The Secret Kiss of Darkness (4 page)

‘I don’t really know what to tell you,’ Maddie finally said, ‘except, I think you’re in big trouble.’

‘I’ve figured that out for myself, thank you very much.’ Kayla laughed. ‘The question is, how do I go about softening the blow? I’ve got to tell Mike, obviously, but I don’t really know how.’

‘You’re absolutely sure you want to keep this monstrosity? I mean, you don’t even know who this guy is, so it’s not like he’s an ancestor or anything.’ Maddie was frowning, deep in thought. ‘Although, that’s an idea. Perhaps you should claim that he is? Didn’t you have some uncle down in Devon or something who was drawing up your family tree? Blame him.’

‘The man in the picture is not a monstrosity. Just wait till you see him. He’s incredible! The artist who painted him must have been a genius. Every time I look at him I think he’s about to step out of the frame and talk to me. I swear, I thought he winked at me the other day.’

‘Well, that’s a great help,’ Maddie muttered sarcastically.

‘No, seriously, I’m not taking him back. I’m keeping him no matter what.’ Kayla was adamant, but as she said the words she wasn’t entirely sure whether she was trying to convince Maddie or herself. ‘Besides, I’ve nearly bankrupted myself to buy him. I can’t back down now.’

‘How much overdrawn are you?’

‘Not overdrawn exactly, but I had to use up all my savings, as well as the money from Auntie Em, so I’ll have to borrow money from my mother to pay for the wedding dress. And if Mike wants a contribution towards the honeymoon, well, that could be a bit tricky.’

‘Oh, Kayla.’ Maddie shook her head. ‘You realise you might be jeopardising your wedding here? What’s Mike going to say when he finds out you’ve spent every penny you have? And on a painting of a handsome bloke?’

‘Not handsome exactly, but … I don’t know.’ Kayla hung her head. ‘Actually, I was going to ask you something.’ She hesitated before plunging on. ‘The thing is, yesterday Mike was being really irritating and suddenly I had this feeling that maybe I’m making a huge mistake. How well do I know him really? We’ve kind of rushed into things, haven’t we? I mean, we’ve only been engaged for a short time and hadn’t been going out all that long either when Mike proposed. It seemed like it was meant to be, but now I’m not so sure. What do you—’

‘Hang on a minute.’ Maddie held up a hand to stop Kayla in mid-flow. ‘It’s not because of this painting business, is it?’

‘No, it has nothing to do with that at all.’ Even as she said the words, Kayla knew she was lying. It had everything to do with the mystery man. He’d made her realise that perhaps there was something missing from her real life romance. Something vital. She looked away and thankfully Maddie didn’t argue the point.

‘Well, you know everyone always gets nervous before their wedding. It’s entirely normal. You have to expect it.’

Kayla shook her head. ‘I know, but right now I suddenly feel I need more time to think about it. It happened so quickly – the proposal and all that, I mean – and I was swept up in the preparations before I knew what was going on. Perhaps we should have had a longer engagement, but everyone kept saying there was no point in waiting, and somehow I just went along with it.’

‘Oh, stop worrying. You’ve been going out with the guy for what … a year? And you haven’t wanted to leave him once in that time. Okay, so maybe Mike isn’t the demonstrative kind, but he did propose without you having to prompt him. That’s got to mean something, right?’ Maddie flashed her a grin to show she was joking. ‘Seriously, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Everyone has their off days and I bet he’s getting a bit jittery himself, you know.’

‘Yes, I suppose, although Mike doesn’t really get nervous about things. That’s what makes him such a good lawyer.’

‘This is different, personal. You don’t get married every day. It’s bound to affect him.’

‘Maybe, but then there’s this party on Saturday. You know I don’t get on too well with his mother and if the rest of his relatives are the same, it’s going to be absolute hell.’

‘Well, you’re not marrying them or her, you’re marrying Mike. And you love him, don’t you?’ Kayla nodded slowly, annoyed with herself for hesitating even a fraction of a second. ‘Right, so stop worrying and help me come up with some cunning plan about this painting of yours instead. Perhaps it will be okay if you introduce the idea to Mike gently and promise not to hang it in his flat? Oh, and tell him it’ll be worth loads of money within a few years.’

