Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (9 page)

Only minutes before, Timothy and Lydia had departed and Cecilia had retired for the night in a guest bedroom. Avery had escorted Dera to her room, Katie following closely on their heels.

"Katie will take the place of lady's maid until the woman I hired arrives from London. When you're ready, have Katie fetch me." He opened the door for her and lightly brushed her forehead with his dry lips before leaving.

Dera had gasped in delight at the enormous bedroom that was to be hers. A large, but delicately sewn tapestry, depicting a stag hunt, hung from the ceiling to floor. The walls were paneled in rich, dark oak. Beige satin draperies, fringed in brown, covered the windows and matched the canopied bed and counterpane. "I never imagined anything this grand," she said to Katie.

"Guess not, Lady Fairfax," Katie answered sullenly and emphasized her new title. Dera grew silent, realizing Katie would not be her friend. She was glad Avery had hired a Londoner as her personal maid.

After Dera was seductively clad in the pink gown, her long hair unbound and scented with rosewater, Katie left her. She waited by the huge bed until she heard Avery knock. "Come in," she said, her voice quaking.

He entered her room and stood uncertainly for a moment. He wore a blood-red dressing gown and in the glow of the candlelight, the tiny age lines around his eyes and mouth were almost obliterated. He closed the door and moved silently toward her, his eyes bright.

"You're a vision of extreme loveliness, Dera," he whispered. "The gown suits you well." He licked his lips. The flickering candles emphasized the valley between her breasts. "Please remove it," he said.

"Now? But, my lord, it cost a great deal."

"Do as I ask, my dear."

Under his steady gaze, she fumbled with the gown, pulling it down below her waist until she stood naked before him. He licked his lips again and cupped her breasts like a starving man reaching for food.

"So full, so ripe," he breathed, continuing his exploration of her body. With a light finger, he traced the area below her rib cage, then with his full hand, he moved lower. She shuddered when his hand traced the roundness of her hips and came to rest between her thighs. He stopped, his fingers touching the part of her that no man except Quint had ever fondled. "Don't jerk away from me. You're so lush, so lovely, that my manhood grows at the sight of you. Dera, you are my salvation."

Quickly, he threw off his robe. She found herself unable to look at him, but he pulled her toward him and she was forced to endure the feel of his swelling organ against her bare leg. He pushed her head back and captured her mouth with his. He picked her up and placed her on the bed, falling on top of her.

"I didn't mean for it to be like this, Dera, but I can't wait any longer. I wanted to excite you, but God knows, I can't wait." He parted her legs and she felt him start to penetrate her. "I can't. Wider, please, Dera." She did as she was told. Over and over, Avery attempted to enter her but failed. "Do something for me, Dera. Don't just lie there!"

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, genuinely frightened by his intensity.

"Touch me for God's sake! Do something for me!"

She reached out and held his limp member in her hand. She tried to help him, but he was in such a panic, that finally he threw himself from the bed and stalked up and down the room. "Didn't that damn man you slept with teach you anything about pleasuring a man? This can't be happening to me again."

She sat up, her long hair covered her breasts; Avery sucked in his breath at her beauty. He wanted her so much, but he couldn't find the release he longed for in her arms.

"What else can I do for you, my lord?" she asked softly.

His anger dissolved at her tenderness and he heaved a large sigh. "Nothing, my dear. I'm afraid there is nothing you can do. I had hoped things would be different, that I could be a husband to you." He knelt by her bedside and took her hand in his. "You see, Dera, I thought you could make a man of me since so many men wanted you, lusted after you. I decided that if you were my wife, physical love would come naturally to me. Believe me, I'm capable of loving deeply, whereas some men can love only with their bodies."

He kissed the palm of her hand and pressed it to his chest. "Elvina was a poison to me with her perfect ways. I wasn't always the shell of a man you see now. No, once I was robust and women found pleasure with me. Then I married Elvina. She was a good woman, but too saintly for my tastes, and she frowned upon the marriage bed and made me feel like a fiend for wishing to make love to her. When she realized there would be no children, she gave up sleeping with me. Any other man would have sought physical joy elsewhere, but I have always considered myself an honorable man. I couldn't renege on my marriage vows. Besides, it was too late by then. Elvina had ruined me with her pitiful cries and saintly ways. Then I saw you, and for the first time in years, I wanted to be a man again."

Tears clouded his green eyes, and Dera felt some tenderness for him. The great lord, the man whom Quint hated so much, was to be pitied. He had wealth and position, but could not be a man in the true sense. She reached out and stroked his cheek. "Perhaps we could try again, my lord."

His eyes brightened, but he shook his head. "That is very generous of you, very kind. But it is too late for me. I shall never have the child I long for; and you, the woman I love, and I do love you in my own way, cannot help me." He still clasped her hand to his chest. Then he relinquished his hold and donned his dressing gown. When he had finished, he sat on the bed. "Dera, you are my wife and I will treat you well. I shall give you everything a woman could desire if you agree to promise me one thing."

"What, my lord?"

"I want your promise to remain faithful to me, that you will not sleep with other men. I couldn't abide the humiliation." He looked pleadingly at her. "Have I your word?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"Good. I won't break my word to you or to your uncle. Now get some rest, my dear." He kissed her lips.

She waited until after he had left her room before slipping out of bed. As much as she had dreaded sleeping with Avery at first, she now wished she had. She had glimpsed another side of him and was just beginning to learn about this complex man. She would never love him as a wife, but she could love him as a friend. And as a friend, she would keep her promise.

Keeping her word would be easy since the man she loved no longer loved her.

Dera walked to the window and parted the drapes. The glow of the moonlight bathed her naked skin with a silvery hue. Instinctively, her eyes traveled the length of the estate and rested on the spot where she knew Quint's cottage lay. It upset her to think that Peg McConnell was probably sleeping with him at that very moment.

