Tears of Gold
Authors: Laurie McBain
Copyright © 1979, 2011 by Laurie McBain
Cover and internal design © 2011 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover design by Dawn Adams/Sourcebooks
Cover images © Susan Fox/Trevillion Images
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The characters and e
vents portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Originally published in 1979 by Avon Books, an imprint of Harper-Collins Publishers.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
McBain, Laurie.
Tears of gold / Laurie McBain.
p. cm.
I. Title.
PS3563.C3334T43 2011
813’.54—dc22
2011023594
—Aesop
Prelude
1848
“Come away and live with me, Mara!” Julian cried, his light blue eyes feverish with longing as he gazed at the beautiful young woman standing proudly before him. Her haughty indifference inflamed him, driving him beyond all caution as he stared into those golden brown, heavy-lidded eyes. Thick, dark lashes shielded her thoughts, but the ghost of a triumphant smile curved the corners of her mouth upward.
The half-smile enticed Julian until he despaired of feeling the soft fullness of her lips beneath his. He gave a deep sigh as he allowed his gaze to linger on her unbound hair, falling like a rich brown mantle of silk to below her hips. Sleek and shiny, it reflected fiery, dark red highlights when touched by the sun streaming through the window. The glistening ivory of her slender neck and the soft swell of her breasts were revealed above the deep flounce of
broderie anglaise
edging her corset. Tightly laced and covered with the crimson silk of her dressing robe, her small waist beckoned a man’s hands to encompass it and explore the rounded curves above.
“Mara, my love,” Julian spoke hoarsely, forgetting, under the onslaught of her exotic beauty, his intention to remain calm and rational. He reached out suddenly and pulled her against him. The heady scent of lily of the valley invaded his senses as his lips caressed the smooth roundness of her throat.
“My God, Mara, you have to let me love you,” Julian whispered raggedly as he nuzzled her ear.
“Julian, do let me loose,” Mara sighed in exasperation, her voice cold. “You’re being quite ridiculous,” she said disparagingly as she laughed, ridiculing his words of love.
Julian’s lips found hers, closing over her mouth and muffling the sound of her scornful laughter. He kissed her long and ardently, his hands molding her silk-clad body against his. His fingers found their way beneath the edge of her robe, touching the soft skin of her breast. He pressed the firm swell of smooth flesh. But he could feel no erratic beating of her heart beneath his hand, nothing to match the pounding of his own blood.
Mara stood still. No spark of response glowed in the golden depths of her eyes as she stared coldly over Julian’s shoulder. Julian released her reluctantly, his arms dropping to his sides. His blue eyes stared at her in hurt puzzlement as he took in the cool perfection of her features that had remained without a flicker of emotion.
“I don’t understand,” Julian spoke hesitantly. “Is it that I’ve taken you by surprise? I can’t quite believe that. You know of my love and devotion to you. Is there another man?” he demanded jealously, his voice quivering with anger. Julian grabbed Mara’s shoulders and stared down into her tawny, slumberous eyes, feeling frustrated as he failed to understand her quicksilver moods. “I’ve made arrangements for us to sail to France. My yacht is docked at Southampton and ready to set sail at a moment’s notice. We’ll spend a month in Paris and then sail the Mediterranean until we tire of it. I can give you anything you desire, Mara.”
He gazed eagerly into her face, thinking his words would please her, but she only half smiled and shook her dark mane of hair provocatively over her shoulders. Julian frowned and looked down at his shoes, not wanting to understand the sardonic look on her face.
“Until you tire of me. ’Tis the way of it usually, isn’t it, m’lord?” Mara spoke softly as she casually straightened the bodice of her robe. “Well, I think we’ll be changing roles this time, for I’ve tired first of your pathetic attempts at lovemaking.”
“Tired of me?” Julian mumbled, a bewildered frown marring his smooth brow.
Mara’s golden eyes flickered over him in disinterest. He was a young man, not more than one and twenty, tall and broad shouldered in his superbly cut, blue-striped trousers and matching waistcoat. His frock coat was of a contrasting color and his pale blue silk scarf was casually tied and held with a gold tie pin that reflected his gold hair. His face, now flushed with emotion, was usually tanned and smiling. It was the boyishly handsome face of a sporting gentleman of London.
A cruel light lit Mara’s eyes as she said, “Indeed, I’m wondering how ’tis I didn’t grow bored with you sooner, what with your constant chatter of horses, hounds, and racetrack meetings.”
