“Thank you for not acting shocked when my father told us about Beth the other night.”
“I wasn’t shocked. Nothing the Flannery men do shocks me.”
He dropped the gleaming curl. “Allison, I didn’t coerce you that last time we made love. You were quite willing.”
She felt her cheeks burning like a banked hearth. She had wanted him, even when he had stormed the bedroom after their lovemaking in the carriage. However, she still wondered if he truly loved her, desperately wanting to believe it so. Since that night they had barely spoken. There were no harsh words between them afterwards, nothing which could account for the strained silence, but he slept in his room and she in hers.
“If I remember, Paul, you made a promise to me—one you never intended to keep.”
“Damn the promise! You don’t actually expect me to let you prance out of my life, do you? I can’t believe you’d leave our baby.”
“Just like you, I made a promise I didn’t intend to keep.”
“What a devious minx you are.”
“If I learned anything from your family, Paul, it is the art of deception.”
His arms went around her thick waist, and he pulled her against him. “Let me prove you can trust me, that I’ll never hurt you.”
“I should like that,” she whispered.
He bent his head to kiss her, but she winced. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
A wave of nausea flooded her, and she drew away from him. Her hands flew in alarm to her swollen abdomen. “It’s too early for the baby.”
A sharp pain shot through her, and she grabbed the front of Paul’s shirt. “Take me upstairs and send for Doctor Curry.”
25
False labor pains was Doctor Curry’s diagnosis, and bed rest was the prescribed treatment until the actual labor began. But Allison had been barely confined a week before she thought she’d go mad with boredom. To fill the lonely hours she embroidered and had long talks with Dera. Slowly a rapport developed between them, and she reached a better understanding of Paul through his mother’s eyes. However, Allison sensed an unresolved conflict between Dera and Quint because of Beth but didn’t broach the subject with Dera.
Paul was overly solicitous, and Allison grudgingly enjoyed his concern, hoping it wasn’t forced only because she carried his child. Yet she was growing to trust him more, and this filled her with a contentment which sustained her through the long hours. The nights could have been unbearable, but she had asked Paul to sleep beside her just in case labor started. In effect she wordlessly was asking him to share her bed even after the birth, but she thought he sensed this by his ready acceptance and tender smile.
One afternoon Beth joined her, and despite the fact that she no longer was Allison’s maid, she straightened the room and put things in order. “Tsk, tsk,” Beth clucked in dismay. “That lazy Rose should do better for you. I’ll be speaking to her about the way she hangs your pretty dresses. I was never so careless. “
“No, you were very efficient,” Allison agreed and managed to hide a tiny smile. “Don’t bother with my things, but sit down and talk to me.” Allison patted the place beside her on the bed, and Beth sat, a frown settling on her face. “What’s the trouble?” Allison asked but already surmised that the trouble was Patrick.
“My husband is shaming me with Annie Donahue.”
“Are you bothered by that?”
“Of course.”
“Do you love him? I remember you loved Howard Granger just before you married Patrick.”
Beth’s face seemed to fall at the mention of Howard’s name. He had sent her another note, asking to see her, unaware she had seen him with the parlor maid. He wrote that if she didn’t come to him, he would assume she didn’t love him. Well, she hadn’t gone to him and vowed she never would, realizing that Howard hadn’t ever loved her. But Patrick had—and she had driven him away. “I don’t wish to speak about Sir Howard.”
“As you wish. But what about Patrick?”
Beth’s voice broke on a sob. “I … I think I love him.”
Allison placed an arm around her shoulder. “Tell him so.
“‘Tis too late. He’ll never live here in the manor with me. Anyway, he’s got Annie Donahue.”
“Take him away from her. You can do it, Beth. You’re the woman he loves. If you do love him, forget about living here and live with him at the cottage.”
Beth wiped away a stray tear. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is.”
“I don’t think he’ll be wanting me any longer.”
“There’s a threshing party by the cottages this afternoon. Find Patrick and convince him of your love. I have a feeling he’s just as miserable as you.”
Beth’s face brightened to think he, too, might be feeling misery. She jumped off the bed, then hugged Allison. “Aye, I shall and thank you, thank you.”
After Beth left, Allison felt wonderful. She had played matchmaker and had given Beth some good advice. Moments later, when laughter drifted up from the garden through the half-cracked window, Allison got out of bed and peered down. Her heart beat quickened at the sight below her. Paul held Constance in his arms—their bodies so close she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. She quickly drew away from the passionate display just as Paul’s deep laugh echoed upward. Instead of going back to bed, she sat at her desk, a sick feeling invading her stomach. She took deep breaths, refusing to become ill over the incident. But it led her to realize that Paul still wanted Constance and must love her to make such a public display of his affection right below their bedroom window.
Despite inward trembling, she penned a message on her personal stationary, then dispatched a servant to immediately deliver it.
So Paul had played her for a fool, had he? She could be just as deceptive, too—a trait she had learned from the master of deception. Though her eyes wore a pained expression, her lips tilted into a smile to imagine Paul’s genuine horror when Daniel arrived to claim her.
