HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6

by Margaret Brazear

  She was curious about the huge mansion whose grounds touched the edge of Winterton land. She asked Sir Geoffrey about it and was rewarded with a scowl of displeasure.

  “Your best option is to stay well clear of its owner,” he replied.

  What was this, a spark of jealousy?

  “Why?”

  “He has a bad reputation,” he replied.

  Ah, one of those men who had a reputation, but for what she still found puzzling.

  “For what?”

  He stared at her thoughtfully for a little while, then the scowl turned to a flash of anger.

  “I am telling you to stay away from him,” he said. “That is all you need to know.”

  Obviously there was much more she wanted to know, even if the need was absent. She went to the stables and chose a small pony to take her on her short journey. She was not much of a rider, but being out here she needed the practice.

  As she approached the edge of Winterton land, she saw in the distance a rider on a tall, black horse coming toward her. She drew rein and stopped to watch him; he looked as though he was aiming straight for her, but she could hardly think that to be the case. Yet he kept coming and she wondered if this was the owner of the mansion, she wondered what he would say if she were to encroach on his land.

  She was still wondering when he drew rein beside her.

  “Richard Summerville,” he said with a small bow of his head. “You must be the new Lady Winterton.”

  She had been expecting someone much older and Geoffrey’s warning about his reputation suddenly made sense. She could guess what that reputation was for. He was very handsome, very well built and with a lovely smile which shone like the sunlight on his dark hair.

  She admitted that he made her heart skip a beat; he could have stepped straight out of those romances she was so fond of, a Sir Lancelot to her Guinevere, perhaps? She loved those stories.

  “I suppose I must be,” she replied.

  “I am delighted to meet you. I was hoping for a glimpse when I rode this way.”

  “You were?” He nodded. “Why?”

  He gave her that lovely smile again.

  “I had heard my neighbour had won himself a beautiful bride and I was curious to see if that rumour was true.”

  She ducked her head and smiled a little shyly.

  “And was it?” She murmured.

  “Indeed it was, and you, My Lady, are fishing for compliments.”

  She laughed then, for the first time since her father had told her of the match he had made for her. If this man had a reputation with the ladies, she could well understand it. She no longer wondered why her husband ordered her to stay away from him. If people were inclined to gossip, this man would definitely be at the centre of such gossip.

  “I am glad I made you laugh,” Richard said. “You looked a little lost when I rode up.”

  “I am a little lost, My Lord. This is all very strange to me, living out here, being married.”

  “Ah, yes. Your marriage.” He paused and gazed at her for a few moments before he asked, as though he already knew the answer: “Do you think you will be happy together?”

  She flushed, turned her head away.

  “It is early days.”

  He reached across the space between them and touched her hand gently. The gesture held such tenderness, she almost cried.

  ***

  Sir Geoffrey might have acquired his fortune through marriage, but he was not ungenerous with it. Julia suspected his generosity to be more for the benefit of others, to give the impression of a loving husband, than any genuine benevolence.

  She had ordered a virginals to play, she had many fine clothes and he had even gone with her to buy her own pony. That was a gesture she had not expected, even if he did have to bring his friend with him.

  Maxwell was his name, and he looked more like a girl in man’s clothing than a grown man. Geoffrey kept smiling at him and he returned the look with adoration in his green eyes. Julia shuddered; what a horrible sight that was. He was almost leering and were Geoffrey a woman instead of a man, she would have thought there was a secret there.

  “Why did we have to bring your friend?” She asked.

  “Because he knows a lot about horses, my dear,” he replied. “I do not want to make a mistake and have you endanger yourself on a horse which is too strong or unschooled.”

  “Would that not be to your advantage? You have my fortune; what need have you now for a wife?”

  He smiled, a cruel smile, a smile she imagined the Roman emperors displayed when watching Christians being thrown to the lions, or watching gladiators fight to the death.

  “I have need of a wife to secure my position and still gossiping tongues. I already told you. If harm were to befall you, I would have to begin again with a new wife. You know how disagreeable that would be.” He turned back to the paddock to watch the herd. “Have you made up your mind which one you like?”

  There was a little palomino mare who seemed to be calling to her. She was not grazing like the others; she was standing still near the fence and her eyes followed Julia wherever she went.

  “That one,” she pointed.

  Geoffrey turned to his friend in enquiry.

  “She looks like a good choice,” Maxwell said.

  He opened the paddock gate and went inside, called to the mare with his hand held out and she immediately trotted towards him and rubbed her nose into his palm. Julia smiled. She may not like this friend of her husband’s, but quite obviously the equine population thought highly of him.

  He led her out of the paddock and handed the rein to Julia, who led her away to find a saddle and bridle while the two men smiled fondly at each other.

  Recalling her earlier thoughts of Camelot, Julia named the little mare Guinevere, after King Arthur’s Queen, and she was delighted with her. She spent the afternoon playing with her, grooming her, riding about the estate and the Summerville lands. The Earl had been kind enough to invite her to ride his lands whenever she wanted and when she was not doing that, she spent her time playing her instrument and sewing. At least there was no one to tell her how to behave all the time, as before her marriage, but in truth she missed having someone who was that interested in her.

