A Kiss in the Night (14 page)

She tried to listen to John's response, but this was not possible as she felt Paxton's eyes bore into her with undisguised intensity. She reached for Father Gayly's hand and clasped it firmly, feeling his affectionate squeeze.

She could always count on Father Gayly for security.

Linness pretended to listen to the lively conversation around her. Paxton related exclusive news of King Francis and the French court; his anecdotes amused everyone, Morgan most of all. Morgan interrupted to hint at the liaison they had heard about between Paxton and the duchess of Milan, which Paxton ignored as he neatly sliced an apple. She pretended to eat. She even managed an occasional response when it was required. Yet not a second passed when she was not fully aware of his gaze upon her. She was about to beg leave when suddenly she heard Paxton address her.

"Milady," he said while he raised a goblet. "That you are sitting across from me is still…how shall I say it? Such a great surprise. I find there are no words to express my emotion upon having caused the tragedy you endured when first arriving at Gaillard."

Silence came swiftly over the table. Startled eyes shot to Paxton before she cast an anxious look to Morgan, who pretended not to hear his brother's mention of the once volatile subject. Morgan appeared engrossed in carving a piece of the broiled venison.

"I was greatly relieved to hear you had emerged unscathed from your ordeal, and had arrived safely at Gaillard." Paxton boldly continued, "It seems nothing short of…a miracle."

He tempted the fates, too bold by half! She looked to John for help, but he, too, appeared deeply engrossed in his food.

Paxton paid no mind to the sudden tension at the table. "So, milady, I wonder how it is that everyone calls you Linness instead of Belinda."

She drew a deep, uneven breath and heard herself reply, her voice sounding far away. " 'Tis my pet name, is all."

"Is it?" he questioned as if this were highly improbable. "Odd too," he said evenly, "but if I recall correctly, you don't look exactly like the portrait Morgan was always displaying."

Father Gayly looked from one to the other, sensing something amiss. He thought he knew everything about Linness, and while he knew she had known love before the astonishing pretense that got her married to Lord Morgan, there was such a deep sadness around the subject, he had always assumed the man was dead. Could it be Lord Paxton?

He dismissed the frightening idea. That was not possible. There must be another explanation. "Ah well," he said, leaping to her rescue, “no painter could capture milady's beauty."

Morgan agreed with laughter, relieving the worst of the tension.

Then John added, "She had been ill at the time of the sitting, is that not true, milady?"

A servant set a bountiful plate of grape-stuffed boiled chicken on the table. Inexplicably Linness found herself staring at this. A chicken. Her vision turned white like a canvas for a second, no more and then returned to normal.

She shook her head to rid herself of the strange effect. The light preceded or warned of her sight. What was it about a chicken?

"Milady, is that not true?" John inquired again.

Linness nodded as she found Paxton again, and watched with fascination and nervousness as he set ripe blueberries inside the curve of the apple slice before lifting the whole treat to his lips. He made the same again and, in acknowledgment to her interest, he set it on her plate.

Her silver eyes widened as she stared at the gift. He would make love to her at the table! She could take no more. She placed her hand on her forehead and started to make her excuses when he neatly interrupted again. "So have you come to love Gaillard?"

"Aye, milord," she answered honestly. "Very much."

Morgan reached over and squeezed her hand.

"And how do your parents fare in faraway Montegrel?"

She returned his stare, her eyes pleading. "Quite well, thank you."

"And does milady hear from them often?" Paxton continued.

Linness could not guess why he asked these less than innocent questions. As if he wanted her to reveal the whole of her long intrigue. Didn't he know or couldn't he guess that if Morgan ever discovered it, she would be made to pay with her life?

"I pen a letter faithfully on the last of each month, and my…mother does the same."

"You must miss them very much," he commented, sounding deceptively casual, so casual. "They have never been to Gaillard to see their grandchild, have they?"

"My father is unable to travel so far. He has the gout. Naturally, my mother is unwilling to leave his side."

"They are always sending Jean Luc fantastic gifts," Morgan added. "The boy will be richer than the both of us."

“
A fine boy," Paxton said with feeling, and then forgoing any decency because he no longer felt any. He wondered out loud, "And why have you not had more children, Madame?"

A tense silence greeted this remark. Linness colored sharply, her eyes lowered as she searched for a way to answer the question.

"Perhaps God will grant that happy wish in time," Father Gayly speculated, a sharpness to his voice. The intensity of emotion between the lady and Paxton was baffling. The man was behaving beastly to her! As if it were the lady's fault she did not give Morgan more children! He was not the only member of the household who understood the prick caused by the cruel remark.

Paxton was staring at Morgan.

"'Tis her only defect," Morgan said, a strange gentleness to his tone. "But after giving me perfection in Jean Luc, I do not fault her any for it."

Paxton saw the subject had put a sudden tremble in her hands as she abruptly stood with a rash clutch at dignity. "Excuse me, milords," she managed tightly, "I find at last I must withdraw. A good night to you."

The men rose. With a lift of skirts, she exited quickly, quietly, feeling Paxton's gaze upon her until, at last, she disappeared out of the room. Clair, too, rose and left with her. They knew not to speak until safely behind closed doors. With dozens of servants and people under the same roof, they had learned the art of secrecy. They needed it now more than ever.

Chapter Five

The entire table appeared quite drunk when Paxton made his excuses, rose, and left the hall. Certain things never changed. One could always count on Morgan being drunk by the tenth bell and passed out by the eleventh.

He quietly made his way up the stairs to the solar apartments. Hearing the voices from within, he stopped outside Linness's door, which was barely open by a crack. Casting a quick look behind him, he leaned toward it.

