Beauty and the Brooding Lord Page 13

  The answer was clear: she had no confidence in her own judgement. She was prepared to believe her sister-in-law knew best, just as she had been willing for her to dictate what clothes she should wear. Serena stopped at her door, her fingers clasped about the handle. Quinn did not approve Dorothea’s choice of clothes. He had told her as much and now, as the heavy gloom of depression was beginning to lift from her spirits, she could see how wrong they were for her. How was Quinn to know what she wanted, unless she told him?

  * * *

  It was midnight and Quinn could not sleep. After tossing and turning until his bed was hot and uncomfortable, he sat up and reached for the tinderbox. The restlessness had been growing all day and riding out with Serena had only enhanced it. Instead of sleeping, all he could see in his mind’s eye was Serena galloping through the avenue. Serena smiling up at him, her countenance flushed and alive with the pleasure of the ride. Serena at dinner, her golden curls piled high and that creamy skin glowing in the candlelight.

  Once the candle was burning steadily, he sat for a moment, head bowed and his fingers clutching at his hair. He tried to breathe deeply, but the air felt thick and heavy in his lungs. Throwing aside the covers he jumped out of bed and walked, naked, to the window. He threw up the sash. The night was still, silent, but at least air flowed in, cooling his heated skin. A sliver of moon was reflected in the water of the moat and, together with the pinpricks of starlight, threw a blue-grey light over the surrounding land.

  It was a view Quinn loved, but tonight he saw nothing, his thoughts turned inward, to the desire that burned so fiercely within him. It was not his custom to dredge up memories of Barbara but he did so now, trying to recall if he had felt this way about her. They had been young and very much in love, but indulging in anything more than a chaste kiss had been unthinkable. Ironic, then, that now he was married and even a kiss was out of the question.

  His sharp ears picked up a noise outside his door. He eased the window closed, listening. There it was again, a definite padding of feet in the corridor. Frowning, he scooped up his dressing gown and shrugged himself into it. Who on earth was abroad in the house at this time of night? He would stake his life that it was not Shere. The valet’s step was firm and steady. What he could hear was definitely stealthy. Furtive. Intruders, perhaps. He moved quietly towards the door, but now there was nothing but silence. He held his breath as his ears strained for the faintest sound. Then he heard it. The creak of the floorboard directly outside his room.

  * * *

  For a third time, Serena hesitated in the dark corridor. When had she become so indecisive? She must either carry out her plan or scurry back to her room and admit she was a coward. Screwing up her courage, she stepped up to Quinn’s door, only to recoil as it flew open and Quinn’s black shape filled the opening.

  ‘Serena!’

  Her hand was still clenched, ready to knock, and he caught it in his own. There was no going back now. He drew her into the bedchamber, a room the same size as her own, but whereas Serena’s chamber was decorated in soft shades of yellow, the master bedroom was much darker and furnished with heavy mahogany pieces. A single candle burned, enough light to see the garish pattern on his silk banyan. He had loosely knotted the belt to hold it in place, but her heart, already thudding, jumped erratically when her eyes wandered to the alarming amount of bare chest on display.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  Her throat was too dry to speak. It was impossible to drag her eyes away from the muscled contours of his breast and the smattering of fine hairs that shadowed it.

  ‘Serena?’

  His finger beneath her chin obliged her to look up. He was smiling at her and she desperately wanted to smile back, but her nerves were too stretched. But she must speak. She must say something.

  ‘I, um, I wanted to see you.’

  ‘I am flattered.’

  His hand dropped but his eyes were still upon her, warm and reassuring. If she kept looking at him, if she did not think about the black frame of the bed looming in the shadows behind him, the threatening darkness might not terrify her. She ran her tongue nervously across her dry lips.

  ‘I am your w-wife, Quinn. It is time we...’ The thunder of her heart was so loud she could not concentrate. ‘We...’