  Her father had ideas of how the nobility behaved and he tried to instil those ideas into his daughters, but from what Julia had discovered so far, he was wrong in his assumptions.

  She saw little of Geoffrey, but the night the first frost covered the grass, he was waiting for her at the supper table.

  A fire had been lit and the logs burned brightly, the flames leaping up into the chimney and making the whole atmosphere friendly. Darkness was falling, candles had been lit and Geoffrey waved a letter at her as she sat down.

  “Your father requests we accommodate your sister for the festive period,” he told her. “He hopes she might meet a man of consequence among our Christmas guests.”

  He gave a derogatory laugh.

  “And your answer will be?”

  “What else can it be but ‘yes’? Although I think he will be disappointed. I cannot see much hope for his plan among my friends.”

  “For Bethany’s sake, I hope you are right,” Julia answered bitterly. “I wish for more for my sister than my own fate.”

  Geoffrey looked at her sharply, a flush of anger on his face.

  “You could do a lot worse, my dear,” he said at last. “You could have fallen in love, given your heart to an unfaithful lover. That is surely more painful than the indifference of someone you hardly know.”

  “Is that what happened to you? Is that why you are so cold?”

  He smiled cynically, as though her question had amused him.

  “Alas, I have never had the privilege.” He paused and his eyes bored into her until she looked away to hide her discomfort. “You really do not know, do you?” He went on.

  “Know what?”

  He shrugged.

  “No matter,” he said. “I
saw you riding toward Summerville Hall yesterday. Please do not go there again.”

  “Why not? His Lordship was kind enough to give me permission to ride on his lands.”

  “You have spoken to him?” Geoffrey snapped, his voice rising. “I told you to stay away from him. I will not tell you again.”

  Her heart jumped fearfully, but she saw no reason to blindly obey. If a man wanted obedience from his wife, he should offer something in return. Respect and deference must be earned, even from a mere woman.

  “What have you against him, Sir?” She persisted. “I saw him this morning, with his wife. She is very beautiful, not a woman I could distract him from, I am certain.”

  He reached out and took her hand, making her think his heart had softened, but he squeezed her hand so tightly he crushed her bones and made her cry out and fight to snatch it away from his grip. Still he held tight.

  “Please,” she cried out. “You will break my hand.”

  He released her, threw her hand away from him as though it were something hateful.

  “She is not his wife,” he said at last. “She is his mistress. His favourite of many from what I have heard and you are right; you would never compete with the lovely Rachel. It is best not to try.”

  She rubbed her injured hand to soothe it, her mouth turned down to suppress the threatened tears.

  “Why do you hate him so much?”

  “That is my concern, not yours. Just do as you are told and do not go there again. I do not want to have to curb your freedom, but I will if it becomes necessary.”

  He pushed back his bench so that it scraped across the floor and got to his feet, but before he left the hall he reached out and pinched her cheeks between his rough fingers, pinched them hard, squeezing her mouth out of shape. She would not plead with him a second time; once was all her pride could tolerate for one evening.

  ***

  The following day Julia watched from her window as her husband rode away from the house. She had no idea where he was going, where he went most days, and she no longer cared. Quite obviously he had no interest in her, not even to provide him with a son, but given that she could not understand his apparent jealousy of his neighbour. Perhaps it was his wealth which angered him, or that he was far more handsome and attractive to women. Perhaps it was his superior title, his vast lands so close to Winterton lands, which Geoffrey could only gaze upon with avarice.

  Whatever it was, it was certain his hatred was real and not fuelled by jealousy of Julia. Her husband had no interest in his wife as a woman, that was apparent and she still had no idea why. She had always been told she was beautiful, that any man would be mad with desire for her. Her best assumption was that he had a mistress somewhere, someone he could not marry but whose company he preferred to that of his wife.

  But what manner of woman would want to endure his fumbling attentions?

  He would be gone all day, he always was, and she wondered if perhaps he had ordered one of the servants to watch her movements or maybe he assumed she would simply follow his orders. But she had no intention of doing so.

  She dressed in a new winter gown of red velvet and covered herself with a white fur cloak, as protection against the cold. Outside she tacked up Guinevere herself and rode her toward the forbidden lands next door. She was intrigued and determined to learn the cause of Sir Geoffrey’s hatred.

  She had never been inside the house, but today she rode right up to the solid oak front doors. A stable hand came running to help her dismount and take her mare away to the stables and as soon as her feet touched the ground, the door opened and a manservant stood waiting to lead her inside.

  It was as though she were expected, but she could not believe that was true. This must be how His Lordship’s servants were trained to greet visitors and she could not help but be impressed.

  She was offered a seat inside the door, a polished oak settle with embroidered cushions for comfort. As she waited, she felt a little guilty about disobeying her husband. She had been raised to believe she should always be loyal to him and follow his wishes, no matter what, and she had deliberately come here against those express wishes. It was not even as though she could pretend she misunderstood, but had he been in the least bit interested in her she might have respected her duty to the man she had married. As it was, she felt no particular loyalty to him. Since the day they wed the only feeling he had aroused in her was self pity, misery and disgust.

