The first chapter was easy to pen. He wrote an introduction to his audience, relating to them that the heroine was based on a real person. He then described her, though not so closely to the model as to identify her, and posed many of the questions he had in his mind. He did not know the answers now, but he didn’t need them now. All he had to do was interest the readers in coming back month after month to find the answers slowly revealed.
Trevor went to bed pleased with his scheme. It would take time to find the answers to young Dahlia Kent’s mysteries, and the serial would buy him that time.
Little did he know that time would only produce more questions.
-----
James and Dahlia spent Christmas day together enjoying the delights of the season from morning till night. By dinner time, Dahlia was feeling the physical strain of a full day without a rest, of being pulled to and fro by the children wanting to show her a new toy or game, and constant conversation with her new family. Nearly everyone stopped her to comment on her singing the night before.
After dinner, the clan moved to one of the larger parlors and the dancing began. Despite her fatigue, Dahlia danced the first dance with James, but claimed that she only had one more in her and she would wait for the last dance of the evening. Trevor was likewise inclined to sit out most of the dances due to his leg, so James and Matty danced, then switched partners like most of the other couples in a waltzing round-robin.
James looked over at Dahlia often to ensure she didn’t feel left out, but he saw she was being entertained by Trevor and they were deep in conversation. What James didn’t notice, engaged as he was with one dance partner or another for the next hour, was that Trevor kept refilling Dahlia’s glass with wine. He didn’t want to lose this opportunity to ask her questions without the constant vigilance of her husband and friend. ‘In vino, veritas’ the saying went, and he intended on getting the truth out of her. Without knowing specifically what details he was looking for, however, Trevor was hard pressed to know what questions to ask.
Trevor was able to discern that, before waking up married to him in Scotland, Dahlia could not remember seeing James since the spring. She admitted, however, that she knew herself to be in love with him then. He mentioned that Squire Talbot must have like James very much for him to allow their marriage when she was so young. Dahlia merely laughed, claiming that her father didn’t even remember meeting James the first time, but that once he remembered someone, he never forgot them.
“He must have been heartbroken, though, to have ye move so far away.”
“I think he thought it would be a good change for me,” she replied as if thinking aloud. “What with the death of my dear friend Lady Sweet and my brother Steven leaving with the twins, I believe he thought the change of scenery would do me good.” She looked up at him then, as if remembering he was there. “To get away from everything that reminded me of them. James’ decision to move back to help his family was probably very propitious. Everything works out in the end. To be sure, if I hadn’t arrived with Matty, you wouldn’t be getting married.”
Just like that, she turned the conversation back on him. By the time the last dance came around and James returned to collect his wife, Trevor felt that Dahlia had gotten more information about his past than he did about hers. As her beautiful green eyes turned from him to her husband, he was convinced she truly did have a bit of fairy blood in her.
As Dahlia waltzed the last dance of her first Christmas with James, all her lethargy vanished. The wine had eased her physical pain and heightened her senses. She was keenly aware of the warmth of James’ hand at the small of her back, and the strength of his arms as he whirled her around and around.
As the evening’s entertainment closed and everyone bid each other good night, Dahlia and James went upstairs arm in arm. Unused to the quantity of wine she had consumed, Dahlia felt a fire in her veins and a giddiness in her mind. She turned to face James on the first landing and put her arms around his neck.
“This was the best Christmas ever, James,” she whispered to him.
“Aye, so it is,” he whispered back. “Why are we whispering?”
“Because I don’t want anyone to hear us and come over and talk to us. They’ve been doing that all day. I want you all to myself.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth. He responded as she hoped he would, and she felt slightly dizzy from the sensations flooding her body.
James felt her weight tilt in his arms, and broke the kiss to steady her. “Are you alright, Dahlia?”
“Oh yes,” she giggled.
Seeing the happiness light up her face, James couldn’t help but laugh with her. He put his arm around her and guided her up the stairs to their room. As soon as the door was closed behind them, he turned and encircled her in his arms. “There. I promise no one will come and talk to us now.”
