The Secret Kiss of Darkness (6 page)

‘No. I want you to promise that you’ll get rid of
him
,’ he pointed over his shoulder, ‘or you can forget about our marriage. I will not take second place to anyone in my wife’s affections.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, he’s dead!’ Kayla groaned again, the spasms of pain in her abdomen were coming more frequently now, and she was overwhelmed by bouts of nausea. She wished Mike would just go away. ‘And you have a
Playboy
calendar in your kitchen,’ she added.

‘That’s different. And I was going to take it down when you moved in anyway.’

‘Well, I never said a word about it. Besides, I was only joking about him being gorgeous. I mean, look at him, he’s not exactly Brad Pitt.’

‘Uh-hmm. So why did you buy it then?’

Kayla made a vague gesture with her hands and Mike clenched his fists.

‘I mean it, Kay, take him back. Damn it all, a man’s got to be master of his own house.’

‘Fine, if that’s how you feel, why don’t you go back to
your
house and find some other stupid female to lord it over. I’m not marrying anyone who can’t see me as an equal in a partnership. This isn’t the Middle Ages, you know.’ She tugged violently at her engagement ring and yanked it off her finger before throwing it at him. ‘And take this with you when you go.’ He caught it deftly out of pure reflex. ‘I never liked it anyway. It’s too damn big and gets stuck everywhere. I’ll collect my things when I’m feeling better. Goodbye.’

Without waiting for an answer she rushed off to the bathroom to be violently sick, and barely heard the front door slamming shut. She was too ill to care that she’d just thrown away all her dreams out of sheer stubbornness. Too ill to care that months of planning had been for nothing. And it was all because of a pair of irresistible blue eyes.

Or was it?

‘Tell me more about yourself.’ Eliza reached out and trailed her fingers along Jago’s cheekbone, staring at him almost with reverence. He turned and kissed her hand, awed by the feelings that rose up inside him.

‘Why? What do you wish to know? I’m just a simple innkeeper.’ He shrugged, trying to make light of her words.

‘Have you always lived here? And who was your mother? She must have been very dark.’ She smiled. ‘You’re what my nanny would have called swarthy, with your tanned skin and this, which I love.’ Eliza’s fingernails grazed the black stubble along his jaw, making him shiver with pleasure. ‘But your eyes, they must be from your father, am I right?’

Jago nodded. ‘Yes, they are the only feature of his I’ve inherited. My mother Lenora was a Gypsy, you know, and bequeathed me her exotic colouring. I’m told she was beautiful, enticing and full of life. A temptation to any man, but particularly to someone like Sir Philip.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘He’d just lost his wife, he was lonely and needed to be swept out of his grief. My mother didn’t ask much of him, or so I’ve been told, but she cheered him with her zest for life. They both knew it wasn’t a lasting relationship, but they each got what they wanted out of it.’

‘You?’ Eliza smiled teasingly and Jago chuckled.

‘No, I doubt that I was part of the plan. Whether I’d arrived or not, Lenora would have continued her carefree life, moving around with her band of Gypsies, had she not died giving birth to me. I would’ve been raised with the other children, as indeed I was at first by my grandmother, but then Sir Philip found out about me. He was a nice man. He had me educated and even left me some money in his will. Enough for me to buy the inn and a decent boat.’ He spread his hands. ‘There you have it, my life story.’

‘So you’ve never wanted to go roaming with your kin?’ Eliza put her head to one side. ‘I’ve heard tell anyone with Gypsy blood feels the pull of such a life irresistible.’

Jago grinned. ‘Oh, I’ve done some roaming over the years – leaving the inn in the capable hands of a friend – but not often. My mother’s blood only surfaces in me occasionally.’

Eliza sighed. ‘It sounds so romantic, such freedom. I wish …’

‘What do you wish, my love?’ He tangled his fingers in her lovely blonde hair and pulled her close so that he could smell the flowery fragrance that was uniquely hers – honeysuckle and roses. He inhaled deeply and stored it in his memory yet again.

‘Nothing, except to be with you.’

‘You are, sweeting, you are.’

But he knew they were both wondering the same thing. For how much longer?

Kayla’s South Kensington flat consisted of just one large room, with a sleeping platform constructed in one corner on which she had placed a plump, comfortable futon. The Victorian house had such high ceilings that there would have been plenty of room for two floors, and the small platform didn’t detract from the sense of spaciousness in any way. The ceiling was ornately plastered with a border of fruit and small animals, and normally Kayla loved to lie in her bed and look at it from all angles. Tonight, however, her legs felt like boiled vermicelli and she was too weak to climb up the ladder. Instead she collapsed onto the sofa with another moan.

