Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (7 page)

Dera finished slipping the emerald-colored gown over her head when Timothy announced that his lordship had arrived.

"We'll be out in a moment," Lydia told him. "Today is important and Dera must look her prettiest." She smiled at Dera. "Wear the comb in your hair," she suggested. After taking it from the velvet box, she pulled the sides of Dera's hair away from her face and secured the comb at the back of her head.

Dera barely glanced at her own reflection. Her appearance was of no concern. Her violet eyes were still slightly puffy from crying; her cheeks were pale and her mouth felt stiff, but Lydia assured her she looked lovely. Neither Lydia nor Timothy had questioned Dera's sudden decision to marry Lord Fairfax. To speak of it would have been unbearable for Dera.

"I envy you," Lydia spoke with a trace of awe in her voice. "I would love to be marrying his lordship and live at the manor in absolute luxury."

"Even if it meant detesting him and dreading the thought of sleeping with him?"

"Dera, you place too much importance on the physical act. Really, it's very simple. You lie there, open your legs for him, shut your eyes and pretend the man is someone else. In the dark, it matter little."

"That's disgusting!"

"Perhaps. But it's better than pining for a man you're not likely to have." Lydia bit at her lower lip. Her eyes were downcast as if she had revealed too much about herself. "Go. Lord Fairfax is waiting."

Fairfax stood near the hearth, his elbow resting upon the shelf above it. He was elegantly dressed in a coat of brown satin with matching breeches. When he beheld Dera, his sour face broke into a smile. He captured her hand and kissed it. "More beautiful than I remember," he said. She curtsied, her cheeks flaming under his bold stare.

He glanced at Timothy and Lydia. "You shall be adequately recompensed for your kindness to Dera if her reply is in the affirmative."

"You are very kind, your lordship," Timothy smiled his appreciation. Lydia nodded in agreement.

Avery Fairfax looked away from them as if they were of little consequence. The jade color of his eyes brightened with a glimmer of hopefulness. "Have you decided to become my wife?" he asked.

The question should have been difficult for her to answer, but the memory of Quint and Peg made it easier. Dera's voice was strong when she answered.

"Yes, I shall marry you, but there is one thing I must tell you before we take any vows."

He cocked a bushy eyebrow, then nodded for her to continue.

"I am not untouched, your lordship. My virginity has already been given freely to another man."

"Holy saints in heaven!" Timothy gasped in horror. Lydia was near fainting; she clutched at him for support. Lord Fairfax's expression showed no emotion. The thin mouth pursed. His eyes appraised Dera as she stood before him without shame.

“
Lydia is not feeling well, Timothy," Fairfax said. "Please take her outside to get some air. I need to speak with Dera."

"Aye, your lordship." Timothy’s hands shook, his voice full of fear, but he did as he was bid.

"So," Avery began after they had left, "you have been with a man. Why do you tell me this?"

"Under the circumstances, it is the decent thing to do."

"I knew you were honest, maybe too honest. Still it is a quality worth possessing." He rested his cane upon the table and folded his hands together. "Your relationship with this man...is it finished?"

Her heart ached to admit the truth. The relationship was over. Her love for Quint was not. "Yes," she said.

He touched her cheek with a long, slender finger. "1 shall not inquire as to the man's identity. The fact that you had already been bedded occurred to me. I am indeed relieved."

"I don't understand."

He sighed and shook his head. "I am tired of mewling virgins. There is no gratification in taking a woman who cries and complains of the pain. I had enough of that with Elvina. Even after ten years of matrimony, she still whined. A man cannot be a man when the woman he beds finds no pleasure in the mating." He pulled her against him and lightly caressed her full breasts. "You were meant to be loved and to please a man. 1 am glad you've had some experience. When we tumble together, you'll know how to pleasure me."

He kissed her roughly, his tongue darting into her mouth. "You can show me exactly how much your lover taught you."

She thought she should struggle, but the circumstances were changed. Avery Fairfax was her betrothed and had the right to kiss her. Her body felt no sensation of warmth; her heart lay like a piece of ice in her chest. She no longer cared. If she had, his remarks would have struck her as peculiar.

