Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 (12 page)

He plucked her from the cot and carried her into the dusk-shrouded evening and placed her gently in the cart. Wrapping her cloak around her, he put one arm about her waist while he held the reins in his strong hands. When they reached the outskirts of town, he stopped beside the road. Pain was etched on his face, and he turned her chin up to look into her eyes. She felt unable to look at him. “What happened back there, Beth?” he asked quietly.

By now she had finished crying, and regained her composure “Why did you come after me?” she asked, not wanting to look at him or answer him directly.

“I thought you might need a ride home, so I followed you at a distance. Then I got the supplies while you visited with Salley. When I went to the house, I knocked but no one came to the door. Then I heard your screams, and I ran in and found that man holding you down.” His clear eyes darkened. “Was he trying to force himself on you?”

Her face flushed with anger. “Of course he was trying to have his way with me! You don’t think I’d let an animal like that touch me!”

His fingers raked through his hair. “Tell me why you went there when that wasn’t Salley’s house.”

Deep sobs racked her anew, and shame prevented her from looking at him. “I’m with child,” she choked out. “That woman was going to get rid of it, but I got fearful and tried to run, but her son held me down. They didn’t want me going to the constable.”

Patrick sat in stunned silence for what seemed like hours. His hands still held the reins but they began to shake uncontrollably. “Your lover didn’t offer to marry you, I suppose,” he said.

“I’m too far beneath him,” she whispered with effort and pulled the cloak tighter about her.

Patrick sighed and gruffly cleared his throat. “I’m probably too far beneath
you
,” she heard him say, “
but
I’ll be telling you this once and once only, Beth McConnell. I still love you, whether you want me to or not, and you’re going to marry me in three weeks’ time after the banns are posted. Your child needs a father, and I’m as good as any.”

He looked
so
stubborn as he sat there; she knew he was angry and couldn’t bring himself to touch her. She mouthed his name but was so overcome by emotion that she couldn’t speak. She was astonished that Patrick wanted her even after learning the truth, but she didn’t love him. He was a good man and deserved better, yet there was no other choice for her. She’d have her baby, and Patrick would be its father.
And her husband
.
Beth felt she must make some sort of comment, though she couldn’t think of anything to say that was adequate enough.

At last, “Thank you,” she said in a small voice.

A muscle quivered in his jaw, and he stared at her almost as if he were trying to memorize her face or see into her soul. “I love you, but I’ll not be touching you as my wife until you ask for me. I take nothing unless it’s given freely.” He turned his face away and urged the donkey forward.

Beth closed her eyes, fighting back tears of gratitude and frustration. Patrick had saved her reputation and was now about to give her baby his name, but she was afraid she’d never be able to give him the love he so richly deserved when her heart still belonged to another.

“That is the worst excuse for an apple I’ve ever seen,” Daniel joked and threw down his charcoal in mock dismay. “It bears a distinct resemblance to a prune!”

Allison dimpled and agreed. “I just can’t seem to get the shape right.”

“Here, let me see,” he said and left his chair where they were sitting under the gazebo, examining her sketch book. The afternoon sun seemed to deepen his already tanned complexion, and his hand took hers and guided it along the paper to allow her the feel of the apple’s shape on the page. “Look at the subject you’re sketching, Allison. Not at your hand.” Daniel’s chin brushed the top of her head, and he smelled violets. She looked at him; her lips were so close he could easily have kissed them and enfolded her in his arms, but he turned abruptly away. Allison was his brother’s wife, after all.

“Is this better?” she asked, unaware of how lovely she looked in a pale pink silk gown which made her resemble a freshly picked carnation.

He nodded and went back to his chair, afraid to touch even the sketch book she held for his perusal. Daniel looked in the direction of the open fields with the mountains hovering in the background and envied his brother for all this; but most of all for the woman he had married. When Daniel first arrived in Ireland, Allison and Paul didn’t seem to be truly happy.

Paul brooded and Allison always looked on the verge of tears. But something had evidently happened in the last month to mend that breach between them, and though he should be happy for them, he wasn’t. Never in his whole life had he been jealous of Paul, always idolizing his older brother. Now, however, he was eaten away with love for this woman whom his brother had married. For the first time in his existence, he wanted something his brother possessed. Hang the property, and the devil take Fairfax Manor! He wanted only Allison as his own.

“Daniel, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.” Allison’s voice penetrated his reverie.

“What?” he
said,
startled. “I’m sorry, Allison, I was thinking.”

“Such deep thoughts,” she commented, smiling. She lay down the pad and charcoal. “I’m afraid I have to give up on this today. It really isn’t very good.”

Her lovely face gazed at him, and he felt a twinge of jealousy, believing she was thinking of Paul. “Why are you distracted? I hope Paul has been behaving himself.”

“Paul is wonderful,” she breathed aloud. “I was just thinking about him. I love him so much, and he loves me.
Never, never did I think I’d be so happy!”

For a moment, Daniel felt his heart stop beating,
then
he smiled at her. “I’m very happy for you,” he said, and tried to mean it. “I have a request,” he added.

“What?
Anything, Daniel.
You’re like my brother and I’ll do just about anything for you if I can.”

“I want you to pose for me. Let me paint your portrait.” He had been thinking about this for some time, even sketching her when she wasn’t aware of it. When the time came to return to Louisiana, he didn’t want to go back empty handed. He needed part of her with him, something only she could give him—her innocent beauty captured forever on canvas.

Excitement glowed on her face. “Oh, I’d love that! I’ve never had my portrait painted. When would you like to start?”

“Right now, if you wish. I’ll do some preliminary sketches of you here to get an idea of the light.”

“Shouldn’t I change my dress or fix my hair?”