‘Oh God, I feel awful,’ she muttered. She started to tremble and soon she was shivering violently while her stomach continued to cramp as if it wanted to expel every last ounce of food inside her.
Well, you have, so leave me in peace
, Kayla thought grumpily. She pulled a plaid blanket down from the back of the sofa and covered herself, but it was no use. The shivers wouldn’t stop. Teeth chattering, she finally reached for the phone and dialled her parents’ number. ‘Mum?’

‘Kayla, dear. What’s the matter? I was just getting ready for bed.’

‘I’m s-sorry, Mum, but I-I’m afraid I’m i-ill. F-food poisoning, I think. Bad oysters. D-do you think I should c-call the doctor?’ Kayla’s mother was a nurse, the oracle to whom all her children turned whenever they had any questions of a medical nature and she was invariably right in whatever measures she suggested.

‘Have you been sick? Do you have a temperature?’ she asked in what Kayla thought of as her professional voice.

‘Y-yes. There’s nothing left inside me, I can g-guarantee it. And I’m pretty sure I have a bit of a temperature. Maybe more than a bit, actually. I’m shaking like a leaf.’

‘Well, wait a while longer, dear. If the temperature goes up even more, then perhaps you should call the doctor. You might need antibiotics; some cases of food poisoning can be nasty. But if you feel a bit better in about half an hour or so, then it should pass. Your body has rid itself of whatever it was, now it has to calm down again. I’ll call in a while to check on you, shall I?’

‘Okay. Th-thanks, Mum.’

Kayla lay back down and concentrated on relaxing her body, breathing deeply to weather the continued spasms of pain in her stomach. The shivering slowly subsided and an unnatural heat began to spread over her instead.

‘Yes, definitely a temperature,’ she said to herself and closed her eyes. She was so tired, so very tired. If only she could sleep for a while, then maybe she’d wake up to find it had all been a bad dream.

‘I dare say you’ll be as right as rain by tomorrow,’ a voice said bracingly, and Kayla jumped and swivelled her head round to see who was talking to her. There was no one in the room. She struggled into a sitting position with some difficulty.

‘Who’s there? Who said that?’ She could hear the panic in her voice and tried to control it. This definitely had to be the worst possible time to be confronted by an intruder. She was too weak to stand up, let alone defend herself. What use were karate lessons if you were unable to even lift your arm?

‘Have no fear, no one is going to hurt you, I promise.’ The voice – deep, dark and smooth – made her heart do a somersault. It sounded familiar. She cast another frantic look around the room, but there really was no one there. Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes, and one rolled down her cheek as she lay back down and flung one arm across her face.

‘Oh great, I’m hallucinating now. I’d better call the doctor after all.’

‘No, you’re not. Look at your new purchase,’ the voice commanded, and her eyes flew to the portrait. The dark man was smiling and she could have sworn he winked at her. Then he raised one hand. Kayla stared for a few moments before a strange buzzing noise began in her ears and the world started to disappear into a dizzying vortex of darkness.

The last thing she heard was the smooth voice exclaiming impatiently, ‘Hell and the devil confound it! This is not the time for a swoon, woman. I need to speak to you.’

Kayla opened her eyes and let her gaze roam around the room. She felt extremely lightheaded and it took her a while to focus on the familiar objects around her. She tried taking deep breaths and blinked several times to clear her vision. All was quiet, nothing moved and the man in the painting smiled his enigmatic smile as before without wiggling so much as a finger. She had dreamed the whole thing.

A sense of disappointment washed over her and then she laughed at herself. ‘Of course you dreamed it, you idiot,’ she muttered. ‘Paintings don’t talk, for heaven’s sake.’

She crawled off the sofa and managed to fetch a glass of soda water from the little kitchenette that was hidden in an alcove at the back of the big room. She sipped the fizzy liquid slowly, not sure whether her stomach would allow her to keep anything down yet. To her relief, there were only a few rumbling protests, nothing more, but her head pounded like the very devil, so she made a second foray to find some aspirin as well.

‘I wish I hadn’t bought you,’ Kayla said, and glared at the painting. ‘I feel so confused and it’s all your fault. I thought I knew where I was going with my life, had it all planned out, and now I’m back to square one. What am I going to do? And what about the wedding? Oh hell, it’s all booked and everything.’

He didn’t reply and she lay down and closed her eyes. ‘Huh, you don’t have any answers, do you? But then, neither do I, I suppose. We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?’

