Love's Fiery Jewel (44 page)

Black and gleaming in the light of the chandeliers
overhead, Amethyst's hair was swept back softly from
her forehead, the remainder of the shining mass allowed
to fall in a profusion of long, bouncing curls against her
neck. A spray of pale pink silk rosebuds tucked into the
glorious halo provided a startling contrast to the brilliant
ebony of her tresses as it curved gracefully amidst the
glowing ringlets.

Extremely pleased with the gown, Amethyst was
unaware that the true beauty of the garment lay in its
reflection of her own perfect coloring, the creamy
whiteness of her skin and the becoming pink that edged her delicate cheekbones. The black of her narrow,
slanted brows appeared darker still, as did the thick
fringes bordering her glorious lavender eyes, while her
finely drawn lips shone a truer pink than the delicate
blooms themselves. Small and petite with a natural grace
of bearing, she was a subtle pink-and-white confection
for the eyes, appealing, tempting, utterly delicious to the
sight.

Glancing down momentarily, Damien knew a moment
of overpowering pride in the small, delicate apparition
that walked beside him. Solemn, quietly observing, she
exuded an aura of glowing innocence that pulled at his
heartstrings while at the same time projecting an
appealing womanliness that tantalized him heartlessly.
She was completely feminine and alluring, all things to
him, paling others into insignificance in his eyes.

His stomach tightening jealously, Damien noted upon
entering the Assembly Room that his silent opinion was
openly shared by the male contingent present as one by
one, all eyes turned in her direction and an appreciative
buzzing ensued.

Escaping him completely, however, was the fact that
many feminine glances followed his imposing figure
appreciatively, noting the superb tailoring of his maroon
velvet coat as it fell from his unusual expanse of shoulder
to lie casually against his narrow waist in a becoming
double-breasted style. The skirt of the coat, cut away in
front, sloping to two narrow coattails in back, exposed a
well fitted white waistcoat and matching white britches,
which hugged his body tightly to the calf, displaying to
the discerning female eye a manly curve and well
muscled thighs. Fine silk stockings were tucked meticulously under the leg bands of his britches, the buckles
on his gleaming black leather shoes matching the smaller
version securing his britches at the knee. A narrow ruffle
of lace peeked from his sleeve, matching the small jabot that filled the opening of his waistcoat at the neck. The
epitome of fashion, he was nonetheless one of the most
blatantly masculine men in the room.

But his mind obviously far from his attire, he followed
Amethyst possessively with his peculiarly translucent
eyes, sober and watchful, inspiring envy in the female
glances that followed him so intently. Finally taking
Amethyst's arm, his manner was openly proprietary.

Hardly conscious of the man at her side, Amethyst
scanned the room surreptitiously in an effort to ascertain
if Armand Beauchamps was indeed present. But the room
was too large... she had not expected such grandeur. At
least sixty feet square, it had a handsome music gallery at
one end, papered in an ornate gold-and-white pattern
which was obviously French in design. The wall was
decorated with compartments housing Pantheon figures,
imitating festoons, pillars, and groups of antique
drawings. To the side of the room a lavish buffet table
held countless appetizing treats to tempt the palate, as
well as several crystal punch bowls around which the
festive crowd gathered gayly. Hampered by the confusion
of the milling crowd, Amethyst was unable to see further
than a few feet in each direction as she continued her
anxious perusal.

At a touch on her arm, Amethyst turned to Damien's
amused expression. The first chords of a reel had begun
and Damien whispered above the echoing sound, "Ali,
here come your faithful puppies, happy on your trail,
darling. I have waited almost two months for this
moment."

Her hand reaching out lightly toward his arm in a
pleading gesture, Amethyst appealed softly, "Damien,
you won't be unkind. They have all been extremely nice
to me. I should not..."

"You needn't worry, Amethyst," Damien began,
interrupting his response to lift his head with a small smile as Martin Quell reached Amethyst's side.

The sandy-haired fellow's face aglow with appreciation
of her beauty, he said politely, "Good evening, Damien.
Good evening, Amethyst. You're looking extremely
lovely tonight. I can see I shall have endless competition
if I hope to gain even a small portion of your time
tonight."

