Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 (15 page)

 
“Beth, girl, this is a grand feast!” Patrick complimented her cooking, wolfing down the stew she had prepared. She was pleased that he liked it, but she herself had little appetite. She hoped her entire pregnancy wouldn’t be like this. Most women gained weight, but she seemed to be getting thinner.

“I’m glad you like it. Let me get you some more,” she offered, but he took her hand and made her sit down on her chair. “Nay, I don’t want you busying yourself too much about me. You must think of the child.”

His concern touched her. He didn’t have to be concerned about her health. After all, the child she carried wasn’t his.
“‘Tis nothing to fill a plate, Patrick.
Besides, I’ve little to do since Miss Allison has gone off again.”

“I thought you waited on Mrs. Flanders.”

“Aye, but she doesn’t require much looking after. I like her, I do, and I fear that my mother will make trouble for her.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Why is that?” he asked.

Beth’s face grew warm. She hadn’t told him that Paul Flanders was her half-brother and that Quint was her natural father.
“Oh, no reason.”
She got up and began to clear the table, but by his sudden stillness she knew he was assessing her. “Don’t be looking at me like that,” she scolded.

“You’re my wife, and I don’t want secrets under my roof. Tell me what
is the matter
.”

His tone was so gentle that she sat back down, determined to tell him everything. “My mother told me that Quint Flanders is my father—that he is really a Flannery and his family owned this land before the Fairfaxes,” she murmured.

Patrick had heard tales of the wild Flannery clan all his life, and he knew something of their heritage. He was astonished to learn that his wife was a descendant, a member of a noble Irish house. No wonder she had fancied herself in love with Howard Granger. In her veins flowed the blood of ancient kings and nobles. How could he ever have thought she could love a poor peasant like himself? He had been wrong to marry her, he knew that now.

“Have you nothing to say?” Beth asked when he didn’t immediately reply.

“I hope you don’t plan to tell your father or his wife the truth. These people aren’t like me, and I don’t wish to lose my position because of you, or your mother’s vicious tongue!”

Patrick’s sharp comment was so unlike him that she blinked. He sounded jealous and hurt, and she at once was put on the defensive. “Nay, I won’t be saying a thing to them, but I’m a Flannery, too, and belong in that house as well.”

Patrick pushed back from the table and grabbed his coat. “Aye, I always knew I was beneath you, Beth,” he said grimly before he opened the door. “And now that you know you’re descended from fine people, I doubt if you’ll ever
be wanting
to share my bed. I was crazy to think you could ever want me.”

His abrupt departure stunned Beth so that she could barely get up from her place at the table. She regretted being the cause of the sorrowful, angry look on his face. Why would he think she was better than him? But then, hadn’t she always felt that way herself? Many times in the past Patrick had expressed interest in her, had openly looked upon her with desire, but always she had shunned him. She had wanted Howard because she did think Patrick was beneath her.

Slowly she rose and cleared the table, trying not to think about her husband who was no husband, in the Biblical sense. She wished she hadn’t married Patrick but had gone off somewhere to have her baby. At least then she wouldn’t have to pretend sleep as soon as her head rested on the pillow at night so she wouldn’t run the risk of touching him in the darkness, or hear his steady breathing after he fell asleep. The nights were long and torturous with him so close to her, and she found herself wanting him to fondle and caress her. But she couldn’t allow that, not when she loved another man.

Such a long time had passed since she’d seen Howard, and strangely she could barely remember his face. At first she prayed he’d come for her and take her away to Ballysheen Hall, admitting that he was wrong and telling her how much he loved her. Her dream hadn’t come true; it seemed nothing she dreamed of ever did. And now it appeared that she had lost Patrick, and she wasn’t quite sure why. “Holy Father in heaven,” she prayed and sat down again because she grew dizzy and weak, “Please let one of my dreams come true. Any dream!”

