Fire in the Blood Read online

  It was a hip bath and, as she washed in warm water that had been brought up in highly polished brass cans, she thought this was really an adventure and she was enjoying every moment of it.

  There had been after all, nothing to frighten her at the funeral, and to have met a man whom her father had admired and whose books had delighted him more than any others was something she knew she would always treasure in her memory.

  ‘I shall never see him again,’ she told herself, ‘but I will never, never forget him!’

  She dried herself on an enormous warm Turkish towel in front of the fire while Mrs. Whiteley brought her fresh underclothes.

  They were as beautiful as Selene’s and heavily trimmed with lace, something she had never possessed herself and never expected to feel next to her skin.

  Then there was a choice between a white gown of crêpe trimmed with rouched chiffon or a black one of tulle spangled with jet.

  They were both lovelier than anything Pandia had ever seen or possessed and, while she hesitated, Mrs, Whiteley said,

  “I didn’t think you’d want anything in a colour, my Lady. At the same time, as you’ve been in black all day, I’d like to see you in the white gown.”

  “Very well,” Pandia replied, “and, as I cannot wear them both, I should be delighted to borrow the white gown if you are quite certain Her Grace will not mind.”

  “Her Grace is very generous in everything she does. She’s His Grace’s second wife and not yet thirty, so her clothes are very young and fashionable which here in The Castle we all enjoys to see.” Pandia was thinking how most of the people at the funeral had seemed very old and she could understand how a young Duchess would cheer them all up.

  Although she had been too polite to say so, she had been surprised that the Duchess’s gowns were so elegant.

  She had been thinking that because the old Duke had been ninety when he died, it was unlikely his successor would be a young man.

  Then she wondered, while Mrs. Whiteley was arranging her hair, whether the new Duchess, like Selene, was finding her elderly husband boring and perhaps looking for a handsome Prince to make her happy.

  Pandia told herself she was still shocked at the way Selene was behaving.

  At the same time she felt that if her Prince talked to her in the same way as Lord Silvester had been talking to her, she might find it difficult to remember that she was a married woman and expected to be staid and dignified like her elderly husband.

  Mrs. Whiteley stood back from the dressing table.

  “What do you think of that, my Lady?” she asked.

  Pandia had been deep in her reverie as she was thinking of Selene and had not realised that Mrs. Whiteley had not only rearranged her hair in the same way that it had been when she arrived, but had placed two white roses on top of her head.

  “Her Ladyship sometimes wears egrets or ospreys,” Mrs. Whiteley said, “but I thought the roses would be more attractive with this gown.”

  “I can see that you are an artist, Mrs. Whiteley,” Pandia said and the housekeeper looked quite coy at the compliment.

  “I’ve often thought I’d like to try my hand, my Lady, at decorating rooms or designing gowns, but then I’ve never had the opportunity.”

  “Perhaps one day your dreams will come true,” Pandia said lightly. “It is what we all want.”

  “That’s a fact, my Lady, and now, let’s see how you look in the white gown. If not, there are plenty more to choose from, but I somehow don’t picture you in a bright colour.”

  As she was fastening her into the gown which fitted her surprisingly well, Pandia felt sure that Mrs. Whiteley had been right.

  She looked very young in the white gown.

  If Lord Silvester had thought of her as a girl on the threshold of a new and unknown world, that was exactly how she appeared now. In the gaslight with which The Castle was lit the red in her hair seemed like little tongues of fire, and the whiteness of her skin was accentuated by the

  chiffon on her shoulders.

  “Your Ladyship looks lovely! Really lovely!” Mrs. Whiteley exclaimed.

  There was a note of pride in her voice as if she herself had produced a masterpiece and Pandia smiled as she said,

  “Thank you very much indeed! You have been exceedingly kind, and I am very grateful!”

  “When you come upstairs, my Lady, Emma’ll be waiting to help you undress. She’s a good girl and’ll look after you.”

  “Thank you,” Pandia said. “I shall not be late.”

  She walked slowly down the corridor knowing with a feeling of delight that she had never worn such a beautiful gown.

  She enjoyed the rustle of her silk petticoats and felt they made what was almost a ‘purring’ sound over the carpet.

  The gown, like the black one of Selene’s, fitted tightly over the bodice and the rouched chiffon swept out over the hem like the waves of the sea.

  Round her neck she wore Selene’s pearl necklace and her earrings.

  They did not give her any look of sophistication, but again her youth and the translucence of the pearls seemed to blend with the clarity of her skin.

  Bates, who was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, escorted her across the hall.

  Two footmen flung open a pair of double doors and she found herself in the silver drawing room.

  It only needed one look at the crystal chandeliers with the lighted candles and a glimpse of white pillars picked out in silver and glistening Venetian mirrors to know why Lord Silvester had thought it was the right background for her.

  She knew the light was all part of the light he had found in Greece, which was the light of the Gods and perhaps the light too which flowed from them both.

  He was standing at the far end of the room in front of an exquisitely carved mantelpiece.

