Chapter 28 #2
In the few short weeks since coming out of the forest, everything had changed. She wracked her brain to work out what it was that was making him act this way. It all came back to Venus. He had not forgiven her for helping the girl escape.
On top of that was her stubborn resolve to travel to Jamaica. O’Neill had not appeared. She’d asked Ethan the reason for the delay. He’d responded that until men could fly or shout at each other over great distances, travelling over rough terrain or getting a message through would always take time.
Lochranza was getting impatient. The days were turning into weeks.
One more week and they would be married.
The prospect of her travelling there before they married was not feasible.
If she were honest with herself, it never had been.
At the back of her mind, she had contrived to put it off until her objective had been achieved.
How long would it take to get to the West Indies and back? Three months? Six?
Her lively spirit had brought her over an ocean and through some very difficult times. That same spirit was diminished by all this waiting. She wanted – no, she needed for something to happen to go on to the next phase of her life. Living in luxury on a tobacco plantation was not enough!
The truth hit her with great force. If O’Neill wasn’t coming to her, then she would either go to him or – and this appealed more – she would depart and go her own way.
The more she thought about it, the more attractive the idea became. But how would she carry it out?
You plan, she decided, instantly answering her own question. The marriage had to be postponed. She would put it to him, and if he didn’t like it… well, he could hardly drag her kicking and screaming down the aisle! Even when she was there standing in front of the altar, she could still say no.
Brooding on all this blackened her mood. Tonight she would not be lying in her bed, waiting for him to join her with a longing she could not ignore. Tonight she would control that longing.
First sending her maid away, she checked that the bedroom door was locked, undressed and got into bed.
Damn him! He should not be treating her like this.
Sleep eluded her. The anger and apprehension she felt refused to let her settle. Lying there, wearing a lace nightgown when usually she was naked, she waited, her ears attuned to every sound, the calling of nightjars, owls and other hunting birds that loved the night.
The grandfather clock on the landing struck midnight. Then one o’clock. It struck three before she heard his horse’s hooves accompanied by drunken singing. Again!
This, she decided was intolerable and sprang out of bed to make sure she had indeed locked the bedroom door.
The front door was slammed so violently, the whole house shook. It was followed by his feet thudding up the stairs and along the landing.
Lochranza clutched heaving breasts outlined beneath the muslin nightgown.
The doorknob twisted before his fists hammered on the door.
‘Come on, Lochranza. You know you want me in there with you. What is this foolishness?’
She lay quite still, her eyes tightly shut.
He hammered some more, the action accompanied by a few sworn oaths. A final hammer, then a thumping sound. And silence.
On opening the door in the morning, a slumped Ethan fell into the room.
‘My dear,’ he said as his eyes blinked into wakefulness before his head hit the floor.
Everything she’d ever felt for him seemed suddenly to evaporate. ‘You’re disgusting!’
Ethan blinked back into awareness, a modicum of sobriety returning to his face. ‘I suppose I am.’
Bracing his hands on the door frame, he got to his feet.
Lochranza looked up at him, unsure how to proceed.
Love and anger fought for dominance. There were so many question marks hanging over them.
Their return to civilisation had resulted in a more complicated relationship because she, more so than he, had changed.
The smell of smoke came to her at night.
So too the sight of a great cauldron and a woman hanging above it.
Her mind was made up. Everything about their relationship had to be declared. And if she declared everything, then he too must do the same.
‘You were sent here to become my wife.’
His voice was cold, his expression unchanged. Yet still, even in coldness, she couldn’t help loving him. Only by maintaining a great deal of self-control did she stop herself from rushing into his arms imploring him to make things as they were before.
It could work, but the nightmares would never go away until she had put Mamma Molly’s ghost to rest.
She knew now that he would never let her go, thinking that in time she would forget and the impetus would melt from her soul. It wouldn’t. She would never forget. Never forgive.
‘O’Neill isn’t going to come, is he?’
Ethan straightened, his lips compressed into a hard straight line. ‘I told you. He’s a hard man to track down.’
