Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy)

by Lynette Vinet

  Dera paled. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw the way he looked at you that night at the barracks. His eyes nearly scorched the clothes off you. He is crude and arrogant. Believe me, I’d derive great pleasure to call him out.”

  “Please don’t cause a scene. Colonel Flanders isn’t interested in me.”

  “How naive you are sometimes, Dera.” He was interrupted as a murmur ran through the crowd. A door opened and General O’Reilly, dressed in full Spanish regalia and looking very much the stern conqueror, entered the room.

  He was tall and gray haired with small eyes. His erect carriage bespoke authority. An Irishman by birth, he had quickly risen in the ranks of the Spanish army because he was clever, industrious and ruthless when the occasion warranted. He knew what he wanted and how to get it. Because he had successfully quelled the rebellion in New Orleans, he wished now to show its citizens that he was humane by making the transition from French to Spanish rule more tranquil.

  Quint followed behind O’Reilly. Even at a distance, Dera was affected by his physical presence. Wearing the scarlet uniform which showed off his broad shouldered, muscular build, Quint caused other men to pale in comparison.

  With Quint in attendance, O’Reilly moved about the room and exchanged comments with the citizens. The two men towered over everyone else, and it was easy for Dera to see them as they made their way toward her family. Quint and the general stopped before them, and Quint made the introductions.

  “Yes, I remember,” O’Reilly said and shook hands with a reluctant Dominick. Then he turned towards Dera, bowed from the waist and formally kissed her hand. “Madame,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, “I’ve heard reports of your beauty. They were not exaggerated.”

  “You’re very kind, general.” Dera smiled at him, wondering why everyone detested him. In person he didn’t seem like the blood thirsty savage he was made out to be.

  “Ah, you’re Irish. My informant didn’t mention that.” O’Reilly glanced at Quint. “The colonel has briefed me about everyone of importance in the community.”

  Dera had no idea why Quint had informed him about her, but she reasoned that was part of his job. She noticed Dominick flush when the general didn’t immediately release her hand. “I hadn’t realized my accent was still noticeable.”

  “Really it isn’t, but since you’re the most beautiful woman in the room, I assumed you must be Irish. Don’t you agree, Flanders?”

  Quint stiffened. “Aye, General.”

  At last he released Dera’s hand and looked at Rosette. “And who might this pretty creature be?”

  Dominick stepped forward. “This is my sister, sir, Mademoiselle Rosette Saucier.”

  “Your brother is a lucky man to be surrounded by such lovely females.”

  ���Merci,��� Rosette said, feeling bold and pretty.

  O���Reilly smiled one last time before moving toward other guests and allowing Quint to make further introductions for him.

  “How handsome he is!” Rosette gushed.

  “You mean O’Reilly?” Dominick asked.

  ���Heavens no. I mean the colonel, of course. I’ve never seen a more beautiful looking man.”

  “Such talk is unbecoming for a girl your age,” Dominick rebuked her.

  “I’m seventeen years old, Dominick. Hardly a child,” Rosette reminded him.

  Dera understood why Rosette looked so lovely, why her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled. Clearly she was infatuated with Quint. Jealousy cut through her. She tried to quell it by telling herself that Rosette was too young for Quint���but she remembered that she had been younger than Rosette when she and Quint had first made love.

  Dominick took Dera’s arm and led her to the Lefevre family. Dera noted the eager, lovesick way young Etienne Lefevre spoke to Rosette and the polite but distant way she listened.

  “Perhaps I can interest you in a game of cards,” Monsieur Lefevre said to Dominick. “We’ve arranged a private game with the general.”

  “I would rather be burned alive than play with him.”

  ���Tsk, Dominick. Don’t be so quick to condemn. I’d advise you to play or suffer the consequences. We’re not here because O’Reilly likes us.”

  Dera beseeched him with her eyes to remain quiet and to be amenable. He sighed. “Lead the way,” he told the older man.

  The two men departed and Madame Lefevre smiled at Dera. “My son is quite taken with Rosette. She has grown into such a petty girl.”

