Wilde, Jennifer (56 page)

I
was silent, remembering Cassie and Adam. Derek was thinking about them, too. I
could tell. He looked up at me with a grim expression on his face.

"I
began to understand why you helped those two escape. I hated you for it at the
time, but after sailing on the slave ship—" He cut himself short.

"I
wonder what happened to them," I said quietly.

"I
imagine Adam got a job in one of the foundries. His lot won't be much better
than it was in Carolina, but at least he's a free man. Thanks to you. You did a
brave thing, Marietta."

"I
had help."

"Elijah
Jones. I always knew he was involved, even though I could never prove it. Men
like Jones will eventually see to it that slavery is abolished. I'll be on
their side."

There
was a moment of silence as both of us thought about the past, and then Derek
drank his brandy and set the empty glass down, folding his arms across his
chest.

"I
met Valjean in Martinique," he told me. "That's how I got into
smuggling. It hasn't been a pleasant occupation, but it's better by far than
slaving."

"And
now you'll return to England," I said.

He
nodded. I waited. He said nothing about taking me with him. I stepped over to
one of the windows and held back the coral drapery with my hand, peering out at
the gardens in back, refusing to let myself doubt. Of course he would take me
with him. I meant as much to Derek as he meant to me. I mustn't allow myself to
doubt it.

"I'm
going to win," he said.

"I'm
certain you will."

I
turned
away from the window, letting the drapery fall back into place.

"I've
worked so hard, so long, and at last it's about to pay off. I've been in touch
with my lawyer in London, have kept in touch all this time. He's finally been
able to verify the documents that prove my father married my mother. It took a
lot of time and even more money, but he's finally got the proof we need."

"You
told me once your uncle had a shrewd set of men working for him. You said
they'd been able to keep it out of the courts. Won't they try to do the same
thing this time?"

Derek
smiled bitterly. "They'll try, but this time I have the money to fight
back.
I
can bribe officials now. I can grease enough palms to make
certain it goes before the magistrates."

"I
see."

"It's
a corrupt world, Marietta. Even those who are in the right have to acknowledge
its corruptness and bow to it. It's taken me a decade, but I'm finally going to
see justice done."

"And
then you'll be satisfied?" I said.

"I'll
be satisfied."

"I
hope so, Derek. I hope you can start living."

"What's
that supposed to mean?"

"I—nothing.
It meant nothing."

"I'm
not a very pleasant person, am I?"

"I
wasn't implying—"

"I'm
cool and aloof and utterly ruthless. I know. I've been told so dozens of times.
I've been obsessed with my inheritance. It's driven me, shaped me into the
person I am, and that person isn't charming, isn't genteel, doesn't leap to his
feet when you enter the room."

"Derek—"

"And
yet you claim to love me. You're a fool, Marietta. I treated you wretchedly in
Carolina, abused you, tossed you aside in a fit of rage. And still you're here,
asking for more. I don't understand it."

He
gazed at me, his eyes almost angry. He still leaned back against the sideboard,
arms crossed. The beige cord breeches clung to his legs, and the white cambric
shirt was so fine I could see the suggestion of skin beneath. Why, I wondered.
Why must it be this moody, enigmatic man, and not some other? Why must he be
the only one to set these tremulous emotions astir inside me? I didn't
understand it, but it had happened and there was nothing I could do.

"You're
beautiful," he said, and it was like an accusation. "You're the most
beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on, and you've haunted me like a
witch."

"Have
I?"

"I
wanted to forget you. I tried. I wanted to hate you, and for a while I thought
I did. The other women—I punished them. I treated them abominably, heartlessly.
I was punishing you."

"Because
I ruined you?"

"Because
I couldn't get you out of my mind. When I saw you that first night in the
moonlight, looking like a vision in your velvet and diamonds, looking like a
witch, I wanted to strangle you."

"But
you sent the key."

"And
when you didn't come, I cursed you. I told myself I was glad, told myself I'd
been a fool to send the key in the first place. Three weeks went by, and I
realized I couldn't stay away any longer. I realized the only way I could
exorcise you was to bed you and prove to myself that what I felt was purely
physical."

"And
now?"

"Now
it's worse than ever."

Derek
sauntered over to me and took hold of my arms, looking down into my eyes. His
own were dark, filled with love and angry resignation. For a long time he
peered at me, and then he shook his head as though in defeat.

"I
suppose it was meant to be," he said.

"I
suppose it was."

He
tilted his head to one side. The jagged white scar moved as he slowly parted
his lips. He leaned down and fastened his mouth over mine, catching it in sweet
suction and working over it with lazy, sensual deliberation that caused my
senses to reel. His arms folded around me, and I moved against him, tilting my
head back as his mouth plundered leisurely. The muscles of his arms tightened,
tightened until I thought my bones would snap, and I welcomed it, clinging to
him.

He
moved his lips down to the curve of my throat, lips firm, pliant, smooth. I
curled one hand around the back of his head, running my fingers through those
dark locks, leaning back against his arm as he planted his lips between my
breasts. I could feel the sweet, liquid warmth stealing through me like honey
filling a comb, and the familiar ache tingled as the blossom of my passion
unfurled petal by petal, blooming inside at his nearness, his touch, his scent.

"Beautiful,"
he said.

"I'm
glad."

"Mine.
Mine still."

"Yes."

"Even
more than before. Mine."

"Yours,
Derek."

"Meant
to be. It was meant to be."

