Dark Splendor (30 page)

Roman leaned forward and caught her by the
arms.

“If you’re able to stand, I’ll take you back
to the castle. Vivien can attend to your injuries, though I think
they are not so serious as to cause concern.”

His caustic stare made her shudder and
fanned her misery. “I’m sure it would have suited you if I had
broken my neck.”

Roman frowned and tugged at her
impatiently.

She let him pull her to her feet, then
dusted herself off as much as possible. Her riding costume had a
small tear in the skirt and a few grass stains that would need
washing out. It seemed the greatest harm that had come from her
fall was the altercation with Roman, but nevertheless she made the
first few steps cautiously to be sure she was indeed all right.

Roman’s keen eyes watched her and his lip
twitched as he started to speak, then changed his mind and walked
away to where the saddle had landed. Bending, he lifted it from
beside a sapling’s slender trunk. She saw him carefully examining
the straps. Abruptly he winced and drew his hand back with a jerk,
then glanced over his shoulder at her.

“A buckle gave way on the girth,” he said
flatly, rubbing the fingers of one hand on his trouser leg and
leaving a small stain of blood. “I’ll caution the groom about
inspecting the tack more carefully, though there was probably no
way to tell it was weak.”

“The loose girth did not cause the fall,”
Silvia said dolefully.

“What, then?”

“Something was thrown. I’m certain you’ll
find Cricket has been injured by a rock or some other object.” She
brushed a tangle of hair out of her eyes. “Someone meant me to be
thrown.”

His face darkened. One brow lifted
significantly. “Who would do such a thing?”

Silvia found her riding crop and plucked it
up from the ground. She fumed hotly. He didn’t believe her and he
wasn’t in the least concerned that she had nearly been killed.

“You might,” she burst out. “You take every
opportunity to antagonize me,” she added grimly, half-believing
what she spoke. “You were the last to handle the horse.”

Roman seemed unconcerned by her accusation.
He simply turned and walked toward the stable.

In the space of a few minutes they were out
of the wood, and Thomas, the groom, hurried out and agitatedly
expressed his relief that Mrs. Schlange was unharmed. Cricket, he
explained, had trotted in without rider or saddle just moments
before. He had locked her in a stall and was rushing out to find
Mrs. Schlange.

Roman’s accusing look brought a shadow of
alarm to Thomas’ face.

“You can pick the saddle up a quarter-mile
down the trail. It will need repairs, Thomas.” Roman frowned
severely. “And be more mindful of things, man. That saddle had a
broken buckle. You should have noticed it when you saddled the
mare.”

Thomas dropped his eyes and turned
red-faced.

“It wasn’t his fault.” Silvia spoke up
quickly. “Eric saddled Cricket for me. Don’t blame poor
Thomas.”

Roman looked at her incredulously. “It’s not
like Eric to be careless,” he snapped. He thrust the reins at
Thomas and whirled to grip Silvia by the waist. His gentle handling
as he set her on a wooden bench beneath the shaded overhang of the
stable roof surprised her. She looked up hopefully. But he had
stepped back and was eyeing her speculatively with a gaze that
burned white-hot.

Her heart dropped gloomily. “Eric was in a
hurry,” she mumbled. “It wasn’t his fault either.”

Roman scowled and turned back to Thomas. He
issued curt orders for the man to make haste and fetch Vivien to
help Silvia into the house.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, her
eyes bland. “I feel quite fit. Only a little headache.”

His mouth twisted. “Then I’ll see to
Cricket. Wait for Vivien. She can make a poultice for your head,
and tomorrow there won’t be even a sign of the injury,” he said
without a speck of emotion, and stalked off into the stable.

Silvia’s face paled with anger and she
stamped a foot on the ground. How had she ever thought she loved
him? He was rushing away to tend a frightened horse while she,
bruised and shaken, was left to wait alone for Vivien. The man had
the heart of a jackal.

***

“So you’ve been abused, little lady.” Roman
rubbed his hand lightly over Cricket’s belly and found what he had
expected, a spot of dried blood and a thorn embedded in her flesh.
He plucked the thorn out and dipped a cloth in cool, clear water,
then sponged the caked crust away. “Sorry, Cricket,” he crooned as
he applied liniment to a lump on one foreleg and gave the same
treatment to one on her nose.

