The Secret Kiss of Darkness (12 page)

‘Argh, I’m going to be so late,’ she moaned now, glancing at her watch. She was pretty sure she hadn’t seen a road sign for quite some time, and she also had a sneaking suspicion that she’d already passed this particular turning before. It looked awfully familiar. Well, there was nothing for it but to continue.

‘Should I go right or left, or maybe straight on?’

She gazed forlornly at the crumpled map, but couldn’t make head nor tail of it. There was no one to ask either, not a living soul for miles, apart from the occasional flock of sheep.

As she finally decided to turn left a few raindrops spattered the windscreen, and these quickly turned into a complete deluge. It became impossible to see more than a few yards along the road and the windscreen wipers had to work overtime, squeaking in outraged protest.

‘Great, this is all I need,’ Kayla muttered, clamping her teeth together in frustration. And now was definitely not the best time to find out that the blade of the windscreen wiper on the driver’s side of the car needed to be changed. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

She checked her watch once more. It was only half past four in the afternoon, but it was so dark that she had to turn on the headlights. The wind picked up and she could feel the little car being buffeted again and again by a particularly strong gust. Every time she passed under a tree, torrents of rain slapped onto the car’s roof, making her jump, and Kayla had to slow right down in order to navigate safely around the sharp bends. To add insult to injury, patches of mist began to appear and she started to despair in earnest.

‘For heaven’s sake, does this road never end?’ she exclaimed. Her eyes stung from concentrating so hard and she felt exhausted. It had been a very long day, and unfortunately it wasn’t over yet.

Time became a blur and Kayla wondered if this nightmare journey would continue for all eternity. Then the road suddenly turned abruptly to the right and she thought she might be driving along the coast at last. She could just make out what seemed to be a sheer drop on her left and when she opened the window a cautious inch, the salty smell of the sea came wafting into the car. Ten minutes later the road wound its way inland again and Kayla caught sight of a light up ahead.

Oh, thank God, at least I can ask for directions
.

The light turned out to be the porch lamp of a small house standing next to a massive pair of wrought iron gates, its posts guarded by two fierce looking eagles carved in stone. Kayla drew up in front of them and stopped the car. Grabbing her handbag and car keys she made a dash for a smaller gate, which led to the house, and shivering from the cold wind, she rang the doorbell.

The owner of the house took his sweet time. Kayla was almost jumping up and down by the time a man in his mid-fifties with a weather-beaten face opened the door a crack at last and peered at her suspiciously. ‘Yes, can I help you?’ His West Country burr was much stronger than Jago’s, but even the familiarity of this didn’t calm Kayla.

‘I’m very sorry to bother you but I’m afraid I’m completely lost. Could you possibly tell me where I am and how to get to the nearest town?’ She held out her creased map and gave him a look that she hoped would have melted a heart of stone. The rain was pouring down her face and her jacket was soaked already. She prayed the man could help her.

He narrowed his eyes for a fraction of a second, then apparently decided she was trustworthy. He opened the door wide. ‘You’d best come in then,’ he said grudgingly.

‘Thank you.’ Kayla stepped inside and shut the door behind her. She was careful not to go any further than the doormat in case she dripped water on the gleaming floor tiles. To her right Kayla caught a glimpse of a cosy living room and a huge, shaggy dog came padding out from there to see who had come to visit. He didn’t bark and after a perfunctory sniff at her sodden shoes he went back to the comfort of the fire without so much as a wag of his tail.

The man took the by now extremely soggy map from her and asked, ‘So where is it you wish to go then, miss?’

‘Well, I was on my way to Marcombe Hall which is supposed to be somewhere near the village of Marcombe, but I lost my way and I’m afraid I’ve missed my appointment now. I suppose the best thing to do is go to the nearest town and find a hotel room, and I can call from there and see if I can rearrange my visit for tomorrow.’

The man looked up sharply. ‘Marcombe Hall, did you say?’ He gave a short crack of laughter. ‘No need to go any further then. This here is the gatehouse for the Hall.’

