Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (21 page)

A few mornings later, Lord Monty and Adele finally departed Fairfax Manor. They thanked Dera kindly for her hospitality but decided to take up residence in London where they would have no fear of the rebels.

Dera watched as their carriage wound around the drive and disappeared from view. She puzzled over why Dominick hadn't gone with them. She rang for her morning tea and was just settling herself on the brocaded sofa in the drawing room when Dominick appeared in the doorway.

"Bonjour,
Dera," he said, walking softly into the room. He stood in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Shall I pour you some tea?" she offered.

"No tea."

"Something stronger then?"

"No, thank you."

She sipped at her tea and wished Dominick would be seated. “Dominick, I sense you have something to say to me," she said.

"I do, but I don't know how to phrase the words without insulting you."

"Ah, this must be serious." She put her cup on the table and gestured to a spot next to her on the sofa. He sat, a timid smile on his lips. "Have I offended you in some way?" she asked.

“
Never, Dera. You are the most wonderful, most kind and beautiful woman in all the world.”

“
Such compliments will turn my head.”

“
I speak only the truth." He cleared his throat. "Please don't be insulted by what I have to say, but I must say it or go mad. Hear me out before you pass judgment." She made no reply, and her silence gave him the courage to continue. "My cousins have left for London, and though they graciously invited me to accompany them, I refused. Under other circumstances, I would have accepted or told them it was time for me to return home. But I find I cannot do that in good conscience. You are the reason why it is impossible for me to leave here. No, don't say a word," he said when she made a motion to interrupt. "Let me finish.” He took a deep breath.

“
In the past weeks, I have fallen in love with you. I know it is wrong for you to think of me in a romantic way, so soon after Avery's death, but I am willing to wait. You're a wealthy and independent woman now, but still you are upset about something and I can help you. To speak plainly, Dera, you're a woman alone in a huge house with no man to protect you. There are men on the estate, but can you trust them to shield you from harm if the need arose? I know

that the man suspected of killing your husband is still roaming the countryside. So please allow me to remain here with you. I shall be your knight and my love your shield." He kissed the palm of her hand and pressed it to his chest.

Dera didn't know what to do. Dominick's love was plain to see and she was fond of him, but to have him residing at the manor as a permanent guest had never entered her mind. She was touched by his concern, yet she knew she must refuse his offer. He had a life elsewhere.

"How dear you are," she said. "I do thank you for offering, but many times you've told me how you miss your sister and your home. I think you might be needed more in New Orleans than here."

He appeared crestfallen but cast a determined eye upon her.

"Dera, I feel it is my duty to look after you. You need me. Besides, I can help you run the estate. In that way I can earn my keep here. There is no possible way I can leave, otherwise, your welfare will be on my mind forever, and I shall always feel I deserted you. And I promise not to force my attentions upon you or damage your reputation. You mean too much to me. I insist I be allowed to remain."

She looked down at her dress rather than face the open adulation and love in his eyes. She knew she could never reciprocate his feelings when she still loved another man. A part of her expected to see Quint at any moment in some dark corner of the house, and though she longed for his love again, another part of her couldn’t imagine him coming to her when he detested her.

Then there was the problem with Jem. If Dominick was gone, as he had been the night Jem first came to her, she knew she would be forced to kill him or herself. With Dominick near, Jem wouldn't be foolish enough to risk attacking her.

Oh, to be free of such doubts and fears! She hated thinking of Dominick leaving. She had grown used to his kindness and gentle support. Perhaps she needed Dominick more than she cared to admit.

"Dera?"

She looked up, not certain she was doing the right thing. "Yes, stay with me, Dominick. I do need your help."

Quint sat upon a hill, overlooking the meadow. The golden green grass waved ever so slightly in the gentle breeze. Sometimes, if he looked hard enough, he could distinguish twenty different shades of green. But he didn't have the time for such games now.

He knew he shouldn't have returned. The burnings were an act of defiance against the English and a defiance against she who reigned over Fairfax Manor as its mistress.

After escaping Kilmainham Gaol, he could have fled the country. The secret band who organized his escape had begged him to join them and fight for the cause in other sections of Ireland, but he refused. His heart had known where to go, and he had returned to see her the morning of Fairfax's funeral. He knew she had seen him and he could easily have swooped down from the mountains and carried her off. In spite of her treachery, he wanted her, But she had turned and spoken to the foreigner who stayed in her house, their bodies touching. He rode away, filled with renewed hurt and dark despair. Clearly, she had conquered a new heart.

So now he sat there, conscious that time grew short. The king's soldiers were closing in on him. But he needed one last look at his land to sustain him for the rest of his life. His boyhood had been spent working in the fields and rounding up the cattle after they grazed in the meadow. From his vantage point, he saw the cottage he had shared with his mother. A tear rolled unbidden down his cheek as he remembered how gentle she had been, and how she pretended their hovel was the manor. She had cleaned and scrubbed the filthy sty until she had grown old and sick. It was such a tragic waste of a bright and elegant woman.

His gaze lingered on the hay stacks below him, glowing like golden apples in the sunlight, and he thought about Dera. He imagined he saw her with her hair blowing wild and dark about her face, a shawl tucked neatly over her high, full breasts. He saw himself kiss her and lower her to the grass as she loved him in return.

