Chapter 14 A Frightening Promise #2
He suddenly tore his mouth from hers, but he leaned over her, both hands on the wall.
His eyes glittered brilliantly; Lizzie could barely comprehend that he had broken the kiss.
Lizzie simply waited for him to kiss her again, to touch her breasts and hair, her face, to take her into his arms and carry her upstairs and shed her clothes, finishing what he had begun.
Suddenly, faintly, she could hear laughter and conversation, and she became vaguely aware of the ball in progress just down the hall.
“Do not think to tease me again,” he said harshly. His gaze moved over her face, finally lingering on her mouth. “I think we have just settled the question of our relationship.”
The recollection of their argument and his threat to take Ned assailed her then. Lizzie trembled, her heart still pounding wildly in her breast. Tyrell was not going to take no for an answer, and in that moment, she didn’t want to fight him.
He clearly sensed her surrender. His expression softened.
“I do not want to fight with you, Elizabeth. I don’t want to threaten you.
Please, cease these games. I know I will please you.
And I never speak dishonestly. I will take good care of both you and your son.
” His gaze searched hers. “You need me,” he added quietly.
He had no idea, she thought, just how much she needed him, and how much Ned needed his father, too. “I know you will take care of us,” Lizzie whispered. “I have never doubted that for a moment.”
“Good.” He smiled at her, but there was a question in his eyes.
Lizzie understood. In spite of his crude blackmail, he was waiting for her to agree to their arrangement. “I will return to my suite,” she said. “I will wait there for you.”
She saw the relief filling his eyes. “I must return to my guests.” He hesitated. “They are leaving tomorrow. It will be easier for us then.”
“I want to believe you,” she said. She had never wanted to believe anything more.
He studied her before smiling, just slightly. “Then do so. We will start over in Dublin. Upon some reflection, it is best if we do not embark upon our affair here, in this house.”
Lizzie nodded. In spite of her aching body, she was relieved.
His face relaxed. “Finally I can see that you believe me.” He bowed. “You will not be sorry with our arrangement. I promise you that. Good night.” Turning abruptly away, he strode into the other hallway and disappeared.
Lizzie watched him go until he was out of her sight. Could she be happy this way? Could he really make her happy when he was engaged to someone else?
Lizzie was on the verge of throwing all caution away. It would be so easy to believe the frightening promise he had just made.
Lizzie sat on a stone bench in the gardens, not far from the house.
From where she sat, she could just see the limestone fountain in the center of the circular driveway, but she could not see the front of the house.
It was about noon, and she had only slept an hour or two, and not until after dawn.
In spite of her utter exhaustion, she had not been able to stop thinking about Tyrell and her sudden future as his mistress.
And maybe it would be easier for her once Lord Harrington and Blanche left Adare.
Lizzie tensed when she saw several huge coaches rolling past the water fountain and entering the straightaway of the drive.
She stared at the five coaches, all four-in-hands, trembling and unaware of it.
She stared until the very last conveyance had become but a blur in the Irish distance.
And then she saw nothing but green pastures, rolling hills and blue skies.
They were gone.
She was gone.
Lizzie felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She knew it was not right, but she was relieved.
“Miss Fitzgerald?”
Lizzie started at the sound of the countess’s voice. She stood, curtsying in haste. “Good morning, my lady,” she said.
The countess gave her a kind smile and then bent to greet Ned. Ned whooped and scrambled to his feet. “Up, up!” he demanded in a shout.
Beaming with pleasure, the countess lifted him into her arms. Instantly he patted her cheek. “Good Gra-ma,” he declared.
“My darling grandson,” she said, hugging him. Then the countess smiled at Lizzie. “He is so irresistible!”
Some of Lizzie’s anxiety faded upon seeing them together this way.
This was right, she thought fiercely. Ned belonged at Adare.
Although Lady De Warenne was not Tyrell’s natural mother, Lizzie had quickly realized how much the countess loved the earl.
Lizzie knew the countess thought of Ned as her actual grandson.
Her impending affair with Tyrell might be wrong, but bringing Ned here was not.
“My dear, I am taking a drive to town. I go every Wednesday to bring our leftovers to the orphanage at St. Mary’s. Is there anything you need?”
Lizzie started. “My lady,” she exclaimed, “before I left the county to live with my aunt, I used to help the sisters there every Tuesday.”
