I shook my head, and he continued. “So, while there may be offshoots of the family, only those who are descended from Arwen himself can consider themselves true Jagos. Nicca and I are Jagos, but we are not of the true line.” He said it matter-of-factly and without rancour, but something in his words touched a deep chord within me. One I had not known existed until I came to Tenebris. The feeling that gripped me blazed fierce and proud, akin, I imagined, to the emotion felt by the noble knights who had touched these castle walls on the eve of battle. Smiling inwardly, I thought how typical it was of me that I should feel the emotion of the warrior, not the ladylove who sighed as she waved him goodbye!
Uther had been watching my face with stinging intensity. He rose then and, leaning down, held out a hand to help me up. Smiling into my eyes, he grasped my hand and held it against the ancient stone, keeping his own palm firmly over mine so that I could not draw away. A jolt like an electric charge ran through me, and my whole body jerked violently. I turned questioning eyes to him and he nodded an affirmation. He felt it, too.
“Tell me what you can feel,” he murmured. His voice was low and seductive. He caught my other hand and held it over his heart.
“I can feel you,” I whispered. Unable to help myself, I took a step closer to him. I could feel the heat of his body. “Inside me.”
He groaned. “My, God. Do you know what hearing you say those words does to me?”
“Yes.” I reached up and boldly touched my mouth to his. He returned the movement so that our lips flirted lightly, our breath mingled and we tasted each other for the first time. This time. His tongue traced the outline of my lips and, obedient to a centuries-old memory, I pressed my body close to the contours of his. My lips parted, and with a soft murmur, I welcomed the new familiarity of his tongue circling mine. Our entwined hands braced against the wall of Tenebris heightened every sensation. Of now and of then.
I could feel it all. The quivering anticipation of the maiden waiting on the turret wall for a glimpse of her knight, knowing that, when day turned to night, she would feel his lips on her breast while his hands explored her body. On towering battlements, I saw a proud lord draw his mistress into his arms, breathing in her essence as he brought her to shuddering rapture with a single, swift caress.
Within that first brief kiss, Uther experienced with me the distilled ecstasy and agony of a thousand years of clandestine lovemaking that had taken place inside the maze of thick walls and secret galleries of proud Tenebris. When we broke apart, we were both shaking with the violence of our emotions.
“Sometimes I dream of a dark shape, like a bird…” he whispered, his lips tracing the line of my jaw.
“And it feels like this,” I murmured.
“No,” his lips moved lower, drawing a line of fire down my neck. “It comes close, but nothing has ever felt like this.”
∗ ∗ ∗
I stood on the balcony of my bedroom and looked out across the cliffs, glimmering and vast in the shimmering light of an upended crescent moon. A long line of ocean spray tracked the ancient, rugged coastline. The cool breeze prowled over my skin, and I welcomed it as a distraction from my obsessive thoughts of Uther.
I had been at Tenebris for a week, and I was forever now the willing prisoner of a man with a smile like a mischievous demon. In that short time, I had reached a point where I no longer recognised myself. My body hungered for him constantly, even when I was with him. He had cast an instant spell on me, one from which I could not break free. Would not break free, I corrected myself as I remembered that first kiss. Because there had been other kisses. Each as devastating. Each a spell-binding out-of-body experience. Dear God, how could my untried body possibly already know what it felt like to make love with him? Yet I did know because we had loved each other for all eternity.
Stepping back into my room, I glanced at the clock. I had allowed my daydreaming to make me late, and I hurried down to the dining room where the others were waiting. Dinner at Tenebris was always a lavish affair. The servants, most of whom had been employed during Cad Jago’s day, were eager to demonstrate their skill and dedication to the new earl. The butler, Winrow, was married to the cook, and between them, they ensured that mealtimes ran like clockwork. Eleanor’s habit was generally to eat in her room, and Finty, well trained by Bouche, attempted to be the perfect society hostess.
“It must have been a great comfort to the earl and countess when they adopted you, since they didn’t have any children of their own,” Rudi commented.
