Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (23 page)

"Of course," Cecelia said, but she sounded unconvinced. She let the matter drop when a servant arrived with the tea.

Dera sipped her tea, warily watching Cecelia. She sensed the woman, so cool and elegantly dressed in her black attire, disliked her as much as Dera distrusted her. Cecelia finished nibbling a biscuit and placed a thin, white hand on Dera's arm. "I've worried about you, my dear. Ever since Avery died, I've wondered how you have been coping with so much responsibility. You're terribly young and inexperienced to take on such a huge burden as this estate."

“
I told you everything is running smoothly."

“
How brave you are, but I can well imagine the strain you've endured these last few weeks. The loss of a husband quickly followed by the death of a family member. Well, I wouldn't be surprised if such pressure undid you. So, I've come up with a solution to your dilemma." Cecelia's voice dripped with honey, but her concern seemed forced to Dera.

"And what solution is that?" Dera asked.

Cecelia smiled, exhibiting even, white teeth. "Arrangements have already been made with my solicitors and with the consent of high government officials. I now have complete control of Avery's assets and property. However, you will receive a large sum of money, enough to last for years ... if you don't live above your means, that is." Cecelia sat back, satisfied with herself. She had waited a long time to inherit Avery's home and she wasn't going to allow a common girl to deprive her of it. "Have you something to say?" she asked when Dera didn't reply immediately.

Dera hadn't expected this and was unprepared for the injustice of it. "I'll fight you on this,” Dera said.

Cecelia shrugged. “Yes, I admit you can, but you’ll lose in the end."

“
I’m having a child. My baby bears the Fairfax name.”

"Posh, dear girl. I already know of the child. Call it by
any name you choose, but not one ounce of Fairfax blood flows through its veins. Your baby is a bastard.”

"No one can prove the child isn't Avery's.”

Cecelia formed her fingers into a tent and contemplated Dera. “I can tell a court of law that Elvina confided in me of Avery’s impotence. If that doesn’t satisfy, and I truly wish to be despicable, I can bring forth a dozen men living on the estate and each will testify he has had relations with you.”

“
How cruel and untrue!” Dera voiced her horror. “What a monster you are.”

Cecelia laughed lightly. “Certainly, I’m Avery’s sister. If you wish to fight, that is your choice. Otherwise, I would advise you to accept the money and let your good sense prevail. Which is it to be?”

She had ensnared Dera in a trap. Dera couldn’t fight Cecelia without besmirching her child and ruining its future. She couldn’t bear for her child to live life as a bastard and be subjected to the humiliation she’d known her entire life. She hated losing Fairfax Manor in such a devious way. Every part of her ached to fight Cecelia, but she was shrewd enough to recognize defeat.

“
I bow to your terms, but I ask two things.”

Cecelia looked at Dera suspiciously.

"Allow Uncle Timothy to continue as overseer," Dera said.

"Fine. He is a capable man. Now what is the second request?"

"Please deposit the money you plan to give me with a London solicitor. When my baby is born, I shall transfer the funds to my child."

"How sensible of you. No wonder my silly brother was so taken with you." Cecelia stood, her business completed. "Please leave the premises by week's end. I shall rest now. Good day, my dear."

Thoughts swirled in Dera's head. How weak she felt and how foolish she had been to believe she could protect Fairfax Manor for her baby. She was no fortress against greedy, grasping hands. With a start, she realized that Quint may have been right to fight even if he had no chance of winning. She had given in to Cecelia like a docile lamb.

She mounted the staircase and knocked on Dominick's door. Immediately he sensed Dera's mood, and as she told him what had transpired with Cecelia, tears trickled down her face. "Where will you go?" he asked, moved by her plight.

"I shall return to Uncle Timothy for now. He needs someone to look after him," She sat next to Dominick on the bed.

He tilted her face and looked into her eyes. "Come home with me."

"You still want me?"

"Yes, more than ever," he whispered. “I love you.”

She realized her reasons for staying in Ireland were gone. There wasn't anything to hinder her marriage to Dominick now. Although she didn't love him in the way he deserved to be loved, he was a good, kind man. She found herself thinking that love and passion weren't everything. She touched his thin lips with her own. "I promise I will be a good wife," she said.

He held her close and covered her face with tender kisses. Then he pushed her back onto the bed and explored her body through the material of her gown. Dera responded to his touch and yielded herself to him as he made sweet, gentle love to her.

Afterward, he slept, but Dera was wide awake. She wanted to love him so much and hoped in time she would. She felt a surge of tenderness for him and kissed the tip of his nose. “I’ll try,” she whispered.

Dera stood beside Timothy in the meadow and watched the larks circling the bright blue sky. All of her possessions were packed and waited with Dominick and Anna in the carriage. She had departed Fairfax Manor with dry eyes and didn't look back. Strangely, saying goodbye to her uncle was hardest of all.

Timothy stood near her, his clothes hung on his thin frame. Dera suspected he hadn't been eating properly, but she didn't scold him.

"A fine man you're marrying," he said, chewing on his pipe stem. "I wish you happiness."

"Thank you," she said. It felt odd to be bidding him farewell. "And you? Will you be fine?"