  Gently, he drew her closer, his huge frame blocking out the light. She turned her face up to him, wanting his kiss, wanting to feel safe. She would close her eyes and surrender to the desire that was slowly unfurling deep inside her. He lowered his head and her eyelids fluttered as his lips brushed hers. It was gentle, the merest touch, but the jolt of awareness took her by surprise and she jumped.

  Immediately Quinn released her. Behind him she saw the huge bed, it loomed over them, throwing deep shadows on to the ceiling. The blackness of the canopy drew her eyes and held her gaze. She was transported back to the inn, trapped, powerless. Suffocating.

  Don’t let me go, Quinn. Hold me. Hold me!

  The words screamed in her head, but she could not give voice to them and, worst of all, when she did manage to shift her eyes back to him, Quinn was looking at her in bewilderment. If only she could speak, explain, but fear held her mute and mixed with the dreadful terror that filled her head was Dorothea’s voice, dripping with scorn.

  He is too good for you. You do not deserve him. You will only disappoint him.

  ‘Serena. What is it?’

  Quinn put out his hand and she quickly stepped back.

  ‘I c-cannot.’ Her hands clutched at her wrap, pulling it tight beneath her chin. ‘I thought I could, but...forgive me.’

  And with a sob, she fled.

  * * *

  The morning sun streamed into Serena’s bedchamber. She was sitting at her dressing table, staring at her wan face in the glass. After what had happened last night, how could she face Quinn? She had already asked Polly to bring her breakfast upstairs, to delay leaving her room, but the bread and butter remained untouched on the tray. Perhaps she should go back to bed and have Polly say that she was not well. A coward’s way out, she knew, but it would buy her a little more time.

  There was a light knock at the door and she turned as Quinn entered. Her heart sank. Would he dismiss Polly and demand an explanation for what had occurred last night? Instead he met her nervous gaze with a smile.

  ‘Good morning, madam. It is such a glorious day that I thought we might ride out.’ He spoke cheerfully and she wondered if last night had been nothing but a dream, but only for a moment. Quinn glanced towards Polly. ‘Fetch my lady’s riding habit, if you please.’

  As the maid hurried off into the dressing room, Serena turned back to her glass and picked up the hairbrush.

  ‘I am not sure I have the time to ride this morning,’ she said, trying to keep the rising panic from her voice. ‘I must see Cook. Surely you have not forgotten the Beckfords are dining with us again?’

  ‘No, I have not forgotten. Nor have I forgotten that you agreed the menu yesterday. There is nothing that cannot wait until we have had our ride.’ He came over and stood behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders. If he noticed how she froze he did not show it. ‘A little fresh air will do you good, Serena. I shall have the horses brought to the door in half an hour. Is that long enough for you to make yourself ready?’

  His tone was perfectly amicable and his reflection showed he was smiling, but there was something in his eyes that told her he would not accept a refusal.

  ‘Perfectly, my lord.’

  ‘Good girl.’ She felt the pressure of his fingers on her shoulders and he dropped a quick kiss upon her head before leaving the room. Even her heightened senses could detect no censure in him, only calm reassurance. When she was alone her shoulders sagged. Dorothea was right. She did not deserve such a man.

  * * *

  Once they were mounted, Quinn dismissed the grooms and escorted Serena in
to the park. She was on edge, last night’s encounter hanging over her like a cloud, but a gallop across the springy turf did much to calm her. Quinn led the way to the northern boundary, drawing rein in a small stand of trees on the high ground and pointing out to her the fallow deer grazing in the sheltered valley below them. The scene was so peaceful and Serena felt the last of the tension draining away. A sigh of contentment escaped her and she was aware of Quinn’s sudden, questioning glance.

  ‘You have a delightful home, my lord.’

  ‘It is your home, too, Serena.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  She felt the flush on her cheek, a sudden prickle of guilt, but Quinn was staring out across the park.

  ‘This is one of my favourite spots,’ he remarked. ‘Look, over there is the tower, where we were standing yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, I see it.’

  She followed his pointing finger, but her thoughts were fixed on what had occurred last night. It had been such a good day and they had been in accord. Until the end, when she had ruined everything.

