Devil's Desire (30 page)

"Could be–he was supposed to be quite a rogue–however, the lady in question had eight sons and three or more daughters, and lived to a ripe old age here at Westerly, surrounded by numerous grandchildren, her husband
her
devoted slave, his wandering days over."
 

"Rogues must run in the family," Elysia commented acidly beneath her breath.

“Are you just now finding out how much of a rogue my brother can be?" Peter asked, hearing her muttered words.

"I've known since first we met," Elysia declared in exasperation.

"Oh? I would have thought you'd have avoided him like the plague then," he commented, wondering if what the Joker had said had indeed been the truth? What a wild scene that must have been, he thought with amusement—and these two fiery-tempered hot bloods at each other's throats.

He didn't know what Alex was playing at, but if he weren't careful he'd lose Elysia, and that indeed would be a shame. Devil take him, why the deuce was he playing the ardent lover to Mariana? He'd only been too glad to get rid of her in London—unless that was all just talk, but somehow he doubted that. Alex was just trying to make Elysia jealous—and that must mean that he was really in love with her. He wouldn't bother otherwise—it just wasn't his style. But something was amiss here; and if Alex weren't careful it could just blow up in his face. He didn't trust that little cat Mariana.

Devil take him, he thought, as he watched a fretful frown settle between Elysia's arched brows as she stared into the fire. No doubt wondering what Alex was doing with Mariana.

Elysia stood up abruptly, and picked up the book she'd been trying to read. "I'm going riding—I can't stand this much longer!” she said defiantly, rushing from the room with a flurry of rose-colored skirts flying out behind her.

Peter started to protest, then shrugged as the door slammed before he could utter a word. He got slowly to his feet and walked over to the window, silently cursing his brother. He glanced out, watching thoughtfully the hazy, white mist beginning to swirl about the rocks, masking the sea in an all-enveloping curtain. Fog—God, what a dismal day. He hoped Elysia saw it and had the good sense to come back in. But then she was in such a reckless, devil-may-care mood she might do anything better go make sure she hasn't headed into it—just the thing she'd do too. She was so set in her ways—always taking Ariel, that fantastic horse of hers, out for a ride every afternoon, regardless of the climate. No wonder she and Alex struck sparks off one another. Peter shook his head as he poured himself a hefty swig of brandy before braving the cold and Elysia's wrath.

Elysia pushed the thick volume back between the other books on the shelf, mentally noting its place. She'd have to re-read it. Her mind had been so preoccupied by other thoughts that she could not remember half of what she had spent the morning reading.

"Darling, at last we are alone. Must we always be plagued by unwanted eyes and ears?" a petulant voice complained.

Elysia froze as the door to the library closed, and she heard the rustle of skirts move about the room.

"Oh, Alex. Why in here? You know how I do so hate books!
 
And you seem to have an uncommon quantity here,"

"You desired to be alone, didn't you, Mariana?" Alex answered with speculation in his deep voice.

"Of course I did, and this is why,"

There was-silence in the room. Elysia dared not move. From her position on the loft she could have had a panoramic view of the room below, but she stood rigid, pressed into the comer of the loft, her back against the cold glass of the window. She heard a long, indrawn sigh, and then a low, seductive laugh followed. Elysia pressed her knuckles against her mouth, biting into them as she sought to control the cry of agony she felt rising within her.

"I've missed you, my love," Mariana murmured softly in a whisper that carried, in the silence. "I shall make you pay dearly for leaving London—and marrying that creature."

"And I shall be more than willing to pay whatever price you demand," Alex answered lazily, his voice sending a wave of pain and longing through Elysia as she heard it.

"Ummm, I shall have to think of something fiendishly clever, for that will be the only way I will be able to assuage my hurt feelings. You know you were quite brutal to me, and I really should have nothing at all to do with you, Alex."

"If that is what you desire," Alex said coolly, in a bored voice. "It is your decision."