~ ~ ~

Long after the clock chimed three, Dera heard Quint open the door softly and pad quietly towards the bed. She laid there unmoving, fighting two equally strong urges—to lash into him for coming to bed so late and giving her hours of worry, or to turn over and enfold him in her arms. She knew Quint never responded well to anger, so she opted for the latter approach.

She turned over and propped her chin on her hand, watching him as he undressed. He felt her eyes upon him and turned around. “I didn’t mean to wake you, my love,” he said as he slid beneath the covers.

“You know I can’t sleep when you’re not beside me.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Whatever would you do without me?” he teased,

“I don’t ever want to find out,” Dera answered and put her arms around his neck, though feelings of unease knotted inside her stomach. “Quint, where do you go at night? Why do you leave me alone so often?”

Surprise registered on his face. “I’m sorry—I didn’t realize the hour. Sean and I usually drink a bit and talk about the old days.”

She suppressed a groan. “Those times are over and best forgotten. Most of it was unpleasant.”

“Ah, not all of it.
Reliving some of it makes me feel young again, Dera.”

“You’re still not content, and I don’t understand why. Our son has regained your ancestral home, and we’re together. Why aren’t you happy? I thought this was what you wanted.”

His expression grew stony. “Why must you always question me? I grow weary of your probing sometimes and wish you’d accept me as I am.”

“I do accept you as you are! Otherwise, I’d be unable to live with.
just
a dream. But, Quint, I sense you’re keeping something from me, and I demand honesty from you above all else.”

He moved away from her encircling arms. “Don’t ask me, Dera, not if you don’t wish to be hurt.”

She sucked in her breath almost as if he had slapped her. He was keeping secrets from her, and she felt as she had years ago when he was setting fire to English property and wouldn’t admit it. Dera sat up, her eyes blazing with anger and frustration. “There was another small fire last night and I’m beginning to think you started it, you and that Sean Lacey!”

Quint inhaled deeply, his dark eyes expressing his hurt. “I haven’t set fire to a house in a quarter of a century, but if I had, I wouldn’t set one which only does a small amount of damage! As you recall, my love, I was quite thorough and burned many English homes to the ground. All that was left was ashes.”

She realized that he wasn’t telling her everything. Something preyed on his mind if he found it necessary to carouse with his old cronies half of the night. She must persuade him to return to Louisiana with her, but she couldn’t bring up the subject now. He’d balk and his stubbornness was almost as bad as his temper. Instead she kissed him sweetly. “I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled that crooked smile which still made her heart beat fast and pulled her against him. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice full of love.

“No, you don’t but you belong to me, and I intend to show you how much I love you every night, Quint Flannery. So you better not go wandering off anymore or I’ll be forced to proposition the gardener!”

He laughed and covered her body with his, pushing her deeper into the mattress.
“Nay, my love.”
He nibbled her ear lobe. “You’ll have very little strength after I’m finished with you.”

And she didn’t. Afterwards, she was so tired she fell asleep in Quint’s arms, but before sleep overtook her, she vowed once more to discover the secret which tormented him.

~ ~ ~

Soft sprinkles of rain fell upon Beth as she made her way back to her cottage from Fairfax Manor. She pulled her apron off to cover her head and knew she should hurry, but an ache had started in the lower portion of her abdomen and grew more intense with each step. She stopped and rested for a second. The manor house was much closer than her cottage and she wondered if she should turn back, but she knew Patrick would be waiting for his noon meal. The food was already cooked and needed only to be reheated on the hearth. Since Allison’s departure, she had much time for attending to her domestic duties and loved to cook for Patrick because he appreciated her efforts.

She was considering how best to proceed in order to avoid any further pain, when, glancing up, she saw Sir Howard riding toward her. Her heart tripped unsteadily. She hadn’t seen him since the night she had told him of her condition, but she didn’t hold his attitude against him. In fact, the ensuing months had given her time to consider his position as well as her own, and she understood that he could never marry her or openly acknowledge their child.

