Devil's Desire (34 page)

"Certainly, Your Lordship, I am at your service."

He pressed Louisa's hand. "I shall be back shortly, so do not disappear," he warned, and spotting a book on a small pier-table, picked it up and smiled, as he noticed its title before placing it in Louisa's hands. "This will keep you entertained, my love."

Louisa blushed as she stared down at the small volume of Shakespeare's love sonnets.

Ian followed the stiff-backed Marquis into his study and glanced at him in bewilderment as the Marquis closed the door with ill-contained anger, and turned to glare at him with what seemed to be enmity. And why should Lord Trevegne be glowering at him? Ian thought in dismay as he stood uncomfortably for a moment, feeling unnerved before that golden-eyed gaze. He never felt this tingling feeling of approaching doom when facing a dozen cannon!

Ian coughed, breaking the silence. "You wished for a few words with me?"

"More than a few words, Sir," Lord Trevegne retorted sarcastically, "after that charming scene I had the misfortune to witness."

"I beg your pardon—but what is that supposed to mean?" Ian demanded, not at all certain he cared for His Lordship's tone of voice.

"I mean that sickening display of devotion on your part, while Elysia lies bruised and beaten, above your very head. I ought to throttle you within an inch of your life," he threatened ominously.

Ian blanched. Good Lord! What the devil was the fellow enraged about?

"I say, Elysia will be all right—a trifle bruised yes, but she's a spirited lass, and I've seen her in worse scrapes." Ian smiled what he thought was a comforting smile. Obviously, His Lordship was upset over Elysia's condition. "I'll admit she's been through a devil of a time, shocked me, it did, to see her in that cave. But you can rest assured, Lord Trevegne, for your housekeeper, a Mrs. uh . . . ah yes, a Mrs. Dany, said she would be fine, what with a little rest."

"Oh, does she now?" Alex asked quietly. "And I suppose you have been up to see my wife?"

"Of course!” Ian looked at the Marquis oddly. "Naturally, it's my right. What kind of a person do you think I am?"

"I’ll tell you what I, think you are, you bloody bastard," Alex growled, his control snapping in a wave of outraged fury. He pounced on the startled young man, carrying him backwards against the wall where he held him pinned helplessly, oblivious to the other's bandaged shoulder.

"I could kill you! No one has ever dared to do what you have dared. What is mine. I keep. Remember that—Elysia is mine, and always will be. No suckling pup with ideas above his station is going to take her from me! You can clear out. and don't you set foot on this piece of coast as long as you live." 'Alex paused, his breathing ragged, "or your life will be shortened considerably.”

Giving Ian a shake like a dog with a bone, he released him suddenly, throwing him aside, where Ian stumbled to fall against a large, leather chair. Catching himself, Ian rose to his feet, the blood rushing into his face as his fists clenched into tight balls of bone and muscle.

"I admit that I was shocked when I discovered Elysia had wed
you,"
he spoke with disdain, "and I was, to be frank, dismayed for I have knowledge of your reputation, Your Lordship. And," he paused straighten-ing his shoulders with what dignity he could muster, "you have only confirmed my worst fears regarding this marriage. I know that as a gentleman, I have no other recourse but to remove Elysia from your influence. Divorce is to be looked upon with disfavor, of course, and only as a last resort—but I shall see that you have no more to say or do about her welfare."

"Why you impudent milk-sop. You would dare to cross me!” Alex bellowed, feeling madder than he had ever felt before in the whole of his life. He was beyond all reason. "You would like to have that divorce—a last resort indeed, you lying cheat!” he sneered. Ian's eyes blazed at this final insult. He would take no more from this half-crazed Marquis. He drew his glove to challenge this scurrilous attack of his character, but His Lordship was continuing, not content with his previous insults. It was as if he were purposely goading him into a challenge.

"I will never divorce her. She's mine—a Trevegne—and will remain a Trevegne until she dies. You will never marry her, you snivelling cur!”