"Good... good evening, Amethyst... Damien. I
...it is a beautiful ev.. .evening, is it...not?"

Gerard Whitestone's familiar stammer turned Martin
around with a frown as he declared in an annoyed voice,
"There, you see, the rush has already begun!"

Before the red-faced Gerard could respond, Damien's
deep voice turned the two gentlemen in his direction.
"Yes, it is a lovely evening, gentlemen, but I do not think
there will be any need for your good-natured squabbling
tonight. Although I'm sure Amethyst is pleased to see
you both, I'm afraid my betrothed will be otherwise
engaged most of the evening."

"Betrothed!"

The startled expression on the two young men's faces
was almost comical, and Amethyst would have been
smothering a frantic urge to laugh was her heart not
hammering so hard in anticipation of Damien's next
words. Instead, she stood stiffly, her eyes glued on
Damien's face as he stretched the moment to its fullest,
prolonging the suspense while she held her breath.

Finally turning toward Amethyst with a warm glance,
he slid his arm around her waist, urging her closer to his
side as he continued with a smile, "Yes, I'm pleased to
say Amethyst has this week consented to become my wife
and I'm afraid I'm far too possessive to allow her far from
my side when she is surrounded by admirers."

"Your wife!"

The words echoed on the lips of the two startled young
men, their faces falling with obvious disappointment as they offered their hands in congratulations.

"Well, certainly, Damien, you are to be congratulated."

"Yes, Damien, con... congratulations!"

Their enthusiasm dampened by Damien's announcement, the two young men seemed to have little to say
after extending good wishes and within a few moments
they had faded into the crowd.

Once again alone with Damien, Amethyst turned
toward him accusingly. "Betrothed! Damien, I've had my
fill of deceit! I should not like to begin another elaborate
prefabrication that will come to an embarrassing halt
once my pregnancy becomes apparent. Better you had
said nothing than to tell everyone..."

"But I won't have to tell everyone, darling. Just look
around you. The news has already begun to spread."

Turning to survey the groups behind her, Amethyst
could see a few whispered conversations concluding in
pointed looks in their direction, and turning back to
Damien, Amethyst whispered, "Damien, I am acutely
uncomfortable."

Obviously enjoying the situation, Damien bent his
head to brush a kiss against her hair as he said softly,
"Come, darling, I think it's time for some refreshment.
Would you like some punch?"

Not waiting for her response, Damien took her arm to
lead her to the buffet table, his expression extremely
pleased.

Within the hour, having been approached by endless
numbers offering their congratulations, Amethyst's face
was stiff from smiling and her mood depressed. The
deceit, once expressed, seemed to grow with each
conversation to a monstrous untruth that lay heavily
upon her heart. She would never be able to face these
people when her pregnancy began to show. What was Damien thinking? Surely he realized how much they
would resent being played for fools.. .Did he perhaps
think to embarrass her into changing her mind? Abruptly
angry, Amethyst lifted her eyes to the man at her side.
Involved in light conversation with two acquaintances,
his arm wound possessively around her waist, he was
unaware of her glance and her silent anger.

"If you hope to put me in a position where I will be
forced to marry you to save my face, you waste your time,
Damien," her mind screeched. "Your desire to secure me
as your wife is but a transient emotion, and I don't intend
to be forced to remain at your side when it dissipates into
uninterest and neglect."

But Damien did not turn his head to catch her heated
glance. Despite the tempest raging inside her, Amethyst
began to feel a vague discomfort. Sensing the weight of
someone's stare, she turned, her gaze coming to an
abrupt halt when it met the dark, pensive eyes of Armand
Beauchamps. Immediately certain from his expression
that he was aware of Damien's announcement, Amethyst
flushed hotly and averted her eyes.