The little mare whinnied her contentment as
the soothing liniment took effect.

Roman smiled and rubbed her gently between
the ears. “There, now, little lady. You’ll be none the worse by
morning.”

***

An hour later Silvia reluctantly submitted
to Vivien’s treatment and ministrations. She had refused to go to
bed in spite of Vivien’s prompting. Now she lay beneath a coverlet
in her sitting room with a wet herbal poultice plastered to her
forehead. Vivien, surprisingly, had been aghast at learning of her
accident. She had rushed Silvia into the house and forbidden her to
come downstairs before morning. But Silvia knew, to her chagrin,
Vivien’s alarm had more to do with preventing Wilhelm’s wrath. Her
own welfare was a lesser concern.

She had her supper, a bowl of thick, hearty
soup and fragrant brown bread with butter. Anna sat with her for an
hour, encouraging her to eat more and more, until finally Silvia
insisted the tray be taken away so she could rest.

“I’ll leave the door open a crack, and, of
course, there’s the bell”—she pointed at the tea table—”if you need
anything.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Anna.”

She sighed and eventually drifted off to
sleep, only to awaken a short while later and see Roman at her
side, an unexpected look of concern on his face. He carried a tea
tray, which looked completely out of place in his large hands.

“I didn’t know you were asleep.” He set the
tray on the little table. “I met Anna on the stairs with this.” He
indicated the tea. “She said you usually have it at night, so I
told her I’d bring it. I wanted to tell you that Cricket is
fine.”

“She’s not injured?”

“She had a few scratches, probably from
running wild through the brush. Nothing that won’t heal quickly.”
He had changed his clothes and wore a pale blue shirt with dark
breeches. His hair was still damp from his bath and had not yet
begun to fall over his brow as was its way. His expression was
solemn but not filled with anger, and the softer look made his face
more appealing than ever.

Silvia wrung her hands, hidden from his view
beneath the coverlet.

“I thought she might have been worse.”

He gave a slow nod. “How’s your head?”

“Better.” She gingerly pulled the poultice
away and dropped it to the table, grateful it had a more bearable
smell than Vivien’s liniment. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“The swelling is gone,” he said, leaning
toward her. “You’ll mend as fast as Cricket.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” she answered wearily,
her eyelids drooping a little. She wasn’t up to another verbal
battle with him and hoped fervently the conversation would not lead
to one. Why must he look so enticing in the candlelight?

Silvia sighed deeply. She wished he would
leave the island and go back to his ships so she wouldn’t be
reminded daily of his contempt for her.

Roman rocked back in the chair. He looked at
the way her curls rested as light as air on the pillow. She looked
incredibly vulnerable and small. Would he ever see her again
without thinking of the child growing inside her, possibly from his
own seed?

The chance that it might be so made him
nearly mad with wondering. He remembered that first night, the
blazing gold of her eyes and the bewitching pleasure of her
passion. The memory had been deliberately held in check a long
time, and now he chafed with knowing and admitting to himself that
he had been unfair to put all the blame on her. Yet there was no
forgetting the deception.

The candle flame flickered and threatened to
go out, becoming a tiny ball of golden fire for an instant. Then it
blazed up again and spread its rim of light over them both.

“Is Willy pleased about the baby?” His face
was blank but she knew the question was his way of indicating he
would forget what had been said earlier in the day.

“Yes. Pleased,” she answered vaguely. What
did it matter that it was a lie? She turned her eyes away from him
and sighed again, deeply. “He looks forward to the event.”

Roman swallowed hard. “You must relay my
congratulations.”

Silvia felt his pretense of concern for her
welfare was for his uncle’s benefit, an effort to keep peace in the
house.

He proved her right with his next
comment.

“Wilhelm too must be pleased.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “He has expressed his
pleasure.” More than that, she thought to herself. He has
gloated.

“You must give more thought to your
condition,” he added matter-of-factly, rising from the chair and
hastily replacing it across the room. “I recommend you limit your
exercise to walks in the garden until the baby comes.”