‘You’re joking! Well, what a coincidence.’ Kayla couldn’t believe her luck had finally turned. ‘Thank you, I’m so sorry to have troubled you then.’ As she turned to go there was a sudden screech of tyres and the sound of a car horn hooting impatiently outside.

‘Oh, that’ll be the master,’ the man said. ‘Erm, you didn’t by any chance park your car in front of the gate, did you?’

‘What? Oh, yes. I suppose I’d better move it.’

‘Too late, I reckon.’

‘No! You don’t mean …?’ Kayla rushed out into the downpour and ran towards her little car, but thankfully it seemed to be in one piece. It was spot-lit by the headlights of a moss-green Land Rover which had pulled up behind it and it looked as though the second car had only just managed to stop. There was a mere inch between its bumper and Kayla’s. A man was bent over the front fender of the larger car, presumably making sure he hadn’t hit her car, and as he straightened out, the breath lodged in her throat. She couldn’t see much of his face, since he had a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, but she could tell he wasn’t best pleased, his mouth an uncompromising line.

‘What the hell do you mean by parking in front of my gate with your lights switched off like that?’ he hissed at her. ‘Have you no sense, woman? I could have totalled your little Peugeot. In fact, you’re damn lucky I didn’t.’

Kayla’s first reaction was that she wanted to sink into a small dark hole somewhere and never come out again, but then something inside her snapped. It had been a long day, she was extremely tired, and she’d had enough. She faced him with her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

‘Well, how was I supposed to know someone was going to come along just now? I only stopped for five minutes in this godforsaken place to ask for directions, and I haven’t met anyone for miles,’ she shot back angrily. ‘Hours, in fact.’ She glanced at the minute space between the Land Rover and the rear of her Peugeot. She had been very lucky, but she wasn’t in the mood to be grateful. ‘This really is the last straw,’ she muttered.

The older man had come out to join them and he patted her arm consolingly. ‘Could’ve been worse, eh? And at least you’re where you wanted to be.’

‘I’ve changed my mind. Can you please tell me how to get to the nearest town? I don’t think I’ll bother staying here after all.’ She threw an angry glare in the other man’s direction.

‘But I thought you said you had an appointment. With the master, was it?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Kayla gritted her teeth. All she wanted now was to get as far away from here as possible and forget this day had ever happened. Jago would have to find another champion. She’d had it with his quest.

‘You had an appointment with me?’ The younger man had obviously calmed down since he sounded less angry. Rain was pouring down his face, obscuring most of his features, but Kayla could hear the puzzlement in his voice.

‘Yes, if you’re Sir Wesley Marcombe.’

‘I am, but I don’t recall making any appointments for this afternoon,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘I wouldn’t have gone out if I had.’

‘You didn’t exactly. I spoke to your secretary and she assured me you would be delighted to see me at four o’clock today. So much for that. And unfortunately, I couldn’t find the way here.’ Kayla emphasised the word ‘delighted’ sarcastically, and she thought she saw Sir Wesley’s jaw tighten.

‘Well, that explains it. Emma is probably the most useless secretary I’ve ever had the misfortune to employ and I would guess she forgot to tell me.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘You’d better come up to the house though. You won’t get far in that at the moment.’ He nodded in the direction of her car.

‘What do you mean? It’s not broken.’ Kayla started to circle the little car in order to make sure there wasn’t any damage after all, a fresh wave of anxiety washing over her.

‘No, but it’s not exactly the biggest car in the world and when it rains like this around here some of the roads get flooded. You might get stuck in the middle of nowhere. No, I’m afraid you’ll have to spend the night at Marcombe Hall. It would be safer.’

‘Oh, wonderful,’ Kayla muttered. ‘This just gets better and better.’ She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, praying for strength and patience. Should she believe him? Could she afford not to? She decided she was too tired to argue and she couldn’t face any more driving. ‘Oh, very well. Thank you,’ she finally ground out, and thought she saw the ghost of a smile on Sir Wesley’s lips before he turned towards the Land Rover.

