Dark Splendor (5 page)

Each misty painting was a scene of lovers
done in the pale colors of a dream, each one covering a quarter of
the ceiling. Lovers walking in a garden, together on horseback, in
a swing. The fourth panel showed them in an embrace reclining on
the feathery puffs of a cloud. Silvia felt a tightening in her
throat, the warmth of tears welling in her eyes. She could almost
feel the happiness of the pair. Sighing, she made a deliberate
movement to force her eyes away. Thoughts of love had no place in
her mind.

Still the elegance of the surroundings made
her feel warm and special. She felt tired too, tired enough to
sleep for a week. Already her eyelids were growing heavy and her
body was telling of the exhaustion from the excitement of the day.
She yawned and rose slowly from the chair. Silvia crossed the thick
carpet pausing in response to a faint apprehension to make sure the
doors were locked.

Anna had turned back the covers while Silvia
bathed, and now the large bed with its velvet draperies and silk
curtains looked incredibly comfortable and inviting. Silvia
hurriedly closed the windows and snuffed out candles around the
room one by one.

Little puffs of smoke drifted into the air
above each charred wick and faded slowly from sight to become part
of the blackness. A portion of the room seemed to disappear as each
candle was extinguished. But only when she had blown out the last
candle, the one in a silver candlestick on the bedside table, would
she believe she was not in a fairy tale. For in the darkness there
was only the luxurious feel of the silk sheets to remind her she
was in a suite as spacious as the whole of the house she had shared
with her uncle in London.

The bed was soft as eiderdown and as
comfortable as it looked. And even better, it was still, unlike her
bunk on the
Eastwind
that always rocked with the motion of
the ship. When she nestled into the fullness of the feather
pillows, she realized she was tired to the very marrow of her
bones. The long sea journey had been a strain and the excitement of
her unexpected reception at Serpent Tree Hall had drained her of
the last bit of energy.

Nevertheless for a long while her mind
whirled in a fevered storm of wonderment. She had expected a
Spartan castle and had found instead a luxurious palace. After a
time, her thoughts began to fade like the light of the snuffed-out
candles. There were too many pieces of the puzzle to fit together.
Wilhelm Schlange’s estate was not at all what she had expected.
Certainly not like the farming country she had seen in England. She
could not imagine what crops grew in this place that seemed to be
all sand and strange trees. She could not imagine what her duties
would be on Mr. Schlange’s household staff.

Nor did it seem to fit that he would treat
her as an honored guest in his house. Surely Vivien had made a
mistake. Silvia sat up halfway in the bed, but relenting, fell back
to the soft pillow. Morning would be time enough to sort it all
out. Tonight it was all too wonderful to complain about and all too
great a mystery for her to solve when she was so tired. At last her
weariness was greater than the wonder and she sank into a deep and
restful sleep.

***

Hours later, a cool gust of wind swept
across her face, a gust of wind that could have had no origin in a
closed room. Silvia stirred slowly. She had felt a definite breeze
from a door or window opening and closing. When her eyes blinked
open in the darkness, she sensed rather than knew someone had
walked through the room. Oddly, the sensation brought her curiosity
instead of terror, a feeling that the visitor had meant her no
harm.

She turned quietly in the bed. Perhaps it
had been part of a dream, part of the uneasiness of sleeping in a
room for the first time. She had nearly convinced herself her
imagination was running rampant when she heard a whimper outside
the door, the sound of a lost or frightened child. Silvia lifted
her head from the pillow. Listening more carefully, she soon heard
the whimper again, louder, this time accompanied by a shuffling
noise.

Her pulse raced as she sat up quickly to try
to hear the direction of footsteps in the hall. Tossing aside the
covers, she slid to the side of the bed. In the darkness she could
not locate the robe she had draped across a chair. Perplexed, she
waited, her room quiet as death until the cry sounded again,
chilling her blood. This time she was certain it was a child,
possibly a child who had experienced a nightmare and was
frightened.