Ian stopped, his hand holding the glove in midair. Marry? What the devil? He stared at Lord Trevegne in astonishment. "Marry?" he repeated aloud. Surely he could not have heard correctly, he thought in bewilderment, '"

"Yes, marry," Alex enunciated carefully between gritted teeth. "Or had you hoped only for a brief affair? That would be more in your style."

"Marry, . . but why in God's name should I want to marry my own sister?" Ian's hand dropped to his side as he continued to stare at the Marquis, who was also now staring, as if he had not heard correctly.

"Elysia is your sister?" he said unbelievingly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course," Ian answered amazed. Then a look of wonder dawned on his features, and he gave a hoot of laughter. "You mean you didn't know?"

"No, by God, I did not! It would seem there is very little I do know about my wife, or my home, or anything else in this damned affair. Master of my castle—indeed!” Alex's eyes blazed. "It would seem I am master of nothing!”

Ian's amusement fled before the burning anger on the Marquis' face. This was no man to trifled with especially in his present mood.

"But of course!” Ian suddenly exclaimed as he remembered the promise he had exacted from Elysia. "Elysia couldn't tell you—she was sworn to secrecy by me. You must understand that my safety was at stake, if my true identity had been revealed, then all would have been lost. It was not her fault, for I was determined to have my way . . . so she gave her oath on it—and that is one thing Elysia will not break. I am Ian Demarice, Your Lordship, Elysia's brother."

Ian stood waiting while Lord Trevegne assimilated this new development in their relationship, Ian watched the harsh features, granite-like and unyielding; a proud and arrogant man, not used to being in the wrong, Ian speculated wisely.

Alex stretched out his hand. "If you will accept my deepest apologies, and my humbly offered friendship, after all that I have said—insulting you unforgiveably—then I would be honored, Lieutenant Demarice," Alex said simply, but sincerely.

Ian clasped the older man's hand, gratefully. He never could abide ill-will existing between himself and others, nor did he intend to be on the outs with his brother-in-law. He had a suspicion of how much it cost this arrogant Marquis to humble himself so. He was also well aware of Lord Trevegne's rather indecent reputation, and had indeed been shocked to find his sister married to the man–a man called a demon, debauchee and devil, among the kinder descriptions he'd heard. But he would reserve judgment until later—after all, the Marquis had been ignorant of all the facts. For now he would accept, without question, this man's friendship. He did not care to have him as an enemy. And what better way to keep an eye on Elysia than to be a member of the family, and welcomed in her husband's home.

"All is forgotten, Lord Trevegne," Ian said in a friendly tone. "After all, you were acting under a misconception."

Alex smiled his crooked smile for the first time. "I should have guessed you were Elysia's brother, you are very much alike in character."

"Well." Ian looked doubtful, not Sure whether that was to be taken as a compliment or not. "We've both been accused of stubbornness and willfulness, I suppose."

"I can attest to both of those. But I have kept you too long from Louisa. She will be growing impatient if I'm not mistaken." He watched in amusement as Ian's face flushed pinkly. "You will both, of course, consider yourselves my guests–my home is yours." It was more of a command than a request, Ian noted sardonically, as he gladly accepted on behalf of Louisa and himself.

"Thank you, Lord Trevegne, I—"

"Alex," he invited with a genuine Smile that seemed to change his austere features, warming them like the sun shining on newly-fallen snow. “We can't have formality between brothers-in-law."

"Alex, then," Ian grinned engagingly. "I shall have to report back to my ship, but I shall rest easy knowing Louisa's being cared for while I'm away."

"She is welcome here for as long as she desires. Now, do not keep her waiting any longer," he advised, seeing Ian's longing glance toward the door.

Alex poured himself a large snifter of brandy, downing a good bit of it before replenishing it again. He stared at the closed door, letting his mind roam where it would–uncontrolled by him. He sat down in one of the large red leather chairs, a thin cheroot held indolently between his lean fingers and the snifter of brandy in the other. He leaned back, narrowing his eyes in thought, the heavy lids almost covering the glowing gold of his eyes, as a strange smile curved his lips.