"Don’t worry about Timothy Brennan. I've been caring for myself since long before your birth." He turned his attention from the sky and looked at her. "Do you love him, lass?"

Dera sighed. "I hope to make him a good wife. Perhaps one day, love will come,"

"That saddens me for I wish for your happiness. You've been like a daughter to me." He kissed her brow,

She trembled with emotion because Timothy had never shown any physical affection to her before. She hugged him quickly. "Goodbye," she whispered.

Before they drove away, she took one last look at Timothy standing forlornly in the green, fertile meadow. She lifted her hand and he waved back.

Dera. watched until he and the meadow disappeared from view.

Part Two

New Orleans 1769

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

The eyes shimmered before her, more sensual than a warm Louisiana night. The face was hidden in a shadowy mist, but she knew it was handsome and strong, just as she knew every chiseled feature her fingers had traced three years earlier. As she reached for him, the eyes faded into the mist.

A second later Dera's own eyes flickered open in the gray morning light, and like other mornings before this, she discovered herself in an upright position with her arms outstretched to the phantom lover of her dreams.

"Dear God," she whispered and lowered her arms. She pushed a long, dark lock of hair from her shoulder before stealing a glance at her husband to make sure he still slept soundly. Dominick hadn't stirred; she leaned against the back of the bed, disturbed by the unusual feelings coursing through her body.

Would she ever be free of Quint Flannery? Since arriving in Louisiana with Dominick she had put him behind her and believed she could make a life for herself and her son. Dominick, who was a kind and loving person, had accepted the child as his own. She thought she loved Dominick, at least as much as she could love any man, and she thought that was quite enough until the strange dreams began.

She got up and opened the French doors which led onto the small garden she had planted. French damask roses, pink like the ball gown she had worn at Fairfax Manor, laced the garden with their perfumed blooms. She remembered that she had worn that dress the night Quint barged into her room and made love to her.
I must stop this
, she thought, but even as she wanted to cast aside the memories and dispell the haunting dreams, she couldn't. For some inexplicable reason she felt Quint was near her, taunting her.

Wrapping her blue silk robe around her body, she breathed in the fragrant October air. The evening before, she and Dominick had returned from the small house he owned upriver, a place where they had been sequestered for the last month. Doctor Perrier had insisted that Dominick take a much needed rest, and Dera had agreed after realizing how worn and tired he appeared. Since arriving home, he assured her that the country air had revitalized him, but still Dera worried. Sometimes he was out of breath and puffed so hard that she worried he’d suffer an imminent attack before her eyes.

She determined to make things easier for him, must lend a hand more in the shop, though Dominick insisted that he could handle things very nicely. He didn't want his wife devoting herself to anything but himself and their son, Paul.

She smiled whenever she thought about her son. He resembled Quint so much that Dera's heart sometimes skipped a beat when he looked at her with his pitch black eyes. His hair was blond, though a shade lighter than Quint's, and whenever he stood straight and proud, she saw a hint of rebellion there and couldn't help loving him all the more.

A slight movement on the bed alerted her that Dominick was watching her.

"I didn't know you were awake," she said.

“
You were so deep in thought,
cherie,
that I hated to disturb you. What is the matter with you lately? You've circles under your eyes and you thrash about at night."

She made herself comfortable beside him and kissed him on the cheek. "I just have trouble falling asleep."

He pulled her towards him, his arms driving Quint from her mind. "I think you're worried about me."

She nestled her head on his shoulder, saying, "If I don't look after you, you won't take care of yourself. You know Doctor Perrier warned you to rest and give up the shop for a while."

"I feel fine. All of this fuss over me is crazy. The only time I was ever sick was when I was a child with the fever, but I recovered and am strong
.
In fact, I shall show you just how strong I am." He kissed her deeply and she was instantly aware of his intentions.

"Do you think we should?" she asked in concern.

"You're all a man needs to restore his health."

He smiled and pushed her deeper into the mattress. She stretched languorously upon the cool sheets as Dominick explored her neck with his tongue, then bared her shoulders to seek the warm, soft flesh peeping above the thin lace of her bodice.

"Have you any idea how lovely you are?" he asked.

She gently drew him closer and touched his lips. "I know only that I'm a lucky woman to have your love,"

He held her so close to him that she felt smothered, then he relaxed his embrace and looked at her with a sudden sadness. "Do you love me truly, Dera?" he asked.

Her heart lurched because she would never be able to love him the way he deserved, yet she did love him. “Yes, I love you,” she breathed into his ear.

His senses reeled, his heart pounded. Too quickly he made love to her in an attempt to forget the hurt in his soul; to forget that she had once loved a nameless Irishman. When it was over he lay beside her, a slight tightness in his chest, ashamed that he hadn't increased her pleasure and very much aware that she was miles away. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Perhaps we shouldn't have made love. You need to rest." She hoped he didn't see the relief on her face now that it was over.

"Your body is ripe for love and I can't please you." He stroked her chin. "Am I not right?"

He was correct, and they both knew that her contentment with him stemmed not from passionate love but from security. In the beginning of their marriage he was a little clumsy and hurried. Now, he just hurried. There was no excitement for her in his lovemaking, only a profound wish for it to be over quickly. How many times had she pretended pleasure so his feelings wouldn't be hurt? Too many times to count.