Forgetting the robe, she hurried to the door
and found it shut but no longer locked. Slowly Silvia turned the
knob and eased the door open. Clad only in her nightgown, she
stepped into the hall. No windows opened in this portion of the
passageway, and without any candles burning, the hall was dark as
midnight. Hearing footsteps around the corner, Silvia paused. She
stood spellbound for a moment, the sound of her breathing like the
roar of the sea to her ears. This house was strange to her and she
had little right to be wandering about following people. But when
the footsteps picked up again, she moved catlike in the direction
of the sound.

At the corner she hesitated again,
questioning whether she should return to her room for a candle. The
long dark hall looked as if it ran on forever, and she had no idea
where the passageway would lead or if the rooms on the back side
were occupied. She listened a moment longer to the distinctive
sound of footsteps, and when the whimper sounded again, she hurried
on. If a frightened child was wandering around in the dark, she
must try to help.

Silvia rounded the corner quickly, finding
only darkness before her. She gulped a strong, deep breath, the
infusion of air filling her with new courage and determination. A
moment later, careening through the blackness, she crashed into
someone—not a child, to be sure. Someone who wrapped two arms
around her waist, someone tall and warm and with a pleasantly
masculine scent that was faintly familiar.

The man murmured a sound of surprise and
caught her fast in his arms. He pressed her close against his chest
and raised one hand to lift her chin. At that moment the moon
escaped a prison of dark clouds and unshackled its shimmering light
to flood through an open window.

She could see his face, at first a
silhouette in the moonlight, and then, as he turned to catch the
full brilliance of the moonbeam, she saw the sculptured nose, the
sturdy chin, and the sensuous line of his mouth. She felt her chin
trembling against his fingertips. Her heart skipped a few beats,
then raced rapidly to make them up. Silvery rays lit the hallway
and illuminated the two of them with streams of magic light.

“Roman.” Her voice sounded as liquid and
silvery as the moonbeams when she whispered his name.

His fingers were cool against her skin, his
eyes softly blue in the moonlight, and his hair glowed like molten
gold. She felt all the gentleness of love in his caress, a touch
like a sweet, haunting memory.

“Little flower,” he whispered, stroking her
cheek, slipping his fingers into the loose curls about her face.
Murmuring her name, he slid his hands down her cheek, across her
throat, softly, gently caressing the curve of her neck and coming
to rest on the swell of her shoulders.

Soft as a drop of summer rain, his lips
touched hers. She sighed, feeling her limbs become weak and
willowy, and closed her eyes while his mouth rained soft kisses
over her face. She thought of butterflies and their velvety
fluttering wings. Feeling the warmth of his body against hers was
like being transported into a dream, a dream she would never want
to end.

Once more his lips sought hers with a soft
kiss. “I knew you’d come,” he whispered.

His words tore through the delicate membrane
that wrapped her in a mystical spell. She lifted her lids
reluctantly to gaze at the face so close to her own. Her lips were
still warm with the imprint of his kiss, but now his mouth had an
arrogant twist. The gentleness was gone from his face. The blue of
his eyes had turned dark and treacherous like the murky waters in a
deep well.

She felt as if the floor had dropped away
beneath her, as if she would any moment begin to plunge into a
bottomless chasm. She had been betrayed by her lips, her arms,
deceived by kisses as unreal as the gold reflected in the waters of
the pool in the courtyard. What had she been thinking to respond as
she had? She swallowed, feeling a dryness in her throat.

“I heard a child,” she said softly, pulling
back a little.

“There are no children here.” He tilted his
head to one side and gazed into her eyes. Within his whisper she
heard the old mocking tone steal into his voice.

“I heard a child outside my room.” She
struggled in his arms, trying vainly to push free of his
embrace.

“How remarkable.” His brows arched and his
eyes were like fantastic blue lights catching the glimmer of the
moon. You heard a child where there are no children, and I am to
believe that is why I find you outside my door wearing a gown as
thin as the morning mist.”

His mouth twisted wryly and his chest
expanded with a haughty breath. He wore only his breeches and a
shirt open to the waist in front, and as she squirmed against him
the bristle of hair on his chest grazed her cheek like a soft
brush. She could feel the pressure of his bare foot rubbing against
her own toes. Smiling wickedly, he tilted his head and his thick
hair gleamed golden as the moonlight framed his face.