“Oh, but they did!” Finty explained. “Cad and Bouche had two sons—Petroc and Rory—but they both died in war. Isn’t that quite poetically sad? Someone should write a sonnet or couplet or some such thing about it. And the estate, of course, is entailed away from the female line. I suppose I should be quite horridly bitter about that if I were a Jago born. But they left me well provided for. So when Cad died, Uther here, although a distant cousin, inherited the title. And he is also a soldier, so there is some nice symmetry there, don’t you think? Am I right in thinking that you were both there when Rory was killed?” She turned to Uther and Nicca, bringing them both into the conversation. When silence greeted her, she glanced around the table in evident confusion. “Have I said something I should not? Gosh, what a dreadful chatterbox I am! Do forgive me, Cousin Uther…Cousin Nicca. I thought Cad told me that you were in the same regiment as Rory, but perhaps I was mistaken? I can be quite sadly scatter-brained.”
“Yes, we were all in the same regiment.” Nicca confirmed, when Uther did not respond. Finty’s artless enquiry had brought an abrupt and effective end to the dinner party atmosphere. “And Rory was our commanding officer.”
“Why not tell it all, brother dear?” Uther said, rising from his seat and throwing his serviette down onto the table. It was a curiously insolent gesture, as if the square of white linen was a gauntlet and Nicca his chosen opponent. “Or perhaps I should say ‘Major Jago’?” He stalked out of the room.
“Uther is referring to the fact that I was a major in the regiment and he, my older brother, was a sergeant serving under my command. By the time he had left the army, of course, he had risen to the rank of captain. Cad was right, however”—Nicca nodded briskly at Finty—“the three of us did serve together in the trenches in Flanders. And Uther was actually with Rory when he was killed.”
Finty looked stricken. “No wonder he was so upset when I mentioned it!”
“You couldn’t have known,” Rudi attempted to reassure her. He turned to Nicca. “You were very young to hold such a high rank.”
“Good men died too soon in the war,” Nicca explained. “Promotions tended to happen very quickly in Flanders.”
There was a world of stories behind those words, but it was clear he did not wish to tell them. Rudi changed the subject. “If Rory died five years ago, did Cad not get to know Uther—who had become his heir—after his son’s death? I’m sure Uther said he had never been to Tenebris until now.”
“As far as I know, Cad did extend several invitations to Uther to visit Tenebris, and I know he made him an allowance. I sold out immediately after the war, but Uther chose to remain in the army, and with one thing and another, he never came here and never—as far as I know—even met Cad.”
“No,” Finty said. “Not long before he died, Cad told me he thought it was a great shame that Uther had never been here. He said he wished he had been able to get to know his heir. And it really is a shame that they never met. It is truly remarkable how very much Uther resembles Cad, in looks at least.”
“It seems odd to me that an heir to such a large estate would not wish to spend some time getting to know how everything worked before taking over,” Rudi commented.
Nicca shrugged. “Cad Jago cast a long shadow,” he said. “And Uther is not the sort of man to enjoy kicking his heels in the country, learning the rudiments of estate management and business affairs.” He lifted his eyes to mine as, murmuring an incoherent excuse, I, too, rose fro
m the table.
Without pausing to think about what I was doing, I ran lightly up the stairs. I drew a deep breath and knocked on the double doors of the earl’s bedchamber. Uther appeared in the doorway. I had time to assimilate the way white silk clung to his broad shoulders and how snugly his black trousers fitted his slim waist and long, muscular thighs before he took me in his arms, ruthlessly kissing me. On the way up the stairs, I had come up with the flimsiest of pretexts for going to him. It didn’t matter. In that moment I could not have remembered any excuse for being there to save my life.
“Marry me, Annie.” Uther’s lips were warm against the pulse at the base of my throat as the pressure of his body forced me to arch my back over his arm.
Abruptly, I opened my eyes and the splendour of the earl’s bedchamber swam back into focus. “Pardon?” I murmured, convinced that I had not heard him correctly.
His mouth travelled lower, following the deft fingers that were swiftly undoing the buttons of my blouse. I shivered slightly as the cool air brushed the bare flesh of my breasts, but all other sensations were forgotten as Uther’s tongue swirled possessively around my nipple. My knees began to give way, and the arm about my waist tightened, holding me upright.
