Call of the Heart Read online

  Very gently Lord Rothwyn put his arm round her and drew her very close to him.

  “The nightmare is over!” he said. “There is no longer any darkness to frighten you.”

  Lalitha hid her face against his shoulder.

  “You are free, Lalitha!” he said, “free of all that has frightened you and made you so miserable these last years. I now know who you are, that your father was respected by all who knew him, and your mother was someone everyone loved.”

  He felt Lalitha give a little sob and he continued: “They would both want you to be happy and that is what I am determined you shall be!”

  “Sophie! What has . . . happened to . . . Sophie?” She felt Lord Rothwyn stiffen a little before he replied in a very different tone of voice:

  “I thought at first of making Sophie go with her mother. Then, because she once meant something to me, I gave her when she pleaded with me permission to marry Sir Thomas Whemside.”

  “H-How . . . could . . . she?” Lalitha asked. “He is . . . horrible!”

  “She was only too willing to do so,” Lord Rothwyn answered. “But Whemside, as he has told me frankly, can no longer afford the extravagances and the luxuries of London. He is therefore taking Sophie with him to his Estate in the North and it is very unlikely that he will ever again be able to afford to come South.” Lalitha was silent for a moment and then she said: “But you ... loved her! She is so . . . very . . . beautiful!”

  It seemed to her that there was a long silence before Lord Rothwyn said:

  “Last night I asked you which you thought the more beautiful—my picture over the mantel-piece or the drawings I brought you—do you remember?”

  “Y-Yes ... of course,” Lalitha answered.

  “And you told me,” Lord Rothwyn went on, “that the drawings inspired you and you looked at them with your soul.”

  “Yes ... I said . . . that.”

  “I bought those three particular drawings,” Lord Rothwyn continued, “because each one of them reminded me of you.”

  “Of . . . me?”

  “There is so much in them, so much below the surface,” Lord Rothwyn said. “The Running Youth has all the joy of living which you have now that you are well again. The Landscape is your enthralling, fascinating mind.”

  He paused to say slowly:

  “The face of the angel by Leonardo da Vinci has a spiritual, mystical look of which no man could ever tire.” He felt Lalitha quiver and then she said:

  “I do . . . not. . . understand.”

  “What I am telling you, my darling,” he said softly, “is that you are not only the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life, but your beauty enthralls me, delights and inspires me, and I shall never tire of looking at you!”

  “It . . . cannot be . . . true!” Lalitha said. “Can you be . . . saying these . . . things to . . . me?”

  Lord Rothwyn looked down at her face raised to his and said very gently:

  “Had you not guessed by this time that I love you?” He saw the sudden radiance which lit her face and then as she stared at him wide-eyed he went on: “When I saw how badly you had been treated I thought what I felt was pity. At the same time I felt an irresistible urge to restore you to what you should be, re-construct and re-build you.”

  His arms tightened as he went on:

  “I knew instinctively that beneath the scars and ravages of what had been inflicted upon you there was a beauty and a treasure beyond price!”

  He drew her still closer as he said:

  “You called to me for help, Lalitha, and it was a call not only from your heart but the call of love!”

  “Are you . . . sure?” she stammered. “Are you . . . quite . . . quite sure? Perhaps I am . . . dreaming.” He smiled at the almost childish terror in her voice. “You are not dreaming,” he answered, “but I have been so afraid of telling you this, my precious, in case I should frighten you more than you were frightened already. But I love you! And I cannot risk losing you for the third time!”

  Lalitha looked into his eyes and saw that what he said was the truth.

  With a little inarticulate cry she hid her face once again. “The only way I can make sure of you,” Lord Rothwyn went on, “is that you should be with me always and at all times, by day and by—night, Lalitha, as my wife.”

  She did not answer but he could feel her heart beating tempestuously against his through the silk of his robe.

  Very gently he put his fingers under her chin and turned her face up to his.

  “I love you, my darling!” he said softly. “And now tell

  me what you feel for me?”

  Just for a moment it was impossible to speak, then Lalitha answered.