Derek
lifted me up in his arms and carried me down the short hallway to the bedroom.
It was small, intimate, only a few misty beams of sunlight seeping through the
louvers of the closed brown shutters. The whitewashed walls were brushed with
blue-gray shadows. The bed and dresser were golden oak, the mirror a murky
silver-blue. A rich brown brocade counterpane covered the bed. Derek put me
down and kneeled to pull off my slippers and peel off my stockings. As he
tossed them aside, they drifted to the floor like wisps of smoke. He stood up,
pulled me to my feet, arms encircling me as he unfastened the tiny, invisible
hooks down the back of my dress. I drifted in a haze of sensation.

Derek
stepped back and slowly pulled the bodice down, bending to ease the dress over
the blue and green skirts of my petticoat. I shivered as the final petals
unfurled, the blossom of my passion full blown, vibrant and lovely within me,
urgently demanding to be plucked. Derek undressed me as though he were
unwrapping a wonderful present, refusing to hurry, savoring the joy yet to
come. He unfastened the bodice of my petticoat and freed my breasts, fondling
them leisurely before slipping the garment down over my hips, and when he was
finally finished, when my clothes were strewn over the dark golden carpet and I
was completely naked, he kissed me yet again, folding me against him. I ran my
hands over his back, feeling muscle and warm skin beneath the fine cloth.

"Witch,"
he said.

"Yours."

"I
should cast you out."

"You
won't."

"I'd
like to. I can't."

"We
need each other," I whispered. "Without you I— I'm not complete. I'm only
half alive. And you. It's the same with you."

"Damn
you."

"It's
true."

"Damn
you for what you've done to me."

He
eased me onto the bed. I stretched languorously, the counterpane cool and silky
beneath me. He perched on the stool in front of the dresser and pushed off
first one boot, then the other. He stood and pulled off the thin white shirt
and let it float to the floor. He undid his trousers and eased them down,
stepped out of them, and then he was naked, too, a superb nude statue pulsating
with life and readiness. As he moved toward the bed, I raised my arms. The
mattress sagged as he kneeled over me, and I wrapped my arms around him and
shifted as he lowered himself. I gathered the weight and warmth to me,
trembling beneath him.

He
entered with the softness of velvet, the strength of steel, and I rose to meet
him. We were one now, no longer incomplete, together, as we were meant to be,
limbs entwined, one. I ran my palms across his shoulders, down the smoothness
of his back, over the swell of his buttocks, and slowly, so slowly, he filled
me, caressing me as I caressed him, and wells of sensation overflowed, rising,
ever rising, and the sweet tingle and the ache quickened. Caught up, he drove
forcefully, seeking fulfillment now, passion mounting, caresses giving way to a
savage frenzy. He thrust, and I clasped him and the wells became waves, great
waves that swept over us both again and again, crashing now, carrying us to the
crests. For one incredible moment we hung suspended in ecstasy, senses shredded,
and he gave a hoarse cry as we went hurtling down into release.

Derek
shuddered. Several minutes passed as I held him to me, shaken to the core by
the splendor that slowly ebbed, leaving in its wake a residue of glowing
warmth. Neither of us spoke. We never did. I stroked his hair, damp from his
exertions, and finally he withdrew and the oneness was gone and the invisible
barrier was in place once more. I closed my eyes, drifting into sleep. When I
awoke, Derek was no longer beside me. His clothes were gone. He had dressed
while I was still sleeping. I heard him in the sitting room, glass clinking as
he poured another brandy.

It
was twenty minutes before I finally joined him in the sitting room. I was fully
dressed, and I had rearranged my hair. Derek was standing at one of the
windows, looking out. His skin was still slightly moist, and the fine white
cambric clung to his back and shoulders. He didn't turn as I entered the room.
The rapturous unity might never have taken place. Each time we made love it was
as though I had robbed him of part of his independence. One day he would be at
ease with himself and his love, I thought. One day he would look at me with
eyes filled with that love, and the invisible barrier would be gone forever.

I
glanced at the clock. It was almost four-thirty.

"I'll
have to start back," I said.

Derek
turned. His face was expressionless. He hesitated just a moment before
speaking.

"I...
uh... I'll be out tomorrow afternoon, Marietta."

"Oh?"

"All
afternoon," he said. "There's no point in your coming."

"I
see."

"I'll...
get in touch with you."

"Is
something wrong, Derek?"

He
frowned. I had the impression he was keeping something from me. I felt a tiny
fear awakening inside. I curbed it, knowing I mustn't nourish it, let it grow.
Derek stepped over to the sideboard to set down his empty glass, deliberately
avoiding the question. It probably had something to do with the smuggling, I
told myself. That must be it, must be why he couldn't discuss it with me.

"I'll
see you the day after, then," I said lightly. "I... I really must be
going. Kyle is supposed to pick me up at five."

Derek
nodded and walked to the front door with me. He opened it and I stepped
outside. He followed me. He was still frowning. He seemed to be indecisive
about something, reluctant to let me go. Finally he drew me to him and kissed
me a final time. He was trying to tell me something with that kiss. The lips
covering mine seemed to convey a poignant message, one he couldn't put into
words. He drew his head back, still holding me loosely, looking down into my
eyes.

"Goodbye,
Marietta," he said softly.

Neither
of us had heard the gate opening. Derek looked up as footsteps sounded on the
tiles. His face grew suddenly grim. He released me abruptly and stepped aside.

I
turned.
Jeff strolled casually toward us, a curious smile playing on his lips.

"Thought
you might be here," he remarked.

I
stood
very still—paralyzed, it seemed. The expected onrush of emotion didn't come.
After that first moment of shock I felt only a deep sadness, my concern for
Jeff, not myself.

"I
told myself you really were going to the dress shop every day," he said
amiably. "I told myself it was foolish to entertain the least doubt, but I
had to banish that doubt, you see. I had to prove to myself that you weren't
seeing him."