Dark Splendor (11 page)

Morgan’s eyes sparkled as he nodded in
consent. “I would be pleased and honored to show you the grounds,
Silvia.”

His open nature made Silvia feel comfortable
and secure. She thought fleetingly he was exactly the opposite of
his brother. He inspired in her a confidence that Roman seemed to
drain away. He had a compellingly handsome face and the same
sensual lips as Roman, but his eyes lacked the fire, the quick
spark that made Roman’s temper flare with little provocation.
Morgan was, she thought, the kind of man you could always depend
on. He was the kind of man a woman could trust with her love, the
kind of man a woman ought to fall in love with.

“I’m truly sorry, Morgan,” she said
demurely. “But I’ve agreed to ride with Roman after lunch.” Her
tawny eyes met the wonder in his. “Perhaps we could walk another
time.”

Martha’s brows raised in surprise.

“Blast that blackheart!” Morgan’s mouth
twisted into a sour grin. “The man is a thorn in my side!” His fist
slammed against his thigh. “I’ll even the score with him yet,” he
mumbled under his breath.

Silvia’s eyes widened and she dabbed at her
mouth with the napkin, hiding her own surprise at Morgan’s
repudiation of his brother.

Recovering his aplomb, he calmed his voice.
“What time are you riding?” Morgan rose and slowly paced the length
of the terrace.

“In an hour,” Silvia replied. She had
finished her lunch, and glancing across the table, saw that Martha
was preoccupied and quite obviously not in a mood for talking. No
doubt she was anxious to get to her work and be done with it for
the day. Silvia rose. “If you will excuse me, I have to change my
clothes and I would like to rest awhile.”

Martha nodded an acknowledgement and pleaded
she too had to hurry away. Morgan faced the garden, hands resting
on his hips, his back turned to the woman.

“I wonder, Morgan,” Silvia called to him,
“if you would direct me to the stables before I go to my room. It
would save one of the servants the trouble of showing me the
way.”

Morgan turned around, and to her surprise, a
wide smile lit his face. With a few quick steps he was by her side,
looping a wispy tendril of her hair around his fingers.

“I would be delighted to instruct you, my
lady with the raven locks,” he said softly, his eyes glowing with a
veiled amusement.

He twisted the curl tighter around his
finger and slowly and carefully pulled his hand away, leaving the
wisp of hair in an ebony ringlet on her cheek. His gaze became a
soft caress and his smile warm and sunny. He gave her the
directions she needed and wished her a most pleasant ride. But even
as he stood conversing politely, he seemed to be chuckling under
his breath.

Smiling, Silvia took her leave, and nodding
her head in a gesture of thanks, hurried away. Behind her Morgan
resumed his restless pacing of the terrace.

The sun filled her room with brightness and
heat at midday. Oddly it gave the vivid greens in the room a cool
look that was delightfully refreshing. Reluctantly she drew the
heavy draperies, changing the room to a dark, murky green. The air
became close and still and suddenly she felt as if she were sinking
to the liquid green depths of the ocean.

It was a hazy, pleasant sensation and she
smiled languidly as she removed the blue silk dress and loosened
the laces around her waist. She was happy, she realized, pulling
back the covers on the bed. A subtle change had taken place within
her, an acceptance of her surroundings and circumstances. And
something more, an emotion welling inside, as yet undefined but
capable of bringing a rising excitement to her heart.

It was good she had not expected to sleep,
because suddenly she was a little girl filled with eagerness and
excitement, a little girl having all her dreams and fantasies come
true. Even her chagrin that it was Roman Toller who had elicited
such intense feeling from her was only a momentary annoyance.

After tossing about on the bed for a few
minutes, it was obvious she would get no rest. She deemed her time
would be better spent seeing if the riding habit fit. Thirty
minutes later she was outfitted and walking down the lane in front
of the castle.

The path to the stable was a lovely twisting
trail lined with oleander bushes. She gave a philosophic little
shrug. The house had been quiet when she left. All the servants
were busy doing Martha’s bidding, and Morgan was nowhere to be
found. It was remarkable to her that a household staff which must
be large to be efficient could function totally out of sight. For
with the exception of Vivien and Anna and the maid who had served
the meals, she had not seen another servant since her arrival.