  Dera agreed with her, but grew uneasy when she spotted Rosette in an animated conversation with Quint while a morose Etienne stood alongside her. Suddenly the hot muggy room became too much for her and she excused herself and retreated onto the gallery for a breath of fresh air. She stood there a moment, drawn by the sound of the river lapping against the bank. Hoping to be fanned by a cool breeze at the water’s edge, she descended the steps and made her way towards the sound.

  The silvery moonlight dappled the water like sparkling diamonds. The river’s shore merged with the horizon and was obliterated by the velvety blackness of the night. Dera watched as a pirogue moved silently along, then disappeared into the darkness. From above, she heard the mournful cry of a gull.

  She heard no sound to give warning of his coming, but as she stood along the river’s edge, her face made more beautiful by the incandescent moon light, she felt his presence. She turned and gazed into eyes which rivaled her own with their intensity.

  ���O���Reilly is quite taken with your beauty. You���re all he can speak of,��� Quint commented in lieu of a greeting. She didn���t know whether he meant this as a compliment, because his face was blank of expression except for the eyes which bored into her.

  “He isn’t quite what I expected,” she said.

  “Did you think he would be a pompous ass like your first husband?”

  “Can’t we put that portion of our lives behind us?”

  Almost instantly the habitual scowl resurrected itself. “Aye, let’s forget we ever knew one another. Indeed the love I had for you is long dead and buried. You should congratulate yourself on capturing the general’s heart as you did your Dominick’s. But then taking a man’s heart is second nature to you.”

  “Stop saying these things. I refuse to hear anymore of your bitter talk. I’m going inside.” She started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and wrenched her to him.

  “You never wish to hear me out, Dera. Always you tease me, but this time you’ll not.” His arms encircled her body in a hold so tight she felt like she was bound to him in chains. With a quick, furious assault, his demanding mouth pressed down upon hers and silenced her angry protests. She hit him with her fists, refusing to feel anything. She knew she must fight him, otherwise she’d be lost forever and at the mercy of a man who hated her. As his hands explored her breasts, she felt herself weakening in the same familiar way as the warm liquid of love flowed through her body.

  Dera slumped against Quint, unable to fight the marvelous sensations his touch produced.

  “I know you want me,” he whispered. ” ‘Twas bound to happen.”

  She ached to give in to her body’s cravings and let him make love to her, but what then? Her heart urged her on, but her mind screamed against it. He would only hurt her again, use her, and this time there might not be a way to repair the damage.

  Taking her silence for surrender, he kissed her with renewed effort, but Dera pushed away with a new sense of purpose. She slapped him hard against the cheek. “You’ll not use me again.”

  He was stunned because she struck him. He had wanted to hurt her, to humiliate her because he knew she wouldn’t resist his overtures. There was too much between them for her to deny him. But now he sensed a change in her which hadn’t been there during her marriage to Fairfax. Was it love for the Frenchman? He rubbed his stinging cheek. “You’ll pay for that, Dera. ‘Tis time for you to suffer.”

  “Suffer? Because
of you, I’ve suffered more than a person has a right to.”

  “You’ve a debt to pay and I’ll be collecting when the time is right.”

  Why did he always upset her? Why must she always weaken and give in to him even when he assailed her with cruelty? She knew she must flee inside to the security of Dominick���s arms or risk losing everything. ���You���re despicable and I���ll hear no more,��� she said but knew how insignificant the words sounded.

  His sardonic laughter followed her as she turned and ran inside. Luckily Dominick had finished his card game and waited for her.

  “I’ve been looking for you and Rosette,” he said. “Whatever is the matter, Dera? You’re so pale that you look ready to faint.” He took her arm and led her to the door.

  “I’m very tired. May we please go home?” She wished to be as far away from Quint as possible. She needed time to think, to assimilate her thoughts and to stop the tremors that raced through her body; but when she stepped on to the gallery, Quint was there with Rosette in tow.

  “We’re leaving,” Dominick informed Rosette.

