Dark Before the Rising Sun (25 page)

The apologies included Kirby and Conny, whose presence the duke had requested. But Dante could see, as he took note of the glaring glances exchanged between Conny Brady and Robin Dominick, that all was not settled between those two.

Dante stretched his leg with a sigh, cursing the injury which had kept him isolated from the rest of the household, making him feel like a pariah. But since he could get around on his crutch, that would change.

Just then he heard the staccato beat of heels approaching along the gallery. Remaining hidden in the shadows, he waited in silence to identify the trespasser. His hand tightened on the broad end of the crutch, for he felt naked without his sword. Indeed, he was quite defenseless, he suddenly realized, should anyone take it upon themselves to rid the Dominick family of its newest member. But as he waited patiently for the figure to approach, he understood that it was a woman. The rustling of skirts was unmistakable, and then, to his surprise, because she seemed in such a hurry, the woman stopped before the portrait of the Elizabethan.

“Does he continue to fascinate you, little daffadilly?” Dante asked quietly.

Startled, Rhea cried out, glancing upward, as if the man in the portrait had spoken those soft, seductive words.

“Rhea!” Dante struggled awkwardly to his feet, just managing to reach her in time to steady her. “I'm sorry, my dear. I didn't mean to frighten you,” he apologized, his arms holding her close. Her body remained strangely stiff.

Rhea stared up into the shadowed face of her husband. Lightning flashed, and in the unnatural brightness, Dante saw that her eyes were wide with terror. It was an expression Dante had not seen in them since that first night he had come face-to-face with her aboard the
Sea Dragon
and she had looked upon him as someone to be feared.

“Rhea? What is wrong? Don't you recognize me?” The fearful expression remained.

Dante's pale gray eyes narrowed speculatively as he continued to search Rhea's ashen face. “Rhea! Look at me!” he commanded sharply, gently shaking her.

“Dante,” Rhea whispered, her darkened eyes sliding away from his gaze. “You frightened me. I wasn't expecting to see you in the gallery. I thought you were still bedridden. How did you get in here?” she asked, and Dante could feel her body continuing to shake. “For a horrible moment I thought…” she began to say, then, shaking her head, she closed her eyes.

“You thought your Elizabethan had spoken to you?” Dante guessed. “Is that what frightened you? Trust me, I'm no apparition,” he said, pressing his lips against her forehead affectionately. Placing a caressing hand against the soft roundness of her breast, he said, “Your heart is pounding so, you'll make yourself ill. Here, come and sit for a moment.”

But Rhea jerked back, and whether she or Dante was the more surprised by her rejection, neither knew.

Another flash of lightning revealed their faces, and Rhea swallowed against the fear rising inside her as she met Dante's blazing eyes. “It was not your imagining that a ghost spoke to you that frightened you half out of your wits. I frightened you,” Dante accused her, his hands tightening on her shoulders. “Look at me! My God, you're scared to death of me, aren't you?” he demanded, his voice harsh with anger and, perhaps, with his own fear.

“No, please, Dante, that isn't it,” Rhea told him breathlessly, trying to still the wild beating of her heart. “My mind was on something else, and when I stopped here by the portrait, trying to gather my thoughts, I was not expecting to hear your voice. I had expected to find you in your bed,” she explained, her hands touching him now, caressing him.

“I think that may be our problem,” Dante murmured more to himself than to her, for it had been almost a month since they had made love. “What were you thinking of? Not me, surely, or you would not have been so frightened. Or
were
you thinking of me, little daffadilly?” he asked, betraying the disquiet he felt.

Rhea's awkward silence condemned her. “Has someone said something against me? Was I too rude to Rawley when she tried to force more of that concoction down my throat?” he jested.

“No, Dante, it was…” Rhea began, but her words faded away, and she had to glance away from that penetrating gaze. “I wasn't fearful of you, but for you.”

“Fearful of what? You may as well tell me now.”