See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!

 
Descending Gods have found Elysium here.

Alexander Pope

Chapter 1
7

T
he Blackmores were given a Christian burial, the Vicar trying his best to deliver a eulogy that would be accepted by all. He could not speak of them as praiseworthy—extolling their virtues would indeed be blasphemous, and subject him to bitter criticism by the villagers; and yet how could he stand before God and condemn them, branding them as the sinners that they were-and beyond God's forgiveness, as the local population would deem fitting?

In the end, the. Vicar gave a stirring sermon upon the sin of greed and vice, and the ultimate down-fall–illustrated nicely by the dead being laid to rest that day–of those who would follow that un-Christian path. He asked God's forgiveness of those poor souls who had strayed so far from righteousness, and asked the congregation to heed the lesson before them of those whose weaknesses had led them astray.

Elysia, Lord Trevegne, and Peter had accompanied Louisa to the burial, Elysia acutely conscious of the fact that it might very easily have been her they were eulogizing that morning.

Ian had returned to London two days previously, and was expected back within the week. Elysia rather expected he would bring a ring back with him when he returned; also, she suspected he might resign his commission when this war with Napoleon was over—if it ever would end. There was work to do at Blackmore Hall. It could be a profitable estate, if run honestly, and it would benefit the farmers to regain their land, and to have the mines opened again. Yes, there would be plenty to occupy Ian's time when he returned.

The late Squire's guests had swiftly returned to London, not staying for the services, their excuses of urgent business clearly understood. Lady Woodley had left also—a piece of information from Louisa that had interested her extremely; for Alex was still here, and apparently not making plans to leave as yet.
 

The laying to rest of the Blackmores had been that morning, under clear blue skies with puffy white clouds indolently drifting by overhead, casting their shadows on the countryside below. Now darkness had fallen, and a yellow moon was rising high in the black sky; vying for dominance against the billions of twinkling stars. They looked like brilliant jewels just out of reach, but near enough to tantalize; Elysia thought dreamily. She turned back from the window where she had been staring out into the night, at the sound of two footmen entering the room, and setting up a small table before the fireplace. She watched appreciatively, as they set out the sparkling china and crystal. A small, fluted, bud vase was placed in the center of the now lace-covered table; its faceted curves imprisoning the flames from the fire, as a single red rose was just beginning to open its fragrant petals to the warmth of the flames.

Elysia's heart began to hammer uncomfortably as she noticed the service for two being set, and the silver bucket of iced champagne placed beside the table. She continued to watch in dismay as the tall, slender candles were lit.

Surely Alex was not planning to dine with her alone—in this romantically contrived setting. Elysia dropped down into a chair, her legs refusing to hold her as she slumped forward, feeling her strength ebbing away. How could she fight him any longer? She had not the strength—nor the heart. She had been fooling herself. Now that it came to a confrontation with him, she was a coward. To be mistress of his home, and bear his sons; that was only a dream to occupy her lonely nights.

In
the cold revealing light of day she knew that she would not be able to do it—not loving him the way she did. She could not bear to sit across from him in candlelight, knowing he was thinking of another woman—unable to touch him, show him her love. No! She could not endure such Hell.

"Good evening, M'Lady.' Alex came into the salon smiling his crooked half-smile that tore at her heart. He casually flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his black velvet sleeve, the white lacy cuffs of his shirt sleeves peeking out provocatively, contrasting vividly with his darkness. All he needed now was a black patch over one eye and he would make a perfect pirate. His white teeth gleamed brightly against his tanned face, as he told her with apparent indifference, "I thought you might prefer to dine upstairs this evening. It has been a rather tiring day." He looked at her critically. "You could use the rest, m'dear, You're looking a bit pale."

"I seriously doubt, M'Lord, whether purple bruises are in fashion at the moment," Elysia was stung into replying sarcastically.

