Daughter of Darkness (5 page)

Five minutes later she waylaid Mrs. Breton on the servant’s stairs and informed the hapless housekeeper what she thought of the quarters her ward had been allocated. Had she not realized her interference would only worsen matters, she would have confronted her daughter about it.

Personally, she supervised the cleaning, demanding new bed-hangings and fresh flowers. When she was finally satisfied the housekeeper was doing her job properly, she drew Kitty Adams aside. ‘Where is your mistress this morning?’

‘She’s out riding, My Lady. Mister Jeffrey is showing her the estate.’

‘Humph!’ Edwina’s gaze fell on Nellie Breton in her tattered skirt. ‘Who is
that
creature?’

‘My niece, Lady Edwina.’ Mrs. Breton frowned as Nellie gave a gap-toothed smile. ‘She’s thick in the head and has been hired to fetch and carry for Lady Sommersley.’

Edwina crossed to Nellie and stared at her in curiosity. She’d never seen an idiot at close quarters before. ‘What’s your name, girl?’ she said loudly.

‘Nellie.’ Forgetting to curtsy Nellie fixed her eyes on Lady Edwina. ‘I’m a good girl—and strong.’

‘I’m sure you are.’ Pitying the unfortunate, ugly girl, Edwina’s voice softened. ‘I will provide you with a new gown. You cannot serve your mistress wearing those rags.’

Eyes shining, Nellie dropped to her knees and kissed her benefactor’s hand. ‘Thank you lady. Nellie never forgets kindness.’

‘Get-up, get-up!’ Jerking her hand away Edwina backed from the room. ‘You will see to it Mrs. Breton,’ she called. ‘Get the girl something serviceable and present the bill to me.’

Willow discarded her cumbersome riding skirt to expose the breeches she wore underneath. She grinned when Jeffrey gasped in shock and placed a conspiratorial finger over his mouth. ‘Swear you will not tell.’

‘On my blood,’ Jeffrey stammered.

Circe’s breath whistled shrilly through her nostrils and she nudged Willow in the back. Willow tumbled into the straw.

Brian O’Shea laughed and he reached out to pull her to her feet. ‘Circe hasn’t forgotten you, girlie.’

She stepped into the stirrup Brian made with his hands. Excitement bubbled through her veins as she was tossed on to the mare’s back. She rubbed her face against Circe’s silky mane and breathed in her familiar scent. ‘Thank you, God,’ she whispered. ‘I feel I’ve truly come home now.’

Anxious, Jeffrey watched from his own mount. No amount of coaxing would stop Willow from taking the horse out. Still, he tried again. ‘I beg you, sister. Do not be rash. None but Brian O’Shea rides the mare. At least put a saddle on her.’

‘Hush Jeffrey.’ Perched atop the prancing horse she dazzled him with her smile, then exchanged an amused glance with Brian. ‘Circe and I have known each other since she was old enough to bear my weight. As for a saddle.’ Her smile became wry. ‘I know riding astride is frowned upon for women, but I know no other way. Circe may be broken to a saddle now, but I am not.’

‘It would be my pleasure to teach you.’ He colored at his boldness. He shouldn’t be encouraging his sister-in-law to flout convention. He shrugged as her violet eyes teased him. Instinct told him she’d flout it anyway, and he was not in the position to insist.

‘Then you shall, Jeffrey.’ She saw him watch her small hands apply tension to the reins, assessing her level of expertise. She gave a small smile. ‘The tuition shall start tomorrow. Today you will escort me round the estate that is to be my home.’

Arrows of happiness aimed themselves at Jeffrey’s misgivings, banishing them from his mind. She was the most captivating creature he’d ever set eyes on. He would be her protector, he thought, following the prancing horse and rider from the cobbled yard. Anything she demanded he would give, even his life. At least… until his brother came home. He stayed with her until they reached the first meadow. His own mount, infected by the raw excitement of the other horse and rider, neighed and pawed restlessly at the ground.

‘This path will take us around the lake, over the rise and into the forest beyond. The clearing with the abandoned cottage is about a mile in.’ He hesitated. ‘The track into the forest is barred by a the trunk of an tree which fell during a storm last winter. Usually I put my horse to it but… ‘

But his companion had gone. Jeffrey momentarily admired the small figure clinging lightly to Circe’s back, and blessed his brother’s good luck for procuring such a wife. Then he thought of the fallen tree and frowned. Her mount was fresh and Willow without a saddle and stirrups for support. Heart in his mouth he urged his horse after her in a vain attempt to catch her up. Nothing could match Circe for speed, and Willow had given the mare her head.