  Rosette extended her hand to Quint. “I shall see you again,” she said, her tone conveying more than the promise of future meetings.

  Quint kissed her hand as the Sauciers made their way to the carriage, but his eyes never left Dera..

  “I disapprove of the way you wandered off earlier. I couldn’t find you anywhere,” Dominick scolded Rosette after they were seated in the carriage.

  “I’m a woman now, Dominick. I don’t need your approval for everything.”

  “A woman wouldn’t act like a cow eyed girl in front of a man, especially not a man as detestable as Flanders. You don’t see Dera behaving like a blushing idiot.”

  ���Perhaps you don’t know her as well as you think, dear brother.”

  “Apologize to Dera this instant,” he demanded in a sharp voice.

  Rosette sulkily apologized and sunk into the seat.

  “Let’s drop the matter,” Dera said. “The colonel is of no concern to me.”

  Rosette glanced at the darkness outside of the carriage window. She hated Dera and envied her because only minutes earlier she had seen Dera in Quint’s strong arms. Now, she appeared so pious and guiltless. It was infuriating.

  Rosette had never been in love, at least not until the moment her heart felt pain to see Dera in Quint’s embrace. She surveyed Dera in one swift predatory glance. Dera had stolen Dominick from her, but she wouldn���t captivate Quint. Before the week was out, Rosette had determined to make Quint her own.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  Dera finished combing Paul’s downy hair and turned him to her, buttoning the sleeveless jacket he wore over a blue shirt and matching breeches. “Now, we’re ready for our walk, darling,” she told him and kissed his chubby cheek.

  “We’ll see soldiers?” he asked in a tiny voice.

  “I suppose we will.”

  “I like soldiers,” he said and placed his hand in Dera’s as Anna walked through the shop door into the parlor.

  ���I see you two are ready for an outing. “Today is a nice day for it.” Her eyes flickered over Dera who was attired in a becoming mauve morning dress. No matter the time of day, Dera always looked lovely and unruffled, though Anna guessed she was worried.

  “Join us, Anna, we can use the company,”

  Anna patted Paul’s head in a grandmotherly gesture and sighed. “I’d like to, but I’ve work to do.”

  “I wish I could help you, but Dominick is adamant,” Dera said.

  “He wants to shelter you, Dera, and that may not be a bad thing.” Anna gave her a keen look of assessment. “You’ve seen Mr. Quint.”

  “How did you know he was here?” she said in surprise.

  “I saw him the first week the troops arrived, though he looked different with that hair on his face.” She anticipated Dera’s next question. “I saw no reason to tell you. Otherwise, you’d have knocked me down trying to see him.”

  Paul ambled over to his toys, growing uninterested in the grownup talk. Dera put her hand to her forehead in a hopeless gesture. “I still love him, Anna.”

  “Remember you have a husband who loves you.”

  “Don’t lecture me. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought.”

  Anna felt Dera’s pain and embraced her. “Dera, you’re like the daughter I never had. I know what is in your heart-the love you bear for Mr. Quint. But don’t be impulsive. Think before you act.”

  Anna let her go and Dera picked up a bonnet and tied the ribbons under her chin. “I promise not to do anything rash, Anna.” The pain was still etched on Dera’s face and Anna’s wise eyes saw it.

  “What else is wrong?”

  “I think Rosette is infatuated with Quint.”

  “Oh, that one!” Anna fumed. “She may have fooled her brother with her pretty ways, but not me. I’ve seen the way she acts when men are nearby. She has nearly driven the poor Lefevre boy out of his mind. It would serve Quint Flannery right to become involved with her. She would lead him a merry dance.”

  “I never knew you felt that way about her, but I think you may have misjudged her. Rosette is just high strung.”

  “Be wary of her, Dera.” Anna advised and noticed Paul was fidgeting. “I think you best be on your way.”