"Ah," he breathed, “I
am
pleased to hear that your fall did not knock out that wonderful wit of yours. I would sorely miss it. I had begun to wonder if indeed you had misplaced it, M'Lady," he said quizzically with a hawk-like gaze upon her face.

"No indeed, M'Lord, I still possess all of my beloved attributes. They are merely inactive at the moment. I am sure you will understand and excuse me if I have had other and more important things on my mind at the moment than to entertain Your Lordship with my witticisms."

"Bravo! You are fast returning to form, m'dear," he laughed, as if thoroughly enjoying himself. His eyes wandered proprietarily over her figure, clad in a green velvet robe with a revealing décolletage.

Misunderstanding his look, Elysia explained defensively, "I have just bathed, and had not reckoned on entertaining before having completed my dressing."

"You need no further dressing on my account, M'Lady. After all, I am your husband—and have seen you in less," he said impertinently, watching her blush at his words. "Shall we dine? I do believe I've a hunger this evening."

Elysia eyed him suspiciously as he guided her solicitously to her chair, dismissing the footmen after they had placed the silver-covered platters on the table.

"Allow me to serve you, M'Lady," Alex said pleasantly, selecting a platter of poached turbot, covered with a creamy sauce, for her inspection. "May I tempt you with this juicy piece?" He forked
it
expertly onto her plate, adding a slice of ham basted with Madeira, followed by stuffed lettuce, oysters, liqueur-flavored' jellies, potatoes in Hollandaise sauce, and lobster. There were countless other platters still covered.

Elysia stared at her loaded plate without appetite. How could she take a mouthful with him sitting not two feet from her? Always before, they'd had the great length of banqueting table between them. This was much too close for comfort.

Alex seemed not in the least bit affected as Elysia watched him expertly open his oysters, forking the soft, succulent fish into his mouth hungrily. He looked up before biting into the shimmering jelly, and gave her a wondering look. "You're not hungry? Antoine has indeed surpassed himself this evening." He ran the tip of his tongue along his upper lip, dabbing at the corner of his mouth gracefully. “Are you sure you are not in the least bit hungry? Here, have a bite of this lobster." He held a forkful out to her, enticing her with its aroma before her nose. "Come now, be a good girl, and take a bite."

Elysia found herself unable to resist him in this mood of gentle raillery, and submitted, taking a bite of the lobster, then surprising herself by eating hungrily of the food on her plate, under the approving gaze of her husband.

Alex kept their wine glasses filled with the darkly-aged red wine.
It
warmed her within as the heat from the fireplace warmed her skin with a pinkening glow outside.
 
 

Elysia was feeling relaxed and pleasingly lightheaded as she reclined on the sofa, with the room taking on a rosy glow, as the fire crackled lazily in the grate. Alex handed Elysia a brimming glass of bubbling champagne despite her protestations that she'd had enough, but Alex was insistent and she gave in as before and accepted it, the bubbles tickling her nose as she sipped it.

"Now, we will talk," Alex spoke suddenly, breaking their companionable silence with a hard voice.

Elysia stiffened automatically, struggling· to gather her thoughts into some semblance of order. If only Alex hadn't plied her with so much wine. She could hardly think coherently.

"It's no use, m'dear," Elysia stared at him hazily. "I intentionally got you relaxed, and slightly drunk," he said bluntly, his eyes never leaving her flushed face.

Elysia's hands shook as she carefully placed the half-empty, golden goblet of champagne down on the table by the sofa. "Why?" she demanded thickly.

"Because, my dear wife, in a slightly besotted state, that sharp mind of yours is not working as quickly as it is accustomed to doing. You will not be able to parry my questions so easily, nor confuse the issue by putting me on the defensive, as you are so capable of doing.”

There was a grimness in his determination as he settled himself more comfortably, as if in preparation for a long evening.

She would have gotten up and walked out on him, but she seriously doubted whether she could get to the door—or for that matter, even as far as her feet.