Rhea glanced around the shadowy room. It was so quiet, except for the distant sound of thunder as the storm gathered against the hills. When the faint rumbling died, it was suddenly too quiet.

“Rhea, I will not let you leave me until I know the worst,” Dante told her.

“Thunderstorms have always made me nervous,” Rhea tried to lie, but she knew he could see right through her.

“I remember how you used to snuggle close against me when the
Sea Dragon
rode out the storms. But I haven't been able to calm you this time, Rhea. Why?”

“Because no one accused you of murder before,” Rhea said matter-of-factly.

“And did you believe this person?”

Rhea placed her hand on his thigh, feeling the tensing of his muscles beneath the soft buckskin. “Of course not.”

Dante stared at her in the growing darkness, for twilight was falling, and he realized that it could only become darker before the dawn once again painted the eastern sky in rosy hues. “I had hoped you would be spared hearing the ugly story, but that was foolish. I ought to have told you myself. What exactly did you hear?”

“That you were accused of murdering a young girl.”

“Suspected, not accused. There was never any evidence to try me. There was, however, some circumstantial evidence. Had they convicted me on that, they would have sent an innocent man to the gallows. I was innocent. I was
not
innocent of having a bad reputation, however, inviting trouble and scandal. I am not proud of that. But believe me, Rhea, I did not murder Lettie Shelby,” Dante told her, and in the light, Rhea could see him staring at her with a pleading look. What had become of the arrogant captain of the
Sea Dragon
?

“Who was she?”

“A local girl, from Merleigh. Her father had been the bailiff at Merdraco until I discovered he was cheating me. I fired him. He had been buying and selling the cattle, taking care of the purchase of feed for the animals, as well as seeing to the tenants. Unfortunately, he was reporting a far lower amount in the books and pocketing the remainder. But what I objected to the most was his brutality where the tenants were concerned. Jack Shelby had a vicious streak and he misused his authority. However, I dismissed him too late, for his daughter had been hired to work at Merdraco by that time. The first time I saw her she was cleaning soot and ashes from the hearth in the salon. Even with her face smudged with ash, Lettie was beautiful. Not in a classical sense, but in a very earthy way. She was the type of woman who possessed a natural seductiveness. She knew how to catch a man's eye with the movement of her hips, how to make a man aware of the softness of her lips when she licked the dryness from them. Seduction came as easily to Lettie Shelby as breathing, and she knew how to use her talent to get whatever she wanted. I was very young and foolish, but I wasn't the only man she was free with. But I was the one she stole a watch from, and that watch was clutched in her hand when the body was found.”

“What happened?”

“She apparently went to meet someone on the moors. Perhaps she had met the man there before. It was a secluded spot, very lonely and wild, certainly a place where lovers could enjoy complete privacy. But this time her rendezvous ended in her death. She was beaten, then strangled.”

“And she had your watch?” Rhea questioned. “But that surely wasn't enough to cast suspicion on you, especially if what you said about her was true. Why didn't they suspect other men as well?”

“Because, the day before she died, she spoke in public of her ‘gentleman lover' and how he was going to give her everything she wanted. She said he had promised her a big house in London and all the clothes and jewels she could ever ask for. Never before had she been so indiscreet, for although the villagers knew she wasn't above a roll in the hay with one of the local lads, she had never mentioned a gentleman before. I suppose she couldn't resist bragging. She said she was one of the few smart girls in Merleigh and knew how to get what she wanted out of life, that she would be the fine lady one day and make their lives hell for doubting her. She also had mentioned the gentleman to her father, and since he had seen Lettie and me together once, he assumed she meant me. He had a grudge against me anyway, and was only too quick to think me the murderer. I was disreputable and one of the few gentlemen of wealth in the area, so suspicion fell heavily on me.”

“You had no alibi?” Rhea asked curiously, but Dante remained silent. “Where were you when she was murdered?”

“I was with a woman.”

“I don't understand, then. Why didn't you tell the authorities you were with someone?”