  The morning was warm, though it was early November. No rain had fallen in almost two weeks and everyone eagerly awaited it. As Dera and Paul walked down the dusty street, she remembered how beautiful Ireland was at this time of year. The meadows of her childhood seemed to rise before her, bathed in a soft golden glow, as the emerald landscape slowly turned earthen in color. If Timothy were alive, he would be getting ready for winter by storing and slaughtering the livestock; she would tending the small garden she had carefully nurtured all of those years. And at night, above the fields, the sky would be a soft black and she would wait by the haystacks for Quint.

  Her nostalgic smile faded when she realized where she was. “Stop it,” she said aloud.

  Paul looked up in puzzlement. ���Am I being a bad boy?”

  Dera bent and hugged him. “No, darling, you’ve done nothing wrong. Mama was talking to herself. Aren’t I silly?”

  “Mama’s silly.” He chuckled his delight.

  Standing up, she kept her eyes on Paul, not bothering to watch where she was going until she glanced up at a familiar voice beside her.

  “So, Dera, my love, we meet again.”

  Quint grinned a devastating grin, his eyes raking her from head to toe.

  Her heart pounded, her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth. She hated the warm sensations which crept over her every time she saw him.

  “We were taking a walk,” she managed to say.

  ” ‘Tis a fine day for a walk. And is this lad your son?”

  Dera hesitated a moment, noting the clear resemblance between the two, but she made the introductions.

  Quint’s eyes softened to honey brown and he bent down, extending his hand to the child. At first, Paul refused to budge, but then he gave Quint his small hand. “Hello, lad, how are you?���

  Paul looked at him, dark eyes staring into dark eyes and the ice thawed. “I want to be a soldier,” he said.

  Quint rumpled the child’s hair. “I’m certain you’ll be a fine one.”

  Seeing the two of them together tugged at Dera’s heart. She wanted to shout at Quint, “Don’t you know he is your son?” But she waited in silence and fought down a qualm of uneasiness until Quint smiled at her.

  “Maybe you’ll allow him to visit the barracks one day.”

  Paul’s eyes lit up and he looked expectantly at Dera.

  “Perhaps,” she said.

  Quint searched her face for a second. ” ‘Tis a fine son you’ve given your husband,” he said.

  “We’re proud of him.”

  Quint adjusted the saber on his belt. “Well, I best be going. Convey m
y regards to your husband and his sister. And good day to you, lad.”

  How formal they were, how civil. No one would ever have guessed what love they had once felt or what emotions they suppressed.

  Trembling, Dera could barely walk the dis tance back home. She had always wondered what would happen if

  Quint met his son, and now that he had, she realized he didn’t notice the resemblance. Instead of relief she felt some regret. Couldn’t he tell Paul was the seed of their love?

  The distance to the barracks wasn’t great, but with each step, Quint felt like his feet were made of granite. By sheer strength of will he prevented himself from turning back.

  He whistled softly through his teeth. At first, the resemblance had startled him, but from the second he saw the child, he knew Paul was of his flesh. Why hadn’t Dera told him about the child? Surely, when she visited him in Kilmainham Gaol, she knew she carried his baby. But the answer came easily.

  Her hatred ran deep, deeper than the love she had once felt for him. Life had dealt him a vicious blow, much worse than the loss of his ancestral home; much worse than Dera’s treachery. He would never be able to claim Paul as his own, never be a father to him��� and all because of Dera’s treacherous heart.

  He had never found a reason to believe in God, always doubting the existence of a supreme being who allowed such terrible suffering. Now, however, tears stung his eyes and he prayed for a way to make the pain disappear from his soul.

  Dera rested upon the bed, so emotionally drained by the episode with Quint that she refused supper. It was twilight when Dominick entered their room and lit the long tapering candles on the bedside table.

  She turned toward him, the soft glow of the candle light illuminating her face. ���I thought you were asleep,��� he said and kissed her deeply.

  “Only resting,” she said, becoming uneasy by his sudden show of ardor.

  “Good, I’m glad you’re not,” he whispered and cradled her breasts. She knew that he hoped to elicit a passionate response from her, but she lay still under his touch, unmoved and uncaring.