“I said, ‘Marry me, Annie.’” His tongue moved to my other nipple. “I love you with all the insanity my soul can contain. And that is considerable, believe me. Be mine. Give yourself to me completely.”
I wanted to say that we didn’t need marriage. That I was his already. Utterly. Couldn’t he tell? But I was unable to speak. So I nodded. With a low, masculine purr of possession, he scooped me up in his arms and deposited me on the huge, four-poster bed. His hands slid under the layers of my clothing, finding and probing parts of my body I hadn’t even known existed. I was powerless to do anything other than lie back in his arms.
Then, abruptly, Uther’s hands and lips stilled. He stared down at my face as though seeing me for the first time, almost as though he was listening to something. Some inner prompting. And I had the oddest feeling in that moment that he was fighting an internal battle. That he was himself, but not there with me at all. The thought was so fleeting I couldn’t catch it to examine it. Then he took my face in his hands and kissed me so tenderly that I wanted to weep.
“I think we should be terribly proper and wait until we are married, my sweet,” he murmured. I was torn between the raging desire that he had kindled within me and a sense of delicious pleasure at this unexpected chivalry. “After all, we have the rest of eternity together. Just one thing?” His hands busied themselves again, this time restoring my clothing to normality. The smile that was unique to him, so full of mischief and tenderness, flashed in the depths of his eyes. He took my hand and placed it very deliberately against the straining hardness of his erection. “I think we should get married very soon, don’t you?”
Chapter Five
“Annie, he is Uther.”
I suppose I should have been able to foresee that response from Rudi. In his eyes, my announcement was marginally worse than a declaration that I intended to marry Bluebeard.
“I love him,” I said. How could I possibly explain that the fact that he was Uther—whose face had haunted me all my life, through all the lives I might have lived—made that emotion stronger?
“Are you quite sure what you feel for him is love?” It seemed a strange thing for my usually perceptive brother to say. Then it struck me. Was he asking if I had mistaken lust for a purer emotion? I felt a blush tinge my cheeks. I was usually the forthright twin, but this was a conversation I did not want to pursue.
“Would you still ask me that question if we waited six months?” I countered.
“You’re my sister, Annie. I’m supposed to look after you. Particularly when Ouma isn’t here,” he said, his face registering his hurt at my mistrust. Then he sighed. Somewhat belatedly, he held out his arms. “Congratulations.”
Finty’s reaction was predictable. “Gosh, Annie, you will be the next Countess of Athal after my darling Boo!” she exclaimed, kissing my cheek. Even she, I noticed, cast a doubtful look in Uther’s direction. Unlike Rudi, however, she refrained from voicing her misgivings.
The reaction that caused me most concern, however, came from Nicca. When Uther informed him about our engagement, he simply turned on his heel, walking out of the parlour door and into the garden. It seemed so out of character that I simply stared after him in surprise. Uther gave a shrug of annoyance, but I decided to follow him. He would soon, after all, be my brother-in-law. I might not be his first choice of bride for Uther, but I decided it was up to me to attempt to repair our stormy relationship. I found him standing just outside the door, gazing out at the ocean view.
I went to stand next to him, leaning my elbows on a waist-high decorative wall and looking out at the leached grey fury of the Atlantic. Something inside me, a half memory, tried to conjure up the emotions I had felt when I first came here. I tried not to want this. I attempted to force my mind to see again the vast, reckless mountains I loved and feel the homesickness that had torn my heart in two. I wanted to miss the Drakensberg Mountains because I knew I should, but there was that within me now that made those African scenes too distant, too hazy. Like a story told to me by someone else. Should I feel sad that meeting Uther had changed who I was? I couldn’t. No matter what had shaped me, it had brought me here to this day. To this destiny.
“Can you be happy for us, Nicca?” I asked, not looking at him.
“No,” he replied bluntly. I risked a sideways glance at his profile and was shocked at its rigid lines. “You don’t know my brother, Annie.”
“We haven’t known each other for long, that’s true,” I admitted. “But when we know something is right, must we wait because convention demands it?”
