The Painter's Apprentice, page 30
His dark eyes still bored into her and all at once she found herself completely unable to look away. She couldn’t think clearly, as if she were a mouse spellbound by a snake. He caressed the hollow of her neck causing small thrills of pleasure to radiate over her skin. She began to tremble.
‘It would be a terrible thing for a beautiful woman such as yourself never to experience the sensual delights of love, don’t you think?’ He leaned over her, his whispering breath hot and moist against her ear. ‘Clandestine afternoons behind closed shutters, the silken touch of skin on skin, bare limbs entwined together in shuddering ecstasy …’ Slowly, so slowly, the warmth of his fingertip trailed lower and lower towards her décolletage.
A shaft of desire clutched her at her, deep inside. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her breathing quickened.
Swiftly, Harry slipped his hand inside the neckline of her bodice and bent to lick her creamy flesh.
Gasping, she reared up, the spell broken. ‘Don’t touch me!’
Harry threw back his head and laughed. ‘I wondered how long you’d let me continue. And don’t tell me that you didn’t like it.’
Beth’s chair was hard back against the wall and Harry was standing so close that she was unable to rise without pressing herself against him. ‘You are no gentleman,’ she said, her heart thudding in fear and humiliation.
‘How very true! Now listen to me: I have a proposition for you.’
‘I do not care to listen to any proposition you may make. Please, stand aside.’ A wave of heat flooded over her and she glanced down to see the scarlet flush of shame mottling her breasts.
‘Hear me out.’ He rested his hands heavily on her bare shoulders, holding her down. ‘Your problem is that a husband would expect you to place your energies into managing his household and bearing his children but you want to spend all day painting. So, to avoid argument, you have decided to remain unmarried.’
‘Take your hands off me!’ She tugged at his wrists, desperate to pull his hands away from her naked skin but he only gripped her all the harder.
‘Look at me!’ His persuasive voice was like honey, rich with secret pleasures. ‘You are a beautiful woman and I cannot believe you will wish to spurn the delights of physical love all your life. An unmarried woman cannot afford to make, shall we say, a little mistake. And these things do happen. Artist or not, you will not want a bastard child clinging to your skirts.’
‘How dare you!’
‘There is a perfectly simple answer to your dilemma.’ He leaned forward until his face was two inches from her own. ‘You can marry me.’
‘Marry you!’ Beth opened her eyes wide in astonishment. Curiosity momentarily overcame her anger. ‘Why would you want to marry me?’
‘For your beauty and charm.’ He smiled. ‘And your money, of course.’
‘My money?’
He glanced at the sapphire on her finger. ‘This ring alone, that you wear so casually every day, would keep us for years. Joshua tells me your family is very rich. And then there is your family connection with Lady Arabella and Sir George, who move in the highest of circles.’
Beth shook her head in disbelief. What had possessed Joshua to tell Harry that her family was wealthy? Pure mischief, she suspected.
‘Listen to me, Beth!’ He voice throbbed with passion. ‘I will not deny that my family is currently financially embarrassed but together we can both live the lives we want. You may paint all day if you wish. At the plantation in Virginia we shall have slaves to take care of domestic matters. We needn’t trouble each other at all.’
‘You call that a marriage?’
‘A business proposition. My father’s estate shall be restored and you will lead a life of artistic freedom. If you wish to take lovers, I shall not be jealous. And should there be a little bastard I shall own it as mine. Who knows, perhaps you will even invite me into your bed? I promise you, I can bring you to heights of pleasure you have only dreamed of.’ Harry bent to kiss her mouth, pressing her back in the chair and forcing his tongue between her teeth. His beard rasped her lips and he tasted of stale wine and corruption.
She recoiled and raised a hand to slap his face.
His eyes glittering like jet, Harry caught her wrist in a grip of iron. ‘I like a woman with spirit. So much more fun when there’s a challenge.’
‘Nothing would induce me to marry you.’
‘I understand you need a little time to consider my proposal.’
‘You disgust me,’ she hissed. ‘And all this time you have played with Cecily’s feelings … I tell you, even if I hadn’t already given my heart to another, I would rather marry the Devil than you!’
