Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02

by Emerald Enchantment

  Paul drew back, a momentary look of pain replaced by unbridled fury. “You’re a witch! I can’t believe how heartless you’ve grown.”

  “You forget you were my teacher,” she said softly.

  He bounded from the bed and started dressing.

  “Where are you going, my master?”

  “Stop it, dammit! But if you must know, I’ll be downstairs biding my time until daybreak.”

  He finished dressing and headed for the door. Allison sat up, trembling with warring emotions but determined to keep her independence. Otherwise, how would she leave him after the child’s birth?

  “Paul, when we arrive home, my door is locked to you.”

  With her hair all a tumble and the bed sheets clutched around her, she was a vision. Paul drew a deep breath. “Don’t bother locking it, my love. If I decide to visit you one night, no lock will bar me, and it would be a pity to replace a perfectly good lock, much less the door. However, after tonight’s dalliance, I doubt very much you would refuse me,”

  He left the room, slamming the door shut, and her heart felt as if it had splintered into a thousand pieces.

  21

  Such an ominous silence pervaded the manor house that Dera sought the outdoors for relief, breathing in the sweet smell of the meadows. Since Allison’s return the previous month, everyone in the house seemed to take extra care not to quarrel. In fact hardly anyone spoke to each other. Allison forever remained in her own quarters, away from Dera, Quint, and Paul. Dera knew her son and his wife didn’t share a bed. Each night, the sound of the bolt on Allison’s door purposefully latched, and Dera guessed the girl took great pleasure in humiliating her husband. She felt so sorry for Paul but even more so for Allison and couldn’t think of her as Quint did. “The bloody witch,” he’d say each night as the familiar click sounded. “If your son had any guts, he’d break the blasted door down and claim her as his wife.”

  However, Dera never criticized Allison or offered outward sympathy to either her or Paul. Their marriage was their own concern. Yet she did wish to be on speaking terms with Allison and desperately longed for a friend. The manor was as lonely and stifling now as it had been all those years ago during her marriage to Avery Fairfax. That was partly the reason for her stroll through the meadows which led to the tenant cottages. She remembered Maeve Lacey from those long ago days and recalled her warmth and friendliness. She hoped that Maeve could tell her what ailed Quint since Sean and he were so close. His nightly visits with Sean had suddenly stopped, and this puzzled Dera. Never had she known Quint to relinquish a pleasant diversion.

  As she passed the spot where Quint had first kissed her as a child of twelve, she stopped and smiled. This was also the spot where they had first made love when she was sixteen. In her mind’s eye, she could almost feel his hands and mouth upon her as she relived those cherished moments of long ago. The years seemed to melt away, and when she returned to the present, she felt as if she had actually relived the experience. The meadow was magical and always evoked pleasant memories for her. Reluctantly she moved on, hoping that Maeve might be able to help her.

  Maeve was indeed surprised to see her, “Oh, your ladyship, I didn’t know you’d be coming,” Maeve used Dera’s old title from when she had been married to Avery, and gently she had to remind Maeve she was now Quint’s wife, a lady no longer. “But I know that and feel so silly,” Maeve went on. “It’s just that when Quint is here, I’m always forgetting he married you, He’s right proud of you, Dera.”

  Dera sat down, feeling more at ease as Maeve used her Christian name. Maeve offered tea, and the two women chatted for quite a long time about people they had known and events of the past.

  “I tell you it was a shock to see Quint at our door. Sean nearly fainted at the sight.” Maeve laughed. “But that Quint will never change. He’s still a rogue and more handsome than ever.”

  “I agree with you.” Dera sipped her tea then placed her cup on the table, waving her hand when Maeve offered to refill it. “He and Sean were great friends in the old days, and I know he enjoyed his time here with him the last few months, but he suddenly stopped visiting. Can you tell me why?”

  Maeve nervously cleared the cups away, suddenly skittish, barely making eye contact with Dera. “Ah, you know how men are. They be getting into a pattern then just as quick they break it. Besides, he wasn’t always here with Sean. Many nights they’d take off and spend their time at Dabney Donahue’s. Now, that Dabney is a character for sure.”