Kayla hesitated. ‘You think that’ll do the trick? I suppose it’s worth a try, although he’s bound to see through it.’

‘Rubbish. Just bat your eyelashes at him and smile sweetly and he’ll forget everything else. Anyway, you’re going to keep your flat after the wedding, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I was going to rent it out. It’ll give us an additional income which might come in handy if I should become pregnant or something.’ Maddie gave her a searching look and she hurried to add, ‘Not that I’m planning on starting a family any time soon.’ Thankfully Maddie let it pass, even though she knew how much Kayla loved kids.

‘Well, then, just leave the picture there as part of the furnishings.’

‘I guess I could.’ Kayla giggled. ‘I’ll have to sneak in whenever the tenant is away to look at him for a while, though. Oh, Maddie, just wait till you see him, he really is—’

‘For goodness sake, woman, just listen to yourself!’ Maddie rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not sure you deserve my help, but here’s what I think you should do …’

As Maddie outlined her plan, Kayla had to concentrate really hard. All her brain wanted to do was think about the man in the painting and even when she briefly closed her eyes, his features were all she could see. She took a sip of wine and fixed her eyes on Maddie.
Enough already
,
she told herself sternly. She had to get a grip.

Of course once was not enough. It would never have been enough, and Jago had known it before he even uttered the words. One night with Eliza had sealed his fate, binding him to her forever.

He stayed away from her of course. How could he do otherwise? It wasn’t as if he could walk up to the Hall and demand to speak to the mistress. He was a lowly innkeeper, a bastard at that, and she was a lady. It simply wasn’t done. But she found a way to overcome this barrier.

A week after their first meeting, on the afternoon of the day Sir John left for a prolonged visit to London, she entered the taproom of the King’s Head. Her midnight-blue riding habit with its mannish jacket suited her to perfection, and she wore a jaunty black hat, set at a slight angle, with a couple of ostrich feathers adding height. She passed several startled customers and sat down at one of the tables. Her groom, a young, nervous-looking man, hovered behind her until she told him to be seated. He looked as though he would have liked to protest, but was too much in awe of her ladyship to remonstrate with her.

A serving girl approached her respectfully and bobbed a curtsey. ‘My lady? What can I get ye, ma’am?’

‘Ale for my groom and a mug of your best cider for me, if you please.’

‘Right away, m’lady.’

Eliza looked around her with interest, her beautiful eyes seemingly taking in every detail of the establishment. She smiled at the other customers, who were regarding her with a mixture of awe and consternation, and nodded at them. Their mouths fell open in astonishment. This was the first time the new Lady Marcombe had ever ventured out of her eyrie and into the village, and they didn’t know what to make of her. Not to mention the fact that no one had thought to see her set foot in a common inn with only her groom in attendance.

Jago watched from behind the counter and deemed it time to intervene. He took the tray of drinks from the serving maid and carried them to the table himself, bowing low to her ladyship.

‘Lady Marcombe, you honour us with your presence.’ He straightened up and gave her a warning look as he set the drinks down on the table. She gazed back innocently, and then he noticed her eyes open wide in startled admiration when she caught sight of his eyes. He knew their clear blue colour was a marked contrast to his otherwise dark looks, and he was aware, without being vain, that women found the combination attractive. They’d told him so. Eliza continued to study his face and smiled again. Perhaps she liked what she saw? A frisson snaked down his back. It shouldn’t matter to him, but it did. Lord help him, it did. He wanted her to like how he looked, not just what he could make her feel.

‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jago Kerswell, owner of this inn.’ He bowed again.

‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Kerswell. Would you care to have a mug of cider with me and tell me a bit more about the inn and the village? I fear I have been very remiss in not visiting before and I would like to make amends.’

It was a highly irregular request, as he was sure she was well aware, but coming from her it sounded innocent enough. She had courage, he had to give her that. He knew what she’d really come for, but at least she had brought a chaperone of sorts and she’d acted as prudently as possible under the circumstances. Just as well, for he felt sure this incident would be reported back to Sir John upon his return. It must never happen again.

‘Certainly, my lady. I would be honoured.’ He pulled up a stool on the other side of the table, as far away from her as possible.