She found the stable to be a long, low
building made of shell and mortar. It was flanked by paddocks and
one end appeared to be used as a carriage house. She saw two horses
saddled and tied to a hitching post out front, one a large roan
gelding and the other a bay mare with a sidesaddle.

Talking softly, Silvia slowly approached the
horses. She had owned a pony in her childhood and ridden every day
until she had gone to live with her aunt and uncle. How wonderful
it would be to have horses at her disposal and to be able to ride
whenever she wished.

The little mare snorted and stomped her feet
when Silvia drew near.

“Hello, pretty lady,” she whispered,
reaching out to stroke a nose soft and brown as moleskin. The mare
snorted again and gently nudged Silvia’s arm.

“She’s telling you she likes to be rubbed
between the ears.” Roman came out of a carriage well and walked up
behind Silvia before she knew he was nearby.

She spun around at the sound of his voice.
He, like Eric and Morgan, had discarded his coat and wore a
loose-fitting white shirt. The front fastened with laces and he had
left it open in a way that virtually bared his chest. The unknotted
leather cords that might have pulled the garment modestly together
swung carelessly loose as he swaggered toward her, the flexing and
tightening of each muscle evident through chamois breeches fitted
tightly on his thighs. His riding boots, like her own, were of
brown leather and extended to his knees.

His skin had turned golden from a morning in
the sun. A few strands of fair hair escaped the tie at his nape and
hung free around his face. Silvia clasped her hands together,
fighting an urge to tuck those strands neatly back in place. He
moved in such an easy, careless way, she suspected his walk was
meant to be deliberately provocative. His eyes glowed with
enjoyment, and he used, like a weapon, the disarming grin that
brought a fluttering sensation just below her rib cage.

She had forgotten the horses, and cried out
in surprise when the mare gave her a strong nudge to the shoulder,
nearly knocking her off her feet. Awkwardly Silvia caught her
balance and straightened her cap.

“Easy, girl,” she cooed, turning back to the
mare.

Roman laughed. “Like a woman, she insists on
having her way.”

He stretched out his hand to tangle his
fingers in the mare’s mane and to scratch the animal between her
ears. The little mare docilely lowered her head and snorted her
enjoyment.

“Her name is Cricket, for the fancy way she
walks.” He drew his hand away and Cricket lifted her head, rolling
her lips back to show rows of broad teeth. “Martha’s trained her to
the sidesaddle, but she’s mine and...”

“Spoiled,” Silvia said, stroking the mare’s
nose again. She tilted her head to one side and peered at Roman as
she adjusted her cap once more.

“I suppose it helps sometimes to spoil a
woman,” he drawled. He had taken a wide-legged stance and locked
his hands behind his back, his eyes growing lively with mischief.
“Especially one who can give you as much pleasure as this little
lady.”

Silvia’s cheeks reddened. Roman Toller was
devastatingly handsome and suddenly she wanted to thrash the
arrogance out of him. Blood pulsing hotly, she clutched at the
riding crop in her hand, her knuckles whitening under the strain.
If only she didn’t blush so easily and give away her emotions, she
could pretend to be as cool as he and act as if he did not disturb
her. But there was no way to conceal her heightened emotions or the
little quiver in her lips that hinted of anger.

“Shall we ride?” Silvia, at a loss for words
to bring him up short, made a pretense of inspecting the saddle and
checking the stirrup.

“You do ride, I presume.”

“Yes, well enough, though not for some
time.”

He looked at her critically, amusement
showing in his face.

You need not worry. I am safe enough in the
saddle,” she added, keeping her face composed as the little flutter
again started in her stomach.

He had come alongside her and stood
extremely close. They were positioned between the horses, and the
smell of the animals coupled with the oiled leather of the tack was
strong but not unpleasant. The roan lifted a rear hoof and stomped
it to the ground impatiently, raising a little gray cloud of dust
at their feet.

“Easy now, Trader.” Roman turned to stroke
the big gelding’s neck beneath his mane.