  Dera sensed Maeve avoided the real reason he had stopped coming. Since Quint no longer visited Sean, the burnings in the area had ceased. Suddenly Dera grew aggravated, feeling as if Maeve were treating her like a child who needed protection.

  “Did Quint and Sean start the burnings?” she blurted out.

  Maeve’s face paled. “Lord no, Dera! My Sean has long since given up the torch, and so has Quint. How could you be doubting your husband?”

  “Because I know my husband quite well. He’s keeping something from me, and I want to know what it is.”

  “I can’t help you,” Maeve said slowly. “Only Quint can tell you what you need to know.”

  How could Dera tell this woman that when Quint decided to keep a secret, there was no way to loosen his tongue? That not even she, after years of marriage, could force it out of him. But she saw that Maeve was not about to tell her either. She smiled warmly at Maeve and soon bade her a fond farewell, feeling like a fool to have bothered the woman in the first place. If she had been a peasant woman and had never married Avery Fairfax, she knew Maeve would have revealed Quint’s secret. Dera sighed. Still, after all the years she had spent with these people, they regarded her as an outsider.

  Making her way back, she spied Quint riding away from one of the cottages. A woman stood in front of it, intently watching his departure. As Dera drew closer, she recognized the gray-haired woman as a servant in the manor, having been vaguely aware of her a few times when she’d seen her polishing the furniture. She wondered what business Quint could have with such a woman and nodded politely in her direction as she passed.

  The woman stood alongside the road, her hands folded across her chest and drew her mouth into a snarl. “Don’t you have nary a word for me, Dera Brennan?”

  Dera halted. No one had called her by her maiden name in years, and when she glanced back at the woman, she knew no one else ever would have addressed her by that name except one person—the woman who had lain with Quint like a bitch in heat, the woman who had destroyed her life— Peg McConnell. Dera looked closely at her, truly seeing her for the first time. Why hadn’t she noticed the resemblance before now? Peg had changed, and not for the better, but the evil, narrow eyes of the McConnells were still apparent. Dera shivered, wishing to run away but realizing here stood Quint’s secret.

  “T’aint you nothing to say?” Peg glowered at her.

  Peg’s presence had completely surprised Dera and intimidated her. So many times she had belittled Dera, and though Dera had gained confidence through the years, she still felt nothing had changed. How she hated those small McConnell eyes, those eyes which reminded her of the suffering she had endured because of this woman’s lust. Because of this woman’s brother’s obsession to have Dera for himself, Jem McConnell had killed Avery and tried to murder Quint. But she decided she mustn’t allow Peg to see how shocked she was by her presence on the estate, to pretend she had known it all along. “I can’t lie to you and say it’s good to see you. It isn’t.” Dera managed to speak without her voice quivering.

  “Hmph. Now that you’re living the life of a queen again, what might you be doing over this way? You can’t be missing your old life again.”

  “I’m very happy being Quint’s wife.”

  “I’ve got me a good position at the manor. Your daughter-in-law gave it to me, she did. Such a fine girl, too. My girl Beth is her personal lady’s maid. Were you knowing that, Dera?”

  “Beth is very sweet.” Dera hadn’t k
nown Beth was Peg’s daughter, but she’d pretend she did.

  “Aye, that she is. And a good girl. She even helped me clean out this old cottage after Quint gave it to me.”

  That bit of news truly startled Dera but she hid her surprise. Why would Quint see that Peg had a place to live? “Quint is very kind,” she said, more than shaken,

  “Beth is a dutiful daughter. She visits me like her father does. He comes quite often.”

  From the sly look on Peg’s serpentine face, Dera surmised she was being baited to ask further questions. She needed to know where this was leading. “I’m pleased to know that. Does he live on the estate?”

  Jubilation shone in Peg’s eyes. “Aye, that he does. Beth’s father lives in the manor house and shares your bed; Quint is her father.”