"He probably considers me a coy opportunist without
a shred of honesty," her mind whispered. Her spirits
dropping to an even deeper low at the thought, Amethyst
was startled to realize Armand's opinion mattered greatly
to her. So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she
failed to see Merrell Bristol approaching until she stood
directly opposite them. Startlingly lovely in a gold velvet
gown that brought out the highlights in her light
chestnut hair, Merrell's eyes glittered with an unknown
emotion as she said brightly, "Damien, darling, I
understand you are deserving of congratulations! Or
should I direct my congratulations to your darling ward?
She has this evening, after all, managed to advance her
position immeasurably, has she not?"

His eyes jerking to Merrell's bright expression,
Damien frowned. His voice, when he spoke, was carefully
controlled.

"You may extend your congratulations to me, if that's
what you had in mind, Merrell."

"Perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn't what I had in mind,
Damien." Merrell's expression tightened noticeably and
Amethyst began to feel the sharp edge of apprehension as
a chill moved up her spine. Merrell was obviously upset
and ready to make a scene, and Amethyst was unsure
what her own reaction would be. She had been so
unstable these last few weeks, with spells of weakness
overtaking her with startling rapidity and she was already
beginning to feel a touch of lightheadedness. It would not
do to faint ...no...

Beginning to panic, Amethyst shot a pleading glance to
Damien, but he was not looking in her direction. Intent
or Merrell's flushed face, he said softly, "I will stand for
none of your nonsense, Merrell."

"Will you not?" Merrell responded a trifle too
brightly, her face obviously flushed. "Then I think it
would be opportune for us to go somewhere where we
may talk privately, Damien, for there aie several things I
intend to say whether other ears are listening or not!"

Taking a few moments to assess her briefly, Damien
turned to Amethyst, his lips a tight line as he whispered,
"If you'll excuse me, Amethyst, this bitch is determined
to make a scene, and I don't intend to give her the
satisfaction." Not waiting for Amethyst's response,
Damien turned to take Merrell by the arm, his step rapid
as he propelled her toward the doorway.

Suddenly feeling herself the center of all eyes,
Amethyst turned uneasily toward the buffet table, and
had only gone a few steps in its direction when she heard
a familiar voice in her ear.

"It seems I must thank the graceless Mademoiselle Bristol for the opportunity for which I have been waiting
all evening, ma cherie."

Looking up into Armand's serious expression, Amethyst felt a deep sadness stir inside her. "It will not do to
have Damien find us speaking together when he returns,
Armand. He was furious when he found out you were
meeting me at Madame's boutique."

Interrupting her with a small wave of his hand,
Armand said softly, "As Mademoiselle Bristol insisted
with Monsieur Straith, so I must insist with you,
Amethyst. It is important that we speak. If you do not
wish to be the target of inquisitive glances, we may step
outside for a moment." Noting her discomfort, Armand
hesitated only a moment before taking her arm and
gently steering her through the crowd toward the
doorway opposite the one through which Damien and
Merrell had disappeared. Once outside, his dark eyes
moved quickly to ascertain a spot where they might speak
without interruption, and noting a secluded area behind
the staircase to the second floor, he urged her forward.

His broad back completely hiding her from view of the
curious as she stood with her back to the wall, Armand
stared wordlessly into Amethyst's face. Almost disbelieving he could be so moved by a woman, especially one
so young-barely out of childhood-Armand allowed
himself a moment to gain his composure. But the pain he
had experienced at Damien Straith's announcement that
he and Amethyst were to marry was real, as was his
overwhelming sense of loss when he looked into the
lavender eyes lifted to his.

Finally speaking, Armand's voice was just above a
whisper. "It is true, ma petite, what is on the tip of
everyone's tongue? You are to marry Monsieur Straith?"

Her eyes moving momentarily from his, Amethyst
avoided a direct answer. "Damien has announced our
betrothal tonight."

Noting her furtive glance, Armand prompted softly,
"And you, ma cherie, how do you feel about this match?"

"I don't know what you mean, Armand..."

Raising her chin lightly with the tips of his fingers,
Armand forced Amethyst to meet his gaze. "Come, ma
petite, you understand very well. Your expression is not
that of the happy bride-to-be."

"You read something into my glance that is not there,
Armand," Amethyst responded softly, almost choking on
the deliberate untruth.