  At last she heard a footstep on the stair and turned to face her illustrious neighbour, who rewarded her with that appealing smile. Her heart hammered; what was she doing? Why was she here and what on earth could she say to him?

  “Delighted,” he said at once, stepping forward and taking her hand.

  As he raised it to his lips and kissed it, his eyes met hers and he turned to his servant and ordered refreshments, then he led her into his sitting room and closed the door.

  “Forgive me, My Lord,” she said hesitantly. “I am not really sure why I came here.”

  “Richard, please. I hate titles.”

  “Richard.”

  “You need no reason to visit me, My Lady,” he said. “I am always happy to see a beautiful woman.”

  She swallowed hard to give herself courage. She should not be here, her husband had forbidden it, and she should not be so forthright as to ask the Earl his reason. At least that is what her father had told her, but she had to know and there seemed but one way to find out.

  She suddenly thought of her sister and a smile forced itself to her lips. If Bethany wanted to know something, if she were in her place now, she would simply ask. Father had always scolded her about her outspoken ways, her forthrightness. But Julia did not find it so easy to be outspoken and she hesitated, concerned about his reaction.

  The servant returned with wine, bread and cheese, and as soon as he had left she spoke immediately.

  “My husband forbade me to come here,” she said quickly, before her courage failed her. “I would like to know why.”

  Bethany would be proud, but she felt her cheeks begin to flame. He moved subtly away from her and studied her face.

  “Perhaps he is jealous,” he suggested.

  “Would that were the case,” she answered, her cheeks burning even hotter. “He has shown no interest in me whatsoever, so why should he care? I do not know, but I believe you do.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close to him, while her heart hammered painfully. She had never known this sort of closeness with a man before, especially one so attractive, and the disappointment of the past few weeks had made her vulnerable to those qualities.

  His hand touched her face, held her cheek gently. He was going to kiss her; she knew he was going to kiss her and she knew she should move away, object to his closeness, but she did not want to. It would be nice to know how the kiss of a man might taste.

  His lips met hers and she felt she was going to fall. She could do nothing but respond to his kiss with one of her own.

  “So much beauty wasted on such a creature,” he murmured. “That is the tragedy.”

  “What do you mean?” He made no reply and she swallowed her nervousness, pulled away from him to meet his gaze with her own. “I do not know you, My Lord, but I feel you will be honest with me. I was forced to marry a man I knew nothing about and I thought we would grow close, at least try to develop a relationship. But it has not happened and I want to know why. What do I have to do to make myself more desirable to him?”

  He pulled her toward him again, held her in his arms and kissed her cheek. Then he sighed.

  “Nothing,” he answered. “There is nothing you can do. He is a deviant, a sodomite.”

  She pushed herself away and stared up into his face.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, my dear, he is a mistake, an error of nature, a man who is attracted to his own sex.”

  She gasped and her hand fled to cover her mouth, her eyes opened so wide she th
ought they might pop out of her head. She could not remember when she had ever been so shocked.

  She pulled herself farther away from him, slid along the polished wood of the settle to leave a space between them. She could not think if she were that close to him and she needed to think, desperately. He had to be lying, he simply had to be.

  “You lie!” She cried. “There is no such thing. Why are you trying to frighten me?”

  “I am sorry to have to be the one to enlighten you, but I speak the truth. I can even find the passage in the Bible which forbids such relationships; why would the holy book even mention it, if no such thing existed?”

  Her vision was blurred now, her eyes swimming in the tears she had held on to these past weeks. She had hoped, despite Geoffrey’s indifference, to tempt him. Even despite his fumbling on their wedding night, she hoped to make things better and now she was being assured he was some sort of monster.

  Richard took her hand, brought it to his lips and pulled her close to him again.

  “I am sorry,” he said.

  “That is why he never comes to my bed?”

  “You can divorce him for that, you know. But it would be very public.”

  She could only stare at him. She believed him, but had no idea why she believed him. He had no reason to tell her such a lie, he had no reason to invent such a tale.

  “I am sorry,” he said gently. “You really had no idea, did you?”

  She shook her head and frantically tried to wipe away the tears with her fingers.

  “So it is hopeless then,” she muttered. “I have no marriage. My father would likely never believe me and even if he did, he would never allow a divorce. Geoffrey would not return my dowry and I would be penniless and cast out. I am trapped.”

  He held her close to comfort her and she felt an unaccustomed need to kiss him. She reached her lips to meet his and he kissed her again and she had no thought of resisting; she did not want to resist him. This was what she wanted, even if it proved to be only fleeting.

  When he released her he kept his arm around her shoulders, leaned back in his seat and allowed her head to rest on his chest.

  This woman was very beautiful, very desirable, but he did not want to take advantage of her unhappiness. And he needed to be sure his desire was for her, not for some twisted vengeance on her husband whom he had always loathed. He made a tremendous effort to offer nothing other than comfort.