  Dera’s lips were ashen when she spoke. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You never did believe the truth,” Peg hissed “But Quint was mine before he set his eyes on you. He sent me away for my jealousy, and I was forced to bear my babe in shame. I gave birth in a whore house. A whore house! And no one cared. Not Quint, not you. Quint owes me for the pain I’ve endured all these years.”

  Dera began to recover herself “How can you be certain Quint is Beth’s father? You bedded many men on the estate.”

  Peg came closer, fire burning from her eyes. “Just look at her and tell me she isn’t Quint’s child. She has the Flannery features.” Without waiting for a further reply, feeling that the confrontation was at an end, Peg turned on her heels, entered her cottage and slammed the door.

  Dera quickly walked away but as soon as she reached the turn in the road, she started to run the rest of the way to the manor. She arrived out of breath, her hair laying damp about her face. Quint met her in the vestibule and immediately knew something was wrong.

  “Dera,” he said her name soothingly and tried to take her hands in his, but she pushed him away.

  “Don’t touch me after you’ve been with rubbish!”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, you do. You’ve kept your little secret quite well. I saw you riding away from Peg McConnell’s. How convenient to have that woman living so near to you. No wonder you were away those many nights. Catching up on old times, I suppose. When would I have found out about the two of you? When I again stumbled upon you like a stallion mating with his brood mare?”

  Groaning, he attempted to take her in his arms, but she was so angry and hurt, she couldn’t stand still. She paced the vestibule, and he could almost feel the heat of her wrath. “I planned to tell you, but I could never bring myself to say anything. I didn’t want you to be hurt that Peg was on the estate. For a time she lived with the Laceys, but she interfered with their lives, and Sean asked me to find her a cottage.”

  “Quint, you’re so noble you put the Pope to shame.”

  “Watch your tongue. You know what trouble it can get you into.”

  “You’re the one in trouble.”

  His eyes beseeched her for understanding and forgiveness. “Dera, I wouldn’t have Peg if she was the last woman alive. She has turned into a greedy, vindictive shrew. I admit I should have told you she was living on the estate and working in the manor, but I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “I’m more upset because you kept it from me.” She felt tears stinging her eyes. Could she ever trust him again? She tried to control herself, but she still trembled because he hadn’t mentioned Beth. “Isn’t there something else you’ve forgotten to tell me?”

  “You know about Beth.”

  “Of course and quite thrilled Peg was to tell me. How could you have gotten that woman with child?”

  “The same way I got you with child, I’m afraid. I wish I could change the past, but I can’t. Aye, the girl is mine, and I fear Peg will use her to get what she wants. “

  Dera knew Peg was capable of blackmail, and something in Quint’s face warned her that there was more to this than a simple threat by Peg. “We can’t give into her demands, Quint. Peg can’t hold sway over us because of an illegitimate child.”

  He opened his arms to her and though she still burned with rage, she loved him even more. She went to him and buried her face in the folds of his shirt. He stroked her hair, then tilted her chin up to stare into her eyes.

  “My past is catching up with me in more ways than one, my love. Peg has threatened to turn me over to the authorities for Avery Fairfax’s murder.”

  “But Jem killed Avery. He confessed before he died.”

  “We can’t prove that. There’s no one to corroborate his guilt but us. No English court will believe me—a convicted arsonist and traitor.”

  “If we return home, no one can touch us.”

  “Nay. This is where we belong, Dera. I’m on Flannery soil now, and I refuse to leave my land, my home.”

  The warmth she felt for him dissolved. How could he be so stubborn? “You’re a fool, Quint.”

  “I probably am, but I’ll not run away again from all I hold dear. You must stay beside me, and we must appease Peg as best we can. “

  Dera heaved a huge sigh. “I’ll stay by you, Quint, even when the hangman ties the noose around your neck.”

  ~

  The bedroom was much too big and lonely. Allison had never realized this until Paul’s broad masculine frame no longer filled it. At night she’d wake with a start and stare at the ceiling, wondering if he had returned from Ballysheen Hall or had stayed the night. Many times she’d waken and sit by the fireplace and contemplate the wild, flickering flames. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she still loved him and wanted to be a wife to him, but instead of reaching out to him, she still locked her door out of petulance and hurt.