~
“Such a flighty piece of baggage,” Paul said aloud, not bothering to hide his amusement as Constance rode away. Out riding, my eye, he thought. He suspected she had ridden over just to entice him into her bed. Still, he had to admit Constance was desirable, a fetching vision in her blue riding attire which accentuated every curve of her voluptuous body. It was hard to resist such a gorgeous woman, but he had. With firmness, he had pushed her away, declaring there was no future for them.
He loved Allison and wanted to be a good father to their child, not go gallivanting off to Canada with her to take up residence with her uncle as she had suggested during a moment of pique. Her choice of Canada had stunned him. Sad memories of years best forgotten.
Bounding up the stairs to his room, he expected a warm greeting, but Allison’s cold sapphire stare chilled him. In no uncertain terms she told him never to come near her again, and when he asked what troubled her, she threw a vase at him, barely missing his head.
“I’m tired of it all!” she shouted. Understanding her to mean the pregnancy and the past, he withdrew from the room, hoping she would soon calm down, When he saw her later and she was still smoldering, he realized that the wall between them had been rebuilt. Perhaps Canada might not be such a bad idea after all.
26
Beth’s friends greeted her warmly, and she was glad she had come to the threshing party. The music of the fiddles from the barn drifted through the air, as couples danced around the cottage grounds. She wore her simple lavender wedding dress, hoping to evoke bittersweet memories in Patrick. But as she looked around, she didn’t see him.
Mrs. Lacey and her mother called to her from the barn doorway, and both kissed her. “Oh, Beth, ‘tis good to see you,” Maeve told her, smiling. “Living in the manor agrees with you. Never have you looked more lovely.”
Beth knew her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes weren’t merely the result of easy living. At last she was truly in love, and grew more determined by
the moment to claim Patrick for her own.
“Is Patrick about?” she asked them.
“Nay.” Maeve lowered her voice. “He’s with that Annie again.”
This was what Beth had feared , but she didn’t reply to Maeve’s comment. When Patrick didn’t show up after half an hour, Beth grew fidgety, wondering whether he was worth her love. Perhaps at that very moment he was coupling with Annie in a haystack. To imagine such a thing filled her with rage. She’d pull every hair from Annie’s head if given the chance!
Walking outside the barn and forcing smiles at her friends, she saw Patrick walking towards her with his arm curved around Annie’s waist. Beth gulped hard. He was the most handsome man in the world in her eyes, and jealousy ate through her like a rat gnawing a piece of wood. She grew aware that everyone had grown silent and ceased dancing. All watched as the couple approached Beth. Shyness overtook her and she didn’t think she could speak, but the triumphant gleam on Annie’s face emboldened her.
Sheepish surprise at seeing his wife showed on his face. “I had no idea you’d be attending the party,” he said.
“Apparently not.”
“Will you be staying long?” Annie asked, clutching Patrick’s arm almost as if she owned him.
“I’ll be staying as long as it takes to bring my husband home with me.”
Annie gaped. “You can’t be thinking that. ‘Tis plain you never wanted him or you’d not be holed up in the manor like a princess with him being forced to live alone.”
“Alone is it, Annie Donahue? How could he be alone with a whore like yourself to warm his bed?”
“Beth!” Patrick looked stricken, but she didn’t care. She wanted him, and she knew Annie well enough to know that Annie fought for what she wanted. She saw the blood lust in Annie’s eyes, and Beth prepared herself for the onslaught she felt sure would come. It did.
Annie tore herself away from Patrick and tackled Beth to the ground. The crowd gawked in fascination.
Beth felt Annie tug at her bodice, fingernails digging through the material. Beth’s breath was taken away from her by the sheer weight of Annie’s body, but she sensed that no one would help her. Everyone was frozen with astonishment, and Beth knew it was up to her.
Surprising Annie, Beth grabbed a handful of hair and yanked until Annie yowled; then she pushed the larger woman off her until Annie lay on the ground and Beth was above her. They clawed at one another, and Beth felt a moment of triumph when a long bloodstained streak dribbled down Annie’s cheek. But her pleasure was short-lived as Annie rolled over and Beth again found herself pinned down, clawing and kicking with all her might.
“Come on, Beth! Kick the hussy!” came Mrs. Lacey’s voice from the crowd.
But Beth was weakening, and when Patrick’s face flashed near her, she knew the intense anger on it was for her and not for Annie. As her strength ebbed, she knew Annie had won. Suddenly, Annie was hauled from her by Patrick.
“Enough of this foolishness!” he growled. He yanked Beth to her feet. Her bodice was torn, her neck scratched, and her hair was tousled and hung knotted down her back. Annie didn’t look much better.
Patrick’s upsetment knew no bounds, but the smirking and laughing of everyone were too much for him. His usually tanned face turned a bright red, and he grabbed Beth so tightly by the arm she thought the circulation had stopped. Dragging her roughly along behind him, he was oblivious to her pleas to release her or her apologies for humiliating him.
Jerked across the field and then into the doorway of their cottage, she practically spun around and landed against the table. Her large eyes grew even larger, and real fear was reflected on her face as he regarded her with hands on hips. Never, never had she seen him this angry.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I didn’t mean to fight with Annie, but she provoked me.”