She could see by his face that O’Neill was not coming. However, her mind was made up. If she was to break free from him – at least for a time, she had to do something really drastic. She told herself she could make up with him again afterwards when he’d come to realise how much she wanted this.
She winced at the smell of drink as he gazed down into her face. ‘You stink.’
‘Thank you for your kind words, madam. I shall treasure them in addition to your informing me that I’m disgusting!’
She attempted to shut the door in his face. Slamming it open, he pushed his way into the room, kicking the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot.
He looked hurt. ‘Did those days in the forest mean nothing to you?’
A vision of the sight of the Scots pine nodding against the sky made her tingle. She could even smell the pine needles, the sharp salty smell of the sand and the freshness of the tumbling torrent. Most of all, she vividly recalled the feel of his body against hers.
If she let him win, her plans would be destroyed and she would regret it for the rest of her life. Taking hold of her resolve with every fibre of her being, she succeeded in pushing the vision to the back of her mind.
Despite loving him, despite not wishing to leave him, it was vital to her own sanity that she went to Jamaica. There was only one way she might change his mind, but in doing so would destroy everything.
‘I’m not sure you will want to marry me once you know the truth.’
‘What truth?’ His eyebrows beetled into a deep frown. He looked angry, but she didn’t care. If returning to Jamaica created a rift between them, then so be it. She had to go back. She had to find out the truth about those early years and about herself.
‘I have at least to put flowers on her grave! I’m sorry, but if you feel disinclined to put the wedding off for a little while, then you are not the man I thought I was marrying.’
Ethan, his eyes black with rage, grabbed her arms and shook her. ‘What truth? You said there was a truth. What truth are you referring to?’
No more endearments, just grim-faced interrogation. At this moment in time, he frightened her. He’d been the amusing acquaintance in England, the masterful plantation owner in Virginia, the passionate lover… no man could ever compare with him. But this… She’d never seen him look like this!
There was nothing for it but to match like with like, though even more so.
She told him the truth about her sketches, the small paintings she’d enclosed with letters to her uncle.
‘This was more than a marriage of convenience. It was a marriage allied to national security. My uncle requested that I report on your behaviour. He wanted to know if you were loyal.’
A wintry chill descended between them.
Ethan released her arms and stood back from her. The black anger was still there in his eyes, but his face was stone like. Frightening! It was then she realised that he wasn’t totally sober. He’d drank that much.
‘Venus,’ she snapped. ‘That’s what this drinking is all about! It’s about Venus! You wanted her for yourself, that’s why you wouldn’t let her marry Lester! You wanted to do the things to her that you did to me…!’
He struck her swiftly, so hard it seemed that her neck might snap. She fell, sprawling on her back, hair wildly awry, the delicate lace of her negligee halfway across her thighs. Her face stung, her skin was hot beneath the hand she held against it, the breath knocked from her body.
She managed to get herself up onto her elbows. Her eyes blazed, but her voice was cool. ‘Not an honourable thing to do, your lordship.’
His whole body seemed to convulse with each breath he took. His eyes strayed from her face to the raised hem of her negligee, her white thighs like porcelain against the coffee-coloured lace.
‘You bitch,’ he growled.
Instinctively sensing what he had in mind and still lying full stretch on the sea-green Chinese rug, she began scrabbling away, pushing with her feet, despairing at the look in his eyes.
There was no chance of escape. He had her there pinned to the floor, her clothes pushed higher, the fragile material that covered her breasts ripped to shreds, her breasts exposed to his gaze, his hands and the heat of his mouth.
She closed her eyes as he entered her, tears squeezing from beneath her closed lids.
How different this was to the night in the forest, surrounded by all the forest sounds, the night cool in contrast to the heat of their flesh and the urgency of the moment.
Back then, they had both wanted to repeat their intimacy over and over again.
But now? For her part, all she wanted was for it to be over with as quickly as possible.
And then she would leave and be out of his life forever.
The worst thing about this was that she suspected it wasn’t her he was ramming himself into. She had mentioned Venus, the lovely young black slave. It was her he really wanted. Tears squeezed from her closed eyes.