  One early morning she found a small bouquet of wild violets outside her bedroom door with a note attached. “Forgive me for my vile behavior. I love you. Paul.” She reread the note many times, unable to believe he truly loved her as she loved him. She went back into the room, carrying the purple blooms, and looked in the mirror. She was now large with child and growing more so every day, and she wasn’t even near the end of her confinement. How could a man as handsome as Paul love her when she felt so unattractive? Yet she ached to feel his arms around her.

  Perhaps she should forgive him; perhaps it was time to start over again. Half-deciding to go to him, after an hour’s hesitation, she went to open the window and saw Paul skirting across the meadow on his horse in the direction of Ballysheen Hall. She stood quietly watching. Her eyes fixed on his back until he had disappeared. Then, before she pulled the window shut, she tossed the bouquet onto the soft, wet grass below her,

  ~

  Paul hadn’t intended to ride towards the Grangers, but he had waited for some time after he’d left the flowers and note outside of Allison’s room. When she didn’t appear, he grew edgy, realizing that she wouldn’t forgive him. He snapped at his mother when she inquired what was wrong with him; his father, seeming to guess, only grumbled that Allison was a spoiled child, and if she were his wife, he’d show her who was master.

  “Well, she isn’t your wife!” he had shot back and headed for the stables. He rode with no direction across the countryside but was surprised to see Constance galloping towards him. She was dressed in a low cut, red riding habit which emphasized every curve and valley of her luscious body.

  He smiled as she reined in, her dark curls escaping from under her matching hat. “Let’s race!” she challenged. Constance whirled her mount around, taking the lead immediately and heading for a small pond enclosed by overhanging trees. She stopped and slid off the horse, her lilting laughter echoing across the countryside. “I won, Paul!”

  He laughed with her as he reined in and dismounted. “You’re the best horsewoman in the county by far.”

  She peered at him, her eyes lighting up. “I’m good at other things, too.”

  Her look left no doubt as to what she meant. “I’m certain you are.”

  She came closer, her arms going
around his neck, her body pressing against his. “Let me show you how much I love you. Right here! Now! I admit I’ve been with other men, but never a man who makes me feel the way you do.”

  He looked down at her and knew he could take her here on the grass, that they could give one another immense pleasure, Constance was more than willing. He could feel the heat of her body, smell her womanly scent. He made a move to kiss her but stopped. Allison’s face flashed before him, and no matter how she felt about him, no matter what had happened, he loved his wife. Slowly he disentangled himself from Constance. “You better go home,” he told her.

  Her stunned disappointment gave way to rage. “No man has ever turned me down but you! Why don’t you want me? I care so much about you. I can’t imagine what hold Allison has over you. “

  “Love. Just love.”

  Constance sighed as he walked to his horse and mounted. She looked up at him, her eyes misty. “I only want someone to love me.”

  In that moment he saw a side of Constance he had never expected to see. For all her rantings and flirtings, she was lonely and wanted someone to care about her. Don’t we all? he thought. “One day you’ll truly fall in love with someone,” he assured her.

  She shook her head. “But I want you, Paul, and I’ve never been denied anything in my life. We could run away together.”

  That caused him to laugh aloud. “Constance, don’t be absurd.” He turned his steed, about to start back home, when Constance tugged at the reins.

  “Will you be at the ball this evening?”

  He nodded and rode away.

  Constance’s mind overflowed with plans. If only Howard would help her, she could break up Allison and Paul by having Howard wheedle himself into Allison’s affections, She laughed merrily and headed home, never realizing that she didn’t love Paul—only the challenge of claiming him as her own.

  22

  Beth finished attaching to Allison’s hair the last of the ornamental butterflies which matched the deep plum shade of her gown. Allison, barely gazing at her own reflection in the mirror, was unaware of a deep sadness in her maid’s eyes. She herself felt so miserable and was so totally self-absorbed as to be oblivious to anyone else or their problems.