Dark Splendor (16 page)

“True, love,” Morgan echoed. “If he’s ready
to stir up trouble, he will soon be himself again. Admit now that
for a hard man he has been more than generous to us.”

“I admit nothing,” she snapped. “We have
given him our lives in return for his generosity.” She was silent
for a moment and her fair cheeks grew a mottled red. “If you should
lose your precious ships—” She glanced knowingly at Roman and then
at Eric “—and you your mills and crops, then what?” The fine edge
of anger in her voice dulled to a whisper.

“That, Martha, my sweet, will never happen,”
Eric said calmly and confidently. He straightened his back as a
self-assured glow brightened his eyes.

***

The moment she arrived at dinner, Silvia
sensed something was wrong. She was taken aback by the somberness
of the gathering and soon the gay smile disappeared from her face.
A gleam of anticipation died in her eyes as hollow disappointment
registered in the set of her mouth. She had wanted to see their
faces alight with the excitement and happiness that lingered in her
heart. Hopefully she glanced at Martha.

“I have a dreadful headache,” Martha
explained, wringing the linen napkin in her lap. “Please don’t
think me rude, but my head throbs terribly when I speak.” She
frowned, setting fine wrinkles in her forehead. It was to her
credit that Martha remained at the table until the meal was
finished, for the pain had brought a wan look to her face and she
was barely able to nibble at her food. Bravely she made no more
complaint of her discomfort, though she was quiet and subdued
during the remainder of dinner.

A quick glance around the table was all that
was necessary to quell Silvia’s hopes for a pleasant evening.
Morgan too was silent, and sullen as well. Eric, who frequently led
the conversation, seemed to distance himself from the others this
night. Even Roman seemed moodily repressed and, to Silvia’s dismay,
treated her coolly. There was an indication something had occurred
that had left them all strained and mirthless.

Silvia was soon lost in thought, wondering
if the tension that stippled the air was commonplace among the
cousins. Catching a bit of that tension herself, she fidgeted
nervously in her chair, causing the linen napkin to slide from her
lap to the floor. She bent low to retrieve the napkin and found it
lying atop a crumpled scrap of paper. Curiosity reigning, she
picked up both and brought them to rest in her lap. Her eyes
dropped down briefly. The insignia was the Schlange crest. Glancing
about the table and seeing that no one was taking notice of her,
she gently smoothed out the wrinkles on the note and read the
message Wilhelm Schlange had penned.

So that was the cause of the discontent.
Business. At the very least she could rest assured it had nothing
to do with her. Business matters had absorbed the thoughts of the
men, and Martha suffered with her headache. Of course they did not
want to discuss business while she was present; nevertheless, she
did feel a pang of disappointment that Roman could so easily
dismiss her from his mind.

She sat quietly for a while, having lost
interest in her meal. If Mr. Schlange were coming down for dinner,
then he was much improved. Soon she would meet him herself, though
she expected if he meant to discuss business with his nephews, she
would be excluded from the dinner on Thursday. Quietly and
carefully Silvia tucked the note in her pocket. And now that Mr.
Schlange was better, it meant among other things that her life at
Serpent Tree Hall might change.

The thought brought her a sinking sensation.
As her own light mood grew heavy, it was as if the sudden onset of
a slow, steady rain pattering against the windows added to the dark
and dreary tension in the room. Soon the drops changed to thin
black streams that fell endlessly, and it seemed as if the deluge
would drain the heavens dry. Silvia sighed. She had hoped for a
moonlight walk in the garden with Roman. But nature had conspired
with the oppressive mood of the group, and when dinner ended, she
received only a cursory good night from him as he rose from the
table.

It might be just as well, she told herself
when she was curled beneath the sheets in her darkened room. She
had sipped a few swallows of Martha’s herbal tea, brought up by
Anna, at Martha’s insistence, with an apology that she had been too
ill to sit with Silvia after dinner. It had taken only those few
swallows to settle her ruffled nerves, and now as she lay in her
bed, she tried to think logically about her attraction to Roman
Toller.

