Shades of the Past (17 page)

He enveloped her all at once.  Desperate concern charged his voice as he fired a barrage of questions, his hands moving rapidly over her, seeking whatever might be broken.  Vanessa forgot her pain, aware only of the viscount's closeness and the scent of his bay rum cologne.  Despite her harrowing ride, she decided the moment had turned rather agreeable after all.

"Don't move!" he ordered, worry sharpening his tone.  "Are you all right?  Does anything hurt or feel broken?  You scared five lives out of me."

"Then, let us hope the Marrable panther enjoys as many lifetimes as his smaller cousins."  Her lips drew into a smile.  It was the only part of her she could move without smarting.

The viscount halted his inspection and stared at her, blinking several times as he absorbed her words.  The corner of his mouth twitched upward.  "At least your tongue is in fine shape," he quipped, then smiled fully.

Vanessa chuckled too, sharing the humor, then winced.  "Please, you mustn't make me laugh." 

His look sobered.  "What hurts?  Perhaps you've broken a rib.  Can't tell with this accursed corset."  His fingers began to feel between the stays, moving from her waist upward.

Vanessa's hand flew to cover his, then flinched at the soreness her movements brought.  "Sir!  I'm only bruised, truly.  Probably from the whalebones.  Likely, I'll possess blue stripes all along my midsection."

His hand remained resting over her rib cage, just below her left breast.  She made no effort to remove her hand either.  As it continued to lay atop his, she felt the heat increase between their flesh.  His gaze lifted from their joined hands and held her captive.

Vanessa's breath left her as she drank in his expression—an intense, consuming look.

"My dear, Vanessa, I'd much prefer you with stripes than the alternative.  Had you ridden much farther, in all likelihood, you would now lay broken upon the rocks at the bottom of the ravine.

"Ravine?"  Her eyes widened, then she remembered the River Wye.  "I didn't know the path led there.  Oh no.  Delilah . . ."

"Will be fine," he assured.  "She left the path and headed into the woods.  No doubt she'll find her way back to the stable before we do."

Vanessa quirked a smile.  "I didn't know she was so smart."

"Smart enough, though a bit of a skittish lady.  What frightened her?"

"I'm not completely sure."  Vanessa decided against sharing her suspicions of what really alarmed the horse.  "Something darted across our path.  A rabbit, I think."

He looked disbelieving.  "A mere rabbit?  She seemed genuinely terrified.”

Vanessa refrained from offering anything further, lest she reveal her own thoughts on the ghosts of Sherringham.

"I believe I can sit up now," she suggested, hoping to distract him.

Lord Adrian's gaze drifted over her face and disheveled hair then returned to fasten on her eyes. 

"All right," he agreed, his tone filled with caution. "But slowly." 

With great care, he eased her upward to a sitting position, his arms encircling and supporting her. 

Vanessa grimaced, unable to cloak her discomfort.

"Maybe you shouldn't —"

"I'm just sore, as might be expected when thrown from a horse.  You've probably experienced the same.  Please, help me to stand."

His tight expression told her what he thought of the idea, but he helped her nonetheless.  She winced again, a small moan escaping her this time.  She was right.  She was bruised completely from head to toe.  At least, she felt she must be.

"This won't do, Vanessa."

Before she could object, Lord Adrian gently swept her up in his arms, bringing her face close to his.  Whatever complaints her body made, she took no notice, discovering her lips mere inches from his. 

Vanessa lost herself in his midnight eyes, aware only of the solid beating of his heart beneath her palm as it lay pressed against his chest.  Their gazes mingled a long moment, as neither she nor he could find their voice.

Lord Adrian pressed his lashes shut then and seemed to fight some emotion.  Opening his eyes once more, he said nothing but began to pick a path around the fallen log, bearing Vanessa toward the waiting stallion.

"Are you quite sure Delilah will be all right?" she broke the silence at last as he came to stop before the horse.

"Samson will never forgive me if she's not.  Have no fear, I'll send a lad out to find her after we return to the manse."

"Samson?"  Vanessa raised a brow as he lifted her onto the stallion's back.  She recalled Lawrence's mention of the steed over dinner, and how he made the horse sound like a devil-incarnate.  "This is
Samson
and the mare is
Delilah
?"

Lord Adrian grinned at the observation, causing her heart to skip.  "I liked the story as a lad.  Besides, like the biblical tale, the mare has this brute totally beguiled and submissive to her will."

"Delilah?  I thought you said she was skittish by nature."

"Not where Samson is concerned."  Lord Adrian climbed into the saddle behind her then shifted, gently lifting her into his lap.  "I suspect Delilah is as enamored as he.  It's difficult to fight nature after all.”

