Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (6 page)

"I love you so much," he said. "I do admit Peg told me about the comb. Fairfax gives nothing unless he wants something in return. He is a powerful and wealthy man. I have nothing to offer you."

Quint's face was a blur through Dera's tears, but now they were tears of joy. Quint did love her. "You're the man 1 love. Marry me and leave with me," she whispered, feeling the beat of his heart against her breast. Every nerve in her body, every part of her being, was aware of him. He bent his head towards her.

"Soon, Dera. 1 promise you." His lips touched hers, sweetly, teasingly at first, then the pressure of his mouth became more demanding. Her body burned with the same familiar longing his touch always produced.

Quint unhooked her cloak, letting it fall around her feet in a puddle. He touched the lacings on the front of her bodice, then stopped and smiled at her.

He reached out and brushed his finger across her cheek before he stripped off his shirt and pulled off his boots. Quickly he undid his breeches and stood before her, naked and magnificent. She had always known he was handsome, but until that moment she hadn't realized just how powerfully built he was. His shoulders were broad and his body bronzed from the sun. His hips were narrow, his legs strong and muscular, but her attention was held by his swollen member.

They reclined upon the rough blankets covering the rushes. The warm, hard length of his body touched hers. Her hands followed the planes of his broad back as his mouth scorched her lips with his kisses. He slowly untied her lacings, massaged her breasts, stroking and caressing her until she was caught in a whirlpool of desire. He slowly undressed her and whispered her name over and over, then he was atop her, looking into her passion-filled eyes.

"You are the only woman I will ever love," he breathed.

"Yes," she sighed.

His mouth recaptured hers. He parted he legs, pressing himself against her and sliding inside her effortlessly. His movements were slow and deliberate, tantalizing her and teasing her, as he brought her to the edge of ecstasy. She moaned and writhed beneath him, her body longing for the release.

"That's it," he said huskily. "Move with me Dera, Want me as much as I want you."

Her fingernails dug into his skin. Her body ignited into a hot flame and she pushed hard against him. Quint's body grew taut; he held her so tightly that she was hardly able to breathe. With one final thrust, he sent her plummeting over the edge into sweet, glorious fulfillment.

Later. he held and kissed her gently. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I will never get my fill of you."

"That’s because we love one another, and after we're married, I will give you fine sons." She snuggled against him.

"And a daughter with your looks." He kissed the top of her head. "I don't believe any other woman, even our own child, could be as lovely as you."

Dera was joyous, for he was speaking of their future together, of the children she would bear. She knew that with her love, he would cease to be angry and full of vengeance.

Then the warm, happy feeling suddenly vanished. Her skin prickled and she shivered. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"Not really. I feel like someone is watching."

He looked towards the window. "There's no one here, Dera. Come, we best be leaving." He helped her up and put his arms around her. "I hate to let you go."

"Soon we'll be together for always." She kissed him again.

They dressed and left the farmhouse. She had almost forgotten it was the secret meeting place for the rebels since it was transformed by their love.

After they had mounted a skittish Devil Man and rode away, Dera looked back, feeling unseen eyes upon them. She saw not a soul, but the eerie sensation ceased only after they were a good distance away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Timothy sat beside Lydia, his hand resting on the undulating mound of her abdomen. Dera dried the last pot from the evening meal and placed it upon the shelf above the hearth.

"Aye. I feel him moving." A look of pure joy lit Timothy's plain face. "He'll be a rough, healthy boy for certain."

"What makes you think it shall be a boy, Timothy Brennan? Would you not welcome a daughter?''' Lydia laughed warmly, delighting in Timothy's momentary look of uncertainty.

He withdrew his hand from her belly and kissed her. "T'will be a son," he said with conviction.

"1 believe you're right." Lydia patted her abdomen in a complacent gesture and leaned back in her chair.