  He did not move as Pandia started to walk towards him, and as she felt his eyes watching her she felt very young, very unsure and shy in a way she had never been shy before.

  As she reached him, he took her hand in his to say very softly,

  “Oh, my dear, you are the moonlight itself, just as I knew you would be!”

  Then, as he kissed her hand, and she felt his lips warm and insistent against her skin, she felt herself quiver.

  Chapter Five

  “Where are you travelling to next?” Pandia asked.

  They had talked for hours and it seemed as if the time had passed so swiftly that she had not asked Lord Silvester half the things she wanted to know.

  “In a week or ten days,” he replied, “I am going to Tafraout.”

  He saw the question in her eyes and, before she could speak, he added,

  “It is in the Ammein Valley in Southern Morocco and is, I believe, one of the three most beautiful places in Africa that has never yet been seen by an Anglo-Saxon.”

  “How exciting for you!” Pandia exclaimed. “How I wish I could come with you!”

  She spoke without thinking, then as she saw the strange expression in his eyes she blushed and said quickly,

  “Nevertheless, I will dream about it, as I dream of other places I shall never see.”

  Then, as she felt once again he might say that as her husband was rich he could afford to take her anywhere she wished to go she, added quickly,

  “What is your book to be called?”

  “I have not yet decided upon the title,” he said, “but I think Forbidden Places would be appropriate.”

  “Forbidden?” she asked him. “Where else is included?” “Tibet was the most obvious,” he replied, “and of course, Mecca.”

  “You have been to Mecca? You have really been there?”

  She knew that if any white man was discovered trying to enter the Holy of Holies of the Muslim world, he would be, put to death and felt frightened at the risks Lord Silvester must have run.

  “I found it a most interesting and enlightening journey,” he said quietly.

  Pandia was just about to ask him to tell her abou
t it when she was aware that it was growing late.

  Without thinking, almost as if the words came involuntarily to her lips, she said,

  “I suppose we should go to bed.”

  She rose as she spoke and was surprised when Lord Silvester replied,

  “I think that is an excellent idea!”

  She had been expecting him to protest that he did not want her to leave him and now she thought she must have behaved as Selene would never have done and overstayed her welcome.

  Because she was feeling embarrassed she walked towards the door and after a moment he followed her.

  There was a night-footman in the hall, who rose from his chair as soon as they appeared and as Pandia reached the staircase, she said to him,

  “Goodnight!”

  “Goodnight, my Lady!”

  She was aware that Lord Silvester was just behind her and thought it would perhaps seem strange if they walked upstairs together.

  Standing on the bottom step, she held out her hand. “Goodnight, my Lord!” she said. “Thank you for the most interesting and exciting evening I have ever spent.” He took her hand in his and she felt his vibrations so strongly that they seemed almost to tingle up her arm. Then hurriedly, because she was shy, she went up the stairs without looking back.

  When she reached her bedroom, she did not have to ring the bell because Emma was already there waiting for her.

  She was a young maid, which was why she was expected to stay up late at night and was not talkative like Mrs. Whiteley.

  Pandia spoke a few words to her and then was content to relapse into her thoughts, thinking that she had been very remiss in not leaving Lord Silvester at least an hour earlier.

  Then she told herself that whatever he thought of her it was of no consequence.

  After he had brought her his book and he had promised to do so tomorrow afternoon, she would never see him again.

  He would disappear into the unknown and she would return to Little Barford and be completely forgotten.

  It was a depressing thought. Equally, because she was still thrilled by their conversation and the strange feelings he had aroused in her, she was not for the moment depressed or even apprehensive of the future.

  She knew that, once she returned home, it would be impossible not to be afraid of the years in which there would be only Nanny to talk to and nothing would happen except the slow passing of the seasons, one by one.

  She would grow older and doubtless not only her beauty would vanish, but her brain would ossify without the stimulus of her father’s presence and his translations to occupy her.

  ‘I may be able to finish his book,’ Pandia thought, ‘but I doubt if I am competent enough on my own to start another.’

  She remembered how Lord Silvester had offered to help her and she could imagine nothing more perfect than that they should work together.

  He would make the forgotten languages and the forgotten places on which he was such an expert, come alive.

  ‘He is a very wonderful person!’ she told herself as she got into bed and tried to think how grateful she should be for having met him.

  Then she thought,

  ‘Even if I am never able to see him again, I shall know what he is doing from his books.’

  She realised, however, that it would never be the same as being vividly aware that he was sitting beside her, that he was talking to her in his deep voice and the expression in his eyes making her feel shy.

  As Emma turned out the gaslights, there were only two candles left on a table beside the bed.

  “Goodnight, my Lady!” she said as she reached the door.

  “Goodnight, Emma, and I am sorry to have kept you up so late,.” “It’s been a pleasure, my Lady!”

  The maid bobbed her a little curtsy, then left the bedroom closing the door quietly behind her.

  Pandia lay back against the pillows.

  She did not wish to blow out the candles because she wanted to look at her bedroom and think it was the sort of room she would never sleep in again.

