A Rose in No-Man's Land (31 page)

“Oh, Mark, how awful, but…” She clutched his hand, and it felt cold.

His skin sagged, giving him a haggard look. “She had a letter that Edwina foolishly wrote to Maryanne, threatening to push her down the stairs if she didn’t set me free. It was an idle threat, I know that, but how would it look? Edwina’s always been impulsive, always ready to fight my battles for me. Louise and Maryanne were both insane, so eaten up with hatred they never wanted me to find happiness.”

His jaw clenched, causing the words to come out deeper in tone and much slower than normal. “Louise blackmailed me. Oh, the money didn’t matter, I had plenty of that, but I couldn’t risk her going to the police. At best, Edwina’s name could have been dragged through the courts. At worst, she could have been sent to jail. I couldn’t run the risk. I owed her too much.”

“What an evil, horrible woman.” Amy couldn’t believe someone could be so diabolical.

“It didn’t particularly worry me, the part about not re-marrying. I’d suffered enough with Maryanne’s madness to turn me off matrimony forever.” He let out a long, drawn-out breath. “Until I met you, that is. Oh, God. I wanted to tell you so many times, but how could I burden you with such a terrible thing?”

“What are we going to do?” she asked in a scared whisper.

“I’m going to get that letter back. It will cost me a fortune, but it would be cheap at the price.”

What if Louise didn’t agree? Amy shivered in fear. She stared into Mark’s desperate, haunted eyes and knew that if all else failed, he would either kill Louise to save Edwina, or confess to murdering Maryanne. He would marry her to legitimize their baby. Then, to make sure his wife and child weren’t tainted by scandal, he would return to France and throw his life away on the battlefield.

She trembled in fear of the consequences. Wanted to plead with him. Beg him not to contemplate such a desperate act. To reassure him they could buy Louise’s silence. But the words would not pass out of her frozen vocal cords. All she could do was lean over and kiss his ice-cold cheek.

Chapter 17

Huge oaks and ancient yews surrounded Mark’s home. As they pulled up in a cobbled courtyard, the double-storied house stood gloomy and forbidding.

“I’ve always hated this place, couldn’t wait to go to boarding school. When I got married, I didn’t want to live here, but Maryanne liked it. Fancied herself as lady of the manor.” He clenched his hands on the steering wheel, his body stiffening with remembrance.

“Right under the eaves—you can’t see them from here—are the attics where my uncle locked me up. It would have been intolerable except for Edwina. My own mother never bothered to check to see if I was alive or dead. I must have been about fourteen when she died, and I wasn’t sorry.” His expression turned savage.

“Oh, Mark, it’s dreadful. What about your aunt?”

“She was terrified of my uncle. He belted her up sometimes, but I was his favorite whipping boy. Everyone, including the servants, hated it when he came home. Edwina lived in fear of her father, but it still didn’t stop her from helping me. I’d like to put a match to this place, turn the obscenity of it all into a pile of ashes.”

Amy stared at the whitewashed walls and age-blackened beams. Yes, it would burn like a kerosene-soaked haystack. At the door, a flinty-faced, middle-aged housekeeper met them. “I’d like to see Louise Montgomery, please.”

“Miss Montgomery does not receive visitors without an appointment.”

“She’ll see me. I happen to be master of this house.”

Sudden recognition flared in the woman’s face. “Oh, sir, I’m so sorry.”

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs, sir. Miss Montgomery keeps, er, unusual hours.”

Savage lines gouged either side of Mark’s face. “We’ll wait in the study.”

“Come this way.”

“I can find my own way.” He waved aside the housekeeper’s offer to accompany them. “Would you bring us some tea, please, while we wait?”

“Certainly.” The woman minced away.

“She’s just the kind of stiff-backed, heartless old dragon my uncle always employed to look after Edwina and me.”

It was dull inside, and the aura of damp decay sent shivers down Amy’s spine. The carpet looked worn, the walls stained and neglected, the portraits hanging on either side of the gallery they passed through adding to the grimness.

“This place is gradually rotting away,” he muttered. “The sooner it falls down, the better.”