He laughed as she fussed with a loose tendril. “You’re perfect as you are. Don’t tamper with perfection.” His eyes grew serious. “Your portrait shall be my masterpiece.”

His hands shook when he turned her chin towards the eastern light, and when his fingers brushed against her shoulders to adjust the locket at her
neck,
they lingered just a second too long.

“Allison…” His voice sounded like a hoarse whisper in her ear, and he feared he’d say something he’d regret when suddenly the locket dropped onto her lap.

“Oh dear, the clasp is broken,” she cried and picked it up, seemingly glad to have the diversion.

“Let me see,” he said gruffly, taking it from her. “I guess you’ll have to send it to a jeweler for repair.” Daniel opened the locket and gazed at the portrait inside, his eyes softening. “I didn’t know Mother gave you her locket. She must have had this for a long time, because it seems quite old, though I’ve never seen her wear it.”

Allison was perplexed. “I found it in the attic, months ago. Why would you think your mother gave it to me?”

Daniel handed the locket, still open, back to her. “That’s a portrait of my mother as a girl,” he told her.

Allison’s eyes widened as she looked at the miniature portrait in the golden heart. Why hadn’t she realized it before? No wonder Dera Flanders looked so familiar to her. She was the raven-haired girl in the locket! But the locket had been packed away in a box in her aunt’s attic, a box with the initials D.F. engraved in the wood…

Allison swiftly rose to her feet, the chain hung limply from her hand. The memory of her aunt’s words came back to her: ‘I took this house illegally from my brother’s Irish widow, and if I could keep it from her, I’ll keep it from you.’
Dera Fairfax!
Paul’s mother had been married to her uncle Avery and no one had told her! No wonder Dera knew where everything was in the manor. She had once been mistress of it!

Her breath quickened, her cheeks grew hot. “I feel like such a fool,” she gasped in a shaky breath. “You knew all the time! Everyone knew! And no one told me. Why, Daniel? Tell me why?”

Her fists pounded his chest and he pulled her against him, his face reflecting the pain that she felt. “What is it you think you know?”

“That your mother married my uncle and Aunt Cecelia somehow took away Fairfax Manor from her,” Allison cried.

“That’s right, but only part of the truth.”

“I don’t want to hear any more of it!” she said. “This is worse than anything I feared, but it all makes sense. Paul married me only to inherit that which his mother was deprived of, but this land doesn’t belong to her or to him and never will! This is Fairfax land, and I’m a Fairfax! It is
mine!”
She pushed him away, nearly stumbling as she ran down the gazebo steps, her angry expression defying him to run after her.

The afternoon sun weakened, and a brisk breeze chilled the air, but Allison was unaware of it or anything except her rage and humiliation as she raced across the meadows. She found Paul in conversation with some of the tenants. When they saw her, they immediately scattered like leaves before the storm. She stopped short before Paul, out of breath, her hair tumbled about her face in windblown tendrils.

“Allison, love, what a surprise,” he said and bent to kiss her. The hard smack across his cheek stunned him.

“How dare you lie to me!” she raged. “You’re a filthy no-account Irish bastard, and I detest you! God, what a fool I am to have believed you loved me!”

“I do love you, Allison. Tell me
what’s the matter, sweetheart
.”

“Aunt Cecelia warned me against you. She said you only wanted me for the estate, and I was too stupid to listen, though I was afraid that was the only reason you married me. But I had no idea you wanted to claim it because your mother had lost it years ago. I am a Fairfax, not your mother. This land belongs to the Fairfaxes, not to a peasant woman who connived to marry one!”

“By God, if I didn’t love you so much I’d slap your face for that remark!” Paul growled.

“Go on, you lying bully, hit me. I defy you to slap me!”

“I wanted to tell you, but as time passed I couldn’t. I was afraid you’d no longer love me.”

“No. You were afraid I’d throw you and your family out! Every one of you has treated me like a stupid child with no sense. You can’t believe that your family deserves my property because of Dera’s first marriage. My aunt made certain she’d never inherit. This is Fairfax land, Paul Flanders!” She nearly spat out the name.

“Not Flanders but Flannery. Flannery is my real name, and this is by right the land of my ancestors. Your uncle stole it from my people,” Paul said, his voice deadly calm.

Her anger gave way to dismay. “You lied to me even about your true name!”

“Would you have agreed to marry me if you had known the truth? Cecelia knew but it was too late when she realized it. I think we were destined for one another, Allison.”

His breath was warm on her face, and despite Allison’s world tumbling around her, her body still
tingled
its awareness of him. The pain in his eyes told her he was genuinely sorry, but she had to harden her heart or risk losing what little was left of her dignity. Somehow she must stop loving him! But she was carrying his child and bound to him by the most basic tie.

“I don’t give a damn what you think or what you do,” she said with as much venom as she could muster. “I hate you and all your precious Flannery family. Stay away from me from now on, all of you!”

She turned and stalked away, knowing he watched her but with no comprehension of the sorrow in his soul.

The house was quiet when she entered and she was thankful that Dera and Quint weren’t around. When she went upstairs, she peered into her aunt’s room. Seeing Cecelia lying so quietly on the bed caused the pent-up tears to flow. She went in; her aunt’s eyes were staring at the ceiling. “I should have listened to you, Aunt,” she whispered. “Your instincts about Paul were right. He never loved me, only Fairfax Manor. I’m so sorry, so sorry. Please forgive me!”

Cecelia gasped. A peaceful expression suddenly smoothed her aunt’s distorted features. A moment later when Allison touched her, she drew back. Cecelia was cold, as cold as a stone at the bottom of the river. “Aunt Cecelia?” she whispered. When there was no response, she knew it was over. Cecelia had finally departed this life. Tears slipped down Allison’s pale cheeks, and then the sobs she had controlled spilled forth.