The moment his lips closed on hers, he felt her mouth open to his. The kiss deepened and he heard the little moan in her throat that had driven him crazy the day Grace had interrupted them in the sitting room. It had an even more profound effect on him now with the feel of her whole body against his. The tension of the last month faded away as he enjoyed the feel and scent and taste of his beautiful siren.
Dahlia felt as if the whole world was spinning. In fact, she was as she and James moved slowly into the room and she kept adjusting her footing to keep her balance. She felt deliciously out of control, yet safe in James’ arms as he supported her. She drew in a deep breath when his lips disappeared from hers only to reappear on her neck and continue in a line of kisses down her shoulder. She quivered at the new sensation that his touch produced on her skin. She wanted to feel more of his skin on hers and reached up to pull at his cravat. The pair turned another half circle and she put her hands on his chest to steady herself.
James looked down at her intensely, as if searching her soul. He was so beautiful that she just smiled up at him. He slid a hand along her jawline until his fingers wrapped around her head and kissed her while his other hand pulled her against him. She was lost in the kiss for a moment, then remembered her task of trying to undress him. She slid her hand under his jacket and pushed it over one shoulder. He let go of her only long enough to free his arm, then he switched his hold of her to free the other and she heard the jacket fall to the floor with a thud.
The world started spinning again as they tried to undress one another without breaking the kiss. James had tried to maneuver them to the bed, but he was so focused on Dahlia that he lost track of where anything was in the room. He opened his eyes only long enough to get his bearings. The wall was the closest thing to them he could use to steady himself. He was nearly trembling with anticipation of making love to the girl who had invaded his mind and dreams for so many years. He reached out a hand to the wall, cradled Dahlia’s head, then leaned them both against the solid expanse. The pleasure of pressing his weight against her body, however, was fleeting.
The moment Dahlia felt the wall at her back she felt an inexplicable panic of being trapped. This turned to terror the second she felt James leaning into her. She tried to cry out, but the sound was muffled by his mouth on hers.
James heard the sound and knew immediately it was not a moan of pleasure. Before he could back away she pushed him hard and he heard her gasp for breath. He saw her scramble away from him. Still unsteady, she sat down hard on the sofa, her breathing raspy. At first James thought he had pressed against her bruised ribs too hard and hurt her, but then he saw the look on her face – a look of wild fear. He saw this emotion replaced by confusion. She did not understand why she should have such a violent reaction to the weight of his body on hers. He had a good idea, though and he silently damned William Standford to hell.
Dahlia was staring at him wide-eyed, still trying to figure out how she had been transported from such a state of bliss to one of horror. “I’m – I’m so sorry. I don’t…I don’t know what happened. I felt the wall at my back and I couldn’t breathe. I fe
lt…trapped.”
James was frozen where she had pushed him. He didn’t dare come near her for fear of causing her more anguish.
Dahlia expected James to be angry with her, but he wasn’t. Nor did he appear hurt by her very sudden refusal. This confused her as much as her revolting reaction. He looked as if he was merely waiting for her to recover from her fright.
“It’s alright, Dahlia,” he said soothingly.
She really didn’t think it was. She had no idea how women were supposed to react to their husbands’ advances, but she truly didn’t think this was alright. “No,” she said, on the verge of tears. “I was so enjoying you kissing me, then…” her voice trailed off and she fought to keep the tears back. She felt very childish. She looked down and saw James’ coat on the floor, then noticed her dress was off one shoulder. Anyone old enough to be married and engage in such intimate behavior was too old to cry in such a situation. She took a deep breath, the hysteria abating.
James slowly advanced towards her, then sat on the bed across from her. “It’s quite possible that when you fell, the horse fell too and rolled on you. That would explain your ribs and the feeling of being trapped.” James loved the lie that popped into his head as much as he hated himself for telling it to her so convincingly.