‘Follow me,’ was all he said.

Eliza came running towards him, her face flushed and shining with happiness. Before he could utter a word she threw herself into his arms and hugged him fiercely, as if she would never let go.

‘Jago, oh Jago, I have such wonderful news – I am with child!’ There were tears running down her cheeks, but he could see they were tears of joy so he smiled and kissed her, despite the misgivings that immediately welled up inside him.

‘Wonderful indeed,’ he agreed, but his mind was working furiously, wondering whether John would suspect the child wasn’t his. When had his half-brother last been at home?

Eliza put her cheek against his shoulder and to his surprise she began to sob in earnest. ‘I thought I was barren. I thought I would never have a child of my own. I was so frightened. So afraid that John … and I didn’t want to live my life all alone in that big house you know.’ Her voice broke and he stroked her hair with soothing motions.

‘Shhh, my love. Everything’s all right now. There was never anything wrong with you. Why do you think John didn’t have any children by his first wife? He probably can’t sire any.’ This was pure conjecture on Jago’s part, although based on scurrilous gossip he’d overheard in the taproom of the inn, but it was the only thing he could think of to stop her tears. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect.

‘Oh, no! What if he knows that?’ Eliza’s eyes opened wide in horror. ‘He’ll know the child isn’t his. Dear God, what am I to do?’

‘Eliza, listen to me.’ Jago cupped her face in his big hands to try and calm her. ‘If he’s been trying to father a child ever since you two were married, he must still hope that he is able to. He’ll be overjoyed to find that his suspicions were incorrect and as long as we are discreet, he’ll never find out.’ He bent to kiss away the tears. ‘Now smile for me again. If there’s a babe growing within you, you must be strong. For the child’s sake you must pretend that everything is all right. And it will be, I promise.’

She leaned into him with a little sigh. ‘You are right, as always, my love. You are so wise.’

Jago knew that wisdom definitely wasn’t one of his virtues at the moment, but he prayed they could both stay strong now for the sake of their child. They had no choice.

The road inside the gates was flanked by tall hedges and trees, which protected them from the worst of the wind. When they finally pulled up in front of the house, Kayla only had a fleeting glimpse of a large, white-rendered building with a huge porch supported by Doric columns. She thought the house might have three storeys, but it was impossible to tell for sure in the darkness.

Sir Wesley was already out of his car by the time she parked.

‘Do you have any luggage?’ he asked curtly.

Kayla nodded. ‘In the back seat.’ She indicated a small suitcase. It was packed for a week, although she had only planned on staying for a couple of days, but she liked to cater for all eventualities.

He leaned into the car and picked up her case as if it weighed nothing at all, and she noticed for the first time how big he was, at least compared to her own measly five foot three inches. And he had broad shoulders that were straining against the wet, tight-fitting sweater he was wearing. Kayla slammed the door of the car shut with more force than necessary.
Damn the man. What did she care how wide his shoulders were? He was extremely rude and he had obviously only invited her to stay because he had no choice.

Her train of thought came to an abrupt halt as they entered the house. It wasn’t a house, she decided, it was a bloody castle. Well, a stately home at any rate. The entry was of immense proportions and Kayla stared in awe at her surroundings. The hall went all the way up to the full height of the building and was topped by a beautiful, intricately patterned glass dome, which no doubt would be breathtaking in daylight. A staircase rose majestically from the centre of the room up to the first floor, where it divided into two and continued upwards. Their footsteps echoed on a lovely black-and-white marble tiled floor and on either side of the staircase there were magnificent fireplaces. The whole room was decorated with ornate plasterwork, and Greek and Roman statues were placed at intervals in specially created niches.

Kayla didn’t have much time to look around, however, as a short, round middle-aged woman came bustling towards them through a door at the rear of the hall, exclaiming at the sight of them.

‘Oh dear, sir, you’re absolutely drenched. And the young lady, too. Goodness, what weather, and so unexpected. Whatever next, eh?’