She blew out the candle by the bedside; then with passion, she hurled it across the room.

Quint waited some minutes after she extinguished the candle. The night was cold, but the rain had ceased, and the skies grew clear. He had been waiting in the bushes from the moment the candles were lit in Dera's room, hoping for a glimpse of her, some picture of her to hold in his mind's eye. He had never expected to see her, standing before the window, naked and incredibly beautiful.

His body ached with renewed desire for her. He imagined himself bounding up the stairs to her room and carrying her away from Lord Fairfax. He would spirit her away to a secret hiding place where he'd make constant love to her until she was spent. Then he would ignite her passion again and make her beg for him. Yes, beg for him! He wanted her to suffer as he had been suffering.

In the darkness, Quint clenched his teeth, imagining the woman he loved mating with that English dog. Visions of her body entwining around Fairfax's, her slender arms eagerly grasping for him, filled his mind and made him wild with jealousy. God, he wanted to hate her and he would hate her! He resolved to do so.

Quint returned to his cottage where he found Peg asleep upon the rushes, a thin blanket covered her.

Like a man possessed by an inner demon, he pulled off his pants and yanked the cover from Peg's naked form. She woke up, her eyes full of sleep. "Quint, you're back."

"Aye, I'm back. Now turn over."

With a sensual smile, she rolled onto her back and opened her legs for him. He was inside her almost before she had positioned herself.

Peg's face was before him, but hers wasn't the face he longed to see. Quint shut his eyes tightly and imagined a woman with long, raven hair and large, violet eyes. He felt her soft, hungry caresses and tasted her sweet pliant mouth. He groaned. His movements became gentler; he stroked the woman's body tenderly until she moaned in rapture. More quickly than he had intended, he released himself into her. A warm pleasure engulfed him. When he opened his eyes, her name died on his lips, for the woman beneath him was not her.

"Oh, Quint, that was the best of any time," Peg said. "I love you, my darling."

He rolled off of her and turned on his side. "Go to sleep, Peg," he said wearily. She curled up beside him like a warm, well-fed kitten.

He lay there a long time, listening to Peg’s quiet, rhythmic breathing. When he knew she was asleep and wouldn't hear him, he whispered the name that burned his tongue like a brand.

"Dera."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lady Cecelia silently gazed at the park like beauty of the demesne, enraptured by the winter loveliness of the gardens and lawns. She envied her brother for living in a place so awesomely beautiful and wild. In the distance, a doe and a fawn grazed peacefully, while the trees rose behind them like obelisks.

She knew she should have departed for London earlier, but she had resisted. Most certainly she would be gone before long. Her strict sensibilities refused to permit her to spend one more night under the same roof with the peasant girl her brother had married the previous day. She was so upset by the whole unseemly business, that she had forgotten that this was the Christmas season. The watch fob, which she had carefully chosen for Avery, was still lodged in her valise. So far, he hadn't given her a Christmas remembrance; and she vowed she wouldn't humiliate herself by presenting him with one.

Her mouth twitched in disgust. Avery was more interested in his bride than in her, but she determined to wait until he came downstairs. She wouldn't leave without learning the truth and putting her worry to rest: had her brother been able to consummate the marriage? If so, an unexpected Fairfax heir would ruin everything for her. The house and the grounds were becoming more important to her with each passing day to lose them.

She settled herself at the table and rang for breakfast. More than an hour later, after she had finished and was sufficiently agitated, Avery strolled into the dining room. He smiled at her.

"Good morning, dearest sister." Pecking her cheek, he took his seat.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to grace me with your presence!” she snapped, her mouth settling into a thin nail-like line.

“
I'm extremely tired this morning. I didn't sleep well last night." He took a large helping of bacon and a boiled potato offered to him by a servant, then waved her away.

"Did your bride provide you with such a night of pleasure that you are exhausted?"

He dropped his fork onto his plate and nearly choked on his food at the impertinence of her question.

“
I am shocked!" he said, genuinely horrified. For my own sister to inquire into such a personal matter ... Well, dear God, you are a jealous shrew." He threw down his napkin, recovered himself and stood up. "I believe it's time you left."

Cecelia rose also. "My bags are packed and waiting in the coach. Frankly, I shall be glad to depart. I can well imagine the merry chase you’ll be led now that you're married to that peasant. I admit she is beautiful, but, Avery, you're a fool. I know you can't make love to a woman any longer. Do you think your nubile bride will content herself with domestic duties and an impotent aging man for a husband? I wager that within a month she seeks solace in the arms of some strapping lad. Mark my words."

Avery's face blanched. How she knew about his problem he didn’t know but could only surmise that Elvina must have once confided in her. At that instant, he hated Cecelia. He remembered as children how she taunted him whenever he failed at something. Now, she struck a raw nerve with her vicious tongue. He only wanted her gone, out of his life. "To hell with you," he hissed.

"My sentiments for you are exactly the same." She threw him a pleased smile. "I still love you, but you deserve everything that girl does to you. I have no sympathy for fools, especially old ones. Good day, Avery, and happy Christmas."

Avery stood transfixed by the table. The veins throbbed unmercifully in his head. Finally, he heard the rumble of the carriage wheels recede into the distance, relieved Cecelia was gone. He wondered what had possessed Cecelia to behave in such an ugly fashion. Her jealousy of Dera was apparent, but he sensed there was something else. Only after accosting him with the truth about himself had she calmed down. It hurt him that she knew his secret. Any dignity he had possessed had been destroyed last night during his aborted lovemaking with Dera. Now, he felt utterly worthless. Still, he worried that Cecelia might be right. Would Dera be forced to seek sexual fulfillment elsewhere? He couldn't bear to think about it.