“He’s a fine animal,” Silvia said, noting
Trader’s long legs and powerful flanks. The gelding had a white
star on his forehead and proud flaring nostrils. He looked as if he
could best the wind in a match.

“He hates being tied up, likes his freedom.
That’s why his stall is always open to the paddock, so he can run
free when he’s ready.” Roman slapped the horse playfully on his
withers, then rubbed his hands clean on his breeches.

“Like a man,” Silvia said impishly, her
voice crisp and clear. “Free to run and roam where he will, and
always an open door when he’s ready to come home.” She smiled
smugly.

“And a warm bed,” he added mockingly, facing
her again, a bewitching smile playing at his lips. “A warm bed and
an open door. What more could a man want?”

He laughed and gave a curt nod. A devilish
light flashed in his eyes. His hands went out to circle Silvia’s
waist and she could feel the heat from his palms penetrating her
clothes. He was toying with her again. Challenging and knowing she
would not match his boldness. She flung her hands out to push at
his chest, but he lifted her quickly, holding her off the ground
with her face dangerously close to his.

She saw his lips part, saw the little tug at
the corner of his mouth that turned to a satanic smile as it
spread. His eyelids flickered lazily as he drew her closer until
the swell of her breasts touched his chest. Her senses were dancing
to life and his strength was unwavering as he held her suspended
for a moment.

Silvia’s tongue darted out to moisten
trembling lips, her defiance dying a moment later when his lips
brushed hers and sent a burst of fire through her veins. With a
whim he could fan her passion to life, and it angered her that he
could crush her serenity in a moment. He knew too well his power
over her and how to use it to his advantage. With a taunt from his
lips her anger mounted; with a touch of his hand the flame of
desire heated her skin.

Roman had the power to sway her like the
wind lashing a pine on a craggy cliff. He instilled in her a mix of
fascination and alarm that kept her completely confused when he was
near.

“I know a place where we can be alone.” he
whispered, his mouth coursing her cheek, his warm lips nibbling at
her earlobe. “The trail by the sea and then a rocky cove where no
one goes.”

“You asked me to ride,” she answered in a
far-off voice. “I believe your only intention is to seduce me.”

He lifted her to the saddle, his hands
sliding provocatively over her hips and thighs to catch her foot
and slip it into the stirrup. She locked her knee around the
saddle, her heart hammering at the walls of her chest.

“It is.” His hand went around her ankle and
his strong fingers pressed into the leather of her boot.

He had her captivated, wavering and
wondering, chastising herself for even considering what he was
suggesting and all the while deeply, secretly wishing she
dared.

“Would that be so bad?” Like raw silk, his
voice was both husky and smooth. “You would like it if you let
yourself.”

She sighed, a helpless, hopeless little
sound of faltering resistance. His hand traveled upward to her calf
and massaged the curve of her leg with a magical touch that made it
seem as if there were no boot leather between his hand and her
flesh.

“We would be alone...” His voice dropped
hypnotically low. Eyes like blue magnets drew her to him.

“And where would that leave me in a
threesome?” Morgan Toller sat a few feet away on a big black
gelding. He presented a serious countenance, but devilment lurked
in his eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest and one leg was
draped leisurely across the front of the saddle, as if he might
have been sitting there several minutes unobserved.

Silvia had heard nothing but Roman’s coaxing
words and her thundering heartbeat. But perhaps the sound had been
the pelting hooves of the black as he approached. She didn’t know.
Had Roman known Morgan was there and not cared if he heard? A
heated flush rose beneath her skin. Roman answered her silent
question with a shout.

“Damn you, Morgan!”

Cricket bolted and Silvia had to grab for
the saddle to keep her seat.

Seeing his mistake, Roman quickly caught
Cricket’s bridle and began to sooth the nervous horse. After a few
minutes of his ministrations, the mare calmed and he gave the reins
to Silvia. He mounted Trader in a quick angry leap.

“I suppose there’s no dissuading you now
that you are here?” Roman growled at Morgan. The veins in his
temples pulsed savagely and his color had heightened. Had it not
been for the tender pats he was giving Trader a moment later,
Silvia might have been fearful for Morgan’s safety.