further to change her aunt’s opinion, but knew the situation was hopeless. She felt so helpless, so completely powerless in Cecelia’s presence. Sometimes Allison wondered if there really was a Supreme Being, or if Cecelia ruled the universe.
“Go to sleep, Allison. I shall see you in the morning.” Cecelia spoke to her as if she were a small child, and though her attitude infuriated Allison, she dutifully climbed into bed, pulling the coverlet up to her chin and closing her eyes until Cecelia left the room. For the next few hours, she watched the moonlight spill through the window, her mind racing. “She can’t destroy my love for Paul,” she said aloud. But she trembled because she knew that if anyone could tear Paul from her, it would be Cecelia.
“Beth, I should like you to deliver this message to Mr. Paul Flanders at Ballysheen Hall.” Allison folded the piece of paper and handed it to the girl, who looked perplexed.
“But he is expected here this afternoon, Miss.”
“I know that,” Allison replied sharply. “Just do as I ask!”
Beth curtsied. “Aye, Miss.”
She scurried away before Allison had time to apologize, but she didn’t feel like explaining to the girl. How could she tell her that she had asked Paul not to call, that she was so fearful of her aunt and the power she wielded that she was ready to give up the man she loved? Beth would never understand that—or would she? She thought about the servant girl’s secret passion and her heart ached. Yes, they had much in common.
Allison dressed and joined her aunt in the dining room for breakfast.
“I trust you’re well rested, Allison.” Cecelia’s nonchalant attitude upset her, but she kept her face blank, replying that she was.
“When the young man arrives this afternoon, I should like to see him immediately,” Cecelia continued.
Allison stirred her tea. “He won’t be coming, Aunt. I’ve requested that he not call.”
Cecelia looked very pleased indeed. “Quite wise, my dear.”
Anger roiled within her, but Allison managed to speak levelly. “I may be your ward and your heir, Aunt Cecelia, but one day you won’t stand in the way of my wishes.”
“Dear girl, I gather you informed Mr. Flanders not to call, not because you realized he was only after your inheritance, but because you feared what I might say, that I would cut you off without funds. Are you afraid of discovering what sort of man you have fallen in love with, my dear?”
Allison absently set her plate aside because she suddenly realized that was indeed the real reason she had begged Paul Flanders not to visit. She was afraid he was only after her money. “I should like to be excused. I … I have no appetite,” she whispered.
“As you wish.”
She left the table and headed for her room again, where she threw herself on the bed and sobbed bitterly for what might have been.
~
Beth traipsed down the road toward Ballysheen Hall, wondering why her mistress had decided not to see Mr. Flanders. Old Mag had told her she would meet her true love at the party, and she had. Beth didn’t know what was wrong with the gentry. Sometimes they seemed to know everything; other times they were just as confused as plain folks for all their wealth.
“Good morning to ye, Beth.”
Beth turned to see Patrick Lacey, the Fairfax overseer. He doffed his cap and she smiled at him. “‘Tis a fine day, Patrick. How are you?”
“Well, and I must say that you are quite a fetching sight so early in the day.”
Beth colored. “Go on with you, I’m no such thing!”
His face softened. “Aye, Beth, you are beautiful in my eyes.”
“Please don’t say such things. I told you once before how your pretty words make me blush,” she mumbled.
“I can’t be helping how I feel about you. I love you. I have since we were tykes together.”
She sighed her frustration. Patrick always aggravated her with his talk of love and devotion. If her heart hadn’t already belonged to Howard Granger, s
he might consider Patrick as a husband. He was a fine, strapping lad with muscular arms and thighs and quite handsome. Many colleens desired him, and she didn’t know why he’d chosen her to love when clearly she didn’t want him.
“Patrick, you must grow up. We’re no longer children.”
“Aye, I’m aware of that. You look like no child I’ve ever seen.” He looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet. “Where are you off to so early in the day?”
“I’ve a message to deliver to Ballysheen Hall from Miss Allison.”
His eyes settled on her face. “You’re to see the son of the manor then.”
“No, I’ll probably just leave it with Nellie, the kitchen girl.”
He shook his head. “If I know you, you’ll be finding a way to speak with Mr. Howard, the mighty heir of the manor.”
“And just what business is it of yours if I do, Patrick Lacey? I shall speak to anyone I please!” She straightened her shoulders and sparks flew from her brown eyes.
“Then go on with you, Beth McConnell! I’ve had my fill of your haughtiness for one day.” Patrick turned and stomped across the fields while she continued on her way to Ballysheen Hall.
Beth fumed and kicked at pebbles in the road. Patrick always riled her, and what was worse, he suspected she was in love with Howard Granger. Patrick had always had a knack for reading her thoughts, and she hated that about him. Or was her love for Sir Howard so transparent that all could see?
By the time she trekked up the road towards the Hall, she had calmed down from her confrontation with Patrick. Beth turned the corner of the house to the servants’ entrance and was stunned to see Howard and his houseguest, Paul Flanders, sitting beside the fountain and drinking sherry.
“Good day, Beth.” Howard stood, as did Paul. “What brings you to Ballysheen Hall?”
She curtsied and blushed scarlet, knowing how disheveled she must look. “I’ve a message from Miss Allison for Mr. Flanders.” A frown furrowed Howard’s brow as Paul took the piece of paper and read it.
“Is there a reply, sir?” Beth asked Paul.
A muscle tightened in his jaw, and he crumpled the note in his powerful hand. “Tell your mistress that I shall be there for tea this afternoon and she better damn well be waiting!” He stormed off, leaving Howard and Beth alone.
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