With a deep sigh she settled down to sleep some more and let her mind drift wherever it wanted to. It returned to the man’s face, again and again, and even with her eyes closed she could see him clearly. She was too tired to do anything about it so she allowed her thoughts free rein and felt herself drifting off.

‘I’m sorry, but I really didn’t mean to frighten you to death.’

The deep voice startled Kayla again and made her turn too quickly to look at the painting, causing a renewed attack of dizziness. The man in the portrait smiled apologetically and shrugged. ‘Please, don’t swoon again, I beg of you. I thought you modern women were made of sterner stuff and you don’t even have the excuse of a tight bodice.’

Utter silence reigned for a few seconds. Kayla hadn’t realised that she had been holding her breath until she heard the wheezing sound her throat made when she finally drew some air into her lungs. She stared at the now so-familiar face and jumped about a foot off the sofa when he started to talk again.

‘You see? I’m not dangerous.’ He smiled again, showing even white teeth in a piratical grin, obviously pleased with the effect he was having on his audience.

Kayla registered the fact that he spoke with a slight burr. West Country if she wasn’t mistaken. She’d been to Devon and Cornwall for a holiday once and remembered the accent. She finally found her tongue. ‘But … but … how is this possible? I mean … I’m dreaming, right?’

‘Are you?’ He became serious again. ‘Perhaps, perhaps not. Does it matter? I need to speak to you because there is something I would like you to do for me.’

‘Do for you?’ she echoed, feeling foolish in the extreme. She was talking to a painting, for God’s sake. She shook her head. Next she’d be talking to the walls or the plants on the window ledge. Was she really that ill?

‘Yes, something I can’t do myself. Being stuck in a painting rather restricts a man’s options, don’t you know?’ The rest of his body was moving now and he gesticulated with his hands as he spoke. Kayla watched in fascination as he seemed to come to life before her. In her trance-like state she forgot to be frightened. She must be very ill indeed, she decided, but what did it matter? This was what she’d been dreaming of all week – to actually meet this man in the flesh – and now her dream was coming true. Or was it?

‘So will you do it?’

‘Huh, do what?’ Kayla blinked and returned to reality, if that was what this was. She shook her head, then immediately regretted it since the vertigo returned with a vengeance. Putting up her hands, she held her head still and closed her eyes. ‘No, I don’t believe this. Please, just leave me alone. I’m too ill to cope with this. You’ve already ruined everything.’

‘I would dispute that.’

‘Really? Guess you weren’t listening earlier then.’ She croaked out a laugh. ‘What am I saying? Of course you weren’t, you’re a
painting.
’

His expression turned stern. ‘This is becoming a little wearisome. I simply wish to ask you to do me a small favour, nothing more. Please?’

‘No, stop! I need a rest. I’m obviously extremely ill.’ She turned her back on him and huddled under the blanket once more.

‘Very well, as you wish.’ The voice behind her sounded rather huffy, as if he was insulted. ‘We will discuss the matter at a more suitable time.’

‘Yes, yes, and pigs will fly, no doubt.’ Kayla closed her eyes and savoured the peace for a while. When she couldn’t resist the temptation any longer, however, she peeked over her shoulder at the portrait, but there was no movement. It was just strokes of paint on a canvas, nothing more.

‘As I thought,’ she muttered. ‘Well, what did you expect, woman?’

She sighed and settled down.

Kayla dozed fitfully and was jerked out of a bad dream by the shrill ringing of the phone. She answered before she was fully awake.

‘Hello?’

‘Darling, are you feeling any better?’

Her mother’s voice sounded strangely incongruous to Kayla, still lost in her fantasy world, but she shook her head slightly and closed her eyes.

‘Yes, Mum, although I’ve been having the weirdest dreams. Maybe even hallucinations.’

‘That’s quite normal, dear. It’s the temperature affecting you, I’m sure. Is Mike there to look after you?’

Kayla hesitated. If she told her mother the engagement was off, there would be endless questions and she didn’t feel well enough to cope with those at the moment. Time enough to break that piece of news to her in the morning. So she opted for a small white lie. ‘Er, he’s just gone out to get a few things, you know, aspirin and stuff.’

‘Well, you’re in good hands then. I’ll call you in the morning to make sure you’re on the mend, okay? Goodnight.’

Kayla put the receiver back and lay down on the sofa again. She glanced over her shoulder at the man in the painting. His blue gaze seemed to mock her, but remained fixed. ‘Damn you,’ she muttered and punched the cushions into a more comfortable shape before settling down with her back towards him. Sleep was the only thing that could cure her. That and the aspirin.