“
Dera, I love you,” he whispered aloud, but as he spoke the picture disappeared. He waited a few moments, hoping to evoke the image again, but he couldn't. Time was running out. Jem waited for him across the mountains. He had no idea where they were headed and he didn't care. Nothing mattered beyond this meadow and the treacherous woman he loved.

He stood and mounted his horse, refusing to look again in the direction of the manor. His life here was ended. He wanted no more pain and vowed not to yearn for her again. He had to put the woman in the manor house behind him, but in his heart he knew he would always carry the image of his love's eager, beautiful face as she waited for him in the meadow.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

“
The year can’t be over soon enough for me," Dera complained to Anna. "I can't wait to get out of these ugly, black widow's weeds."

The two women walked down the quiet street of the village. It was early yet and few people were out which suited her. She rarely came to the village, fearing the frank gazes of the curious. Today, however, she was restless and bored and decided to visit the dressmaker herself. It would make a nice change, but she realized that information about her purchases and every word she uttered would be dutifully passed along to the rest of the villagers.

"Tsk, tsk, my girl, you've barely been a widow for one full month," Anna reminded. "You're lucky to have Mister Dominick for company. I know for a fact he hates to see you unhappy. Anyway what are we doing in the village today? You could have sent someone to fetch the material for your weeds instead of making this trip so soon after Lord Fairfax's death. What will people think?"

"I can't get information from anyone on the estate about Quint. No one claims to have seen him, and there haven't been any burnings either. Everyone has become as silent as mice. I have to know something or go mad."

"What do you expect to learn from Mrs. Dugan? She's only a dressmaker. "

"She'll tell me something. She has big ears. Besides, the material is very expensive and she doesn't want to lose my trade. What could be more natural than Avery's widow inquiring about the rebel who murdered him?"

Anna stopped and halted Dera with a hand on her arm. "Do you think Mr. Quint killed him?"

Dera bit her lip in indecision. "I can't answer that. I really don't know."

As they walked down the cobble-stoned street, they heard loud, raucous noises emanating from inside the tavern.

"My God, these Irish start drinking early in the day," Anna said with disdain. "You'd think they would be more God fearing."

Dera laughed. "Most of them fear the Lord whether they're sober or not, but especially when they've tilted the keg one too many times."

“
Disgraceful, just horrible.”

The tavern door flew open. A thin, balding fellow landed on his backside, a pint of ale held high in his hand to prevent the precious brew from spilling onto the street.

"Don't you be coming back here, you scrawny bag of bones!" the tavern keeper hollered at him. "Next time you cause trouble, I'll call the constable." The door slammed shut.

"Bloody bastard!" the balding man yelled. "I wouldn't come back if you begged me. Your liquor's rotten." The man raised himself to his knees, then unsteadily made it to his feet and swayed like a sapling in a windstorm.

"Come on," Anna urged. "Let's be moving along."

Dera obeyed, trying to ignore the man, who was barely two yards from her. He turned, tottering, his beady eyes fixed on her. Then he smiled a toothless smile. "My lady," he said bowing from the waist.

"Ignore him, my lady. Rubbish," Anna snorted.

Anna led the way and Dera made an attempt to move around the man who blocked her passage. "Uppity bitch!" he said to Dera, who refused to look at him. "Parading down the street like you're a queen, but even queens come across in their royal beds." He took a swig of his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Can't bid me the time of day, but I bet you and that Frenchie do more than play quoits by yourselves."

"What did you say?" Dera asked and looked directly at him.

He leered. "Me and the boys," he pointed to the tavern, "were betting you're too hot a piece for Frenchie. We think you be needing a real man to please you." He reached out and touched the neckline of her gown. "And it would be my pleasure to oblige the mourning widow."

Dera raised her head to slap his ugly, toothless face, but Anna caught her wrist and dragged her along, leaving the man laughing drunkenly.

"Anna, how dare you! Didn't you hear what that horrible man said about me?"

"Yes, I heard, but you can't raise your hand to these people. You don't want every person in the village to see you as a fool. How do you think it would look for his lordship's widow to strike a drunken lunatic? Believe me, that would be adding more wood to the fire."

Dera calmed down enough to see the wisdom of Anna's advice, but she was bothered by what the man had said. "Is my reputation in danger because Dominick is staying at the manor? You knew of this talk, didn't you?"

"I knew. Don't pay any mind to their vicious tongues."

"I'm not worried about me. Poor Dominick. Scandalous talk will upset him.”

"If I were you, I’d worry a sight more over yourself than him.”

They walked the last steps to the dressmaker’s shop. When they entered, Mrs. Dugan hurried from behind the counter. “Your ladyship, ‘tis an honor.” She curtsied.

"We've come for some black cloth, the most expensive you have," Dera told her.

"Of course. A tragedy for one so young," Mrs. Dugan said with just the right amount of sympathy in her voice. "I've just the piece for you.” Mrs. Dugan unrolled a bolt of black silk, embossed with small, dark lilies of the valley. "‘Tis the best we have, Lady Fairfax. Came all the way from London, it did."

Dera fingered the material. "Very nice. Six yards will do. And black tulle, Mrs. Dugan. I must have some."