They Sought love Page 7

  But she could not help herself. Desire for him ran through her like liquid fire, reaching down to her toes and out to her fingertips. Who cared if he knew? She wanted him to know.

  He seemed to be speaking to her from a great distance.

  “I wish the night was here already.”

  Had he really said that, or was it only the echo of her own fevered thoughts?

  “Yes – ” she gasped.

  “Do you wish that too?”

  “Yes – yes – I can hardly breathe – you are holding me so tightly.”

  “Don’t you want me to hold you?”

  “Yes – ” she said wildly.

  “Then tonight I will hold you tighter still. I shall make you mine and you will belong to me forever. Do you understand me?”

  She could only nod. All the strength seemed to have drained out of her and it was only his arms that were holding her up.

  She felt him draw her closer yet, until his lips were touching hers and she was helpless to do anything but yield to his kiss.

  She emerged from her daze to hear the incredible sound of applause. Looking round she saw that the other dancers were gathered about them, cheering at the sight of such a happy couple.

  “I think we should leave the floor,” he murmured. “I don’t much like making an exhibition of myself.”

  He was right, she thought. Such joys were for later, when they were alone.

  He led her off the floor, waved away another man who would have invited her to dance, bowed and left her.

  She was glad to be alone for a moment to get her breath back and recover her thoughts.

  In a few dazzling minutes the whole world had changed.

  She had noticed the brusque gesture with which Robin had discouraged the man who wanted to dance with her and it dawned on her, like a flash of lightning, that he was jealous.

  How wonderful! she thought. For so long she had felt jealous of every other woman in his life. And now he was jealous – of her!

  She wanted to sing aloud that the world was a wonderful place and she was the happiest of mortals.

  She suddenly noticed that the doctor, who was among the guests, was looking at the Dowager worriedly.

  “I think you should not stay here much longer,” he said to her in a low voice. “I understand that you wanted to witness the wedding, but you should now go to bed.”

  “Very well,” the Dowager agreed reluctantly. “I am enjoying myself, but perhaps I should go. I still have duties that must be done.” She looked at Celina fondly. “One duty, especially.”

  “Shall I fetch his Lordship?” the doctor asked, glancing to a corner where Robin was now laughing with some male friends.

  “No, I don’t want to worry him,” the Dowager said. “Celina, my dear, come with me. There are things I want to show you.”

  At the bottom of the stairs she pulled herself out of her wheelchair, insisting that she could manage for herself and climbed up slowly but firmly.

  “This way,” she said, indicating the bedroom that had always been hers.

  Celina followed her in, expecting to help put her to bed, but she stopped on the threshold, stunned by the room’s transformation. New curtains were on the windows, new drapes hung around the four poster bed and everywhere there were flowers.

  “This is your room now,” the Dowager announced.

  “But – no – I cannot drive you from your room,” Celina stammered.

  “This room is always occupied by the Countess of Torrington and that is now you. I remain the Dowager Countess and very happy to be so.”

  Celina understood. A connecting door led from this room to Robin’s. Her mother-in-law had set her heart on a grandchild.

  And it was only right and natural that she and Robin should be so close.

  Tonight was their wedding night when he would come to her and take her in his arms.

  Then the passion that she had felt flare up at his kiss would be fulfilled, and they would be truly united as man and wife.

  At the thought, she felt a thrilling warmth surge through her body, as though she was blushing all over.

  “Champagne!” the Dowager cried. “I wish to drink champagne with my beloved daughter-in-law.”

  A servant hurried away and returned with champagne.

  The Dowager was next showing Celina around the room that was now hers with its huge magnificent bed hung with silk, the antique furniture, the little room attached where her maid would sleep.

  Everything was magnificent, a tribute to the rank and pride of the Dowager Countess, the most socially important lady in the district.

  But that was herself, she now realised. Her mother-in-law had retired into the secondary role of a dowager, glad to do so since she was realising her wish and she, Celina, now reigned supreme.

  Nobody could doubt that the Dowager was pleased. There was real joy in her eyes as she toasted the new Lady Torrington and when they had clinked glasses she gave a little twirl of delight.

  “Careful,” Celina said anxiously. “Remember that you are still unwell. You must conserve your strength.”

  “My dear, I am feeling better every minute. Suddenly I have a new lease of life. Thank you, thank you.”

  Delighted for her, Celina took her hand and smiled.

  There was a sudden silence.

  Looking up, Celina saw Robin standing in the doorway.

  Behind him, in the corridor just outside the room were a small crowd of laughing friends. They all looked brilliantly happy as guests at a wedding ought to look.

  Only Robin did not seem to glow with happiness. He was regarding them with a strange expression on his face.

  It was cold and reserved and filled Celina with a sudden fear.

  “My dear boy!” the Dowager called with pleasure, turning to him with her arms outstretched. “Join us in a glass of champagne.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  His manner was impeccable. He accepted a glass and raised it to his mother, but his eyes were stony.

  “I am glad to see you are so much improved, Mama. It is delightful – and unexpected.”