“Nay, you did. Annie never would have fought you,”
Further apologies died on her lips. “How dare you take up for that hussy over me! I’m your wife, Patrick.”
“Annie is more wife than you.”
That hurt far more than her wounds. To hear such words was unbearable, and she decided that he couldn’t possibly love her or want her. Her own love was fruitless, and it was right that God should deny her Patrick’s love now. She had sinned too much in the past to be forgiven. Losing Patrick was her penance.
She moved towards the door. “I’ll be leaving now.”
“Nay!” He grabbed her arm and positioned himself in front of her. “Tell me why you fought her.”
“I shall not.” She wouldn’t humiliate herself further, and she knew that was what he wanted.
“You still have the Flannery stubbornness, but I shall tame you, Beth. I’ll force you to tell me why you came to the threshing.”
He lifted her from her feet, sat down in a chair and turned her over his knee. Hiking her gown over her derriere, she immediately knew his intentions. “Patrick, no!”
“Tell me why you humiliated yourself and me.”
She looked up at him, unable to admit her love for him now that he intended to punish her like a wayward child. “I won’t.”
“Then take your punishment.”
“I’m not a tyke, Patrick! Take your hands off of me! “
Her plea went unheeded. Her undergarments were peeled away, exposing the smooth roundness of her buttocks. She prepared herself for the sting of his hand, not understanding what had gotten into Patrick, why he felt he had to treat her like a disobedient child. Tears gathered in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. “Please, Patrick. I’m not a child.”
She expected a slap and she tried to move away from his hand. Instead his hands wandered to her buttocks, massaging her flesh with trembling fingers, then straying to another part of her anatomy. “Patrick,” she moaned, desire rushing to warm her.
He turned her over, lifting her astride him, and she was eager for him, needing to be possessed by him. She pulled her bodice to her waist, her breasts full and ripe for his touch. His mouth devoured each of them in turn, and her moans of pleasure increased his passion. “Let’s go to bed, Beth.”
“Nay. Right here. Now.”
“In the cooking area?” He was incredulous.
“Aye. ‘Tis as good a place as any to make children.”
After both hastily had stripped off their clothing, he positioned her again on his lap, clasping her to him while she parted her legs. The exquisite torture of their coupling nearly drove them both insane with need until a shattering climax brought release. For minutes afterwards, neither one spoke.
However, it didn’t matter. They loved one another! And somehow—though she could never know for sure—Beth guessed that was the moment in time she conceived their son.
27
A month later, a spring snow storm passed over the area, and Allison went into labor. Doctor Curry assured her she had nothing to worry about, but Paul couldn’t bear her suffering as each pain wracked her until she gasped for breath. However, Doctor Curry didn’t seem the least disturbed, smiling as if he had a great secret to which only he was privy.
Paul stayed beside her through most of the labor, and his mother was invaluable in fetching for the doctor and comforting Allison.
“I’m here if you need me,” Paul told his wife at one point. She only looked at him and nodded. He knew she was exhausted, but he felt she was still punishing him for some unknown offense. What could be the matter with her that she would be so distant when she bore his child?
It was shortly after midnight when a swirling snow had started to fall that she gave birth to not one baby but two—a girl and a boy, born three minutes apart. No one was more surprised than she, and her exhaustion gave way to delight as she held the tiny creatures in her arms. Paul was stunned, but Dera was ecstatic and rushed to tell Quint.
“I knew it the whole time,” Doctor Curry said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He left the new parents alone with their offspring.
Paul knelt be
side the bed and placed a large finger in the tiny hand of his daughter. “They both are dark-headed,” he said.
“They must take after your mother, but most babies have dark hair at birth.” Tears swam in Allison’s eyes. “Would you care to hold her?”
“I’m afraid I’ll drop her.”
A small smile curved around her lips. “Sit on the bed and hold her.”
Gingerly he cradled his daughter in his huge arms, and Allison felt a surge of love for Paul which she hadn’t felt in days. But why shouldn’t he love his children? They were his flesh and blood, and he’d never willingly hurt them as he had harmed her. But a fleeting image of Constance in Paul’s arms caused her heart to harden. Kissing her son on his forehead, she handed him to Katie when she waddled into the room.
“Don’t you wish to hold him any longer?” he asked.
She resented the tone in his voice that somehow implied she was inadequate as a mother. “No, I’m tired,” she said crisply. “Put the baby in her crib.”
His eyebrow arched. “As you wish.”
After he had made certain that the babies were warm and safe, he turned back to her. “What shall we name them?”
“Douglas and Kathleen, after my parents.”
His voice was soft. “I like that. Douglas and Kathleen Flannery.”
“Yes,” she said and remembered that old Maggie’s prophecy had come to pass. Her children didn’t carry the Flanders name. Though she knew he had something further to say, her eyelids grew heavy, and in a matter of seconds, she was asleep. She never knew that Paul kissed her with gentle tenderness and whispered he loved her.
Going downstairs, his face was alight with happiness. As soon as Allison recovered from the births, he’d convince her of his love. But his smile faded when he entered the drawing room to find Daniel with his mother.
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