“Yes, I’ll do that.” Her eyes followed him
across the room. What irony that they were having a subdued, civil
discussion when they had exchanged heated words only a short time
ago.

Silvia wondered if he was slyly trying to
ensure his own inheritance, for he knew it would threaten his
position to continue his cruel treatment of her. Her thoughts were
unkind, but so was Roman’s behavior lately. She meant nothing to
him except that as Willy’s wife, she might someday be in control of
the Schlange empire.

Oddly it was the first time she had fully
realized that possibility. If Wilhelm died and his will was as he
had told her, her child would inherit the majority of the estate.
But until the child came of age, she would be in a position of
power over them all.

“You will be careful,” he said again.

Silvia pressed her lips tightly together and
nodded. She found herself unable to feel any joy at his kindly
advice. Really, she preferred his caustic honesty to this
pretentious concern. There was, her mind rambled on sadly, only one
person here who cared for and adored her. Poor, dumb Willy.

“Roman.” She gave him a cool glance. “I’d
like it kept secret awhile longer. About the baby, I mean.”

“As you wish.” He smiled lightly. “I’ll
leave the broadcasting of that news to you. And,” he added, pausing
with his arms crossed over his chest, “I’ll not keep you from your
rest any longer. Good night.”

When he was gone, she touched her feet to
the floor and tiptoed to the door to shut and lock it. It would be
wise to keep her secret as long as possible, lest she become the
object of carping, insincere attention from them all. Outside she
saw Roman stop as he met Morgan in the hall. Would he do as she
asked and keep her secret?

She waited a moment to hear what would be
said. “Another assignation, brother?” Morgan smiled. “How is Cousin
Silvia?

“What concern is it of yours?”

“What concern? Get a grip on that black
temper of yours, man. The girl was hurt.”

“She’s resting now. See her tomorrow.”

“I’ll stay only a minute. Just wanted to
tell her I’m glad the fall was no worse.” Morgan started by his
brother but got no more than a step when Roman grasped him by the
arm and spun him back.

“Stay away from her.” Roman’s voice was a
low, menacing growl.

“Why?” Morgan pulled his arm loose and
frowned gruffly.

“Forget why,” Roman said coldly. “For your
own good, stay away from her.”

The way Roman had turned, she could see the
grim, angry lines of his face. She was right. He felt no
differently about her. He still thought her no more than a scheming
fortune hunter. And he was warning Morgan not to befriend her.

Silvia eased her door shut. Morgan had
apparently listened to his brother, for he did not stop at her
room. Would they have gone off somewhere to discuss what must be
done to prevent their inheritance being lost? Let them have it! Let
them have it all. She didn’t want it. She wanted nothing but
happiness—and happiness, it seemed, was the one thing she was
destined to be denied.

Discarding her wrapper and nightgown, she
hurried to the armoire and took out a dark gray gown and quickly
slipped it on. Moving quietly, she sat at the dressing table and
brushed her hair over her shoulder, then threaded it into one thick
black braid. She slipped the wrapper over her dress in case Anna or
Vivien should come in.

Her head ached again, dully. She poured a
steaming cup of tea, thinking it would relax her while she waited
for everyone to go to bed. Tonight she would begin searching the
castle until she found the hiding place for Schlange’s journal.
Odin had been gone a long time the day he took it away, which
indicated the cache might be on the ground floor, possibly in
Schlange’s library, where he did most of his work when he was not
ill.

She would search secretly and she would find
the journal if it took weeks or even months. And when she did, she
would prove to Roman and to everyone at the castle that she had
come here believing she was a bond servant. That she had never
expected to be mistress of Serpent Tree Hall. That she didn’t want
the money or the land or the ships. She only wanted to leave and
never see any of them again. She would take her child and go. They
wouldn’t stop her once the truth was known. Not even Wilhelm could
stop her then.

***

“My baby!” She woke crying out and striking
at the people in her dream, who were trying to take the child from
her arms. As she slowly awoke she remembered her plan. What time
was it? She hadn’t meant to sleep. The candle had gone out and she
lit it with fumbling, shaking hands. The teapot and cup were gone.
Vivien or Anna had come back and taken them without waking her.