  “Such a happy occasion,” his mother sighed, “it has affected me like a tonic. If only you knew how much better I feel.”

  “I think I do know,” he said slowly. “Yes, many things are now becoming clear to me.”

  He had moved towards his mother and Celina and now spoke in a low voice, so that only they could hear.

  It seemed that the Dowager had also sensed something was wrong. Slowly she raised her glass to her son and spoke in a slightly nervous voice.

  “I wish you both long life and happiness,” she proposed.

  “An excellent toast,” he agreed. “Happiness – and long life.”

  It was at that moment that the first icy trickles of fear began to trouble Celina. She tried to ignore them. The suspicion growing inside her was surely impossible?

  But there was a cold glint in Robins eyes, barely disguising an even colder rage.

  She told herself that it was only her imagination. This was her wedding day and until now everything had been going so well.

  ‘Please,’ she prayed, ‘do not let anything go wrong now.’ But she would not allow these fears to appear in her face. This was the day she had dreamed of for years, the day she married the man she adored and nothing must spoil it.

  “Happiness and long life,” she agreed, raising her glass and meeting his gaze steadily.

  For a moment it almost seemed as though he was disconcerted, unsure of himself. Then his expression hardened again.

  “Shall we return to our guests?” he asked smoothly. “This is – after all – a wedding.” He gave a frozen smile. “The happiest day of my life. Let us celebrate!”

  The last words were a cry, though whether of delight or rage it was impossible to say. But Celina thought she knew.

  He led the way out of the room, apparently the picture of the happy bridegroom.

  “Let us all go down,
” the Dowager said. “I want to dance.”

  “Is that wise in your state of health?” Celina asked.

  “Oh, my dear, a little dance will not hurt me. Besides, I may have exaggerated my illness a little, but does that really matter?”

  “Matter?” she echoed, aghast. “You told Robin you were dying.”

  “I even managed to fool the doctor,” the Dowager admitted with a smile of pleasure at her own cleverness.

  “But you used it to bring about this marriage,” Celina said in a horrified whisper.

  “Of course I did. I had to do something or the situation would have dragged on for ever. It was high time Robin married.”

  “You deceived us,” Celina cried.

  “Well, yes, that was a pity but do you really mind, my dear? I have always believed that you felt a tenderness for Robin. Did you really not want to marry him?”

  “Not like this. Never like this.”

  “As long as the right people are married, it doesn’t matter how,” her mother-in-law said wisely.

  “But it does,” Celina said, almost in tears.

  “Things will work out in the end. I know Robin is very fond of you, and he will be so overjoyed that I am now well after all that he will forgive us.”

  “Us?”

  “Very well, me. It will be all right. Don’t worry.”

  But would it be all right? Celina felt the gravest doubts. She had seen the rage in her new husband’s eyes and she knew what it meant. He had seen and understood.

  Suddenly everything was bathed in a horrid light.

  The joy she had felt only a few moments ago had vanished. It had all been a terrible illusion and now there was a price to be paid.

  But first she must endure the rest of the celebrations, smiling and looking as though she had not a care in the world.

  She followed the Dowager downstairs to where she could hear music playing and the dancers were still twirling around the floor.

  After a moment she could see Robin dancing with a young girl, spinning madly in time to the music. As the waltz ended he turned towards another girl and held out his hands.

  One by one, he danced with every pretty girl in the room, and the onlookers murmured their approval of the groom who paid attention to so many guests when he must secretly long to be alone with his wife.

  Only Celina understood that he was avoiding her.

  Once, as she was dancing with the Mayor, she caught sight of Robin’s face, close to her. His eyes were dark with anger. Then the turn of the dance took him away.

  At last the wedding party was over. The carriages lined up at the door and the guests trooped out to climb into them and depart.

  “I shall retire now,” the Dowager said. “It has been a long day and it has left me wearied.”

  “Let me come with you ma’am,” Celina offered.

  “Goodnight Mama,” Robin said and kissed his mother on the cheek.

  From the garden came a burst of male laughter. Some of the guests had lingered.

  “I must go and see how long they intend to remain,” Robin said and departed, after giving a little bow to his mother and his wife.

  The doctor also came upstairs and fussed about the Dowager, taking her temperature and listening to her breathing until he was quite satisfied.

  He too, Celina realised, had been completely fooled about her condition. How brilliantly she had played her part, so that nobody suspected.

  When everyone else had left, Celina stood at the window, looking out onto the garden, where the darkness was broken by only a few lamps.

  Suddenly there was another roar of laughter from a place under the trees.

  Celina could not see too well, but she just managed to make out a rustic table, around which several men were sitting, with beer tankards in their hands.

  One of them was Robin.

  He was clearly enjoying himself, exchanging jokes with his friends and quaffing from his tankard. He looked like a man who meant to stay there for a long time.

  ‘He is just being polite,’ she reassured herself.

  “Come and bid me goodnight,” the Dowager called from her bed.

