Love's Fiery Jewel (38 page)

"A waltz?"

"Oui. You have never danced the waltz, ma petite?"
Shaking her head in answer to his question, Amethyst
returned her attention to the music. Completely overwhelmed by its beauty, Amethyst closed her eyes,
swaying ever so slightly, her feet tapping the floor as the
tempo increased, building to a powerful crescendo before
coming to a quick, breathtaking halt. The burst of
applause at the conclusion of the piece was spontaneous.
Jumping to her feet, Amethyst clapped her hands with
delight, her countenance sparkling with the excitement
of the moment. More exhilarated by Amethyst's spontaneous enthusiasm than he was by the music he had
heard a dozen times, Armand smiled into her bright
young face. "I shall teach you the waltz, ma petite. It is a
grand dance that lifts the heart to soaring for its
duration."

The musician had taken his seat for his next piece
when turning toward Armand, Amethyst whispered
breathlessly, "Oh, yes, I would like to learn the waltz,
Armand. I'm sure I would truly enjoy dancing to that
delightful music."

In direct contrast to the gaiety of the first selection,
the pianist began his second piece. Her eyes closing with a sentiment that was almost pain, Amethyst listened to
the opening strains of "Greensleeves," a thoughtful
expression covering her face as a kaleidoscope of
memories flashed across her mind. Her eyes filled with
tears, she looked to Armand's concerned expression as
the haunting melody drew to a close, to answer his
unspoken question.

"It is a favorite of mine, Armand. I have sung it many
times..."

Seated behind, Merrell Bristol strained her ears to hear
the conversation progressing between them and taking
her opportunity, she snatched greedily on Amethyst's
innocent remark. Her voice pitched so that it might be
heard by the surrounding rows of seats, she interrupted
their private conversation without hesitation.

"Did I hear you say you have sung this song many
times, Amethyst?"

Embarrassed by Merrell's boorishness, Amethyst
nodded lightly in response.

Directing her next remarks to Millicent Strathmore
who was seated a few rows away, Merrell said loudly,
"Did you hear what Amethyst said, Millicent? She has
sung `Greensleeves' many times! Perhaps we can
convince her to sing for us tonight!"

Amethyst's short glance toward Armand showed her
consternation, and quick to pick up her alarm, Armand
replied graciously, "I do believe we are asking too much
of Mademoiselle Greer tonight. Certainly you do not
expect her to perform before a strange group."

"Oh, but we aren't strangers, Monsieur Beauchamps.
We're friends, aren't we, Amethyst, dear?"

Damien was strangely silent during the exchange, and
shooting a quick look to him for support, Amethyst saw
his face darkening with anger. Whether it was directed at
her or at Merrell Bristol, she was uncertain, and she was
about to reply when Merrell addressed Armand again, her voice a coy innuendo.

"But perhaps Monsieur Beauchamps is afraid you will
disappoint us with your offering. Oh, I assure you,
Monsieur, we will be generous even though we are all
certain Mademoiselle Greer's voice will match her own
insouciant personality."

"And I assure you, Mademoiselle," Armand began, his
face beginning to redden with annoyance at the
embarrassing position she was forcing upon them both,
"that I do not doubt..."

"Never mind, Armand." Rising to her feet, Amethyst
began walking toward the piano. "I shall be happy to ease
Miss Bristol's curiosity about my singing voice, for I fear
it has suddenly assumed such monumental proportions
in her mind that she will not rest until she is satisfied."

Completely ignoring Merrell's annoyed "Humph!"
Amethyst moved toward the piano.

Bending down, she whispered to the stiff-faced pianist,
"I apologize, sir, for this interruption in your performance, but I fear you will not be free to continue your
glorious music until that bitch's curiosity is sated!"

Relieved to see a small smile crack the gentleman's
facade, Amethyst smiled brightly in return and within
moments the opening strains of "Greensleeves" filled
the room. Allowing herself to be lifted with the beauty of
the melody to a place far from the confines of the stuffy
room, Amethyst began to sing. Her clear soprano filled
the room, raising her on the wings of the song. Closing
her eyes, she was no longer in Philadelphia, but on a
faraway sunny island. She was standing on stage, looking
to a box at the far side of the room where a young man
stared back at her, his mahogany eyes dark and intense as
she sang the words directly to him:

Her voice rising from the verse to a gripping chorus,
echoed in the room, filling it with her clarity of tone,
giving those present a brief, lonely glimpse of the
heartbreak of lost love. When her song was done,
Amethyst found herself staring into Armand's dark eyes.
There was complete silence in the room and she had just
turned to express her gratitude to the pianist when a
burst of applause met her ears. Turning back with a
smile, she saw Armand advancing toward her. Obviously
affected by her song, he enclosed her in an unhesitant
embrace. Finally releasing her, he held her by the
shoulders as he kissed her lightly on both cheeks.

"Magnifique!... Superbe, ma petite chou. I have
never heard..."

"It's time for us to leave now, Amethyst!" Damien's
deep voice from behind cut abruptly into Armand's
fervent exclamations, snapping him around as he
protested, "Surely, Monsieur Straith, you will not leave
so quickly. We have not all had the opportunity to
express our appreciation..."

Directing a meaningful stare into Armand's eyes,
Damien said through tight lips, "Enough `appreciation'
has already been expressed this night. It is time for
Amethyst and me to leave."