Dera knew Timothy was proud of his wife's pregnancy and doted upon her. For the first time since Dera became a member of their household, she sensed contentment in Lydia. She took pleasure in their happiness, but she felt vaguely uneasy, wondering how Lydia could love Timothy's baby, but not Timothy. She also wondered how Lydia could bed with a man for whom she felt no passion. It was beyond Dera's comprehension. Her own experience with Quint had been beautiful. He had the power to make her body burn with desire, to make her crave his touch. She pitied Lydia for not experiencing the same feeling for Timothy.

Timothy lit his pipe and took a long puff. He watched Dera, then he cleared his throat. "Lord Fairfax inquired after you today."

Dera picked up a torn shirt and pretended to be absorbed in mending it. "That was kind of him," she answered more coolly than she had intended. Her fingers felt thick and clumsy. She sensed an argument in the wind.

"Put down the sewing and listen to me." His tone was sharp and she jumped involuntarily.

With reluctance, she laid the shirt in her lap. She didn't want to argue, but she refused to be badgered.

"Wipe that scowl from your face,” Timothy chastised. “Lord Fairfax wishes your answer. 'Tis been more than a fortnight since he asked for you. If you keep him waiting, he might withdraw his proposal."

"I hope he does," she said curtly. "I don't love him."

"What does love have to do with it?" Lydia asked. "His lordship wants you for his wife, to bear him sons. There is no need for love to beget children."

"You should know all about that!" Dera snapped, immediately regretting her remark.

She was embarrassed for her uncle; the pain of unreturned love showed on his face. His eyes looked muddier than usual, his mouth slack and his face very pale.

"Enough!" he ordered. Though he addressed Dera, his gaze rested on Lydia. "Twould be better if there was some affection on your part, Dera. Mating with his lordship would be easier." He turned his attention to Dera. "The man is eager for you. Lydia is right. Love needn't be present to make a child."

"Or for the two of you to prosper from my marriage," Dera added. Fresh bitterness rose in her. Timothy was selling her like a piece of valued property. Through her he would receive favors form Lord Fairfax and make a very comfortable life for Lydia and the child.

He tapped his pipe and sighed. "Aye, Dera. I think Lydia and I deserve something in return for sheltering and feeding you these many years. Granted, you've been a good girl. I've never found cause to be ashamed of you. To refuse Fairfax's proposal would be foolish, not only for us, but also for you." He grabbed her by the shoulders. "You're being given the opportunity to become a fine lady, to be the wife, not the mistress, of a titled gentleman. Don't you understand?"

His dark eyes expessed sincerity. The realization struck her that Timothy truly believed she would be happy in a marriage to Avery Fairfax, that it was the wise thing to do. In his way Timothy cared for her.

"I can't marry a man whom I do not love," she insisted.

He dropped his hands to his sides, disgusted. "Your head is thicker than an iron skillet."

"We can't force you to wed his lordship," Lydia chimed in. "But we can put you from our hearth." Her blue eyes were clear, and for the first time, Dera glimpsed a wickedness in them. For all of Timothy's failings, he wasn't an evil man. Until that moment, she hadn't thought Lydia was either, only ambitious. But Dera perceived a darker side to Lydia's nature.

"You would humiliate me then," Dera said.

"Aye."

"Now, Lydia, I'm not sending Dera away. T'would be shameful for her and to us. Dera is my niece. How can you suggest that she leave?"

Lydia's face was hard and immobile. "Because she's ungrateful." She took Dera's cloak from the wall peg and flung it at her. "Here, go and don't come back unless you decide to do as you are bid."

Dera crumpled the cloak to her breast. Lydia was hateful and cruel suddenly, yet she was doing her an unexpectedly good turn. Now she would be forced to go to Quint openly and tell him what had happened. He would have to marry her.

"Lydia, no!" Timothy exclaimed. "She cannot ... "

Dera interrupted him. "Yes, uncle, I wish to go."

"But where?"