“It isn’t right.” He turned to face me and the endless blue of his eyes was darkened by storm clouds. “I could tell you what sort of man Uther really is, Annie. But would you listen?” I felt my own ready anger flash to the surface in response. Although I tried to get it under control, I knew that he had seen it ignite. “Exactly. You are as stubborn as all hell. You’ve made up your mind, and you would just convince yourself that anything I said arose out of jealousy because you know how I feel about you.”
I took a half step back. Because his meaning was clear and it wasn’t what I expected. Until that instant, I hadn’t known that he felt anything for me other than intense dislike. But the hurt and longing in his eyes told me a different story. So, in an uncharacteristically cowardly manner, I chose to ignore what I saw in his expression. I had no words of comfort to offer him. There was no place in my heart to acknowledge that I was inflicting pain on a man I knew was essentially good and honourable.
Nicca’s glance told me that he fully understood the conflicting emotions that flitted through my mind. “Don’t worry, Annie. I’m not expecting you to respond with sympathetic platitudes. It would hardly be your style, after all,” he said with a harsh, humourless laugh. I remained where I was, still shocked at the realisation that his disapproval had come about not because he thought I would be a bad wife to Uther. His opinion was entirely to the contrary. The verdict was unanimous. Uther, it seemed, was not, even among his own family, considered good husband material.
∗ ∗ ∗
Tristan Martyn looked Uther up and down with interest. “Well, there could never be any denying that you are a Jago,” he said as they shook hands. “Indeed, you are more like Cad in appearance than either of his sons!” He turned to Nicca. “You, on the other hand, are the living spit of your maternal grandfather! That old rogue was a member of my club. Like you, he was as big as a house, a fine figure of a man, and a demon with a billiards cue.”
He was a handsome, straight-backed man in his early sixties with white hair and eyes that were so blue they would shame a summer sky. Finty greeted him with delight, and Eleanor’s smile, for the first time since I had met her, held genuine pleasure. The obvious affection between the
old lady and her brother’s former estate manager intrigued me so much that I asked Finty about it.
“I always thought,” she said, dropping her voice slightly, “that Uncle Tristan must be an illegitimate Jago. He was treated as a member of the family by Cad, Boo and Aunt Eleanor, you see. There was some great mystery surrounding Cad’s older brother, Eddie Jago, so I suspect he may have been Uncle Tristan’s father.” And, yes, I could see now that the blue of Tristan’s eyes was the same blue as Eleanor’s. It was just that in her eyes, the vivid colour had been dimmed by time and tragedy.
I liked Tristan instantly, and now that it was to be my home, I was eager to learn as much as I could about Tenebris. Who better to teach me than this man who had painstakingly made it his life’s work? Uther, on the other hand, seemed curiously indifferent and cavalier about his noble heritage.
Tristan was only too happy to oblige me and feed my curiosity. We sat together at a desk in what had been Cad Jago’s study. He showed me a leather-bound book with heavy, vellum-lined pages. One of the jobs he had undertaken when he worked for Cad, he explained, was to draw up a detailed Jago family tree.
“If we start with the members of the family in living memory—those that Eleanor and I knew—we have Tynan Jago and his wife Lucy, or Lucia.”
I frowned. Lucia. The name should not have meant anything to me. But it did. I shrugged off the vague feeling of unease that trickled down my spine. “Finty told me that Tynan built this house.”
“Tynan Jago was a fine man. One whom I admired greatly. But he had a troubled start to life. His parents were murdered when he was just a baby. Originally it was thought that his father killed his mother and then committed suicide, a dreadful enough scenario. Later it transpired that they were both murdered by Tynan’s uncle.” He watched my face from under lowered brows as he spoke the next words. “The uncle was called Uther.” My face must have registered my surprise because he nodded. “It appears that the secret was extremely well kept. So much so that it looks as if the name was used in tribute for the current earl. No one who knew of the proclivities of the original Uther would ever have dreamed of naming their child after him!”
Harlequin E Shivers Box Set Volume 4: The HeadmasterDarkness UnchainedForget Me NotQueen of Stone Page 20