Willow had no such fears as she led Circe along the tree trunk. ‘Can you do it, girl?’ Circe’s ears pricked forward. ‘There’s a slight downward slope on the other side just like at Coringal. Remember the wall at Coringal, how we used to pretend you had wings like Pegasus and we flew right over the top?’

Cantering the mare back along the track Willow felt Circe’s tail flick upright into a plume and knew she remembered.

‘Stop!’
Knowing she couldn’t possibly hear his shout Jeffrey reined in his horse on the rise and watched horse and rider wheel about. The tiny figure almost lay along Circe’s back as the mare pawed the air then, tail erect, began to canter towards the tree trunk. His mouth stretched into grin of delight. Horse and rider were almost one. They were a wonderful sight.

Excitement mounted in him as the pair picked up speed. He heard himself urging them on. When they reached the tree trunk Circe seemed to hesitate, giving him a moment’s doubt. Then the mare gathered her muscles together and soared across the barrier with room to spare.

The breath expelled from Jeffrey’s mouth with a harsh rattling sound as a figure in red emerge from a stand of trees. It was the lieutenant who’d acted as escort. He took the jump at a gallop and disappeared into the forest after her. Having observed the officer’s familiarity the day before, and Willow’s frosty replies, Jeffrey knew this was no assignation. Even if it was, he was duty bound to intercept and protect his sister-in-law’s good name.

His heart began to pound as he suddenly realized there was a world of difference between being a protector in his heart and acting on it. Nevertheless, he urged his horse to a gallop and prayed he’d catch up with Willow before the soldier did.

The presence of danger played no part in Willow’s thinking that morning. She was enjoying her freedom from the constraints placed on her by Lady Edwina’s patronage. Jeffrey was a pleasant companion, and had proved to be more malleable than she’d expected. Having discovered he could fence, she intended to take advantage of his swordsmanship and practice the skills she’d been forced to abandon over the past four years. When they reached the clearing he’d promised her a match.

Hearing hoof-beats behind her she leapt from Circe’s back and turned to face him. Her smile faded when Hugh Macbride emerged from the trees.
You!
’

‘Lady Sommersley.’ Leaning forward in his saddle, Macbride’s eyes lingered on her breeches for a few seconds. She felt uncomfortable when he smiled and said, ‘Very fetching, my dear.’ Leaping from his horse he strolled lazily towards her and gave a little bow. ‘I see you ride with no groom. I must warn you, an unescorted woman positively
invites
danger.’

‘You’re mistaken, Lieutenant,’ she retorted. ‘I do not ride alone. You need not delay your journey on my account.’

He opened the top button on his tunic. ‘I never disengage my duties lightly, Madam. I’ll keep you company until your escort appears.’ He held up a hand when she sought to protest. ‘Do not argue. Once I’ve set my course on a path of action I’m not easily swayed from it. An admirable trait in a soldier, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose a soldier must possess such a quality if he wishes to conquer rather than be conquered.’ She wondered where Jeffrey was. Turning her back on Hugh Macbride she wandered over to the cottage and peered through the grimy window. The cottage was crudely furnished and had the air of not being lived in for a long time.

‘Where do you go from here,’ she asked, turning back towards him. She gave a startled gasp when his breath fanned against her cheek. ‘Step back sir. You are immodestly close.’

He ignored her demand. ‘We’re to be stationed at Dorchester until the spring, then on to India.’ His eyes bored hotly into hers. ‘One kiss and I’ll bear the exile a happy man.’

Alarmed by the intimacy of his smile she prepared to push past him. His arms came up either side of her, trapping her against the building.

‘Let me go, sir,’ she managed to get out before his mouth cut off her words. She’d often imagined what kissing would feel like, but the rush of bodily pleasure she experienced was unprecedented. She momentarily froze as his hot mouth explored hers, then gasped in dismay as his hands brushed against her breasts. Placing her hands against his chest she tried to push him away. The action served only to inflame him.

He laughed at her blushing face, and taking her hand in his, placed it against the swelling mound in his groin. ‘You should not tease, My Lady,’ he said, pushing himself against her hand and cupping his manhood snugly inside it. ‘See what you have done to me?’