Silvia listened to the faint sigh of the
wind and trembled. She could not match his coolness and her voice
shook a little when she spoke again.

“I did hear a child crying and came out to
investigate.” She pushed harder against his chest but found she was
tightly locked in by the strength of his arms. “Let me go,” she
pleaded, the glow in her face dying wistfully.

Roman smiled indulgently.

“Tell me more of this story about a child
who led you to my door,” he said, toying with her.

Silvia twisted in his arms. His hands were
on her hips, holding her close against him. She could feel the
warmth of his body against her and with it a heady new feeling that
frightened and weakened her.

“Tell me all the stories you like,” he
breathed, his lips close to her ear, his mercurial smile taunting
her. “I’m fond of a bedtime tale.” His hands played wantonly across
her back, his fingers tangling in the tumbling curls that hung
almost to her waist. “But I prefer them in bed,” he whispered.

“You’re...” Silvia’s eyes flamed in anger,
but before she could say more his lips crushed hers with a kiss.
Suddenly she was falling, tumbling, spinning in an abyss of desire
where her body refused to obey her mind. She felt the response of
her lips against his, the throbbing press of her breasts against
his bare chest and a strange weakness in her legs as he held her so
tightly she thought she would become part of him.

“You must let me go,” she whispered
desperately when at last his lips parted from hers. Silvia’s breath
came in shallow gasps and her skin was alight with the warmth of a
rosy blush brought on by the fervor of his kiss.

“Must I?” Gone was the taunting tone, and
his voice was hypnotically mellow, lulling her into submission to
his will.

“Yes, you must,” she whispered weakly,
finding her arms wrapped about his waist. Quickly she dropped her
hands to her sides and tried to wriggle free of his grip. “Please,”
she pleaded in a tear-smothered voice. “Let me go.”

His teasing laughter was low, throaty, and
his chest vibrated heavily against her.

“A lady must know her own mind.” Desire and
mockery showed in his glance. He loosened his hold a little,
stepping back but keeping his hands on her shoulders so that she
could not escape him. “Your lips tell me you want to be held and
your words tell me you want to go.” He raised one heavy brow and
smiled darkly. “What am I to believe? That you are quicksilver like
the moonlight? That you want to slip through my arms and be gone
like elusive moonbeams?”

Disoriented by the intensity of his gaze,
she dropped her eyes from his. “Please, I must go,” Silvia cried,
aware of the trembling within that shook her shoulders and
threatened her resistance. Her whole being seemed to fill with
wanting, an emotion that both thrilled and frightened her.
“Please,” she whispered.

Roman’s hand caught a strip of scarlet
ribbon at her throat and untied the bow that gathered the nightgown
around her neck. Slowly, seductively his hands traveled down her
arms, pulling the loosened gown from her left shoulder and exposing
its creamy whiteness to his eyes.

A tingling started low in her stomach. Just
for a moment she saw a tender look in his eyes before he leaned
down and kissed the curve of her throat. He laughed softly and
whispered words she could not understand against her ear. Silvia
pleaded with him until, with a reluctant sigh, he released her. She
stood immobile, no longer held but completely in his spell.

“Go then, quicksilver maiden. I’ll wait for
you to blossom in the sunlight,” he teased, spinning her about and
heading her in the direction of her room.

She took a step forward hesitantly,
confused. Her nightgown, scandalously thin, shimmied around her as
she moved a step in painful frustration.

“Roman, I...” She never knew what she would
have said, for just as she began to speak, the sound of footsteps
clicked a warning as someone approached from the side hall.

Silvia stiffened and cast her eyes around
wildly, searching for a place to hide. How could she explain to a
stranger why she was standing in the hall, hardly dressed,
embracing a man she had sworn was the scourge of the earth? Backing
away, she pressed her body against the smooth stone wall and closed
her eyes, hoping the person she heard would turn into a room before
discovering them standing together.