The colour drained from Harry’s face with such speed that Beth would have laughed if she hadn’t been boiling with rage.
‘You’ve given your heart to another?’ He squeezed her wrist until she whimpered. ‘Who?’ He twisted her arm sharply, shoving her hard against the wall. ‘Who is it?’ He was so close to Beth that a fleck of spittle landed on her face.
She flinched and turned her face aside.
‘It’s that damned red-headed cousin of yours, isn’t it?’ He shook her wrist again. ‘Isn’t it? I thought Noah was sniffing around you with the face of a moon-sick calf. God’s teeth, as if that family didn’t have enough money of their own already!’
He relaxed his hold on her a fraction and Beth took her chance. With all her strength she twisted back sharply to face him, ramming her elbow forcefully into his crotch.
Caught by surprise, he doubled over, moaning and cursing.
Heaving him aside, she scrambled to the other side of the room. ‘Now get out!’ she said. ‘And don’t come near me, or my family, again.’
Slowly, Harry stood upright again and walked towards her, his face contorted by spite. ‘Well, then! Did Noah forget to tell you about Hannah Sharpe? You’d better ask him about his plans to marry her this Christmastide.’
Beth gasped, his word like a kick to her stomach. ‘It isn’t true!’
‘I’m afraid, my dear, that it is. So, you see, you had much better be my wife.’ He reached out to touch her throat and she stepped back. ‘You may act as if you are outraged but I sense you are ripe for the plucking. And I assure you, I am the man to do it.’
He came at her again then, forcing her back against the wall, his eyes slitted with lust.
Beth drew in her breath as he seized her hair, yanking her head towards him. She tried to scream but he covered her mouth with his own, kissing her savagely.
She struggled wildly in his hard embrace, trying in vain to push him away.
Laughing, Harry scrabbled at the neckline of her bodice, tearing at the fragile silk until he could scoop out her breast with his greedy hand and bend to suck on her nipple.
Her mouth freed, Beth screamed and kicked, beating at his head with her fists. Then, over his shoulder, she saw Cecily’s shocked face in the open doorway and behind her, Noah.
Noah hurled himself at them with a roar, dragging Harry away from Beth and punching him on the jaw.
Beth gathered up the torn silk to cover her naked breast and fell back, shaking, while Cecily began to shriek.
Grunting, the two men grappled together, locked in a fierce embrace as they crashed around the room, upsetting a table and shattering a vase of roses. They knocked pictures off the walls, ornaments went flying and they became entangled in the curtains, which were ripped from their hooks as they staggered against the window.
Noah was scarlet with fury and although the smaller and leaner of the two men, he was driven by rage. At last he wrestled Harry to the ground, straddled him, and sat on his stomach. ‘I’ll make you sorry you ever touched a hair of her head,’ he yelled, banging Harry’s head again and again against the floor.
Harry kicked and struggled but he was running out of steam. Flailing his arms, he reached inside his coat to pull out his knife.
Beth, still trembling with shame and disgust, saw the blade glint.
Harry raised the knife high, aiming it at Noah’s chest.
Cecily gave a blood-curdling scream.
Beth snatched up a chair which she swung with all her might at Harry’s arm to deflect the blow.
The knife clattered to the floor.
‘Son of a whore!’ Harry yelled.
Noah let go of Harry’s throat. Blood, flicked off Noah’s cheek, and spattered on to Lady Arabella’s pale blue silk upholstery.
Sir George, Joshua and Samuel came running into the room and wrenched the two men apart.
Noah’s face was running with blood and Harry nursed his wrist, moaning.
‘This is an absolute disgrace!’ bellowed Sir George. ‘You will leave this place at once!’
The twins dragged a cursing and struggling Harry out of the room.
The front door slammed.
Lady Arabella appeared and burst into loud lamentations at the sight of the devastation that had been her parlour.
Cecily rocked backwards and forwards, shrieking hysterically.