"You know I can't stay away from you–kiss me!” she commanded huskily.
          
'

The silence that followed was answer enough, to Elysia, of her husband's compliance to Lady Mariana's wish.

"What are we going to do about
her?"
Mariana finally broke the silence, her voice full of undisguised hate.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? B-but what about us?" Mariana demanded, anger sharpening her voice, its shrillness piercing the quietness of the room like a lance.

"We will continue as before—nothing need alter—we will be in London, and
she,"
he paused as if the thought of Elysia annoyed him, "will remain here. Quite simple,
ma chérie."

"You mean she will not be coming to London with you next week?" Mariana asked hopefully, her good humor restored.

"Precisely."

"Well, I suppose it will have to do, but what if she decides to follow you? She could cause trouble–embarrassment," she added, never satisfied until she had caused doubts, making sure her opponent was well out of the running.

"She will not come. I shall leave orders she is to stay here in St. Fleur. If she knows she is not welcome, then I doubt whether even she would care to include herself. Anyway, I think she will be able to 'amuse' herself here—we need not worry about her,'" he said coldly, his tone striking Elysia like a vicious blow.
               
 

"I recall telling you that you should not do something in pique–just because we'd had a small insignificant disagreement. If you'd only done as I'd told you, then we'd have been married now–and I'd be wearing those emeralds–not that red-haired wench. I still want them, Alex. Take them away from her. I know an expert jeweler who can change them into a different setting–something more modern." Mariana sighed, "Can't you get rid of her?"

"I hardly think I'm up to murder, my dear." Alex’s laugh cut like a knife through the dull pain pounding in Elysia's temples. "And what of your plans to marry the Duke? Surely you've not forgotten that life-long desire of yours?" He sounded cruel as be added, "Or didn't you dangle the bait long enough, and your noble fish squirmed off the hook?"

"Oh, how horrid–you're so cruel Alex," Mariana reproached him. "I expect the announcement of our engagement shall be in the papers within a fortnight. Lin is quite anxious, as a matter of fact;
to
marry me. He already calls me his Duchess."

"Good for him—proves he's a man, after all. I wondered if he had any red blood in him at all," Alex commented dryly, apparently unperturbed by her attempt to make him jealous. "Shall we go? It would seem it is going to open up and rain–besides, it looks as though a fog is rolling in."

"This is the most inhospitable part of the world—oh, why did you have to be a Cornishman? Why couldn't you have a nice castle in Somerset or Sussex?" Mariana complained, her voice becoming faint as they moved toward the doors.

"Like Linville I suppose–but of course you needn't . . . "
The rest of his words were cut off as the doors closed behind them.

Elysia stood irresolutely, unable to think or act coherently. He was going back to London–alone. She was to stay here in Cornwall—and he would go back to the life he'd lived before, to the woman he'd loved before—and still loved.
          
.

She knew now, without a doubt, that she'd lost him. She could no longer fool herself. Peter had been wrong, so very wrong. This was no game of jealousy played out to pique. He was going to leave her, Elysia choked back a laugh. How she would have rejoiced at that thought at one time, when she thought she hated him. Now . . . now she only felt sadness—as if something had died within her. She was like a bud that had begun to open, and flower, half-opened by the first warming rays from the sun and nourishing drop of moisture from the rain, it would now wither and die from neglect.

With tears blinding her eyes, Elysia made her way from the house. She'd already changed into her riding habit and went directly to the stables. No one dared to stop her as she ordered Ariel saddled, her face frozen, without expression. Jims was nowhere to be seen, and despite the groom's worried glances at the sky, Elysia headed out of the stable yard, contemptuous of the clouds.

She rode along the road daring the heavens to open up above her. She felt in no mood for any kind of interference–divine included. The groom lagged behind, becoming a mere speck in the distance as Ariel galloped down the road. Elysia continued to widen the distance until she saw another horse approaching across the moors, from the direction of Blackmore Hall, with the intention of intercepting her. As the rider drew closer Elysia recognized his livery, a groom of the Squire's. He trotted alongside and pulled up, stopping in front of her.