  ‘My lord, about last night.’

  His hand came up. He said, not looking at her, ‘You do not need to say anything, Serena.’

  ‘But I do.’ She kept her own gaze straight ahead, her hands resting together on her leg and Crystal’s reins held lightly in her fingers. Somehow it was easier to talk thus. ‘I panicked. Suddenly I could think of nothing but that night. At Hitchin.’

  ‘The memories will fade in time, believe me. I am sorry if you think I am rushing you.’

  ‘No, no, it is not your fault at all. You have been most patient with me.’ She drew a breath. ‘I rarely have nightmares now and I thought... I wanted to prove I could be a...a good wife, but the memory was too strong, it blotted out everything else. After all your kindness.’

  She stopped, her voice suspended, and he reached across, his large hand enveloping both of hers.

  ‘Then we must make new memories. Happy ones to replace your terrors. Are we agreed?’

  ‘Yes.’ She raised her head and gave him a tremulous smile. ‘Yes, indeed that is what we must do. So perhaps we should continue exploring the park, if you have time, my lord?’

  He released her hands, flicking her cheek with one careless finger.

  ‘All the time in the world for you, Serena.’

  That surprised a shaky laugh from her. ‘Why, sir, was that a compliment?’

  ‘Aye, by Gad, I think it was. Whatever is happening to me?’ He scowled, but beneath his brows there was a definite gleam of amusement in his hazel eyes. ‘I shall have to insist upon your silence, madam, or I shall be losing my reputation as the rudest man in England!’

  * * *

  The drawing room was empty when Quinn walked in later that day. He glanced around him, a slight smile of appreciation curving the corners of his mouth. Everything was in readiness for the evening. The panelling glowed and the air was redolent with beeswax, decanters and glasses had been placed on a side table, and the empty fireplace was filled with a colourful arrangement of summer flowers. That must be Serena’s idea, he thought, for it was not something he had seen in the house before.

  Serena. He threw himself down in a chair, the smile growing. The morning’s ride had somehow turned into a day’s excursion. Neither of them had been in any hurry to curtail their outing and when they had finished exploring the park, he had taken her out into the surrounding countryside, where they had stopped to refresh themselves at an inn at the very limit of the Quinn estates.

  The Bird in Hand was a small hostelry, more used to catering for local farmers and tradesmen, but Lord Quinn was well known and the landlady had hastily tidied her own parlour for their use and provided them with lamb pie and a rich fruitcake, washed down by a very palatable ale. The landlady had been mortified that she had nothing save coffee that was suitable for a lady to drink, but Serena had immediately assured her a glass of small beer would suit her very well.

  The new Lady Quinn had put her hosts at their ease. There was nothing high in her manner, she had shown no reluctance to converse with them and when those locals gathered in the taproom expressed a desire to give a toast to my lord and his lady, she had suggested a fresh barrel of ale should be tapped and the reckoning sent to Melham Court.

  The smile turned into a full grin. Nothing was more guaranteed to endear her to the neighbourhood and they had ridden away from the Bird in Hand to the huzzahs and cheers of the assembled company. It was difficult to describe the warm glow of pride he had felt for his bride at that moment.

  ‘Sir Anthony and Lady Beckford, my lord.’

  Dunnock’s announcement interrupted Quinn’s reverie and he rose to meet his dinner guests. Lottie did not stand on ceremony, she clasped his hands when he welcomed her, tugging him down so she might kiss his cheek.

  ‘Are we unpardonably late, Quinn? Tony would insist on changing his coat before we set out.’

  ‘Only because you, madam wife, complained the other was too shabby to wear out again, even for a cosy dinner with friends,’ drawled Tony, following his wife into the room.

  Lottie dismissed the accusation with an airy wave. ‘We should give our friends no less respect than anyone else. In fact, we should give them more. Which is why you had to wear your good coat and I had to buy a new gown.’

  ‘I am flattered,’ murmured Quinn. ‘As to being late... You are nothing of the kind. As you see, Serena is not yet downstairs. We went out riding today and were a little late returning.’