His horse halted before her, and he smiled such a brilliant smile that she imagined the sun peeped through the clouds. Jumping down, he embraced her.
“Beth, my Beth, how glad I am to see you!
I’ve missed you.”

She drew away, her eyes devouring his face. It felt so good to be held again, to feel his warmth against her. She breathed his name in wonderment. “Howard, I never expected to see you again. What are you doing here?”

“I came to call on Allison and Paul, but learned that Paul
is in the fields somewhere, and Allison has departed for a holiday in Dublin. I had no idea she had left. How long will she be gone?”

His interest in Allison’s whereabouts cooled Beth’s warmth towards him; she wished he were more concerned over her than her mistress. He hadn’t even inquired about the baby.

“I pay little heed to the comings and goings of the gentry,” she told him coolly.

“Well, no matter. Now tell me, how are you faring? How is our babe?”

Pleasure flooded through her that he should ask. “He’s fine,” she said through clenched teeth, as a sudden cramp shot through her belly.

“Are you sure you’re well? You look ghostly pale. Isn’t that paddie you married treating you well?”

That he should speak so disparagingly of Patrick angered her and despite her pain, she lifted her head high. “Patrick is a fine man, a decent man, and he cares for me very much. Unlike someone I know.”

“Beth, please,” he began, but at that moment any apology he might have wished to make dissipated when she grabbed his arm. Hot waves of pain washed over her, and she barely managed to speak.

“Take me home, Howard,” she gasped. “Something’s wrong…”

Instantly he gently scooped her up into the saddle and urged the horse in the direction of the cottages. When they arrived at her cottage, he took her from the horse and, kicking the door open, he carried her inside. Patrick stood in the kitchen and gaped in astonishment to see Beth clasped in the arms of Howard Granger.

“What are you gawking at?” Howard bellowed. “Go for help. Beth is in pain.”

Patrick sized up the situation and ran for the midwife. Within a space of minutes they were back. On the bed, Beth writhed in agony, sweat upon her brow, but she held onto Howard’s hand as if it were a lifeline. Howard caressed her face while crooning comforting words.

Patrick watched despondently as Beth gazed at Howard with love, an emotion she’d never shown for him. Mrs. Collins, the midwife, shooed the men away despite Beth’s protestations to allow Howard to remain. “No men allowed,” she said and pushed them from the room.

“Will she keep the child?” Howard asked Mrs. Collins.

“Nay, my lord.
Now go on with you, your lordship—and Patrick, stay near. She may need you.”

Mrs. Collins closed the door, leaving the two men staring at each other. Patrick’s eyes emanated hatred and loathing, but Howard seemed unaware. He looked upon Patrick as insignificant, not appreciative that Patrick’s love had provided for Beth.

“Aren’t you going to offer me some ale?” Howard asked, finally growing uncomfortable with Patrick’s hostile stare.

“I offer you the door, Sir Howard,” Patrick erupted.
“And good day to you.
You’ve done enough damage.”

“You filthy paddie!
I brought Beth here when she was in pain. How dare you insult
me!
”

“If you would have kept your hands off her, she’d not
be
in pain, losing the child at this moment. There’d be no babe of yours. She’d have been mine willingly, carrying my babe.”

“Rubbish! Beth was always mine and will be until the day she dies.”

“Thanks to you that day may be today. Now get out of my house or I’ll throw your aristocratic ass out myself!”

“I’ll leave,” Howard said, “but I expect to be informed of her condition.”

Howard left the cottage with Patrick’s curses echoing in his cars. He would have proceeded to the manor to await the news but didn’t feel entirely welcome since Allison’s departure. Though worried about Beth, he felt a glimmer of hope that Allison’s marriage was deteriorating. If so, he wanted to be ready and waiting when she
returned .
He rode to Ballysheen hall, dreaming of the day he was master of Fairfax Manor.