  She held out her arms and Celina bent down, kissing her with affection.

  “Now hurry to your room and make yourself ready for him,” she said. “He is probably in his own room at this very minute, pacing the floor, impatient for his wedding night. You must not keep an eager bridegroom waiting.”

  “No ma’am.”

  This was not the moment to confide her fears.

  Nora, her new maid was waiting for her. She helped Celina out of her wedding dress and into the gorgeous nightdress in which she would await her groom.

  Then Celina sat at the dressing table while the maid brushed her long hair until it cascaded over her shoulders, almost down to her waist.

  Soon he would be here, wreathing his hands through her hair, burying his face in it before raising his eyes to her face.

  But what would she see in those eyes?

  “Goodnight,” Nora said at last, adding, “my Lady.”

  My Lady. It was true. She was Lady Torrington, the Countess, the Earl’s bride.

  But it all held a false and hollow ring. He was not pacing up and down, eager to come to his bride and consummate their love.

  She turned out the lamp and walked again quickly to the window overlooking the garden. From here she could see the place where he had been sitting. Some of the men were still there.

  But he had vanished.

  Where was he? What would he do now?

  She stood there, in the darkness of the silent house, waiting and wondering, her heart beating urgently with anticipation.

  CHAPTER SIX

  At last Celina heard a footstep in Robin’s room next door. She held her breath.

  How long now? A few minutes to undress, then he would come to her in his dressing gown. And then – Her heartbeat quickened.

  But it was only a few seconds later that she heard a sound from the door. She watched as the handle turned, very slowly and quietly. The door swung open and there he was on the threshold.

  He was still fully dressed and he stood there, regarding her in her glorious lacy nightwear. She turned so that he could see her better, but no pleasure came into his eyes.

  In fact, something about him made her wonder if he was slightly the worse for wear.

  “You are still awake?” he asked coolly.

  “But of course I am. I have been waiting for you.”

  “Like a devoted wife,” he observed ironically and it was almost a sneer.

  She flinched at the sound, but tried to reply calmly, “That is what I intend to be.”

  He began to laugh, not in a friendly way, but like a man enjoying a bitter joke.

  “I am sure your intentions are of the best, my dear.”

  “I don’t – quite know what you mean by that.”

  “Don’t you? I would have thought you probably did, but we will leave it for the moment.”

  He advanced further into the room and she became even more certain that he had taken a little too much to drink.

  Her heart sank.

  “Did your wedding live up to your expectations, madam?” he enquired sardonically.

  “My wedding? Surely it was our wedding?”

  “Was it? I must admit that I had a slightly uninvolved feeling, as though I was only there as the sacrifice being led to the slaughter.”

  “What a strange thing to say.”

  “The point about the sacrifice is that nobody tells the poor fool anything. They dress him up, lead him to the altar and just when he thinks he is the centre of a big celebration, he finds himself facing the High Priestesses sharpening their knives. It is certainly an interesting feeling.”

  “And just who do you think are the High Priestesses?” she asked, beginning to become angry in her turn.

  He shrugged.

  “I think we both know who they are.”

  “Both?” she
repeated, horrified. “Are you suggesting that I connived to force you into this marriage?”

  “Let’s not be squeamish about it. The trick worked. I did not find out until it was too late, did I? I congratulate you.”

  “How dare you!” she screamed. “How dare you suggest that I plotted all this!”

  He came to stand directly in front of her, regarding her with a bitterness that made her heart thump with dread.

  “My mother isn’t dying at all, is she?”

  “I – ”

  “Is she?”

  “How do you expect me to know?” she cried. How cold his eyes were! As cold as hate as he said, “If you do not give me a straight answer – ”

  “All right, she is not dying. She told me that today.”

  “Oh, I think she told you a lot earlier than that.”

  “I swear that she did not – ”

  “I saw you with your heads together at the reception, chuckling over the way your little conspiracy had worked out so well.”

  “No, that wasn’t – ”

  “You knew exactly what was really happening before I even came home, didn’t you?”

  “No – ”

  “Don’t deny it. It was a plot to entice me back here, tied up in wedding ribbons and delivered into marital bondage.”

  He turned away and began to stride about the room.

  She watched him, filled with misery at the ruin of her wedding night. She could not blame him for being angry about his mother’s plot, but that he should think herself part of it was unbearable. After the years they had known each other, he should have trusted her more.

  At this moment she almost detested him.

  “I knew nothing about it until tonight. You must believe me.”

  “But I do not believe you. I saw the two of you congratulating each other on a job well done.”

  “That is just not true,” she cried. “I was horrified when I found out. I told her it was the wrong way to go about things but it was too late by then.”

  “I still do not believe you.”

  “I am not a liar,” she asserted hotly.

  “So you say. But how can I believe any words of yours. If my mother could deceive me, so could you.

  “And now I come to think of it, the deceit was very cleverly done. Your refusal of a proposal that I had not made, the letter to my mother that brought me to you, determined to change your mind. What a clever trap and how easily I fell into it.”