  ‘Riding?’ Lottie fixed him with her bright, inquisitive gaze as he escorted her to a chair. ‘I did not think you had anything suitable for a lady in your stables.’

  ‘I did not. I fetched a mare over from Pirton earlier this week.’

  ‘From Hackleby’s stables?’ asked Tony. ‘I had heard he was disposing of his cattle.’

  ‘Aye, he doesn’t ride much these days and decided it was time to sell almost everything.’

  He broke off as the door opened. Serena stood in the doorway, a shy smile trembling on her mouth.

  ‘I do beg your pardon that I was not here to greet you.’

  Quinn crossed the floor and took her hand.

  ‘A bride’s prerogative, my dear.’ He led her forward. ‘And we agreed this would be an informal affair, did we not?’

  ‘We did indeed,’ cried Lottie, patting the seat beside her. ‘Come and join me on the sofa, Serena, and tell me all about your ride today. Quinn says he has purchased a horse for you.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Serena, making herself comfortable beside her friend. ‘A beautiful dapple-grey mare.’

  ‘I remember seeing Lady Hackleby out on her in the early part of last year,’ exclaimed Lottie. ‘That was before her illness. But, heavens, my dear, the creature did not look to be a quiet ride—nor an easy one. Why, she must be fifteen hands at least!’

  Serena laughed at that. ‘It is true. And she is quite a handful, but I like that. My lord could not have chosen anything better for me.’

  Quinn felt a rush of pleasure at her words. He met her eyes for one smiling moment as he crossed to the side table to pour wine for his guests, then Tony was asking Serena what she thought of the park.

  ‘I like it very much,’ she responded. ‘We rode to the tower. Do you know it?’

  ‘The building at the end of the beech avenue? Yes, I have seen it when I have been riding here,’ remarked Tony, taking a glass of wine from Quinn. ‘Never been inside, though.’

  Quinn smiled slightly. ‘My wife has plans to hold dinners there.’

  ‘Very small ones,’ added Serena, when Lottie exclaimed in delight at the prospect. ‘It will not hold more than half a dozen. More formal dinners will have to be held here.’

  ‘I cannot recall any formal dinners at Melham Court,’ remarked Lottie.

  ‘No, my parents only enterta
ined their closest friends here. And as a bachelor I have never felt inclined to host anything of that nature.’

  ‘No, you have never been very hospitable, have you, Quinn?’ Lottie wagged her finger at him. ‘That must change now, sir!’

  Serena shook her head. ‘We may hold the occasional party here, but in the main we intend to live very quietly.’

  Lottie said drily, ‘You will have little choice, my dear, if you intend to rely upon neighbours to fill your table.’ She looked up at Tony’s muttered admonition and spread her hands. ‘What have I said that is not true? There are not above a dozen families here to dine with. For our ball you know we relied upon acquaintances making the journey from town.’

  ‘Including the Downings,’ added Serena. ‘I am very grateful to you for that.’

  Tony shifted in his seat and looked at Quinn. It was a fleeting glance, but Serena wondered what she had said to cause the look of consternation. Before she could ask, Dunnock entered.

  ‘Ah, dinner is ready.’ Quinn rose. ‘Shall we go in?’

  * * *

  When the meal was over, Serena carried Lottie off to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy a glass of brandy. They remained in companionable silence for a while, Tony speaking only to compliment his host on the excellence of his wines.

  He pushed his glass towards Quinn. ‘You will need to restock your cellar, if you plan to entertain more.’

  ‘Serena told you herself that she wishes to live quietly.’

  ‘Yes, I heard that, but I am not sure I believe it.’ He sat back, warming his refilled glass between his hands. ‘Your wife is a society creature, my friend—it is in her blood, the way she converses, the quickness of her mind. She thrives on company. Mrs Downing said as much at the ball and I agree with her. How long do you think she will be happy, shut away in a quiet backwater?’

  Quinn frowned. ‘Serena is free to go to town whenever she wishes. She only has to tell me.’