“You don’t mind? Your ancestors must have been here for generations.”

“Over two hundred years. It’s a monument to evil. Built with pirate loot and maintained for generations by smugglers and slave traders.”

“Oh, how horrible.”

They entered a large study containing a huge Jacobean desk and matching chairs. Velvet drapes in a dark burgundy color were drawn, and Mark strode over and whipped them open. In the light, the room seemed even more shabby and depressing. Fear filled her heart. This place oozed evil.

A gun cabinet stood against one wall, and two monstrous battleaxes guarded a large shield with a coat of arms embossed on it.

The housekeeper returned with an engraved silver tea service set up on a breakfast tray.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Miss Montgomery’s personal maid says she’s gone out and won’t be back until five o’clock.”

“I’ll have to consider whether we wait here or come back later.”

“Very good, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No, thank you, we can serve ourselves.” Mark dismissed her.

“I’ll pour,” Amy offered. “Will we wait, or come back later?”

He sat behind the desk with his hands splayed across the top. “What would you like to do?”

Run away as fast as I can from this evil place,
was her first thought, but this had once been Mark’s home. Maybe if he showed her through some of the rooms it would help her understand his bitterness, help exorcise some of his demons.

“I’d like to see where you spent your childhood.”

“What!” He shot out of his chair.

“Show me around. Not her rooms, but…”

His face looked as if it had been hacked from stone. “We could start with the attic where my uncle locked me up and deprived me of food. That should be fun.”

She went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I really don’t want to stay here at all, because the place gives me the shivers. I just thought it might help you come to terms with some of the bad things that happened here.”

He held her close and nuzzled her throat. “I’m sorry for snarling at you.”

“If it’s going to bring back too many bitter memories, then we won’t do it.”

“You’re probably right. I do have ghosts to lay. After we’ve seen Louise, I swear I’ll never set foot inside this place again. I often wonder if that’s why Edwina got married so young, but James is a good man.”

“What happened to your aunt and uncle?”

“My uncle died around the time I turned fifteen. He ended up at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean when his ship sank. My aunt joined Edwina in South Africa. I’ll take you to the attic first, so we can work our way down.”

The first staircase was wide, carpeted, and had heavily carved banisters. Amy could easily imagine some beautiful, jewel-bedecked lady, dressed in a stunning ball gown, making a grand entrance from here. She closed her eyes to block out the vision of Maryanne hurtling over the banister to her death.

“If you count the attic area, there are four levels in this place, plus a cellar under the kitchen.”

He took her hand as they climbed the stairs leading up to the third floor. “The servants’ quarters are here.”

Steps leading to the attic became so steep and narrow two people couldn’t walk abreast. The staircase twisted and turned like a demented snake, and by the time they reached the top, her breath came out in gasps.

When he shouldered open a heavy door, the damp smell almost overpowered her. By the number and thickness of the cobwebs, this place had not been disturbed in years. The ceilings were so low Mark had to bend his head in some places. She shuddered as he brushed a few of the cobwebs away with his hand. The filthy narrow window hardly let in any light, and the semi-darkness spooked her further.

“Your uncle locked you up in here? How did you stand it?” She picked up his cold hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

He stood rigid, his feet slightly apart, not speaking. “Mark, say something. You’re frightening me.” She shook his hand.

“Sorry.” He came out of his trance. “What did you say?”

“I asked how you could stand it.”

“I don’t know. Probably wouldn’t have, without Edwina. The last time my uncle locked me up, I would have been about eight.” Mark took a deep breath. “He flew into a black rage, the worst I ever remember. My aunt and Edwina were away visiting friends. He gave me such a thrashing. I escaped out the window. God knows how I got down from the roof without breaking my neck. I made my way to my father’s lawyer, who was also a family friend. He didn’t believe me when I told him what my uncle did, until he saw the welts on my legs and shoulders. He quickly packed me off to boarding school.”

“Did you stay at school all the time?”