“Yes, perhaps,” Dahlia nodded.
James could see that this explanation met with logical acceptance. The furrow between her brows smoothed and her breathing steadied. “Come, get ready for bed. It’s been a very full day.”
Dahlia complied, not knowing what else to do or say. When she returned from the washcloset, James was still fully dressed. Surprised, she said, “Are you not coming to bed?”
“I am going to stay with you and watch over you till you fall asleep. I want you to feel secure and safe, and to sleep well.” He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile and took her hand as she got on the bed. He pulled the covers over her and kissed her hand.
“I love you, Dahlia. All will be well.”
Dahlia thought he had said that to her before, but she couldn’t remember when.
James sat on the couch and waited until Dahlia’s breathing was rhythmic and her eyelids fluttered softly. He waited another fifteen minutes more to be sure she was sound asleep. Then, he got up and left the room.
Chapter 75
James could not possibly sleep in the same bed with Dahlia tonight. Given her violent reaction earlier, he was afraid of rolling onto her and her waking up frightened out of her wits. The look on her face was one he would never forget – and one he never wanted to see again. Anger surged up in him for the wrong that had been done to her by Standford. He had done him a wrong, too, James realized. He had married the stunning musical genius with the enchanting green eyes that had stolen his heart, but he couldn’t make love to her. He loved Dahlia, but had been forced to lie to her about everything of significance in the past six weeks. Because of Standford’s greed and malevolence, Dahlia’s music was gone and James was beginning to wonder if their chances for happiness were too.
He headed for his office where there was an overstuffed armchair he would sleep in when he worked late. He marched down the corridor by the servants quarters trying to rid himself of the anger and resentment he felt for having to sleep in the cold office in a chair when the most desirable woman he could imagine – his wife – was upstairs unable to bear his weight on her. He remembered her passion earlier, a pure passion she had wanted to explore with him and he had been even more eager to return. He felt his frustrated desire for her, and it made him want to hit something.
He heard a door open and light spilled into the corridor. A female figure appeared in the doorway, her body silhouetted by the light and leaving nothing to the imagination. The fact that his body responded instantly with an ardor that echoed his earlier desire for Dahlia did nothing to ease his fury.
“Master Jamie,” said the silhouette. “What are you doing down here?”
“I was just heading for my office,” he said pausing.
“Surely you don’t want to spend another evening in that cold room,” Mary said, stepping aside. “Not when you can spend it here with me to keep you warm.”
James knew what she was offering and that he had no business accepting it. It infuriated him that Mary could so easily give him what he only wanted from Dahlia – and what Dahlia couldn’t give him now or in the foreseeable future. That thought alone propelled him towards the lighted room.
Mary required no conversation once she had him in her room. She lifted off her thin shift and started to unbutton his shirt. James took out all his fury and frustrations on Mary. He used her hard and she seemed to relish his aggression. Her enthusiasm and skill was not that of a novice, and she took as much pleasure as he took relief in letting go of all the restraint he had pent up inside him.
When they lay spent and sweating, Mary had a wickedly satisfied smile on her face. James turned away so he wouldn’t have to be reminded the face was not that of his wife, and he slept.
Several hours later, James crept out of the room with his clothes bunched in his hands, leaving a sleeping woman alone in her bed for the second time that night.
-----
Trevor and Matty were married on New Year’s Eve in the small chapel on the castle grounds. The wedding feast was celebrated by all as an extension of the night’s normal festivities of bidding farewell to the current year and toasting in the new.
At midnight, James and Dahlia raised their glasses of champagne and shared a deep kiss in the first moments of 1877 as they had not done since Christmas night. Both had shied away from any intimacy since her disastrous reaction, and their relationship had returned to the staid cordial interaction of their initial cohabitation at the castle. Dahlia had been too ashamed to mention what had happened to Matty, and she had not wanted to mar her friend’s excitement that week as she prepared for her own introduction to marital relations. For her part, Matty had been too caught up in the planning for her ceremony and moving her things to Trevor’s home several miles from the castle. They would spend their honeymoon there for the remainder of the week.