Slipping an arm around her waist, he held her securely against him and turned the stallion back along the path.  As they gained the open green, Lord Adrian set the stallion to a canter.

"Samson is a spirited fellow but, I promise, he has the smoothest gait of any horse I've ever ridden.  Hopefully, you'll not find yourself too discomforted."

Samson did not embarrass his master.  The stallion's gentle, collected gait surprised Vanessa.  Indeed, the experience was akin to being rocked, with the added bonus of the viscount's warm strength safeguarding her.

»«

Adrian knew Vanessa's body ached from her fall, but his own throbbed from her very nearness.  Truly, it had been far too long since he'd held a woman in his arms, and Vanessa filled them perfectly. 

He wanted her.  But he dare not follow his impulses.  He'd convinced himself some time ago, he was a man cursed in matters of the heart. 

How had she slipped past his defenses?  Perhaps the acute desire and protectiveness he felt now was a momentary illusion—an understandable reaction after the assault of emotions he'd just endured. 

His initial shock of seeing her imperiled, turned quickly to alarm and dread and, yes, raw fear for her very life.  He'd nearly gone mad at the sight of her flying from the horse and then lying pale and unmoving upon the ground.  When he realized she was alive and reasonably sound, he wanted to kiss and scold her all at once.  Now, as he held her in his arms, a part of him did not wish to ever let her go.

Bridling his emotions, he held Samson to an easy gait.  Within minutes, the Orangery appeared.  It surprised him only mildly to discover Lawrence standing outside.  His brother spent many hours at the pavilion of late, overseeing the installation of the upper-level fireplace.  What surprised Adrian more, however, was his brother’s glowering look as Lawrence beheld Vanessa seated on the stallion before him, encompassed in his arms.

Adrian could not ignore the prickly patch of jealousy sprouting in his own chest as he recognized Lawrence's interest in Vanessa.

Did he intrude on his brother's territory where Vanessa was concerned?  Or had he been correct last night, when he'd sensed she was avoiding Lawrence in the drawing room?  Perhaps they'd quarreled, that and no more.  Perhaps Vanessa did hold affection for his brother after all. 

The thought set ill as he acknowledged Lawrence with a nod of his head and urged Samson on.

»«

Vanessa felt Lord Marrable’s arm tighten about her as they rode past the Orangery, having given Lawrence only a cursory greeting.  If she wasn't so sore, she'd turn to see what look the viscount wore on his face.

"I apologize for not stopping," he said in a tight voice.  "It's important we see you to the manse and send for a doctor.  I'll speak with my brother later so he doesn't misinterpret anything."

"Misinterpret?  Whatever do you mean?"

Again his arm tensed about her as if he feared she would slip from his grasp. 

"Our riding together like this.  Our relationship.  I mean, it is apparent that you . . . he . . ."

Vanessa stiffened, bringing a small stab of pain.  "Lord Marrable!  I believe you are the one who has misinterpreted matters.  There is no attachment between your brother and myself.  He came to my aid in Paris, and for that I am most grateful.  But aside from friendship, there is nothing more between us.  As to '
our
relationship,' as you call it . . ."

"Adrian."

"Pardon?"

"I'd like you to call me by my given name—Adrian."

The man sounded like he was smiling, if it was possible to hear a smile.

"Would that I had been the one to rush to your aid, Vanessa.  I'd certainly have done so, and overseen Aunt Gwen's return to Sherringham, had I been informed in a timely manner."

"But, Lawrence wired—“

"He wired Scotland where I had been fishing, but I had already gone on to London.  His telegram bearing news of our aunt's death didn't reach me until it was nearly too late."

"I didn't know," Vanessa said softly, thinking back on the disparaging remarks Majel had said of him in Knights Chapel.  Thinking, too, of her own low opinion of his absence.  An arrow of guilt traveled straight through the center of her heart.

She cleared her throat.  "Lawrence didn't know of your departure from Scotland?"

"It would seem my own telegram informing my brother of my movements missed him as well.  Lawrence had left the country estate where he'd been staying to come early to Sherringham.  He is overseeing some work in the Orangery and needed to approve a shipment of Italian tiles for the fireplace."

Lord Adrian fell silent on the subject as they continued toward the manse.  His only comments were ones insisting his private physician be called.  Vanessa equally insisted a doctor was unnecessary.

As they arrived at Sherringham and approached the stables, one of the hands, whom she recognized as Lewis, raced out.  As he captured Samson's reins, Adrian informed him Delilah had bolted and was still straying about.