Beth ran to her and gripped her in a tight embrace but Cecily caught her breath on a sob and pushed her away. When Beth glanced at Noah she bit back an exclamation of horror. ‘You’re hurt!’
Noah’s cheek had been sliced open in a terrible wound stretching from his ear to his jaw.
Beth turned to Lady Arabella. ‘We need clean water and bandages. At once!’
Lady Arabella’s expression was coldly unforgiving. ‘Take him into the kitchen. And I do not expect to see him in my house again. Ever.’
The cook exclaimed in dismay when she saw the blood streaming down Noah’s cheek and soaking into his shirt. She sat them down in the scullery, dismissed the kitchen maid and brought a basin of water and clean cloths herself.
‘Now you call me if you need any help,’ she said. ‘Poor young gentleman, you’ll bear that scar until your grave.’
Noah sat silent and pale-faced while Beth, sick and trembling, cleaned the gaping wound. She pulled the edges of the skin together as best she could, wrapped the bandage under his chin and over the top of his head, concentrating all the while on her actions and thrusting away again and again of the awful memory of Harry’s revelation about Noah’s betrothed. ‘You must see a doctor,’ she said.
‘I’ll never forgive myself for not being there when you needed me,’ said Noah.
Beth couldn’t meet his eyes. She was defiled by Harry’s touch.
‘If you hadn’t gone for Harry with that chair he’d have stabbed me in the chest. I might have died.’ Noah reached out to take her in his arms.
Beth stepped back. ‘Don’t!’ she said, her chin quivering. How could she possibly bear it? An agonising pain began to grow somewhere deep in her belly, blossoming upwards as if she was being eviscerated.
‘Beth?’
‘When were you going to tell me about your engagement to Hannah Sharpe?’ she asked in a light, conversational tone, praying that Harry had lied to her out of spite.
He froze, his brown eyes wary. ‘Hannah?’
‘Yes, Hannah. I believe you mentioned she is your neighbour? But you forgot to tell me she is also your betrothed.’
Noah’s arms fell down to his side and he seemed to shrink. ‘Who told you? Harry, I suppose?’
‘Who else?’ Her last vestige of hope died. Then rage came seething up and boiled over. ‘Do you have so little respect for me that you could not tell me the truth?’ she hissed. ‘You encouraged me to fall in love with you, knowing all the while that you would break my heart!’
‘It wasn’t like that!’
‘Yes, it was exactly like that.’ There was a deep sense of unreality about their conversation. Was it only that morning they had exchanged passionate kisses and she had been so certain of his love?
‘I never meant to fall in love with you.’
His voice was quiet and full of pain. For a second she longed to comfort him in her arms, overcome by the knowledge that his handsome face was ruined by the hideous wound.
‘I tried not to fall in love with you. And you were so set on living at Merryfields and remaining a spinster that, when it was too late and I already loved you, I still thought my life could carry on as before.’
Beth’s throat began to constrict while deep in her chest a knife twisted, cutting out her heart. ‘Forget me, as I shall forget you. And go home to Hannah. I’ll not be instrumental in breaking a betrothal.’
‘Beth …’
‘Please, just go!’ The tearing sensation in her breast grew worse and she was nearly choking from holding back an eruption of weeping.
‘I’ll always love you. Nothing will ever change that.’ He stared at her for a long second and then, white-faced, left the room.
She stared at the basin of water, crimson with Noah’s blood. Suddenly faint with shock, she rested her head on her arms on the scullery table, amongst the dirty pots and pans. Strangely, she couldn’t cry after all but her mind raced. Everything fell into place: Noah’s reticence in spite of the fact that he seemed to love her, his moodiness and odd behaviour when he talked to her about his dream house. And then his urgent desire to return to Virginia.
The scullery maid looked in with anxious eyes.
‘Come in; I’ve finished now,’ said Beth.
Chapter 36
The hall was silent and empty. Beth caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were wide and dazed and there were red marks on her shoulders. A loosened lock of hair hung over her breast. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she pinned the curl back into place while she fought down a wave of sickness.
