Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (29 page)

Quint adjusted the saber on his belt. "Well, I best be going. Convey my regards to your husband and his sister. And good day to you, lad."

How formal they were, how civil. No one would ever have guessed what love they had once felt or what emotions they suppressed.

Trembling, Dera could barely walk the dis tance back home. She had always wondered what would happen if

Quint met his son, and now that he had, she realized he didn't notice the resemblance. Instead of relief she felt some regret. Couldn't he tell Paul was the seed of their love?

The distance to the barracks wasn't great, but with each step, Quint felt like his feet were made of granite. By sheer strength of will he prevented himself from turning back.

He whistled softly through his teeth. At first, the resemblance had startled him, but from the second he saw the child, he knew Paul was of his flesh. Why hadn't Dera told him about the child? Surely, when she visited him in Kilmainham Gaol, she knew she carried his baby. But the answer came easily.

Her hatred ran deep, deeper than the love she had once felt for him. Life had dealt him a vicious blow, much worse than the loss of his ancestral home; much worse than Dera's treachery. He would never be able to claim Paul as his own, never be a father to him… and all because of Dera's treacherous heart.

He had never found a reason to believe in God, always doubting the existence of a supreme being who allowed such terrible suffering. Now, however, tears stung his eyes and he prayed for a way to make the pain disappear from his soul.

Dera rested upon the bed, so emotionally drained by the episode with Quint that she refused supper. It was twilight when Dominick entered their room and lit the long tapering candles on the bedside table.

She turned toward him, the soft glow of the candle light illuminating her face. “I thought you were asleep,” he said and kissed her deeply.

"Only resting," she said, becoming uneasy by his sudden show of ardor.

"Good, I'm glad you're not," he whispered and cradled her breasts. She knew that he hoped to elicit a passionate response from her, but she lay still under his touch, unmoved and uncaring.

“
Is anything wrong?" he asked, slightly perturbed.

How could she tell him her mind was on another man; that her husband’s touch didn’t stir her? "I've very tired tonight, Dominick."

"I don't think you love me," he told her with a hurt tone in his voice.

"You know I love you. How often must I tell you?"

“
Probably until I believe it. I'm not talking about caring or fondness for me. I want your passion, Dera, not your concern." He regarded her with perplexity and worry. Something bothered her, and in the recesses of his mind, Dominick decided a change had occurred during the last few weeks—since the arrival of the troops. Had these Irish stirred up her feelings for the rebel who impregnated her? Suddenly, his calm demeanor faded. Angrily he shook her. "Are you in love with me, Dera, or do you still pine for that nameless Irish rebel who left you pregnant? Tell me the truth!”

Something in her snapped. Dominick became Avery wanting the truth, wanting her to be honest with him but not believing her. Why must he keep asking her? His rough handling forced her to lash out at him, to hurt him all the more.

"Yes, I love him. I'll always love him!"

He recoiled from her as if she had leprosy. His dream of her ever loving him shattered and she saw it in his eyes. She was immediately sorry for hurting him; she threw her arms about his shoulders. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I didn't mean it." She lied to him, hoping he would again look at her with love, but he disentangled himself from her arms and pushed her away.

“
You aren't sorry for meaning it, Dera. You're only sorry for saying it.” He got up and took a valise from the wardrobe and withdrew clean clothes and tossed them into its depth and silently closed it.

“
Where are you going?" she asked.

"It doesn't really matter.”

It was only after she heard the tinkle of the bell above the shop door that she knew Dominick had really gone. She wanted to run after him, to beg him to stay, but she couldn't. He knew the truth and was too proud to stay under the circumstances.

As the gentle glow of evening gave way to the soft darkness of the night, she parted the curtains and watched Dominick walk down the street.

“
Why did you make me tell you?" she whispered.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

Rosette woke early the next morning and left the house before anyone was up. She thought it strange that Dominick, who was usually an early riser, wasn’t in the parlor drinking his morning cafe au lait. Yet she was grateful that he wasn’t up, because she wouldn’t have welcomed his probing questions or disapproving stare.

She quickly walked the distance to the barracks. The early morning sun wasn't strong, and she was glad an autumn chill permeated the air since it gave her the opportunity to wear her new gold cape. She grinned to herself as she thought of what lay beneath the material.

Many of the soldiers were at breakfast, so no one waited in the anteroom when she knocked on the office door. Quint opened it, surprised to see a smiling Rosette loaded down with a basket of fruit.

"Mademoiselle, is anything wrong? Are your sister in law, your nephew, all right?"

She grew a bit annoyed, the smile momentarily disappearing, because he had asked about Dera. "Nothing is wrong, " she said, hiding her feelings.

"'Tis an honor to see you again, but what are you doing here so early in the day?"

She handed him the basket, loaded with ripe red apples and dark luscious plums. "This is to thank you for helping my brother."

"I did only what I thought was right," Quint
said and smiled his thanks. He placed the basket on the desk .

"I hope you don't always do what is right colonel," she said, smiling seductively.

She unbuttoned her cloak, allowing it to fall to her ankles, revealing to Quint that she wore nothing beneath it. A slow, sensual smile spread across her face to see desire flame in his eyes.