"Actually, she returned about five minutes ago, your lordship.  She's being rubbed down now.  William and I were about to ride out and search for Mrs. Wynters.  We were sore worried when Delilah came back riderless."  The young man shifted his gaze to her.  "I warned the mare was spooky, mum.  But, I see you are in good hands after all."

"Yes you did, and I am," Vanessa sent him a smile.

Adrian said nothing but dismounted and lifted Vanessa down into his arms.  He gave Lewis instructions regarding Samson, then proceeded to carry her toward the mansion.

"Lord Marrable—“

"Adrian."

"Adrian.  I'm quite able to walk."

"Nonsense.  Enjoy my services while they are yours."

Once inside the mansion's entrance hall, Adrian bore her the entire distance up the grand staircase to the Upper Cloisters and her bedchamber.  All the while, maids trailed them and then scurried to help, opening the door and turning back the bed.  Adrian proved a master of authority as he called for hot water, beverages, food, and his personal physician, Dr. Hambley.

"The good doctor need not tax himself with a long journey merely to examine my bruises."  Vanessa tried to reason with Adrian as he lay her on the wide soft mattress.  It felt heavenly.

He braced his arms on either side of her.  "Are you afraid of what he might find beneath your stays?"

She sent him a quizzical look.

"Blue stripes—down your midsection."

Vanessa's brows winged upward.  Slipping a glance to the maids, she found their eyes darting away.  Obviously, they'd heard more than an earful.  Quickly, she shifted her glance back to Adrian. 

"I propose a compromise." 

Now it was his turn for his brows to shoot upward.  The sight caused her to smile.

"I'll see your physician, but only if you agree to sit for your portrait tomorrow—for the mourning album in your aunt's honor.  Cissy is eager to assemble it.  She is already personalizing the borders for the different pages."

Vanessa boldly held Adrian's gaze as she awaited his answer. 

"Very well then."  Adrian vented a breath.  "But after Dr. Hambley departs, I expect you to rest for the remainder of the day."

He lifted a hand and outlined the contours of her face with his finger.  "You were so pale, lying there in the forest.  I'd like to see some color return to your cheeks."

He started to withdraw, then hesitated.  Vanessa suddenly realized the maids had quit the chamber and they were alone.  A certain look appeared in his eyes, a look that set her heart to racing.  He spoke not a word, but smoothed back her hair, then dropped a light kiss on her forehead. 

For hours to come, her skin burned with the remembrance of his lips.

Vanessa touched a hand to the large, coiled chignon at the back of her head, then smoothed the black-and-teal striped skirt of her gown.  Unabashedly, she'd chosen the dress knowing its color and graceful design to be especially flattering.

For a dozenth time, she checked her watch, anticipating Adrian's arrival.  The piece showed it to now be five minutes beyond the agreed time.

Vanessa returned her attention to the drawing room and to the double doors that opened onto a small, light-filled conservatory.  She'd taken scant notice of the room when the family gathered here two nights before.  With its walls of clear glass and its sun-washed space, the conservatory provided an excellent source of light for the portrait, strong yet indirect.

Vanessa moved to adjust the carved oak chair she'd chosen for Adrian's sitting, repositioning it closer to the open doors.  Her every muscle issued a complaint, being yet sore and stiff from yesterday's misadventure.  Dr. Hambley had advised she would continue to be so for days to come, but confirmed she'd suffered no breaks or fractures.

Vanessa's thoughts ran to the hours ahead.  Geoffrey would not be assisting her until later as he'd joined his father for a dawn fishing expedition to the River Wye.  Before their return, Vanessa hoped to print out her latest photograph, taken in the gallery. 

When she collected her equipment from the Photo House this morning, she made a quick examination of the negative which she was keeping stored out of sight.  The detail on the plate showed no signs of change or deterioration.  The figure recorded there remained distinctly visible, beckoning with its glowing, transparent hand.

Sooner or later, Vanessa knew, she must disclose her discovery to the family.  For the present, however, she was inclined to keep her secret until she could learn more.  The shade seemed benign enough, and its interest apparently centered on her alone.  Besides, were not the Marrables accustomed to sharing the manse with otherworldly entities?  Presumably, this particular spirit was a long-haunting resident already.

Again, Vanessa consulted her watch and wondered if Adrian had changed his mind.  The possibility pricked unpleasantly at her heart.  Just then, as if he'd heard her concern, Adrian entered the drawing room. 

Her spirits rose as he moved briskly toward her, obviously aware of his belatedness.  But in the next instance, she perceived a marked tenseness in his body and observed how he held his broad shoulders in a straight, rigid line. 