Lady Arabella stood by the window in the parlour. ‘I shall have to redecorate and have new furniture.’ She closed her eyes, shuddering. ‘Look at my chairs all spattered in blood and the curtains torn and defiled! And Sir George has left me alone amongst the wreckage and hurried off with the twins back to Court.’
‘Where is Cecily?’
‘The foolish child ran after Harry de Montford.’
Beth caught her breath. ‘You didn’t stop her?’
‘She’ll soon come running back with her tail between her legs.’
‘But Harry is dangerous!’
Lady Arabella raised her eyebrows. ‘I can only say, Beth Ambrose, that men are not dangerous unless a woman flaunts herself and encourages him to indulge in his baser instincts.’
Too angry to speak, Beth swept from the room, barely resisting the desire to slam the door behind her.
She ran helter-skelter down the lane towards the river stairs, heedless of the stones cutting into her satin slippers and the brambles snatching at her silken skirts. The sultry heat of the day had barely abated and perspiration pricked under her arms and ran in rivulets between her breasts.
A stitch pulled sharply in her side but, panting hard, she forced herself on. Dread at the thought of seeing Harry again consumed her but the fear of finding that he had assaulted Cecily was even greater. She prayed that he’d already caught a boat back to the city before Cecily reached the river stairs.
As she sprinted towards the end of the lane she caught a glimpse of Cecily’s new gold and red dress through the trees. Then she saw that Harry was at her side.
Sobbing, Beth raced on, bursting out through the copse on to the river path.
Cecily clung to Harry’s coat front and he had one arm around her waist.
‘Let her go, Harry!’ Beth heaved for breath, her heart thumping.
Harry’s face twisted into a sneer. ‘Your sister and I have an understanding,’ he said.
Cecily, her eyes shining with joy, smiled widely at Beth. ‘Harry says he made a terrible mistake. It’s me he loves and we’re going away to be married.’
Shock coursed through Beth’s veins. ‘Didn’t you see what he did to me, Cecily?’
An expression of distaste flashed across Cecily’s face. ‘Harry explained that. It was unforgivable of you to throw yourself at him like that, especially when you know that it’s me he loves. I never realised you were so jealous of me, Beth.’
‘Jealous?’ Beth laughed. ‘He doesn’t love you at all, Cecily.’
‘Of course Harry loves me. He never even asked me if I have a dowry so that proves it!’
It was too much for Beth. She grasped her sister’s arm and shook it. ‘No, it doesn’t!
Cecily, still clinging to Harry’s coat front, turned her face up to his. ‘You do love me, don’t you?’
Harry had become very still. ‘Well now,’ he drawled. ‘No dowry?’
Cecily shook her head. ‘None at all.’ Her smile wavered as he prised her fingers free of his coat.
‘Then I’ve been misinformed.’ His lips tightened into a thin line. ‘I shall have to take Joshua to task about that. I’m afraid, my dear, that you must seek a husband who’ll overlook such an impediment.’ Without even a backward glance, he hurried towards the landing stage, where a boat was waiting.
Cecily stared in disbelief as he vaulted into the boat. ‘Harry!’
Beth snatched at her sister’s wrist. She noticed the gown of golden silk was adorned with vulgar knots of scarlet ribbons, the bodice cut far too low for a young girl. No matter, there would be no further opportunity for Cecily to flaunt herself in front of Harry de Montford.
‘Don’t leave me, Harry!’ Cecily screamed, fighting to free herself from Beth’s grasp. She wrenched her hand away and ran to the landing stage but the boat had already reached the middle of the river. ‘Harry, come back!’ Cecily broke into a storm of noisy tears, her mouth open in a square of sorrow as she wailed and wept.
Beth went to comfort her but Cecily shook her off. ‘This is all your fault!’ she spat. ‘And now he’s gone for ever! I can’t live without Harry. I want to die!’
‘Don’t say such a terrible thing!’
Cecily pulled at her hair and began to shriek again, lost in despair. ‘I cannot bear the pain!’ she howled. She turned to face the river and held her arms out at her side.
Before Beth could react, Cecily threw herself in the river with a noisy splash.