“Because she was a respectable woman, and I could not destroy her reputation just to save mine. After all, mine had been blackened long before,” Dante explained.

It was Rhea's turn to remain silent as she thought about what Dante had just told her. Finally she said, “You were involved with both Lettie and this other woman?”

Dante's laugh was harsh. “As well as others. I told you my reputation was hardly sterling. But after I became involved with this other woman, I had neither the time nor the inclination to be with Lettie. Fortunately, Lettie seemed not to mind. Her gentleman lover must have kept her very busy.”

“You loved this other woman?”

Dante smiled bitterly. “I thought I did at the time.”

“And she loved you?”

“I thought she did.”

“And she said nothing of that night? She let you be suspected of murdering that girl when she knew you were innocent?” Rhea demanded, feeling all the bitter anger Dante must have felt then.

“I could ask nothing of her. Besides, since nothing was proven against me, there was no harm done,” Dante excused the woman's heartless actions. “We were young, Rhea. So very naive and foolish, and because we thought we were in love, we risked everything to be together. If we'd been discovered, many people would have been hurt. But you do her an injustice, for she was willing to come forward, but certain events preceded the testimony she would have given, and then it did not matter anymore.”

“Were you intending to wed her?” Rhea wanted to know.

“Yes. I asked her, and she accepted.”

“Then it would not have ruined her reputation to say she had been with you.”

“Rhea,” Dante said gently, “I spent that night with her. We were lovers.”

Rhea couldn't seem to find anything to say, for although she knew that Dante must have had mistresses, it was different to hear about one from his own lips.

“About that same time, my world fell apart. My mother died shortly thereafter, and it was, I am certain, because we discovered that the lands of Merdraco were beyond my reach—those not under titular ownership, I mean, the ones I had mortgaged because of a promise from a gentleman I trusted. He promised that there would be no time limit on repaying the money I had borrowed from him in order to pay off my debts. That man betrayed me. This man, who had been my guardian, made some very bad investments with my inheritance. That, combined with my own extravagances, left me penniless except for the castle. I was, of course, responsible for trusting another man so completely. The blame is mine for having been so blind—and for losing my land. The castle could not support itself without the revenues coming in from the rest of the estate. Everything was lost.”

“You surely cannot take all the blame, Dante. You were young, and you trusted your guardian. That's understandable. You cannot be blamed for another man's treachery,” Rhea protested.

“And even had my love defended me, I could not have married her. I was a penniless gentleman by then. I could not ask her to live the life I thought I was destined for. Not that I would have blamed her had she turned me down should I have had the effrontery to have asked her to elope with me,” Dante added.

“I think you are being too kind to her. Because of her, you unfairly bore the suspicion of being a murderer. When you needed her love, she turned her back on you. She abandoned you,” Rhea said, indignant and hurt over the betrayal.

“And you are being too hard on her, Rhea,” Dante said, touched by her show of outrage on his behalf. “She was young. She had been raised to expect a life of luxury. I could not ask her to give that up.”

“I would have given up everything for your love,” Rhea told him, her hand touching his tentatively.

“Not for the man I was then,” Dante said, his spirit returning as he felt the comforting warmth of her beside him. “I am not certain, had you been my lover, that I would have even bothered to ask you to join me, for I would have kidnapped you and fled into the night. The rest of the world be damned,” he said softly, and this time when his arms pulled her close, and his lips tasted hers, Rhea responded with all of her love.

“Thank you for your belief in me,” Dante murmured against the softness of her lips.

“I have told you before that you need never worry about that,” Rhea reminded him. Her breathing was ragged again, but from the excitement of his touch, not from fear.

“The more precious something is, the more protective one is of it and fearful of losing it,” Dante said.

Rhea rested her head against his shoulder contentedly. Watching the play of light in the storm clouds, she asked in puzzlement. “I still do not understand one thing.”

“What is that?” Dante asked, but his mind was on other things as his lips left a trail of fire along Rhea's cheek and throat. It had been far too long since he had held his wife in his arms, and he was tired of conversation.