Julian’s lips trembled slightly. “You tease me, Mara. Perhaps you are not satisfied with my devotions so far? But this should convince you of my sincerity and help you make up your mind,” he said with the confidence of a handsome and rich young man who had always gotten what he wanted out of life.
He withdrew a thin leather case from his coat pocket and held it out to her. When she made no attempt to accept his proffered gift, he snapped it open to reveal a necklace and earrings of blood red rubies.
“They would go well with your coloring,” Julian spoke persuasively, “and, Mara, there will be more to come. My mistresses have never had reason to complain about neglect in either trinkets, or in my attentions.”
For the first time Mara’s eyes warmed with emotion, reminding Julian of the golden flame of autumn leaves. Mistaking the glow for pleasure, he held his gift out to her again, only to have it knocked from his hand. The case hit the floor, the rubies spilling out against the rug like blood stains.
“Mara!”
“Mara!” she mimicked. “How I loathe the sound of my name on your lips. You arrogant, pompous fool! To think you could
buy
me. How does it feel, Julian, to know that I’ve been laughing at you all this time?”
Mara stepped closer, knowing her fragrance floated between them as she rubbed the back of her hand against his fiery cheek. “Poor, little rich lord, having to face disappointment for once in his pampered life. You’ve had too much of a good thing, Julian.
Vous êtes un enfant gâté
,” she ridiculed him, remembering that he had a French mother. “I’m afraid I’ve had to punish you for it.”
Julian backed away from her as though he had been struck. He stared down at her beautiful face, his wide blue eyes dazed. He could not have been more surprised had his pet spaniel turned into a viper before his eyes. “I love you, Mara,” he whispered.
“Love?” Mara laughed in genuine amusement. “You don’t even know the meaning of love. Lust is all you and your kind know about.”
“It was an act? You were leading me on, laughing at me while I kissed you and told you how much I loved you?”
His pained expression and choked voice might have softened Mara had she not at that moment caught sight of the ruby necklace glowing up at her, reminding her of her purpose.
“You were so gullible. It was almost pitiable the way you drooled over the slightest attention I gave you. Did you never wonder why some days I would scarcely glance your way, even though you would try so gallantly to catch my eye? To be sure, you acted the besotted fool better than I’ve ever seen it played. How you’d tremble when I would accidentally touch your hand or whisper in your ear some amusing piece of gossip. But don’t feel too bad. You’re among good company. I’ve lured better and far wiser men than you into believing they could have what they wanted of me,” Mara said with a smile of remembrance on her lips. “They all suffered the same fate you did.”
“Stop!” Julian moaned and pressed his fingers against his temples. “I can bear no more.”
Julian opened his eyes and the tears trickled down his cheeks, wounded love lingering on his face. He swallowed painfully. “I loved you, Mara. I truly—” he began. Then, uttering a low moan, he turned and stumbled from the room.
Mara stared at the closed door for a moment before she turned. Her foot struck something, and looking down, she saw the ruby necklace.
“Could just as easily be the young gent’s blood,” a voice commented behind her.
“No one was asking for your opinion, Jamie,” Mara retorted.
“Aye, that be for sure, and a shame ’tis ye don’t. Ye could be usin’ a bit o’ sensible advice now and then,” Jamie cautioned, “and it’d better be comin’ mighty soon.”
Mara looked over her shoulder, angry words she knew she’d regret trembling on her lips as she eyed the gray-haired woman.
“And it won’t be doin’ ye any good to be rantin’ and ravin’ at me, for I’ve hardened me heart against it after hearin’ it all these many years,” Jamie said. Her lined face remained unmoved by the scowl beginning to appear on the younger woman’s beautiful features.
“You go too far sometimes, Jamie. Damned, interfering busybody,” Mara muttered, resenting the fact that Jamie could still make her feel as guilty as a chastened child. Or was it Jamie making her feel so guilty? Something was pricking at her, something she did not want to face.
Mara picked up the ruby necklace and earrings that still lay at her feet. They were exquisite, Mara had to admit, and, with a sigh of regret, she placed them back in the velvet-lined case.
“Damn!” Mara cried out as the clasp pinched her finger as she closed the lid. She stared bemusedly at the drop of blood on the tip of her finger before putting it in her mouth to soothe the scratch.
“Aye, that’s done it. It bodes no good for the likes of us,” Jamie said darkly, a grim look on her gaunt face. She came up beside Mara, moving quickly for a woman nearing sixty. Jamie made the sign of the cross, muttering a prayer to anyone who might be listening. Barely reaching Mara’s shoulders, Jamie stood silently beside her, her body small and slight, her expression one of long-suffering.