‘Pray let me go, sir,’ she entreated, all too aware of his intention. ‘My husband will have no regard for me if he does not find me intact on his return.’

Her naive remark brought an expression of avarice to his handsome face. The shape in her hand nudged into extra firmness. ‘Your husband deserves cuckolding for his neglect of you.’ The back of his hand stroked down her face, his fingers lingered on her lips. ‘What a trophy,’ he gloated. ‘There is a one- hundred-guineas prize to the man who takes your maidenhood. I’ll have a lock of your hair to prove it. I’ll be the toast of London.’

Her temper, which had lain dormant for quite some time, suddenly flared into life. ‘You will not take it easily, sir.’ Sinking her teeth into his hand she bit down with all her might. At the same time her nails dug into the abomination encased in her hand.’

Had her ears been pansies they’d have shriveled from the heat of the oath Hugh Macbride roared. He caught one of her wrists as she sought to evade him, twisting it until she cried out with pain. ‘If you do not give yourself willingly I’ll be forced to hurt you. The outcome will be the same.’ He smiled as he divested himself of his weapons and accoutrements, and placed his loaded pistol on the windowsill to keep it out of the dust. ‘Using force will merely add pleasure to the conquest.’

‘Is ravishing a defenseless woman part of a soldier’s duty?’ Her free hand crept towards her dagger and loosened it from its scabbard. She’d kept it sharp since her husband had demonstrated its uselessness.

‘Let’s say it’s one of the more pleasant aspects of soldiering.’ He kicked open the door of the cottage. ‘Come madam. I’ll see if I can find a soft bed for your initiation. I’m not without skill in these matters and can offer you pleasure in return for your cooperation.’

‘Marquis Lynchcross is my father,’ she warned, giving him one last chance to change his mind. ‘He’ll kill you.’

He threw back his head and guffawed with laughter. ‘You little fool it’s the marquis who provides the purse for the sport. He’s heard that your husband is expected home, and is after his blood.’

Color drained from her face. Her own father! What manner of man could hate his own daughter enough to fund such a wager? Was he devoid of all conscience? She remembered the savagery of the beating he’d inflicted on her when she’d been fourteen. Her father was a sadist. No wonder her mother had cursed him on her deathbed. The hurt fled, replaced by loathing. Like a blighted apple, her life would wither and die should Hugh MacBride carry out his vile intention.

The Lytton family would be embroiled in a scandal, she disgraced. Her husband would be obliged to challenge Hugh MacBride, then meet her father on the duelling field if he survived. She would be cast from the company of those she loved, for even Lady Edwina would be unforgiving should her beloved Gerard perish in defense of her. Life would not be worth living in that event, so she might as well kill herself now.

Her heart leapt in fear as her thumb touched against the blade of the knife and life surged through her body like sap rising in spring. Why should I be the one to lose my life? Willow asked herself. It was the soldier who deserved to be punished.

‘My father will not make sport of me, and neither will you,’ she hissed. Counting on surprise, her dagger slashed upwards. ‘Take this back to London as a message to the marquis.’

‘Lucifer’s oath!’
His startled exclamation ended in a gurgle as blood gushed warmly from his cheek. He’d been expertly sliced from his eye right to his jawbone.

He staggered backwards, his hand automatically favoring the wound.
What an adversary!
She was going to be worth pursuing even
without
the price on her head. Women who needed a little taming were always exciting. This one was as wild and as beautiful as the mare she rode. She was already heading for the mare, a great black beast lacking both saddle and stirrups. He wanted to laugh when she realized she couldn’t mount without help. Her eyes scanned the surrounding forest for an escape route. Whatever direction she moved in he could block, and she knew it. Her glanced grazed over his sword lying on the ground, then came back to it.

Her predictability was to be expected. He was surprised she would choose to die to preserve her virginity. There was something touchingly old-fashioned about it. Tempted to let her go, he remembered his gambling debts. The one hundred guinea purse was as good as his.

‘Damn you, girl!’ It was a strategy he wouldn’t have expected from a woman. A feint towards the sword, then after his foot came down on it he looked up to find himself gazing down the barrel of his own pistol.

‘Back off. If you make a move towards your sword I’ll shoot you!’

‘The pistol is not primed,’ he lied, his voice displaying more confidence than he felt.

‘I’m familiar with the use of a pistol.’