Apprehension purled through Vanessa.  There was a hard shine to his midnight eyes, and an equally hard set to his jaw.  Adrian was not simply in a rush, he was wholly agitated.

Self-consciously, Vanessa fingered the frill of pleated satin surrounding the square neckline of her bodice.  The small movement drew Adrian's attention to the exposed column of her neck.  His gaze slid downward then, skimming over her figure-conforming basque.  Unaccountably, his countenance darkened further.

Vanessa tensed.  Had she done something wrong?  She gestured toward the chair, at a loss to understand his mood. 

"Please, be seated and we'll begin."

Adrian complied and moved to the carved, Gothic-style chair.  Lowering himself onto the seat, he planted his feet solidly on the floor and faced the camera straight on.

Vanessa caught her lip between her teeth.  He looked like a block of granite.  This would never do. 

"Could you turn a trifle toward the conservatory door, please—so you are sitting at an angle to the camera?  Yes, that is better."  She sent him a quick smile.  "Now, look toward me—not just your eyes—yes, turn your entire head."

Vanessa stood silent, studying the fall of light and shadows on his features.  She grew warmly aware that Adrian stared back with equal intensity.  Heat blossomed in her cheeks when his gaze left her face to travel downward over her bodice and skirts once more.  Still, he wore a black look.

Disconcerted by his grim perusal, she took refuge under the focusing cloth and checked the viewing screen.  Even upside down, Adrian's scowl dominated the image.  Vanessa reemerged, wondering what she might do or say to lighten his expression, how she might dispel the sullen mood that seemed to possess him. 

Mulling her thoughts, Vanessa consulted her notebook for exposure times.  Stepping to the front of the camera, she made the appropriate settings and stopped down the shutter.  As she finished, she stole a sideways glance to Adrian.  He'd turned his head and now sat staring out the conservatory doors, through the glass wall to the landscape beyond.  A muscle worked along his jaw.

Vanessa cleared her throat to draw his attention.  "If you would look over this way again, I'll check your pose a final time in the viewing glass and then we'll be ready to make the exposure."  

Adrian's eyes swept toward her, but he scarcely moved his head.  A shudder passed through Vanessa as those eyes penetrated her, for they burned with an inner fire.  When, still, he did not assume his former pose, Vanessa traversed the space that lay between them, coming to a hesitant stop directly before him. 

"I need you to face the camera, more like so . . . ," she said softly.

Vanessa reached forth a trembling hand and placed it along the side of his jaw, urging him to turn and lift his head ever so slightly.  She thought his gaze would melt her as his eyes continued to burn into hers.  Beneath her fingers, she felt the muscle leap in his jaw.  Vanessa withdrew her hand.  Truly the man could scorch her very soul with his look alone.  She was too close to the fire.

"Do not move now."  She returned to the camera and quickly checked the viewing glass, her heart thumping in her ears. 

Adrian's eyes remained riveted on her, his gloomy look unimproved.  What had Nanny said of the twin's temperaments—one possessed a dark, hidden streak that would emerge from time to time?  She'd hoped the reference was not to Adrian.  Seemingly, she was wrong. 

Vanessa felt her heart dip down to her toes as she remained at a loss.  Yesterday, she'd felt a special closeness unfold between them.  At least, she thought it had.  Today, she couldn't fathom Adrian Marrable at all.

Vanessa closed the shutter and removed the glass viewing screen, inserting a negative plate in its place.

Perhaps, Adrian simply felt awkward and unnatural posing before a camera, she told herself.  He'd not be the first intelligent, well-educated person to freeze when confronted by the camera's cold eye.

Taking hope camera nerves were the source of Adrian's moodiness, Vanessa flashed him a smile of encouragement. 

"You can relax.  I promise, this won't hurt."

»«

Hurt?
  He was in sheer torture.  It helped matters not at all that, whatever Vanessa had done with her appearance, the sight of her wholly ravished his senses.

Adrian expelled a breath.  He was a man severely conflicted, at war with his inner self.  Yesterday, he'd dropped his guard when he'd raced to Vanessa's rescue.  Fear had ravaged him at the sight of her endangered.  In those moments, he'd allowed her past his defenses and dangerously near his heart. 

Later, after he'd departed her bedchamber and downed several bracing drinks, he'd been able to reassert his self-control and regain his perspective. 

Regardless, however much he might find himself physically, mentally, or soulfully attracted to Vanessa Wynters, he must resist his impulses and the temptation to become involved with her, or any other woman.  To do so would require too great a risk, too great a vulnerability.  His heart could not survive another calamitous relationship. 