Her mind fastened languidly on memories of
the hours spent with him. In her state, it was decidedly best for
her to be alone. She needed a clear head, and when Roman was near
she could not trust her thoughts. She was forgetting too easily
that her life as an equal in Serpent Tree Hall must soon end. As
she faced her dilemma, she found only one flaw in her insistence on
reality. When she closed her eyes and thought of Roman, it was far
too easy to lose herself in a wishful dream.

She willed herself to think instead of the
island and the castle. They were parts of a world in itself, a
world that changed with the shifting wind. When the island was
bathed in the clear bright light of the sun, it was like being in
the clouds and near to heaven. At other times a melancholy darkness
ruled and she felt she was descending the narrow winding steps
toward purgatory.

Her lids grew drowsily relaxed as she moaned
and curled up tighter beneath the sheets, remembering, as sleep
sought to claim her, Martha’s talk of ghosts. She shivered. Roman
too had mentioned ghosts. Sleepily Silvia rubbed her eyes. She felt
warm and terribly tired and wished she had not remembered the talk
of ghosts. They were not a suitable subject for a dark, rainy night
when one’s thoughts drifted aimlessly. She wanted no more
nightmares, no more restless nights. After a time, her breathing
slowed to a slumberous rate and she lay on the brink of sleep,
thinking it was only her disappointment and the gloomy weather that
made her think of such things.

Drowsily she locked her fingers together and
pulled them beneath her chin. Roman’s face appeared in her mind,
the bold, strong features and bright blue eyes as clear as if he
were beside her. She tightened her lips and sighed listlessly.
“Roman...Roman” she whispered to herself. You are free enough with
words of praise and affection when we are alone. But why is it you
take no notice of me when others are present? Is it simply to steer
Morgan away as you say?” Another listless sigh sounded from her
lips as she clutched a pillow to her breast and rolled over to find
herself feeling quite wide-awake again.

She would do well not to give her heart so
freely where it would surely soon be tossed back shattered and
broken. Yet as she closed her eyes again, a nagging little seed of
doubt sprouted in the recesses of her mind, telling her a heart
given cannot be easily recalled.

She lay awake awhile longer thinking sleep
had become as elusive as a woodland fairy, but eventually the
steady pelting of the rain and the complaining whine of the wind
lulled her to sleep. She rested quietly in the restoring deepness
of pleasant slumber until a dark shadow, a vaporous murky cloud,
entered the depths of her dreams.

Restlessly Silvia rolled her eyes beneath
closed lids. The shadow was bold and black and filled the room with
the padded thud of footsteps and the mournful, moaning whimper of
an inconsolable child.

Her eyelids opened slowly, like doors on old
rusty hinges that had been shut too long. She felt her lips go dry.
A nightmare should fade when you wakened. But the shadow stayed,
rippling above her in a ghostly gray shape that seemed to move and
stand still all at once. She tried to move herself, but found her
bones brittle and her blood as cold as a rushing stream beneath a
layer of ice.

Wetting her lips with her tongue, she
thought of one refuge, one set of strong protective arms. It was
that thought that gave her the strength to swing out of bed and fly
to the door. There she found the key in place, and somehow her
shaking fingers managed to free the lock.

A moment later she raced over the cool
stones of the hall toward Roman’s room. She never looked back,
could not look back, just as she could not cry out with a voice
frozen in her throat. If she turned her head and saw that black
form in pursuit, her legs would crumple beneath her and she would
be lost.

She reached his door, holding her breath
lest the menacing shadow be there behind her in the darkness and
the sound of her breathing should lead him to her. She knocked on
the door, and finally, sobbing, fell against the heavy wood. The
rain was a loud, roaring monster outside the walls, and alone in
the hall, even the darkness seemed to swell into coiling black
snakes and move against her.

“Please,” she cried, choking out the word as
she knocked again on his door.

She heard the whimper, a faint sound in the
distance. Her hand gripped the knob, rattling it desperately.
Footsteps sounded softly behind her, and as her heart lurched,
Silvia closed her eyes and flattened her body against the gray
stone wall. From somewhere she heard the clank of metal and her
lips moved in a silent plea.

“What...” Roman saw her by his door,
trembling like a frightened lamb, her face pale as a winter
moon.