"He asked about ye parents?"

Clair was undoing the back buttons on Linness's dress before helping her step out of the gown. She carefully folded it to fit back in the trunk as Linness removed the chemise, her strained voice rising with anguish. "Aye! As if he wanted to trap me in front of Morgan. He must know—surely he must understand!—'twould be my death sentence! 'Twas worse than anything I ever imagined!"

Clair produced a long gold robe. "What are we to do?"

"I do not know!" Linness buried her face in her hands. "I do not know. I am so scared…"

Paxton moved away. She had reason to be scared.

He returned to his darkened room, lit only by a fire blazing in the large stone hearth. The servants were still down in the hall; many had retired. He poured a large glass of water as he waited.

Sometime later he heard Linness's door open and close shut. He opened his door to see her waiting woman exit down the stairs. At last, she would be alone.

He locked his door and moved to the window.

Linness was kneeling at her candlelit altar.

She never heard him enter through her open window. Wearing soft suede boots now, he made no sound as he crossed the space of the chamber and leaning against the cold stone wall, he hid in the shadows. Minutes gathered and collected as he drank in the sight of her alone in her room.

Once upon a time this had been his chamber. She had changed little of it. Dark blue curtains, bearing the gold crest of Gaillard, draped the canopy bed. His childhood bedcover lay neatly folded at the end. Her trunks were different, but oddly, they occupied the same spots as his once did, one at the end of the bed, another along the far wall with cushions on top to serve as a bench. There was a long shelf with leather-bound and precious books, an elaborately hand-carved armoire, and a matching table.

A lace cloth covered the table. He could barely discern various metal tools, wood carving tools and bits and pieces of material and cloth. A number of unlit candles sat on brass plates there as if she often worked at night. The room offered an alluring glimpse into the mysteries of this woman.

His gaze came to rest on the small altar opposite the hearth where she knelt. Candlelight lit her face, giving her an angelic appearance with her eyes closed and her hands clasped before her in supplication. Her hair had been unraveled and it was now gathered loosely in back with a ribbon. She looked more beautiful each time he saw her.

With a small, anguished sigh, she stood up shakily, and just as she was about to get in the bed, she heard the soft echo of her name. "Linness..."

She swung around as he stepped out of the shadows.

A scream rose in her throat, but before it could sound, his hand came over her mouth. Her frantic eyes searched his face, and when she saw it was he, she collapsed against him, her stomach somersaulting. He removed his hand slowly, distrustfully, watching to make sure she would hold her scream.

"Paxton!" Her frightened gaze swung around the room, as if half expecting to see someone spying on them. "How did you..." The words stopped as she realized he must have climbed along the ledge from his apartments. "If anyone finds you here—"

"I will die, I know. Because I am communing with my brother's wife, alone in her private chambers." His gaze filled with emotion as he stared down at her. "And yet holding this private audience with you is worth the risk, any risk." The back of his hand, callused knuckles, caressed the soft skin of her face. She closed her eyes and briefly leaned against that hand.

She lost herself to the joy of his touch. Paxton’s hand on her skin was like a tonic; the potent pleasure of it spilled into her and nearly dropped her to her knees. If the moment could but stretch, it would be heaven.

His hands came to her arms, circling the luxurious material of the robe, while her hands clasped his muscled forearms. An inexpressible sadness expanded within her, like frost on a windowpane, as she stared at the face she loved. "Paxton…"

"My God, Linness, I keep thinking I will wake from this nightmare."

"I can explain—"

"Explain?" he questioned, his fury rising like a waking monster, flooding into his whispered voice. "You say you can explain? Explain how you became my brother's wife? You, the woman who has haunted my every waking dream, a woman I have searched this godforsaken country for years to find. Years, Linness! My God, I had half my men looking for the poor and beautiful maid of Sauvage."

The idea of his devotion made her gasp painfully.

"And after all these fruitless searches, after losing hope twenty times and again, I return home to have my brother present you to me as his wife? You can explain this madness to me?"

"I was alone! I had not shoes on my feet or a decent cloth on my back. I had nothing, and when I woke you were gone. Gone as if you never were."

"I was coming back. This I told you as you lay in my arms!"

"I did not know! I never heard this!"

A mist appeared in her lovely eyes as she absorbed the tragedy of these words. If only she had waited. If only she had known he would come back. If only…

"Paxton, I did not know what to do—"

“
So you married my brother. For the life of me, I cannot reason how a maid presented herself as a lady and married a man with half as many titles as the pope. How on God's earth did it happen?"

"The Holy Mother watches over my life and made it happen. I know 'tis a fantastic tale, but 'tis all the truth. I was going through the forest and I came upon the dead Lady Belinda and her knights. One knight was still alive and told me the purpose of the lady's travels. Because of my silvered speech and my fairness, he said I should present myself at Gaillard as the Lady Belinda, that no one had ever seen her before and that her parents would not ever come to Gaillard. He said I would be married and well cared for forever if the ploy worked. I thought I would die otherwise; I was already half-starved for want of food."

He searched her face, first trying to believe it and then trying to understand it. A woman alone and unprotected, with neither shoes nor cloak against the winter, half-starved already. Dear God, she hadn't known he would return to her. Still…

She stopped with a gasp of pain as his hands tightened more around her arms. "Did you know Morgan was my brother when you married him?"

Her face drained of color; he saw her fear. She tried to turn away, but he pulled her up sharply "Answer me!"

"Yes," she cried. "Yes...but you had gone oft to fight the Italian campaign. I did not know how to find you, and Morgan thought I was Lady Belinda. I would have been condemned again, executed, if I tried to run away. You were gone, Paxton. Gone..."