Adrian watched Vanessa, his gaze skimming her shapely figure as she disappeared under the focusing cloth and materialized a moment later to make some adjustment.  His blood began to pound heavily in his veins as his soul twisted in pain.  Could anyone even begin to understand the scope of what he'd suffered?  Could he ever trust again?

He did not deny that a small blossom of hope flowered in the shadows of his heart.  Indeed, he'd made a multitude of arguments in Vanessa's behalf, reminding himself she was unlike either of his former wives, and quite possibly capable of a true and lasting love.

Yet, he'd misjudged twice before—disastrously so.

Admittedly, Clairissa was to be more pitied than despised.  Fragile and unsuspecting, she'd learned of the carnal expectations of marriage only hours before standing beside him at the altar.  She never recovered from the shock.  During their brief and bitter marriage, she'd made him feel like the vilest of men—a beast, or worse, a leper, becoming hysterical if he attempted to touch her, taking weeks to recover if he did.  Certainly, it was nothing short of miraculous he'd gotten her with child.  She nearly plagued his heart out after that, distraught with the changes of her body.  Still, she did not deserve the horror of the death she suffered.  No one did.

Adrian closed off the thought.  As he watched Vanessa's graceful movements, he reminded himself she'd been previously married and was experienced in—or at least, acquainted with—the ways of men and women and lovemaking.  He deemed this a most desirable attribute, given his history with Clairissa.

His mind turned to his second wife, Olivia.  She'd been a fiery, lusty creature.  Though she'd restored his self-confidence as a man and a lover, she betrayed their marriage bed without qualms.  It came as a double shock to discover her to be a thief as well.  Quite obviously, he'd underestimated Olivia's lust for riches, as he'd underestimated her in so many other ways.  Even then, she too, did not deserve the excruciating death with which she met, perishing by fire.

If it was she who died that night, he amended. 

Adrian's grip tensed on his knees as he brooded over that possibility.  Only the silken swish of Vanessa's skirts drew him back to the present again. 

What was Vanessa Wynters's heart truly like? he wondered.  He could not claim to know her well in so short a passage of time.  On the other hand, he could trust his aunt's judgment.  She'd known Vanessa over the course of two and a half years and esteemed her greatly.

Still, given his wretched history with women, what if he misjudged Vanessa or overlooked something vital?  His heart could not withstand another bludgeoning.  Then, too, would she despise him should she learn of the accusations leveled against him?  Would he become a leper in her eyes, as well? 

It hadn't improved his mood last night when he'd skimmed through the clippings of the accident which he'd saved from Hereford's local paper.  They'd baldly intimated that neither of the recent Viscountesses Marrable had died naturally.  In short, that he was a murderer.  The constable had done nothing to alter that misconception.  In fact, he'd done everything in his official capacity to find evidence to convict him.

Such massive pain he'd endured these past years, such torture.  It served only to sharpen his resolve to forswear all women.  Adrian gazed on Vanessa with desire burning a hole through his soul.  He had to ask himself, what sane woman would accept a man with his shadowed past, knowing she possibly kept company with a murderer?  Could she ever fully give him her heart, or would she always harbor the hidden fear she might become his next victim?

Adrian bolted shut the door to his heart.  It was best he remain behind the walls of his own making.  He would be a fool to allow anyone entrance and risk his own destruction.

»«

Vanessa could not still the tremble in her hand.  Adrian's look had turned morose.  She was suddenly unsure whether she should attempt to inject even a small dram of levity into their session.  He held his pose perfectly, but sat stiff as a plank.  It would have to do, she decided.

As she prepared to release the shutter, she stayed her hand, changing her mind and stepping apart of the camera.  There must be something she could say to coax a lighter expression to his face.

She pursed her lips, then offered him a smile.  "You realize, if you insist on glowering at my camera, you are likely to crack the lens." 

"I should think a sober countenance is appropriate," he replied, his tone terse with annoyance.  "This is a mourning portrait after all."

"A
sober
countenance, yes.  But you look ready to murder someone."

Adrian shot to his feet, overturning the chair and, with a lunging step, seized her by the arms.  His fingers pressed into her flesh as he hauled her against his chest, a ferocious look sweeping across his features. 

"Never so much as breathe such a thing in my presence," he thundered.  "Not ever again, do you understand?"

Not waiting a reply, he released her and staggered back several steps.  He thrust his fingers through his hair. 

"It's not true what they say.  None of it." 

Turning on his heel, he stalked from the room, his anger still towering about him.

Vanessa stumbled toward the nearest chair and grabbed hold of it, bracing herself.  She heaved for breath, devastated by Adrian's outburst.

What had she said? she wondered desperately, her heart pounding in her chest.  God in heaven, what had she done to enrage him so?