Dark Splendor (27 page)

“You’re despicable,” she said, pushing at
his shoulders. She was conscious of her hot cheeks and the jolt of
lightning that had hit her stomach. Her lips seemed to burn and she
hated herself for wanting to feel his arms around her once more. He
was a devil, and the kiss that had started a flaming desire in her
was only meant to torment.

“Merely proving a point, love.” He threw up
his head.

“What point is that?”

“I am no ghost.”

“No, you are not.” Silvia sighed wearily.
Suddenly she felt extremely tired. “The ghost is kinder.”

“You truly think there is a ghost?” His
expression stilled and grew sober.

“Why not?” She shrugged stiffly. “Martha
believes there are ghosts.”

“Have you actually seen one of these
ghosts?”

“I might have.” Her eyes glinted
fiercely.

The amused look left his face. He grasped
her arm tightly, hurting it. “You believe it too, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I might.” For a moment his
eyes were tender and she was seized with a sudden wish to tell him
the truth. “Roman,” she began, “if only you could believe I didn’t
deceive you.” Her eyes clung hopefully to his. “I didn’t mean it to
happen between us. The night I came to your room, I was
frightened,” she whispered huskily. “When you took me in your arms,
I felt safe and wonderful, and I never wanted you to let me
go.”

Roman’s hurtful grip eased to a caress on
her arm. His brows rose a fraction and briefly she knew a moment of
hope as she thought she had reached him, and penetrated the barrier
he had thrown up between them.

A muscle quivered in his jaw and he gave her
an assessing gaze.

“It doesn’t matter. I was happy to be of
service.”

Her body stiffened with shock and hurt. “It
wasn’t like that. You know it wasn’t.”

“Do I? Tell me. Make me believe it.”

She wrung her arm from his grasp. “How can
I, when you’re so bent on believing the worst about me?” Tears
streamed to her cheeks. “Don’t you know your uncle better than I?
Have you never questioned why Willy is hidden away? Has it never
occurred to you that everything in this house is sinister and
evil?” Her voice had risen to a hysterical pitch.

“Silvia, stop.” He caught her shoulders and
shook her gently. “You’re not making sense.” His face clouded with
uncertainty. “What’s happened to make you believe this place is
evil?”

She started to answer, but stopped as she
saw something at the top of the stairs, a shadowy black figure and
a hawkish face. They quickly disappeared. Her stomach knotted and
she trembled helplessly beneath Roman’s hands. She had said too
much. Had Vivien heard? Now she would never be safe. Spinning away,
she rushed up the stairs, hearing Roman’s voice call out her name
and wishing it held no anger. But all she could do now was leave
him in favor of a mindless escape—sleep.

Roman stopped on the garden path. His face
brightened. He had caught a glimpse of gold among the greens and
pinks of the oleanders and he sniffed a lavender scent where none
grew in the garden.

“Silvia. I’ve been looking for you.”

She had heard footsteps approaching and
hurriedly stepped out of sight, hoping to avoid whoever was near.
But the oleanders had not given sufficient cover. She felt a
hollowness in her stomach and for a moment toyed with the thought
of pretending she had not heard. Perhaps he would walk on. But at
last she gave a muffled sigh and looked through a gap in the
leaves.

“Why?” she asked abruptly as she twisted
gracefully though an opening in the thick bushes. She irritably
snapped a blossom off a limb in passing.

“Because,” he said, moving a pace nearer, “I
was troubled about your thoughts of ghosts.” His gaze ranged over
her freely and he was quick to notice how the gold of her gown
seemed to lighten the darker honey color of her eyes. It disturbed
him, though, to see faint shadows underneath her eyes, especially
since he thought he might in part be responsible for putting them
there.

“Ghosts?”

“Last night you spoke of ghosts, hinted that
you had seen a spirit.”

The oleanders framed her on a canvas of deep
green, and he thought as she plucked the petals from the blossom in
her hand, that she was as beautiful as any flower in the garden.
The unbidden thought clamored uncomfortably in his brain until he
furrowed his brow in a deep frown and half-turned away from
her.