Taking Amethyst securely by the arm, he ushered her
firmly to the door of the room and into the foyer. With a
quick nod to the servant, he summoned their outerwear
before turning to Millicent Strathmore who had followed
them to the door.

"I am sorry, Damien," the gracious woman offered
softly. "I'm afraid Merrell does get out of hand at times,
but you should be accustomed to her excesses by now,
shouldn't you, dear?"

Turning to glance coolly in Merrell's direction as she
moved toward them, he deliberately turned his back on
her approach, saying pointedly, "Merrell? Merrell who?
I'm afraid I know no one by the name of Merrell."

Her face flushing a bright red, Merrell stopped in her
tracks to stare at his broad back for a few short seconds
before turning abruptly and walking back toward the
room in which another piano solo had begun.

Watching as Merrell disappeared through the doorway, Millicent turned to say quietly, "Well, you have put
her in her place and she is properly chastised for her
conduct. Don't you think you can now stay?"

His face softening only momentarily as the older
woman raised a pleading look in his direction, Damien
said softly, "It's I who am sorry if I disturbed your party
tonight, Millicent, but if I were to stay, I'm afraid I would
ruin it completely."

Turning to drape Amethyst's cape around her shoulders, he snapped tightly, "Make sure you secure the
closures tightly. It is very cold outside tonight, and I
don't wish to see a resumption of your ill health!"

Her own temper suddenly flaring at his manner,
Amethyst clamped her teeth together for fear of the
sharp response that rushed to her lips. Why was he angry
with her? She had done nothing that was not forced upon
her. And as painful an experience as it had been for her,
her song had been a true success. Merrell's obvious plan
to make her look foolish had backfired. He had no reason
to be embarrassed and there was certainly no reason for
the black stares he had been sending in her direction all
night.

Within a few moments the carriage had arrived at the
front door. Ushering her firmly outside, Damien
abruptly picked her up and tossed her unceremoniously
inside. Climbing inside after her, he sat at her side, his
face stiff with anger.

Unable to stand his silence a moment longer,
Amethyst felt her own fury rise. "How dare you
embarrass me this way, Damien Straith? What right have
you to treat me like an errant schoolgirl? Whatever
impropriety was practiced tonight was forced by your
jealous mistress, not I!"

"It is you who are my mistress, Amethyst, and I would
have you remember that!"

Her face flushing a bright red, Amethyst exclaimed
heatedly, "Yes, I am your mistress... one amongst
many, I'm sure. But there is one difference between our
relationship and your others. I did not choose to be your
mistress, and were things as I would have them be, I
would be free of your influence, of your obeah..."

"And in the arms of that rake, Armand Beauchamps?
Hah! You are a fool, Amethyst Greer! At least I've given
my word to take care of you. Armand Beauchamps is a
well known womanizer who maintains at least two known
mistresses in this city alone! His interest is notoriously
short-lived and his mistresses rarely fare well."

"I don't believe you!"

Grabbing her roughly by the shoulders, Damien spat
from between clenched teeth, "Well, it's true! He would
use you just the way he uses other women, and tonight
you played right into his hands!"

"I did nothing of the sort! He was a pleasant
companion for the evening. What would you have me
do? You were otherwise entertained for the evening, in
case you have forgotten! And you're wrong, Damien
Straith!" Pulling desperately at the hands securely
clamped on her shoulders, Amethyst found it impossible
to break from his crushing grip. Finally abandoning the
attempt, she gritted her teeth against the pain his hands
were inflicting and continued venomously, "You are
very wrong. Once I am finally free of you, I'll allow no
one to gain such complete control over my actions again. If someone is to be used in a relationship, it will be I who
does the using! I have learned much from you, Damien
Straith, and since I'm no longer worthy of a decent man,
I intend to use the indecent men just as they would use
me!"

An expression of fury sweeping over his face,
fathomable even in the darkness of the carriage,
Amethyst felt a moment of true fear that left her
momentarily weak. She had pushed him too far. She
could feel his rage building, sense the wrath about to
explode inside him the moment before his hand snapped
free of her shoulder to slap her pitilessly back and forth
across the face, time and time again, until she was almost
senseless. When he finally released her, she slumped
back against the seat in semi-consciousness, unaware of
the fear that suddenly showed in Damien's own eyes.

His mind shrieking condemnation of his actions,
Damien leaned forward, his heart thundering in his chest
as he took Amethyst into his arms.

"Amethyst... are you alright? Amethyst, answer
me!"

Her eyes still closed, Amethyst answered him shakily,
"Yes, I'm alright, Damien. You haven't killed me yet."

Her soft response efficiently draining his fury, Damien
whispered, his lips pressed against her temple as he held
her close against him, "It's not my desire to kill you,
Amethyst. Quite the reverse is the truth. You must
realize that..."

The carriage was slowing to a halt, and realizing they
had reached his residence, Damien moved back to open
the door. Struggling to pull herself erect despite her
dizziness, Amethyst slid herself to the doorway, but
before she could attempt to alight from the carriage,
Damien had scooped her into his arms, and was carrying
her up the front steps.

Startled to find the master with the young mistress almost unconscious in his arms when she answered the
door, Mrs. Dobbs stepped back in alarm. Answering her
unspoken question as he rushed past her up the steps,
Damien tossed over his shoulder, "Miss Amethyst is ill.
Send Mary up to help her disrobe. She must go right to
bed."