  “I love ... you! I have loved you ... I think ... since you first ... kissed me ... but I never ... thought ... I never ... dreamt that I could mean ... anything to ... you!”

  “I have never forgotten the touch of your lips,” Lord Rothwyn said. “They were soft and frightened, but I knew in that moment it was different from any kiss I had ever had before!”

  He bent his head towards her and asked softly: “Shall I discover if it was as wonderful as I remember?”

  Her lips were waiting for him and then as his mouth found hers she felt all the wonder and the rapture of her love flare blindingly into something so beautiful, so glorious, that it was like the touch of the Divine.

  This was what she had dreamt of but had never believed it could happen to her.

  This was an ecstasy beyond imagination, beyond thought itself!

  Lord Rothwyn’s lips were at first very gentle and yet compelling.

  Then as he felt Lalitha respond, as he felt the fire within himself ignite the flame within her so that she quivered against him and he knew that she vibrated to his touch, he became more possessive, more demanding.

  He raised his head to look at her face, transfigured by her love into a beauty he had never seen before.

  “My precious! My darling!” he said, his voice deep and unsteady. “I will make you happy, I will protect you and look after you and nothing shall ever harm you.”

  “I love . . . you!” Lalitha murmured. “But you are so . . . wonderful . . . so . . . magnificent! I am . . . afraid of . . . failing you!”

  Lord Rothwyn smiled.

  “You need not be afraid of that! I need you as I have never needed another woman!”

  He saw the question in Lalitha’s eyes and went on: “Women have always wanted something from me in one way or another. Whilst I have been prepared to give them what they demanded, I always felt something was missing. Then the other night when I was with you in the woodcutters’ hut I realised what it was.”

  “What . . . was it?” Lalitha asked.

  “It was the protection that a woman gives a man when she loves him fully and completely, as I believe you love me,” he answered.

  His voice was very tender as he went on:

  “When I awoke to find your arms round me and my head on your breast, I knew that what I had never had from a woman before was the feeling of being encircled with love and that she wanted to keep me safe, although from what I was not quite certain!”

  “I was ... wishing,” Lalitha said hesitatingly, “to ... save you from all that was ... unpleasant or ... evil in life. I thought too ...”

  She hesitated and could not look at him.

  “Go on,” Lord Rothwyn prompted.

  “... that you were ... almost like my ... child,” she whispered, “and I must ... defend you against ... unhappiness and ... loneliness.”

  He made a sound that was one of triumph.

  “My precious! My lovely one!” he exclaimed. “That is what I felt you must be thinking. Instinctively in myself that was what I have always wanted of a woman, without being able to put it into words!”

  His lips sought hers and then before he actually kissed her, Lalitha said softly:

  “It was . . . perhaps . . . then that my . . . heart called to . . . yours.�
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  “The call that I heard,” Lord Rothwyn replied, “was the call of love which will be there all through our lives.”

  He kissed her and it seemed to Lalitha that his lips were more insistent, more demanding, more passionate than they had been before.

  He was asking something of her. Although she was not certain what it might be, she knew that she was willing to surrender herself completely and utterly to whatever he asked.

  She was his in mind, body, and soul, and she felt that he too was giving her himself.

  They were one.

  They were complete and the call of the heart had been answered with love.

  Barbara Cartland, the celebrated romantic author, historian, playwright, lecturer, political speaker and television personality, has now written over 150 books. Miss Cartland has had a number of historical books published and several biographical ones, including that of her brother, Major Ronald Cartland, who was the first Member of Parliament to be killed in the War. This book had a Foreword by Sir Winston Churchill.

  In private life, Barbara Cartland, who is a Dame of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, has fought for better conditions and salaries for Midwives and Nurses. As President of the Royal College of Midwives (Hertfordshire Branch), she has been invested with the first Badge of Office ever given in Great Britain, which was subscribed to by the Midwives themselves. She has also championed the cause for old people and founded the first Romany Gypsy Camp in the world.

  Barbara Cartland is deeply interested in Vitamin Therapy and is President of the British National Association for Health.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six,

  Chapter Eight