As Dahlia watched the sleigh carrying Trevor and Matty away into the cold night, she felt very alone despite being in the company of all the castle’s inhabitants and feeling James’ arm around her. Later, she said a silent prayer as she lay in bed that Matty did not experience any of the fear that she had in her first foray into the unknown realm of intimacy with James. The next morning, she tucked a note into the basket of food stuffs being sent over to the newlyweds inquiring as to Matty’s felicity upon waking up as Mrs. MacTavish.
A return message was brought back to her with Matty’s neat hand inked at the bottom of her note: All smiles and blushes!
Dahlia smiled wanly upon reading it, feeling an unfamiliar combination of happiness and envy for her friend.
The castle seemed very quiet without both storytellers and MacTavish’s music. The MacFarlains begged Dahlia to sing or play, but she shyly refused until they stopped asking. She had spent hours practicing her Christmas tribute to ensure she sang in tune, but she still didn’t trust herself to play as she had before without hearing the perfection of the notes in her mind.
Feeling insecure was a new experience for Dahlia, and this insecurity extended beyond her music. For a brief few weeks she had felt she was returning to her usual self following the accident. She had had James and Matty constantly by her side, her relationship with James had been growing stronger and closer, and she had felt a connection with her new family. Now with Matty gone, she had lost her confidant and the one connection to her life in Cirencester. James was still as attentive as ever, and when he looked at her she still saw love there. Her marriage to James, though, seemed to be a polite farce in which they each played the part of a husband and wife, but the emotional distance between them felt vast even when they stood arm in arm.
She felt very alone indeed that week, despite being constantly surrounded by people. Maggie n
ow came up to serve as her dressing maid in Matty’s absence. She was a pleasant enough girl and performed her duties adequately, but Dahlia always felt like she was studying her rather than merely attending her.
James returned to his usual work schedule trying to keep up with the repairs to the castle. He would often leave her as she was getting into bed to return to his office to work and she would wake to find herself alone in the early hours of the morning.
Dahlia helped to take down the Christmas decorations. She found that without their gaiety and warmth, the castle seemed to take on a dreary feeling that matched her own emotions.
Matty’s return helped brighten her spirits temporarily. Dahlia could see the sheer contentment on her face and some of Matty’s joy with life rubbed off on her as she shared in her friend’s enthusiasm. Matty told her all about Trevor’s home – her new home – and the plans they had for it. She described the wild beauty of the surrounding countryside and hospitality of the people she had met that worked on the MacTavish land.
It seemed to Dahlia as if Matty’s life was moving full steam ahead, while hers was stuck at a standstill. She berated herself for feeling irritated at times when Matty spoke about her new experiences, but the feeling still repeated itself more often than she cared to admit. Every morning Matty would come to her dressing room looking like she knew the most wonderful secret in the world, and Dahlia sensed that in the evening she was impatient to see Dahlia to bed and return to her own where Trevor waited.
Dahlia finally named her irritation: jealousy. She could not remember ever feeling that emotion before and now it remained with her as a constant companion. She had never wanted anything more in her life than what she had. Now, she did and she couldn’t even pinpoint what it was that her life lacked, but she knew with a certainty that something was missing. She surmised that it was a combination of things: she missed her father, Lady Sweet, Miss McElroy, her music and the joy she felt when she sang or played. She missed Talisman and the other horses, and her wild races up and around the tor behind her house. In short, she missed her life before the accident. Everything came down to ‘before the accident.’ Why had she insisted on that final ride? It was pointless to ponder that question as she knew the answer was in her nature. How could she not have insisted on that final ride? She would have known she was leaving the beautiful and spirited stallion, perhaps never to see him again as the Roma were looking for a buyer. That had been the intent of all her training of the powerful creature.
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