At last, after much pawing, he released her. He tilted her face up to his, "You do not respond, Dera. There is little emotion in you and this worries me. By the date of our marriage, I hope you are no longer a lump of stone in my arms, but are filled with a desire for carnal pleasure."

"I shall try," she said.

Politely, he kissed her forehead. "A Christmas wedding will be appropriate. This evening I'll send for a dressmaker who will arrive immediately and begin the preparations for your trousseau. Three weeks should be adequate time to outfit you. Whatever you wish, you shall have. Money is unimportant.”

He looked deeply into her eyes. "You are a beautiful creature, more beautiful than the finest statuary. Owning things, which other men can only dream of possessing has always been my passion. You shall become my most beautiful treasure."

She retreated to her room after his departure. Timothy and Lydia's displeasure with her was relieved by the knowledge that Lord Fairfax still wished to marry her.

Dera felt a great lethargy seize her. She was unable to concentrate on the implications of marrying a man she didn't love. Every time she thought about being Fairfax's wife, she saw Quint's disapproving face looming before her, and she knew then she would never escape her passion for him.

CHAPTER NINE

After posting the last of the rent entries, Dera put aside the ledgers. This was the final time she would do the books for Timothy. Soon her life would be altered in a way she cared not to dwell upon. She stood up and leaned against the window sill in her room, gazing at the late afternoon sky. It was tinted a soft shade of peach above the ochre colored meadow.

In the distance, she could see Timothy walking slowly towards the farm house. Above the far row of trees, wisps of smoke rose from the manor chimneys and touched the skyline like ghostly fingers. From the direction of the stables, skirting across the meadow on Devil Man, she caught sight of Quint. In his haste, he nearly knocked Timothy down. Timothy quickly recovered, his arms flailing as he shouted at Quint to slow down.

Dera's pulse raced harder than Devil Man's hooves. By the time she reached the kitchen, he was already there, having flung the door back against the wall.

Fair, shaggy locks hung low and unkempt across his forehead. He was breathing rapidly. The smell of resin and sweat clung to him; his damp shirt was opened to reveal the mat of curling, wet hair on his chest. So fierce and hard were his eyes that Dera knew he had learned of her betrothal.

"What in the name of God is this?" Lydia shouted and dropped a spoon into a pot of cooking broth.

"I want her." His voice was low and calm but brittle as he pointed a finger at Dera. "I want her to tell me 'tis a lie I've heard."

"'Tis no lie if you mean her marriage to his lordship. Good riddance to you, Quint Flannery!" Lydia attempted to block him from Dera, but he side stepped Lydia and grabbed Dera by the arm. She had no time to protest before he had carried her out of the house and flung her on Devil Man's back and leaped astride behind her.

"Timothy!" Lydia screamed.

They flew down the road in the direction of Quint's cottage. Not once did he slacken his hold upon her. His arm encircled her waist like a taut rope, cutting off her wind. She wished to turn around, to look him in the face, but she was frightened at what she might see. When they reached the cottage, he carried her inside and placed her beside the table.

He paced the length of the room, his black eyes not leaving her face. She waited in silence.

"Have you nothing to say, Dera?"

“
No."

He winced at the flatness of her tone. "I want to know the truth about you and Lord Fairfax. Have Timothy and Lydia connived to take you from me?"

He quickly took her in his arms and held her tightly. "I won't allow them or anyone to separate us," he said. "No matter what they or that filthy Englishman conjure up, I will keep you with me. I'll do as you have begged me to do. We'll leave this place!"

"Do you mean it?" Dera breathed.

"Aye. I can't stand the thought of that swine's hands upon you!" He kissed her deeply and with such passion her head swam. "1 want you," he whispered hoarsely into her ear.

Her body longed to respond to him, but she held herself stiffly in his arms and refused to return his kisses. The memory of Peg McConnell was still too fresh in her memory. She wished to hurt him as she had been hurt.