He should have been shocked but he wasn’t. He suspected Rosette wasn't the naive girl Dominick believed her to be. He was more amused than stunned by her brazen behavior, but he couldn't deny that she was beautiful. She waited by his cot.

“
You should cover yourself and return home, mademoiselle.”

“
Do you really want me to leave? I am no virgin,” she assured him with a tempting smile and laid upon the cot, holding her arms out to him.

Quint locked the door.

Anna stopped unrolling a bolt of fabric and looked in astonishment at Dera. "But why did Mr. Dominick leave?" she asked.

Dera dreaded to reveal the truth, though Anna would learn it sooner or later. She took a deep breath and said, "Last night he asked me if I was in love with him or my Irish rebel. All a sudden he reminded me of Avery and I shouted back that I wasn't in love with him, that I still loved Quint."

"Lord have mercy, girl! You mentioned Quint Flannery by name?"

"No. But I'm worried about Dominick just the same. I asked Henri to find him." '

"Well, you should be worried. He is a good man. I'll never understand your unthinking tongue. Quint Flannery still has the power to hurt you. Can't you see what he has done to you without your knowing it?"

Dera sat near Anna, realizing the wisdom of her friend's words. There was something in her which allowed Quint to hurt her. Just knowing he was nearby made her act like a complete fool.

“
I'm sorry for what I said to Dominick, but I feel like a tremendous weight has been lifted from me. I don't have to pretend I feel things for him when I don't."

"My girl, I can't say anything to that. Your feelings are your own and no amount of talk can change them."

The tinkle of the bell announced a grim-faced Henri.

"Have you found Mr. Dominick?" Anna asked him.

"He is at Vaudry's Tavern and refuses to return."

"No doubt he is involved in a game of cards," Dera said, and Henri nodded. "I expected as much. Cards are his second love."

"What will you do?" Anna asked.

"There is nothing to do but look after the shop until he returns ... if he returns," Dera said, deciding that it was time to take her life into her own hands, to make her own decisions and not to be at the mercy of any man's whim. All of her life she had relied on others ... Mandy, Timothy, Quint, Anna ... even Avery, and then Dominick. She was no longer a romantic young girl with silly dreams, but a woman with a small child. Well, she would survive. She would make it on her own.

She raised the shades up and allowed the morning light to fill the shop. "We're opened for business," she said.

Dominick slumped in a chair. A bottle of whiskey rested upon the table before him. His glass was empty, so he poured a generous amount and drank it, relishing the burning sensation as the liquid coursed to his stomach. He had become used to whiskey during the last week. He had never cared for it before, but now it seemed to calm him and ease the stiffness in his left arm.

Each day Henri gave him reports. Dera and Anna were doing a fine job of running the shop. Dera was doing remarkably well without him, but Henri insisted she missed him and worked to escape her pain. Dominick wanted to believe that, but he had always known that Dera was capable of surviving without him. He hadn't wanted her to know her own capabilities because he needed all her attention.

Dera was on Dominick's mind day and night. Rosette blamed Dera for his departure, as she had told him when she had visited days earlier. She looked with contempt at the small room he rented over the tavern and demanded to know why he had left. He refused to tell her. Angry words ensued, and to hurt him, she confessed she was in love with Quint Flanders. He wanted to take her across his knee and give her a good spanking, but he decided she was a lost cause. Since he wasn't home to look after her, she was free to do as she pleased. He wondered why women were so hardheaded when it came to affairs of the heart.

He surveyed the scene around him. Some of his acquaintances lounged at the far end of the room, laughing and sharing a drink, but not one of them made an effort to speak with him. No one wanted to know the sordid details of his problems and frankly he had little desire to confide in any of them.

Various types of men came and went. Some were seamen, others soldiers. The scarlet color of the Spanish uniforms was all too noticeable even in the semi darkness of the tavern. He gritted his teeth, hating them all. He wanted to ram his fist down their throats.

"May I join you, monsieur?" The deep, resonant voice of Rosette's beloved hovered above him.

"Colonel Flanders, not an unexpected surprise. Are you checking up on me for my sister?"

"No, sir."

Dominick's features became colder than ice. "For my wife, then?" He still hadn't forgotten Quint's intercession on the night of his arrest and wondered how Dera had persuaded him to order his release.

"Nay, I am spy for no one, but it has come to my attention that you have left your home."

"Very astute of you," Dominick said.

A muscle flexed in Quint's cheek. "Your family needs you. Madame Saucier should not raise her child alone.”

A spiteful grin formed on Dominick’s mouth. “I had no idea you were so concerned for my family's welfare. As I recall, you thought nothing of murdering my friends and leaving their loved ones to suffer great pain."

"I refuse to apologize for that."

"Colonel, you're a stubborn man with no heart."

"I am a soldier, monsieur, and obey orders."

Dominick hated Quint's arrogance and loathed the colonel's forced concern. He wanted Quint to suffer some sort of humiliation, some indignity; he wanted him to pay for the executions, for seducing his sister. But how? Fighting was out of the question. He would be carted off to jail in an instant for striking O'Reilly's officer.