“No, I came home if my uncle was away at sea. Holidays were about the only times I caught up with Edwina. She was four years older than me, but we did have some adventures. I missed her when she left.” If only she hadn’t come racing back from South Africa, trying to save him from Maryanne and Louise’s cruelty. She hadn’t meant to, but Edwina’s actions had doomed him to a life of torment.

“Let’s leave this place.” A tremor wracked her body. “It’s got a horrible aura.”

Amy was sure she would choke if she didn’t get into the fresh air again.

“Are you all right?” He stared into her chalk-white face.

“Yes, just give me a minute. Why don’t we find somewhere cozy to stay? We can see Louise later. I don’t feel up to traveling back to London tonight. I’ll ring Olive so she won’t worry about me.”

They made their way downstairs and left the house without seeing the housekeeper.

As Mark helped her into the car, he said, “There is a quaint little village only a few miles from here. It’s got a nice pub where we can stay.”

He opened the car window to let in some fresh air. She rested her head against his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have taken you up there.” Regret deepened his voice.

“No, I’m being silly. It’s my own fault for insisting, but I wanted to understand what it must have been like for you. I’m afraid I let my imagination run away with me.”

“I’ll go back and see Louise on my own later, after we’ve got ourselves settled into the pub.”

“A nice cup of tea, a little rest, and I’ll be fine.” She forced herself to sound cheerful because he looked so worried. “We could both have a little afternoon siesta.”

“My love.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “If I lie down on a bed with you, we won’t be doing much sleeping.”

They arrived at the village and drove down a long grass-verged main street. Timber-fronted houses, with dark beams standing out starkly against the white stonework, intermingled with houses built from locally quarried gray flint.

The pub was some little distance away, hidden by a small forest of oaks. Built of dark stone, it had a large, heavily carved black door and would have looked dull and forbidding except for the garden. Neatly tended rose beds graced the front yard, and a huge pine tree grew against an ancient, moss-stained wall.

“This is beautiful, exactly how I imagined a little village pub to be.” She smiled at him, happy because they would have this extra time together before he returned to the trenches. The village wasn’t the closest one to Mark’s place; it would have been too indiscreet going there under the circumstances.

“What name will you sign us in under?” She touched his arm.

His lips tightened, and through clenched teeth he said, “I hate having to sneak around like this. It’s so sordid.”

She put her finger to his lips. “Don’t worry. It makes me feel rather wicked.”

A white-haired lady in a print overall greeted them cheerfully.

“We’d like your best room for tonight, please.”

“Certainly, Major. On leave from France?”

“Yes.”

They followed her upstairs to a pretty, warm room. A fire burned cheerfully in the grate.

“It gets quite chilly here at night,” the lady explained. “Breakfast is served in the dining room from seven-thirty onwards.”

“Thank you.” Amy locked the door after the woman left.

“What did you sign us in under?”

“Major and Mrs. House.”

“That’s priceless.” She gave a girlish giggle.

He pulled her into his arms. “I couldn’t think of anything else on the spur of the moment. I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to sign in at all.”

I’ll make you forget all the terrible pain you suffered in that horrible house,
she vowed, fumbling with the buttons on his jacket.

“My God, Amy, I want you so desperately.” He edged them toward the bed.

“I want you, too, Mark.”

After he disposed of her clothes, he caressed her from head to toe with his long, sensuous fingers. She stood naked before him now, her breasts swelling under his touch.

As her hands worked frantically at his clothing, excited passion seared through her when she realized the extent of his arousal.

“I love you so much it frightens me.” She shocked herself as much as him by cupping his manhood.

“Oh, God.” He gasped with pleasure.

“You like this?” She ran her fingertips along his silken shaft, starting at the rosy crown and working backwards until she reached the mat of tight curls.

“Yes. Yes.” He trembled as he lowered them onto the bed.

The weight of his body, the rasping of his hair-roughened thighs against her skin, added to the tumultuous heat scorching along her limbs. Her breasts throbbed, her insides ached with need by the time he parted her thighs and caressed the silken folds into blossoming life. There were no barriers between their lovemaking this time. Skin against skin, heated flesh against heated flesh, free to feel every sensitive, pulsating sensation.