For the next half-hour he sat with her and told her all about the village and any amusing anecdotes he could think of, and all the while he revelled in her smiles. At such close quarters and in daylight she was exquisite, like one of the porcelain dolls he’d seen in a shop window in Exeter once. She played the gracious lady to the hilt for the benefit of their audience, with just the right note of condescension in her voice, but he knew it was all an act. It wasn’t the real Eliza, because he had already met her.

Finally, when she obviously realised she couldn’t possibly stay any longer, she nodded to the groom and said, ‘Hobbs, would you be so kind as to ready my mare for me, please?’ The tone was imperious, brooking no argument, even if the groom had been so inclined.

‘Yes, of course, my lady.’ The young man, who’d remained silent during the entire visit, jumped up to do her bidding, and Jago was alone with her at last, out of earshot of the other customers.

‘Meet me tonight,’ she whispered so quietly only he could hear her. ‘Please, Jago?’

He nodded, stood up and bowed to her again. ‘It has been a great pleasure to have you here, my lady. I hope you will come again soon.’

‘Thank you, Mr Kerswell. Your cider is excellent.’ She swept out of the door without a backward glance. And Jago knew that although she would never again visit the inn, he would see a lot more of her from now on.

The party was as dreadful as only large family gatherings could be.

‘You’re late,’ Mike hissed, as Kayla arrived with her parents, ‘and what the hell are you wearing?’

‘It’s a new dress and I thought it was rather nice, thank you very much. I was sure you’d like it.’ Kayla pushed past him into the house, trying to swallow her annoyance and disappointment. They were only five minutes late, and that was because her father had insisted on taking what he called a short cut, which of course turned out to be no such thing.

‘I do, I mean, it’s great, but … my parents.’ Mike looked flustered, then added unwisely, ‘Well, for God’s sake don’t sit down whatever you do!’

Kayla ignored this comment and helped her mother find somewhere to hang her coat. Choosing what to wear for the party had been way down on her list of priorities that morning. So far Sotheby’s hadn’t rung to tell her when the painting would be delivered and Kayla was almost frantic with worry. What if there wasn’t enough money in her account and her cheque had bounced? She’d been so sure there would be sufficient funds, but she could have miscalculated. Or what if the painting had been lost or stolen on the way to the warehouse?

‘Stop it,’ Kayla had told herself sternly while she tried to concentrate on her choice of clothing. She hesitated between a rather conventional little black dress, which she knew became her well, but which his parents had seen before, and a new one in lilac, which was a bit on the short side but came with a pretty little matching cardigan. She finally chose the lilac one. Although she wasn’t very tall, she had quite long legs and they were one of her best features. She didn’t see why she shouldn’t show them off. Besides, the Russells may as well get used to the way she looked, she reasoned, and if they didn’t like it, too bad.

‘Shouldn’t you have worn something a fraction longer?’ was her mother’s first question when she arrived with Kayla’s father to pick up their daughter.

‘Oh, Mum, don’t fuss. This is a perfectly respectable dress.’

‘That’s debatable, I suppose.’

‘Well, short is all the rage at the moment.’

Her mother smiled as Kayla bristled. ‘Seriously, dear, there may be staid old aunts and uncles present.’

‘They’re not marrying me,’ Kayla said, echoing Maddie’s comforting words. ‘Anyway, there’s no time to change now.’

Overhearing Mike’s comment when they arrived, her mother gave Kayla a meaningful glance, which made Kayla even more determined to disregard them. The awful truth was that she didn’t care what the Russells thought and it bothered her. She ought to care. She should want to impress Mike’s relations, but at the moment all she could think about was the man in the painting. When would he arrive?

Giving herself a mental shake, Kayla went to do her duty by Mike’s relatives, tugging surreptitiously at the hem of her dress every so often. She made her way around the room, answering every banal and unoriginal question with a polite smile.

Yes, she was very nervous about the ceremony.

Yes, she was a very lucky girl.

Yes, she was looking forward to the honeymoon and no, she wasn’t in the family way already.