The countess’s eyes widened. “So we have something in common, then.”
Before she even realized her audacity, Lizzie cried eagerly. “May I join you? I would so love to continue my charity. I have missed the children! Is Beth still there? And what about Stephen? Oh, he must be so big by now!”
The countess was staring thoughtfully at her. “Beth was adopted last spring. Stephen’s father actually claimed him last winter.”
“That is wonderful news,” Lizzie said. She smiled at the countess, thrilled for the children.
“I should love for you to join me,” the countess said. “Why don’t we leave Ned with Rosie?”
He rode his black bay horse hard and fast, thundering over the fields at a gallop, and only slowed to take a stone wall at a more controlled speed. Tyrell urged his stallion to a faster pace and rode like a bat from hell back to Adare.
He dismounted in front of the stables, the stallion blowing hard. The head groom, Ralph, took the black from Ty’s hands, his gaze openly disapproving.
Tyrell wiped his brow with the sleeve of his hunt coat. “Have him walked until he cools down. Then give him a good bran mash,” he said, suddenly angry with himself for riding his favorite horse so hard.
“You’re lucky he didn’t break his leg in a gopher’s hole,” Ralph said flatly. “And a fine horse like this, too.”
Tyrell stroked the horse’s sweaty neck. What was wrong with him, to take out his frustration on the stud?
He gave the horse a solid pat, and the horse, half Arab and bred for endurance, blew at him, telling him he was ready for more.
“We’ll rest him for a few days,” Ty said, knowing damn well what his problem was.
“Aye, sir,” Ralph said, leading the stallion away.
Tyrell wiped more sweat from his brow, trying very hard not to think about Elizabeth Fitzgerald and his own behavior.
He failed. He stalked into the house, entering from the back via a garden terrace and French doors.
He went right to the salon used by the family, heading for the bar cart.
As he was pouring a Scotch, Rex limped into the room.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” he asked.
“Or are you trying to kill your best horse?”
Ty downed the entire glass, feeling it burn.
Last night, he had blackmailed Elizabeth into staying with him.
What kind of man had he become? “I should hope to kill myself before killing Safyr,” he said.
He poured another drink. The worst part was, he hadn’t been able to stop himself—he hadn’t even wanted to.
Even in the light of a new day, he did not want to retreat from his position.
Instead, he thought to leave for Dublin sooner than planned.
“It’s noon,” Rex commented. “May I join you?”
Tyrell poured a second drink and handed it to his brother without answering. If he could not control his own behavior, he was no better than a puppet on her chain.
And what about his upcoming marriage? Clearly he was placing his relationship with his bride and her father in jeopardy.
“To the Harringtons,” Rex murmured wryly, interrupting his thoughts. “To the beautiful Lady Blanche.”
Instantly Tyrell’s tension flared. He lifted his glass in a salute and took another swallow. Rex sipped his own drink, studied his brother and then said, “It is a good match in every possible way. I’m certain that you know it.”
“Yes, it is, I am ecstatic.” As soon as he spoke, he realized, he sounded annoyed.
And Rex did not miss a thing. “Really? You don’t appear ecstatic. You appear vastly irritated.”
Tyrell faced him. “I am hardly irritated.” He rearranged his face into a smile.
Rex sipped his drink for a moment. “Don’t bother, Ty. I have known you my entire life, and I know when you are utterly out of sorts. After all, you are rarely in a foul humor. Until these past few days,” he added.
“You needn’t bother being diplomatic. Go ahead, say it. My behavior is unacceptable. I am keeping a mistress under the same roof with my fiancée!”
“I clearly need not say anything, as you are well aware of what you are doing.”
Tyrell cursed.
“You need to be more careful,” Rex said abruptly. His tone firm, he added, “At least pretend to be pleased with your fiancée.”
“I am pleased.” He knew he was simply saying the words.
“Then maybe you should hold her hand and smile at her, once or twice?”
Tyrell gave him a dark look. “I admit I was slightly preoccupied last night.”
“You royally angered Harrington. I heard Father defending your inattentiveness, Ty. For God’s sake, even Eleanor asked if you were ill!” he said, referring to their younger sister. “Your mood was black. This is not like you.”
“I had other matters on my mind,” he finally said.
“And what other matters are more important than securing the future of your heirs—and mine, Cliff’s and Eleanor’s?” he demanded.