Kayla caught sight of herself in a tall mirror, which hung over an ornate hall table to the left of the front door. ‘Good grief,’ she muttered. She resembled nothing so much as a drowned waif, her hair protruding in spiky, wet clumps from the large clip with which she had put it up earlier in the day. Black rivers of mascara were making their way down her cheeks, and she swiped at them without any visible effect, thinking ruefully that Dracula himself probably looked better than this.

‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name?’

She realised Sir Wesley was talking to her and turned around. He was still wearing his sodden baseball cap, but although this shaded his eyes she could see the rest of his face clearly and she noticed he wasn’t as forbidding as he had seemed outside in the dark. He might even be passably good-looking if he ever smiled. The sharp planes of his cheekbones framed faint laughter lines around a sensuous mouth, and his jaw line was covered in dark stubble. A fading tan indicated a recent spell abroad and Kayla envied him – she had to struggle to achieve even the tiniest amount of colour even after weeks in the sun. He cleared his throat and she became aware he was waiting for an answer.

‘What? Oh, sorry, my name. It’s Michaela Sinclair, Kayla for short.’ She held out her hand, feeling awkward, and he shook it briefly. His felt warm to the touch, not wet and cold like her own, but she shivered nonetheless.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ he answered automatically, then turned to the other woman. ‘Annie, Miss Sinclair will have to spend the night. The roads aren’t safe at the moment. Can you see to a room for her, please?’

‘Well, yes,’ Annie hesitated, ‘but all the guest rooms have been stripped for the restoration work this week, sir. Don’t you remember?’

‘Damn, I’d forgotten.’ He thought for a moment. ‘You’ll have to put her in Caro’s room then. There’s nowhere else, is there?’

‘No, sir. I’ll see to it right away. If you’ll come with me, young lady, I’ll show you where you can dry yourself off a bit.’

‘Thank you.’ Kayla picked up her suitcase and followed Annie up the wide staircase to the first floor and along a corridor with gleaming wooden floorboards. A thick green Axminster carpet ran along the middle and muffled the sound of their footsteps.

Annie led the way into a huge bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows flanked by dusky pink velvet curtains. An elegant four-poster bed stood in the centre of one wall, draped with hangings of the same material as the curtains and covered in a matching satin coverlet.

‘Oh, this is lovely!’ Kayla exclaimed. ‘Are you sure this, er, Caro, won’t need her room tonight?’

Annie smiled wryly. ‘No, and I don’t think she’ll be needing it ever again, praise the Lord.’

Kayla raised her eyebrows at this strange comment but thought it best not to say anything. Had someone died here recently? She shuddered and wondered if she’d walked into a Gothic novel by mistake. After talking to paintings, anything might be possible after all. But hopefully she’d be too tired tonight to think about such things. Besides, she ought to be used to ghosts by now.

‘There’s a private bathroom through there,’ Annie indicated a door on the left, ‘and dinner will be served downstairs at six. If you want anything just ring that bell over there.’ She pointed to a switch on the wall by the door.

‘Thank you, but I’m sure I have everything I need.’

‘Ring the bell?’ she muttered, as Annie closed the door behind her. Now she definitely felt as if she had at least stepped back in time and with her wet clothes and bedraggled appearance, she certainly didn’t fit into such grand surroundings. She ought to have been wearing a ball gown she thought with a wry smile, then shook her head.

It was just a room and it didn’t matter what she looked like. Besides, she was only staying for one night. Not a moment longer.

After a long, warm shower and with her hair almost dry again, Kayla felt infinitely better. Perhaps everything had worked out for the best after all? It was a miracle that she’d ended up at Marcombe Hall despite all the wrong turns she had taken and with not a clue as to which direction she was travelling in. She decided fate was definitely taking an interest in her life at the moment, but she had yet to decide if this was a good thing or not.