  ‘Perhaps I could write a story about The Castle,’ she thought, ‘where the heroine would sleep in this room, meet the man of her dreams, marry him and become the Duchess of Doringcourt.’

  But she knew that even in her thoughts she was cheating herself and it was not the Duke of Doringcourt she was thinking about, but Lord Silvester.

  ‘No Duke,’ she told herself, ‘could be more handsome and certainly no Duke could have the same magnetism or what Papa used to call ‘shafts of light’ coming from him like one of the ancient Greeks.’

  Then, as if her thoughts of him had conjured him, the door into the boudoir opened, and Lord Silvester came into the room.

  For a second Pandia thought that she must be imagining him.

  He shut the door behind him, came towards her and she stared at him in astonishment, her eyes seeming to fill her whole face.

  “Why – are you – here?” she managed to stammer as he reached the bed. “Y-you should not – come to my – room!”

  There was a faint twist of Lord Silvester’s lips as he stood looking at her with the red in her hair glinting like little flames from the light of the candles as it fell over her shoulders.

  “We had not finished saying goodnight to each other,” he began quietly.

  He seated himself on the side of the bed facing her. He was wearing a black robe with Chinese dragons embroidered on it in gold.

  “I-I said goodnight to – you,” Pandia replied.

  Because he was so close to her, her heart was beating in a discordant manner and she was finding it difficult to speak.

  “Not the way I want you to,” Lord Silvester replied. “Besides, it was you who suggested we should go to bed!” Pandia gave a little cry of horror.

  “I did not – mean that – of course I did not mean that!”

  “Why not?”

  As she could find no words in which to answer him, he said very quietly,

  “Perhaps you will think it too soon, but we both know without words what we feel about each other and we may never have an opportunity like this again.”

  “I-I don’t know – what you are – saying to me,” Pandia faltered.

  She knew by the expression in his eyes that he did not believe her

  She was also acutely conscious that the nightgown she was wearing which had belonged to the new Duchess was, like Selene’s, diaphanous and very transparent.

  Instinctively she pulled the sheet a little higher.

  It was a defensive movement and Lord Silvester said with a touch of surprise in his voice,

  “You are very young. At the same time you are married, and I cannot believe that you do not understand what I feel about you and how much I want you.”

  “You must not say – things like – that,” Pandia said. “It is – wrong.”

  “You and I both know that to the Greeks love is never wrong,” Lord Silvester replied, “and you and I, my adorable little Goddess, are one with the Gods.”

  He bent forward as he spoke and before Pandia was really aware of what he was about to do, his arms went round her and his lips were on hers.

  He took her by surprise.

  Then, as she knew that she must struggle against him and her hands moved to push him from her, his lips gave her a sensation she had never known existed.

  In was like the vibrations which she felt from him and yet far more intense, far more ecstatic.

  She felt as if shafts of light were running through her, from his lips to her breasts, and from her breasts over her whole body until she could not breathe for the wonder of it. His arms tightened and his mouth became more possessive, more demanding, more insistent.

  While, at the back of her mind Pandia knew that she should struggle, she felt as if something within her which she could not control leapt like a flame towards him.

  ‘I belong to him,’ she thought, ‘I am his!’

  She felt as if he carried her up to the very pinnacle of
Olympus and as he had said they were no longer human, but Gods and enveloped by a celestial light.

  Lord Silvester raised his head.

  “You are a Goddess,” he sighed, “for no human woman has ever made me feel like this and I can only say that I love you!”

  His voice was very deep and moving as he looked down at her eyes shining in the candlelight, her lips trembling from his kisses, her face framed by her hair.

  He thought that even a Goddess could not look lovelier.

  “I love you,” he repeated, “and, darling, I want you as I know you want me!”

  Then, as his words brought her slowly back from the glory into which he had taken her, Pandia was suddenly aware of what he was saying.

  With what was a superhuman effort she managed to find her voice.

  “This is – wrong! Please – you must not – kiss me – again!”

  “It is not a question of kissing you,” Lord Silvester replied. “I want to make your beautiful, exquisite body mine as your mind already is.”

  “No – no!” Pandia cried.

  She put her hands flat against his chest to try to push him away from her.

  As she touched him, she was aware of his strength and how completely helpless she was.

  “Why are you fighting me?” he asked. “What we have found, my precious, is so perfect that it would be a crime to deny it.”

  Pandia thought the same.

  But although she did not know exactly what happened when a man made love to a woman, she knew it was something she must not allow and it would be a sin if they were not married.

  “Please – don’t kiss – me,” she pleaded.

  Her voice was very weak and helpless and she knew by the fire in his eyes that she merely excited him more. “How can you stop me?” he asked.

  Then he was kissing her again, kissing her with long, slow, passionate kisses that seemed to grow more demanding and more insistent until Pandia thought he held her completely captive.

  It was impossible to think or be aware of anything except the shafts of light within her that felt like tongues of fire flickering and growing stronger every minute his lips were on hers.

  Then like a voice coming out of a mist she could hear Selene say,