Her heart filled with pity for him. He had been the closest thing to a father she would ever know. She found she felt some affection for him. "There is only one place I wish to be. You don't understand, but Lydia will tell you. Ask her." She kissed his cheek. "Goodbye, uncle. I'm sorry to be a disappointment to you. Somehow, I'll repay you for your kindness in raising an unwanted niece."

She spoke to Lydia. "You've made a decision for me that I should have made for myself long ago. Thank you."

Lydia smiled sourly. "We'll see."

Dera threw her cape about her shoulders. She opened the door and stepped outside into the clear night. The stars twinkled like diamonds in the winter sky. The moon was bright; a sweet, fresh smell filled the air. Timothy stood beside Lydia on the threshold. As she walked away, he again asked her where Dera was going.

"Don't fret," Lydia answered him. "She'll be back soon enough." The door shut tightly.

In exhilaration, Dera turned in the direction of Quint's cottage. Her breath froze on the cold night air, but her spirits soared.

She was free at last!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dera found the cottage door to Quint’s cottage ajar, but Quint wasn't about. The worry grew in her that he might be on a raid, burning another English family out of their home.

Quint was still an enigma to her. Loving him for years from a distance hadn't prepared her for the flesh-and-blood man. In her girlhood fantasies, he was her knight errant, the crusader who was all good and above other mortals. The real man was different. He could be tender and gentle, as well as savage and cruel. But he was her salvation in a lonely world. To be with him forever was all she wanted from life.

She touched the table top, the chairs and the cooking utensils, thinking that soon these things would be hers. She pictured Quint eating the hearty meal she would prepare for him. He would kiss her, then he'd carry her into the small bedroom and they'd make love.

Her gaze rested on the bedroom doorway. She would conceive and bear his children in that room. Since the day she had met Mrs. Flannery, she hadn't been inside the cottage. Suddenly she wished to wait for Quint's return in the cozy bedroom. She made a move toward the doorway, but stopped. A moaning sound came from the room. She waited and listened--and heard a woman's low cry.

Dera’s breathing grew labored; a sick feeling clutched at her stomach. Her blood ran cold. She wanted to leave, but the truth was beyond the doorway.

Slowly, she moved toward the sound and peeked in. The tiny room was bright with moonlight . The figures coupling upon the rushes were only too visible to her. Quint was turned away from her. He was naked and sweat glistened on his back. He rode upon Peg McConnell as she she writhed beneath him like a bitch in heat. Dera's ears were filled with the obscene filth Peg whispered as she urged Quint to take her more deeply. He thrust harder and harder into her, her nails raking along his backside.

Dera was repulsed but unable to look away. Part of her was fascinated by the frenzy of their mating. The man on the floor could not be the man she loved, but some demon from hell. If Quint had pulled her beating heart from her body, he could not have hurt her more. The bile rose in her throat and she wanted to retch.

Peg's shapely legs wrapped around his waist. She met his powerful thrusts with her own. Her voice was husky and thick with passion. "Do you love me, Quint?"

He thrust one last time and completed the act. He bent his tawny head low to her breast. "Aye," he answered in a broken whisper.

Dera ran from the cottage, hot tears burning her eyes. Before she realized it, she was in the meadow. She flung herself to the ground, choking on her tears, dry heaving into the soft grass. She had learned the truth and the truth was ugly. Quint's dalliance with Peg would have hurt less if he trifled with her, but he told her he loved her. Quint Flannery had betrayed her!

She cried until the tears ceased to come. A lonely ache touched her heart. She finally managed to stand on unsteady feet and crossed the meadow, the cold wind stinging her cheeks. Timothy answered the door when she knocked.

"What is it, Dera?"

She swallowed and wiped her eyes. "Tell Lord Fairfax I'm ready to give him my answer, uncle."

He opened the door and let her inside.

Lydia helped Dera dress for the meeting with Lord Fairfax, who was due to arrive by mid-morning.