Silvia watched and wondered at the change in
his countenance. Thinking he meant to treat the matter as childish
prattling, she deliberately made light of the situation.

Silvia inclined her head slightly. “Not
seriously, to be sure,” she answered serenely. In the sparkling
sunlight of morning, she wasn’t going to admit to visions of
spirits in the castle. “My thoughts were woolly from falling asleep
in the library. I had a dream of ghosts, and you gave me a start,
slamming the door.”

His frown changed to a look of puzzled
regard. “You seemed overwrought and frightened.”

“I was tired and in a poor humor.” She
lifted her face to meet his stare fully. “I apologize for my
outburst.”

Roman’s brows raised in surprise. “You had
more than ghosts on your mind. You said this house was evil, that
you had been tricked.”

“I spoke the truth.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening. “What
is the truth?”

Staring, she gave him a wry smile and felt
the sting of a sharp little thorn in her heart. The wind lifted
Roman’s fine gold hair and floated it in a flaxen wreath around his
head. He looked doubly handsome in the gentle morning light, and
there was no enmity in his features. She was taken wistfully back
to the time when they had been lovers and his eyes had promised a
lifetime of loving.

Perhaps it was a touch of sentiment or a
momentary longing for that remembered feeling that made her speak
boldly. Or perhaps she believed, without knowing, that the tender
bond remained and would someday surface again. Surprising herself,
she answered in a voice filled with dignity and calm.

“The truth is, I came here as a bond
servant, not as a bride. I was tricked into this marriage.” The
words, once spoken, gave her the feeling of having been divested of
a heavy and loathsome burden, and once the admission was made, she
took a deep restorative breath as her eyes sought his.

He reacted with a speculative narrowing of
his eyes. “Can you prove this?”

“I can. Though it matters little now.”

He raised a hand as if to caress her cheek
and then drew it back. “I would like to see this proof.”

Silvia dropped a crushed, bruised blossom
from her hand and caught his arm hopefully. A feverish excitement
warmed the blood beneath her skin. If Roman believed her, it would
solve all her problems. He would expose his uncle and help her to
resolve the dilemma.

“Come with me.” She tugged at his arm. “The
bond paper is hidden in my room.” It was the one thing that would
prove her claim. Wilhelm’s London solicitor had signed and affixed
a seal to the bond agreement, and it bore the same date as the
marriage documents she had unwittingly signed. The bond paper would
be proof enough to convince Roman of his uncle’s duplicity. He
could not fail to believe her.

For what woman, on her wedding day, would
sign a bond of servitude to her father-in-law?

***

Silvia flung the covers to the floor and
knelt beside the bed to plunge her arm beneath the mattress and
forage for the paper. Sudden color darkened her cheeks and her eyes
took on a glow of desperation. It must be there. She turned to
Roman and saw that he stood just inside the closed door of her
bedroom. His bemused expression was fading. An arrogant tilt arched
one brow sharply.

“Help me raise this mattress,” she cried.
“It must have slipped back out of reach.”

Scowling, Roman sauntered to her side and
caught the corner of the down-filled ticking, hoisting it high
enough to expose the latticed webbing and bed frame underneath.
Silvia crawled beneath the overhang of his arm, searching every
inch of the bedding. Her throat tightened as if there were a knot
in her windpipe. There was no paper to be found.

“Is this another of your tricks, Silvia
Schlange?” He gave her a scorching look as she clambered to her
feet. “Another twist of the viper’s tail?” With a sneer, Roman
loosened his hold on the mattress and it flopped down to rest askew
on the bed frame.

“No. I swear it.” The scorn in his voice
made color flame into her face. “The paper was here. Someone has
taken it.”

He wheeled about to leave, but she caught
him by the sleeve, pulling him back to face her. A sickening
feeling started in the pit of her stomach and began welling upward.
She staggered forward, still clutching his sleeve, giving a
despairing cry as her knees buckled beneath her.

Roman eyed her incredulously; then, in a
flash, his arms reached to catch her. As he did, his feet entangled
in the heap of coverlets on the floor and together they fell upon
the tousled bed, Silvia caught fast in his arms.