“These are quite beautiful jewels,” Mara said thoughtfully, a hint of mischief in her golden brown eyes, “I just might be of a mind to be keepin’ them.”
Jamie drew herself up to her full four-and-a-half-foot frame, her faded gray eyes snapping with indignation as she rounded on Mara. “Oh no, ye’ll not be keepin’ these tainted stones. They be stained with blood and I’ll not be havin’ them anywhere near me, or the O’Flynns. Ye’ve got enough trouble without something that’s been cursed.”
“Oh, Jamie, ye do carry on so, I was just teasing you,” Mara cajoled. “Only you’d better not let Brendan catch sight of them or he’ll be insisting we keep them.”
Jamie snorted in disgust. “What Master Brendan don’t know can’t hurt him. And ye can be wipin’ that smile off your face, missie, for I can see the dark clouds gatherin’ on the O’Flynns’ horizon,” she warned before grabbing the case from Mara.
“I’ll be seein’ that his lordship is gettin’ his property back right away,” she said smugly as she wrapped her arms across her thin chest, enfolding the offending case beneath them.
“Then ye’d best be takin’ the locket too, hadn’t ye, Mistress Jameson? And don’t be forgettin’ the dress, now will ye?” Mara said saucily.
Mara sauntered over to the ornate armoire standing against the wall and, rummaging through it, withdrew a burgundy velvet evening dress. It was superbly cut and without the usual lace frill of the décolletage to detract from its sleek lines. Mara’s hand lingered as she smoothed the thick, soft pile. With a sigh of regret and defiance she threw it carelessly across her arm. With a toss of her dark head Mara picked up the golden locket from her dressing table and, swinging it like a pendulum from the slender chain, tossed it to Jamie.
Mara couldn’t hide her surprise as Jamie’s thin, bony hand reached out and successfully captured it in midair. “Bravo!” she laughed as she conceded defeat and handed the folded dress to the patiently waiting older woman.
“I think I’ll be seein’ to it personally that these gifts be returned to their proper owner,” Jamie told her, her lips firmly set.
Mara shrugged as she picked up her brush and began lazily to stroke the long strands of dark hair. “Do as you wish, the matter no longer interests me,” Mara said in a bored tone. “But don’t let it detain you too long. After all, we are leaving tomorrow and I’ll be needing you to finish packing,” Mara reminded her.
“Aye, Jamie’ll be back soon enough, so ye’ve no need to be worryin’ on that score,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried from the room and the glowering look on Mara’s face.
Mara continued to brush indolently the long, silky strands, gazing unseeingly into the mirror as she gave free rein to her troubled thoughts. She felt an unaccustomed guilt when her thoughts lingered on Julian Woodridge’s anguished face, but as her own face came back into focus in the mirror, she ruthlessly pushed his image aside.
A terrified cry brought Mara quickly to her feet. Flinging down the brush, she ran into the next room and made her way unerringly across the shadowed bedchamber to the bed in the corner. The little boy lying in it held up his arms, wrapping them around her neck as Mara’s warm arms enclosed his shaking body and held him closely against her. He pressed his wet face against the smooth silk covering her breasts, his cries muffled as he tried to explain his bad dream.
“There, there,” Mara comforted him. “Nothing is going to eat you, silly-billy.”
He sniffed loudly and mumbled against her, “Name’s Paddy, not Billy.”
“Well, to be sure, you’re right. But only silly Billys are believing in giant frogs and mushrooms with ugly faces coming after them. I’m thinking maybe you shouldn’t have had that second helping of custard.”
“You won’t leave me?” he asked tearfully, tightening his hold around Mara’s neck.
“No, I’ll not be leaving you,” Mara reassured him.
“Ever?” he persisted.
Mara smiled indulgently. “Ever.”
“Promise?” he demanded.
“I promise. Now lie back and finish your nap.”
Mara straightened the rumpled bedclothes and tucked him back in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, one of his small hands clasping hers, she recited nursery rhymes to him until his even breathing told her he had fallen asleep. She tiptoed quietly from the room.
Several hours later Mara comfortably reclined against the silk-covered pillows on her bed and became engrossed in a novel entitled
Jane Eyre
that had been a great success the year before.
“Men,” Mara muttered contemptuously as she read. She absently reached out for the teacup sitting on the table beside her bed, and grimaced as she swallowed the tepid tea. She glanced at the clock, wondering where Jamie could be, and was laying her book down when the door opened and Jamie entered. “I was just wonder—” Mara began abruptly, and then noticed Jamie’s pale, pinched face.