"I owe you an apology," Alex began abruptly . "I should have realized that you, of all people, would not be involved in any kind of intrigue or dalliance. However, I do not think that I can be wholly to blame for the mistake I made since you were unable to enlighten me otherwise. But that is past, and done with. I can only say that I am sorry for doubting you . .
.
”
he paused and continued with difficulty, "and I regret deeply what I did to your doll. Dany has told me how much it meant to you. That is something that I cannot replace.

"But I can change what has happened between us—we can start anew. I can build something decent, for once in my life, and I want to build it with you, Elysia—you by my side as my wife—and lover."

The fuzziness was rapidly lifting from Elysia's sodden brain. She stared at Alex in disbelief before crying out in a husky voice full of hurt and outrage.

"Is this another of your tormenting games that we are to play? For if it is, then you are no gentleman. Indeed, once before you told me that you were not, but I did not take warning of that as I should have. You do not play by any rules, do you, Alex? You do not care how low you sink to hurt and degrade someone." Elysia felt hot tears on her face as she managed to get to her feet.

Alex's face had paled, and his lips were tightened in a grim line, as he listened to Elysia's rejection of his apology and declaration in disbelief.

"You stand there, after wining and dining me so attentively, brazenly lying to me with your false declarations of husbandly devotion, while your mistress awaits you eagerly in London. How many nights of this new life are we to share before you desert me and run to her?

"'She will not come where she knows she is not welcome,’ you said, or have you forgotten uttering those words to your lady love in the library?" Elysia demanded angrily, her humiliation coming back to her as she remembered painfully those endless moments.

"Oh, God!” Alex laughed harshly, the sound grating on Elysia's ears. "That those words should come back to haunt me. A fine performance, nevertheless, wouldn't you agree my dear?" he said, as if he hated himself, his lip curled in self-loathing.

"What do you mean by performance?" Elysia watched him nervously.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I am not the complete knave that you would believe me to be. Maybe a damned fool, yes, but not quite that despicable. I have done many things in my life of which I am not proud, but I have never lied to anyone. Do you not know that I have always known that you hide yourself away up in the loft, a place where no one can bother you—or torment you."

Elysia looked startled. He knew of her retreat? But how?

"I am aware of a few things that go on around here—not many it would seem, but I have eyes and ears and do see a few things, like you going into the library with a book—and disappearing. It's an apparently empty room until I hear the crackling of a page being turned"

He grimaced. "I would not blame you if you did not believe me, but I knew that you were up in the loft that day. I spoke what I did to Mariana because I knew you would be my audience. I wanted to hurt you, as you'd hurt me—or so I'd thought. Blast my damnable temper, but I'd been mad with jealousy of you—thinking Ian your lover, believing you to be like so many other women, I have known, not worthy of trust and love. At first I'd thought you different."

"Y-you knew that I was up there in the loft . . . a-and that I would hear you making love to Lady Woodley?" Elysia asked faintly, scarcely understanding what he was saying to her.

"Yes I did. It was the act of a cruel and selfish man who struck out blindly in his rage—not caring who he injured."

"So you do not really intend to meet Lady Woodley in London? You do not really love her?" Elysia asked hesitantly, almost afraid to voice her thoughts for fear that it was all a hallucination; a cruel trick her mind was playing on her-to hear what she had not dreamed possible from Alex.

"No, I do not love her." His smile was bittersweet. "How could I ever love anyone else after having loved you, held you in my arms and felt your sweet kisses against my mouth?" he jerked out hoarsely. "But I believed that you hated me, were in love with another man. I have nearly wronged you once more by accosting your brother Ian—and a more surprised young man I have yet to meet, when I demanded what his intentions were toward you. I thought I had lost you—so once again I acted the madman." A light entered his eyes making them glow like two burning flames. "I had wondered why the devil you were in that cave with Mrs. Blackmore," he said softly, eyeing her in speculation. "It would seem that Peter is to be your confidante—but you should know before you confide in him any further, that Peter cannot keep a secret, It is physically impossible for him; he explodes unless he can tell someone."