Her heart turned over in her chest. He was
angry but had not moved his arms from around her waist, nor made an
effort to get to his feet. She saw the smoldering flame in his eyes
and felt herself being drawn as if by a magnet into a vortex of
wanton desire. Roman too had succumbed to the same spinning void
and softly whispered her name. She pressed her hands against his
chest and felt the rapid pounding of his heart. Like cool flames,
his fingers moved lightly over her rib cage, pulling her closer
until they were no more than inches apart.

“What are you, Silvia? A temptress or an
angel?” he questioned, his voice husky with desire.

She touched a finger to his lips, silencing
him. For now, nothing mattered but that they were together and
shared a common binding need. It emerged in a force greater than
the rift between them, and for the moment the hopelessness of her
situation was forgotten. She only wanted to be encircled in his
arms, to feel the heated crush of his body against hers.

“I love you,” she whispered, burying her
face against his shoulder. She felt the hardness of his body
against her, and suddenly all awareness of the world fled.

“And I, love, find you forever in my mind
and in my heart. He leaned close and murmured soft words in her
ear. Silvia’s eyes brimmed with unexpected wanting, and warming to
it, Roman quickly plucked the pins from her hair, spilling it in a
black curtain across her shoulders.

Lips soft and yielding sought the curve
between her neck and shoulder. Very gently his hand molded over the
swell of her breast, his fingers slipping inside the bodice of her
gown and finding the tight rosy crest he sought.

She moaned. The soft mist of her breath
touched his face, and slowly, deliberately, Roman trailed his mouth
across her cheeks to claim her trembling lips. His kisses fell like
brands upon her skin and sealed her mouth to his with a sweet,
burning heat.

She drank in the fire of his kiss, weaving
her lean fingers into the golden hair at his nape and pressing him
closer, enjoying the heady feel of his embrace. His nearness was an
intoxicating, tormenting delight that sent shivers of pleasure
through her flesh. Her head reeled and her heart hammered wildly as
she surrendered to the joyous madness of his caresses. With a
languid sigh she pulled him closer, her small tongue finding and
tasting the sweetness of his mouth as her fingers delighted in
stroking the firm flesh so tightly muscled in his shoulders and
back.

How long had they both desired this moment?
she wondered as a quivering flame of wanting surged through her.
Roman’s hands loosed the fastenings of her dress and pulled the
restricting garment from her body. He paused a moment to toss away
his own shirt and breeches. His swollen manhood proved the
intensity of his passion, as did his hands, which anxiously undid
the tiny buttons and bows binding her chemise. Exasperated with his
inability to unfasten the frilly undergarment, Roman ripped the
filmy batiste from her shoulders, baring her breasts to his hands
and fevered kisses.

He paused in his passionate endeavor only
long enough to fling the ruined chemise across the room. His breath
caught roughly in his throat at the sight of her naked beneath him
with her fragrant black hair spread wildly over the sheets. Satin
flesh, silky smooth and intoxicating beneath his hands, urged him
to delay his quest no longer.

He bent only a moment to capture one
rosy-peaked breast, the act sending shivers of ecstasy through
Silvia.

Her hand strayed out to capture his manhood
and guide it on. The touch brought a blaze of passion to his eyes
and a hoarse cry from his lips, and as he probed her moist, warm
nest, he tried to hold back the fury of his desire. But Silvia
lifted her hips to take him deeply within her, and Roman could not
contain the madness that pulsed within him. Like a violent storm
they crashed and thundered together until the world began to topple
around them. Together they shattered the earth, careened through
the nectarous air, crying out in unison as their pleasure claimed
them.

Silvia’s senses came back with a delectable
slowness. She lay beneath Roman, trapped willingly in the haven of
his arms. Waves of ecstasy still flowed within her as she closed
her eyes and whispered his name.

Pressing soft kisses to her lips, Roman
stirred above her and rolled to his side. An instant later their
eyes met in amazement as they discovered the mattress on which they
lay now half-rested on the floor. Smiling, Roman rose and pulled
Silvia to her feet. He moved their feathery ship back to its proper
resting place on the bed frame, and amid a free giving of kisses
and caresses, found and donned his clothes.