This last question was asked with a wink and a nudge by an elderly uncle, and Kayla quickly removed herself from his vicinity. As soon as she could decently manage it without offending anyone, she poured herself a glass of wine and then skulked in a corner for a while, observing the assembled company.

Her parents were chatting to Mike’s parents. Kayla noticed they were all icily polite to each other, but there was no real friendliness and everything they said appeared to be some sort of competition.

‘Well, of course, dear Mike is aiming to be a QC and he’s doing awfully well at that firm where they work.’

‘Yes, but our oldest daughter’s husband is a heart specialist and he’s seeing patients in Harley Street several days a week now. So lucrative, you know. I really don’t know who can afford to go there these days.’

‘You should see our latest grandson, he’s so clever! And his sister …’

Kayla had a vision of endless Christmases and birthdays spent listening to the same kind of thing and she turned away in horror, looking for more congenial company. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be.

‘Darling, there you are. Come, you must meet Aunt Phyllis, she has been so looking forward to seeing you.’ Mike was at her elbow, steering her away from a girl of her own age who had looked like a promising candidate for decent conversation. ‘And for heaven’s sake, try to pull your dress down a bit when you talk to her,’ he whispered between his teeth. Kayla scowled at him, since that was precisely what she’d been doing already.

There followed another seemingly endless parade of aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents and Kayla smiled until her jaw ached. When she couldn’t stand it any longer she fled to the bathroom, where she stayed, daydreaming about the blue-eyed man in the portrait, until the banging on the door became too irate to ignore.

It was the party from hell, just as she’d been afraid it would be. And when Kayla finally arrived home, having developed a monumental headache, it was to find a message on her answerphone saying that Sotheby’s had called to arrange delivery of her painting, but since she wasn’t at home they would call some other day. She swore and threw a cushion at the wall.

The wind from the sea caressed her hair and tore at her skirts, but Kayla hardly noticed. She closed her eyes and leaned her back against the solid chest behind her as two strong arms came up to hold her in a tight embrace. He leaned his chin on her shoulder, putting his cheek next to hers and she felt the stubble rasping her delicate skin. She shivered with delight.

‘I wish we could stay like this forever,’ she whispered with a sigh, and turned in his arms.

He smiled and drew his thumb gently along her cheekbone. ‘Me too.’

Her arms came up to circle his neck, and the gesture pushed her breasts up so they brushed against him. She trembled once more, rocked by a desire stronger than any she had ever felt before. There was no need for words after that. She gazed into his heavenly eyes as his mouth descended on hers, not wanting to miss the slightest look from him. When he kissed her, she knew she would be oblivious to the world around her, and she ignored the fact that she couldn’t have him, forgot everything but the feel of him. She never wanted to let go …

Kayla woke up abruptly with tears of frustration running down her cheeks and her heart beating rapidly. The dream had been so real. She had felt his arms around her, his lips on hers, and tasted the salt in the air. Her body was tense with unfulfilled desire. She wanted the man in the portrait and she wanted him now.

‘Damn it!’ She sat up and picked up her pillow, shaking it roughly and ramming it down onto the bed again. Perhaps Maddie had been right after all. She should return the painting before it was too late, before it ruined everything. The weeks leading up to her wedding were supposed to be some of the happiest times of her life. She should be immersing herself in the preparations, becoming caught up in the excitement, but all she had done was to dream of making love with a man who didn’t exist. A man she had absolutely no chance of ever meeting because he’d been dead for hundreds of years, if indeed he had even existed in the first place.

It wasn’t right. It had to stop.

‘All right, I’ll sell him.’ She nodded to herself, pleased to have come to a decision. But a little voice inside her whispered that it was too late, all too late. She wanted him too much. More than she’d ever wanted Mike.

Was it fair to her fiancé to marry him, feeling like this? She was beginning to have serious doubts.

At last he arrived and he was every bit as wonderful as he’d been in the showroom. Perhaps more so because now he was definitely hers.

For a short while
, she reminded herself.

Kayla sat on her sofa and gazed at the large portrait which was standing on the floor, leaning against the fireplace. She had no idea how she would hang him on the wall or if it would even fit. The painting must weigh a ton. She thought vaguely that she should have asked Sotheby’s for advice, but right now she didn’t care. He was fine where he was.