"Dera," he said, a note of impatience in his voice. "I'm asking you to leave with me. Now. Today."

"Then you're asking me to become you wife?" she asked.

"Well, nay, not yet. I've important things to tend to. I can't think of marrying until things are settled. Yet I can take you away from here and put you where you'll be safe from Fairfax, where you can wait for my return."

She threw off his hold and moved away. Everything suddenly became clear. The man she loved was selfish and hard. She wondered how she could have been such a fool as to think he truly loved her.

"You mean where I can wait until you extinguish the hatred in your heart! No matter how long I wait or how much 1 beg you, you'll never marry me. The man you detest has asked me to honor him by becoming his wife while you ask me to follow as your mistress. How dare you shame me in this way?"

There was anguish in his face now, something she had never before seen. Her heart beat with love and pity, but she remained a small distance from him. If he touched her again, she knew she would relent and do whatever he asked.

"Must I constantly assure you of my love, Dera? You must realize, for I've told you often enough, what I hope to accomplish. The cause I fight for is a just one. I cannot offer you a home until Ireland is free."

"Then you love Ireland more than me, Quint. She has your heart!"

He rubbed his chin. "Something has happened to you," he said thoughtfully. "Once you were eager for my kisses. Tell me, has Fairfax tasted the fruits of the marriage bed before the wedding?"

An urge to leave gripped her. If she waited any longer, she would be forced to admit she had seen him and Peg coupling like animals. Her final humiliation would be admitting she had heard him tell Peg he loved her.

"Think what you will," she answered. "But you'll never be able to offer me a home because you chase an elusive dream. At Christmas I shall become Lady Fairfax. His lordship has offered me his name and his home; and that includes all the wealth and power behind them, and I shall gladly marry the man to receive them." She sounded as shrewish and greedy as possible, wanting to hurt him.

His face grew red, then darkened until she gazed into an abyss of pure loathing. He reached out as if to slap her but thought better of it. Instead he seized her shoulders. "My wish is for your happiness with the man you love," he sneered. "I hope to God you get what you deserve."

"Leave her be, Quint,” Timothy’s voice interrupted. He entered the cottage. His cheeks glowed a bright crimson, and he breathed heavily. “Dera must return with me. If his lordship learns of this .... "

"Damn his lordship! Take the teasing wench back with you." Quint grabbed her arm and steered her out of the cottage. Timothy followed.

Quint mounted Devil Man and looked down upon Dera. "My mother was wrong," he told her. "You are not the one." He kicked violently at the horse's flanks and galloped away.

"Consider yourself fortunate to be rid of him," Timothy mused. "What was that fool talk about his mother?"

"Nothing," she replied with dry eyes, admitting to herself that Quint was right: Mrs. Flannery had been wrong.

CHAPTER TEN

In the weeks preceding Dera's wedding, minor burnings occurred in the area. Dera was cognizant of Quint's involvement and detested his crimes, but she didn't want him to be captured. She prayed that the hatred in his soul would die. This time, his hatred wasn't only for the English, but also for her. Revenge was a tangible thing to Quint. She wondered how he would seek his revenge upon her.

Early one morning, the dressmaker and a slew of seamstresses arrived from Dublin.

Yards of silk, velvet and satin covered Timothy's house from one end to the other. Dera insisted Lydia also be measured for appropriate attire. "Thank you," she gushed to Dera, her blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.

Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach whenever she remembered her approaching marriage, Dera found herself caught up in the extravagant preparations for her trousseau.

The jeweler also arrived, bearing trays and boxes of precious gems. When she decided upon a piece and was told the price, she hesitated. The jeweler, his hands waving in impatience. spoke to her with a trace of condescension in his voice. "Lord Fairfax has requested that you choose what pleases you. Cost is not to be quibbled over." And after a while, she chose what caught her fancy. From the jeweler's broad smile, she surmised she had chosen well. The sapphire necklace certainly cost a small fortune, as did the emerald ear bobs and brooch. Each purchase was boxed and dutifully carried by one of his lordship's servants to the manor house.