Mindless of his nudity, he opened the door
wider and reached for her arm.

“Nooo,” she cried as her knees gave way
beneath her and she slid to the floor.

Roman caught her, swept her up in his arms,
and carried her inside, pushing the door shut with his shoulder.
She hung limp in his arms, her head wobbling against his bare
chest.

“Silvia, Silvia,” he whispered, carrying her
to his bed.

A candle burned on a table. Lighting it had
taken him only a few seconds when her knocking had roused him. The
flame waved in a slow dance above the tallow. When Roman stretched
her out where he had lain a few minutes earlier, the soft candle
glow lit her face and he saw that her skin was as white as the
linens and her breathing shallow and irregular.

Roman moved quickly, pulling a pillow
beneath her head and hurrying to the washstand, where he poured
water in a bowl and dipped a cloth in, wetting and wringing it.
Beside her on the bed, he patted the cool cloth to her temples. She
stirred, turning her head aside and raising her arms to push the
cloth away.

Her eyes flickered open.

“Oh!” she cried out, raising up hurriedly,
her glazed eyes darting around the room and coming back to settle
on his face.

Roman caught her by the shoulders and
lowered her gently to the pillows.

“Be still,” he whispered, smoothing the hair
from her temples. His hand lingered gently on her cheek. “You
fainted.”

“Fainted?” she whispered. His soft smile
calmed her and she soon felt the blood returning to her face.

“I found you beside my door looking as if
the hounds of hell were pursuing you.”

“Roman! There was someone, something in my
room. I woke up and it was there.” The words came too fast and her
voice caught as she sat up hurriedly again and looked anxiously at
the door. “It was behind me in the hall.” Her mouth quivered and
her eyes glittered with fear. “I was so afraid.” Sobbing, she threw
her arms around his neck, gripping him with frightened fury, her
body trembling against him.

“You had a nightmare,” he said softly,
stroking his hand over the thin silk nightgown that covered her
back.

“I didn’t.” Her head jerked back from his
shoulder. “No. It was there.”

“Well, it isn’t here,” he said, tightening
his embrace as his tender gaze searched her eyes. “There’s no one
here but you and me and you’re safe now from all odious monsters of
the night.” His hands were at her waist, his fingers spanning her
back. Gently he slipped them beneath her hair, finding the curve of
her shoulders and gliding over skin as lustrous and smooth as the
silk of her gown. He felt a sudden tremble start in his own
flesh.

“It was real,” she whispered beneath her
breath. But was it? Her heartbeat slowed, returning to a normal
rate, and the fear faded from her eyes. She felt warm and safe in
his arms, as if nothing in the world could harm her when he held
her near. Silvia looped her arms around his neck, and his closeness
soothed like an opiate, stilling her fear and giving her a euphoric
peace.

Roman’s pulse quickened as hers subsided.
Her arms tightened around his neck, her fingers laced tightly into
the golden hair at his nape. Her lips were a soft, warm torture on
his chest. A hot ache grew in his throat and with a groan Roman
lowered his face to hers, brushing his cheek against her. He placed
soft kisses on her lips as he pulled her closer, his warm breath
fanning her face.

She was a lovely vision in the soft luster
of candlelight, her black hair lit with silver, her eyes glowing
like the flame itself. He felt the full curves of her breasts
against him, the steadied beating of her heart thumping against his
chest.

Her face was that of a little girl afraid of
the dark, but the feel of her in his arms was that of a woman who
responded to his touch and his embrace.

“Are you afraid now?” He pulled back a
little to look into her eyes and saw that the sharp edge of fear
was gone. “I can take you to your room and make sure it’s safe,” he
said, tracing a fingertip sensuously across her lips.

Silvia’s lips parted, quivering beneath his
touch. She couldn’t bear the thought of being alone, of being
outside the circle of his arms. She feared it more than the dark
and any dangers lurking in the shadows of her dreams.

“No, Roman, I want to stay,” she whispered,
taking one of his hands in both hers and holding it to her cheek.
She looked at him longingly, a gentle fire beginning to glow in her
eyes.