"Ye be the Lady Trevegne!'" he asked, pulling out a sealed note from his pocket

"Yes."

"This be fer ye from the Hall." He handed it to her, and turning without waiting for an answer rode back the way he'd come, despite Elysia's call to wait. Elysia broke the seal. Probably from Louisa, and read the few words printed neatly on the paper, her hands beginning to shake as the words danced grotesquely before her stunned eyes.

Elysia's face was pale as she looked back to where the groom from Westerly was still an indistinct blur—she could not wait for him.
     
.

Alex had been injured, he was hurt. They told her that she must come immediately. The past was forgotten as Elysia raced Ariel faster than she'd ever ridden him before, across the stretch of moorland to the Hall–leaving the path, the dangerous bogs and holes forgotten in her panic. Also forgotten was that last conversation between Mariana and Alex, not meant to be overheard.

All that mattered to Elysia was that she get to Alex in time–all bitterness and anger disappeared as Elysia thought of him lying injured–in pain. That he would not want her solicitude did not phase her-she was still his wife-if in name only now, and she would take her place by his side-regardless.

After reaching the tree-lined drive that led towards Blackmore Hall, Elysia turned Ariel off, heading toward the summerhouse-a pagoda built within a copse of pine some distance from the Hall. It was used for picnics and lawn parties in the warm, spring months, but was now deserted and cold-looking under the darkening skies above.

What had Alex been doing out here? She did not want to admit to herself that Alex and Mariana could not resist stopping–to be alone and undisturbed before joining the others. Their love was so great they must make the most of each stolen moment.

Elysia threw all of these disturbing facts aside she dismounted and hurried inside, pushing past the red door with its carved dragon heads grinning menacingly into her face, and entered the octagonal-shaped room. She looked about her at the red, velvet, cushioned benches and large, satin pillows with their tassels dangling undisturbed–they were all empty–-Alex was not here!

They must have moved him, she thought wildly, turning to leave just as someone entered silently through the opened door.

"Mrs. Blackmore!” Elysia cried with relief, rushing over to her as Mrs. Blackmore closed the door behind her. "Thank goodness! I'm so relieved to see you. Where is Alex? The note said he was here-and I was to come as quickly as I could. Is he b-badly hurt?"

"He is as well as can be expected," Mrs. Blackmore replied calmly. "We have moved him."

"Yes I know, but where? Up to the Hall?" Elysia demanded, making to move past Mrs. Blackmore, when she put out her hand and grasped Elysia's wrist. Her grip was unusually strong for such a small woman, Elysia noticed, as she gave Mrs. Blackmore's hand an impatient tug. "Please, Mrs. Blackmore. Allow me to pass."

"No. We did not move Lord Trevegne to the Hall." She released Elysia's wrist and walked over to a silk panel set into the wall. Fingering a small carved rose, she turned it. The panel slid open revealing a thick, heavy-looking iron door. Elysia watched in amazement as Mrs. Blackmore took a large key from her reticule and fitted it smoothly into the rusted lock which opened without a protest. Mrs. Blackmore opened the door, revealing a steep flight of stairs descending into blackness.

"Surely he is not down there!" Elysia gasped as she hurried forward toward the yawning opening. "Why has he been taken down these stairs?" She looked at Mrs. Blackmore in confusion. "I do not understand this at all. If he is hurt, then . . . " Elysia's voice trailed off as she looked back into the blackness.

"My dear, should you really go down there?"
Mrs.
Blackmore asked hesitantly looking at the darkness with a shudder of her small frame. She shook her Curly brown head regretfully. "It is not a pretty Sight," she warned Elysia, patting her hand sympathetically.

"I have to go to him–don't you understand?" Elysia cried tearfully, pushing past the little woman who seemed nervous, and unable to make a decision.