Dressed warmly in a short, light blue, knitted skirt over leggings, and with a matching high-necked jumper, Kayla was ready to face her host again. She had applied fresh make-up and left her hair loose and the heavy tresses, which were now almost dry, swung behind her as she walked down the curved staircase. She ran a hand along the smooth banister and admired the hall once more. This really was a magnificent house. It would be the perfect setting for Jago’s portrait, if only she could find Eliza for him.

First things first, however, where was the dining room?

‘Bloody hell, Emma is enough to try the patience of a saint.’ Wesley banged a fist on his desk in frustration and swivelled round on his chair to face the bookcase behind him in an effort to calm down. He had definitely never aspired to sainthood and felt entitled to let out a long string of expletives when confronted with his secretary’s incompetence. Still, he knew it wouldn’t change a thing, so instead he took some deep breaths and counted to ten.

He was interrupted by a soft knock on the door and then the hesitant voice of his guest, Miss Sinclair. ‘Excuse me? Is anyone here?’

He turned back to face the room’s entrance and saw her face peering in cautiously. ‘Yes, I’m here, Miss Sinclair,’ he said curtly. ‘Come in.’ He sighed and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. He hadn’t had a chance to change yet and although his clothes had started to dry out they were still clinging to him damply. He caught the sharp odour of wet wool from his sweater and wrinkled his nose. Hopefully his unexpected guest wouldn’t get close enough to smell it as well.

Miss Sinclair entered the room, but stopped just inside the threshold when she caught sight of the expression on his face. He realised he must look like thunder since she immediately took an involuntary step backwards and said, ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you, Sir Wesley, I was just looking for the dining room. Annie said to come down at six. Or perhaps I am to eat in the kitchen?’ She checked the time on her watch in embarrassment, but he hardly noticed. He was too busy taking in the changes in her appearance.

Instead of the bedraggled creature he had brought in earlier, a very pretty woman was standing in front of him. Everything about her was tiny, but perfect. Well, everything, he amended silently, except her bosom, which was magnificent, emphasised as it was by the clinging jumper she wore. Wes swiftly directed his gaze elsewhere so she wouldn’t catch him staring. The wet, straggly mop of hair had miraculously turned into a gleaming, ash-blonde mane, which hung in thick layers down to her shoulder blades. There were pale highlights that shone in the light from the chandelier overhead. Her face was dominated by a pair of huge eyes, which she had outlined by the skilful application of mascara, but she didn’t wear any other make-up that he could see. Indeed, the slightly over-generous mouth didn’t need additional colour, it was perfect the way it was, and he didn’t think the slight flush on her high cheekbones was artificial either.

‘Sir Wesley?’

Her voice recalled him to the present. ‘What? Oh, I’m sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. It would seem my secretary has walked out on me today and she claims not to be coming back, although I’m not sure if I believe it. She’s said that before. Anyway, she’s left everything in a bit of a mess and I don’t know where to start or where to find anything. I suppose that explains why I didn’t know you were coming.’

‘Oh, right. Perhaps you’d rather have your dinner later, then? Should I leave you in peace?’

He shook his head. ‘Oh, no, that would be more than my life’s worth. If you’re ever late for one of Annie’s dinners you’ll never hear the end of it, believe me. She’s an absolute tyrant.’ He got up and went round the desk towards her. He smiled to show that he was joking, but she didn’t notice. She seemed to be busy studying his carpet and he guessed she felt awkward about having to stay the night. ‘I hope you’ll excuse me if I don’t change for dinner?’ he said, hoping to put her at ease.

‘Yes, of course. I shouldn’t even be here really, so please don’t mind me.’

‘It’s not a problem. As you may have noticed, this is quite a large house and one more person under its roof won’t make much difference.’

Wes tried not to stare at her, but it was difficult because she was even prettier up close. And she smelled divine – some sort of flowery perfume that made him think of making love in a garden on a soft carpet of grass and surrounded by honeysuckle and roses. He took a deep breath and brought his unruly thoughts under control. What was wrong with him? He’d only just met the woman and here he was fantasising about love-making. This wouldn’t do.