Some Enchanted Waltz (50 page)
“You need to get to bed.” Tara implored, seeing the fight had gone out of him now. He allowed her to pry his fingers from the gun he’d been clutching to his chest all the while. With dull eyes, he watched her place it carefully on the table beside them.
“Get up, damn you.” Tara volleyed when he ignored her. She was done being the dutiful little wife, being ordered about by a big, belligerent lout who fancied himself her lord. She was a woman of the future, of the twenty first century, and she would make his life hell in the next week as he had hers the previous one.
Impatient, Tara shook him to gain his attentions. “I said get up.”
With a groan, he slipped forward, into Tara’s arms.
Dan returned alone. The rebels who impersonated the footmen did not accompany him back to Merrion Square. His face was grim as he announced to all that Sir Ambercromby had declared martial law throughout Ireland.
Tara informed him of Adrian’s collapse from the strain of dealing with Burke.
Once Adrian was conscious again, Dan and Dr. Magnus held a family council including his mother and Tara. Together, they convinced Adrian he needed to withdraw from the powerful opiates he’d become dependent upon in recent weeks by taking such heavy doses of Laudanum.
Dr. Magnus had a colleague in England who claimed it was possible to clean up an opiate addict within a week, who in fact had done so with many of his wealthy patients. Dan murmured that he had experience with dependency as well, and yet did not elaborate to the rest. He gave Tara a sidelong glance which said quite enough.
Adrian snarled a little, like a wounded wolf. He cast a few unkind aspersions at Dan and the physician regarding their abilities. Once he’d put the gathering on edge, Adrian agreed to submit to their plan. Dan cloistered himself in with Adrian for the first day, forbidding Tara, Fiona or the servants to enter Adrian’s chamber, no matter what horrible noises they might hear emitting from it.
Tara, Dan and Dr. Magnus took turns keeping Adrian sober. They ended up tying him to the bed for a time after he threatened the doctor’s life at knifepoint if Magus did not give him what his body so violently craved. Fortunately, Dan and the butler were within shouting distance and came quickly to subdue the crazed man. The townhouse sounded more like an asylum as Adrian cursed them and ranted like a madman.
“Please, Tara. I’m in hell . . . Oh, God--
Oh God
make it stop.” Adrian pleaded. “Please, my heart, my dearest . . . untie my hand--just loosen one hand . . . please, Tara!”
Tara wanted to give in to his pleas. She wrapped her arms about herself and nibbled the inside of her lip. It was torture to see him so, to listen to him beg, to watch him writhe and sweat as if the very fires of hell were licking his flesh. If not for Dan’s eagle eye and her promise to him to remain firm, she would’ve given Adrian the medicine to ease his suffering. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
The lover’s mask melted and shifted. Raw fury filled his eyes. A string of curses filled the room as Adrian let loose on her with the only weapon at his disposal, his tongue. “You useless, mewling cunt! Get out of my sight. It’s your fault I’m in this bed. The least you could do is give me something to ease the torment.”
At that moment, Dan peeked in. “Everything okay?” His crinkled blue eyes moved from Tara to the man restrained on the bed. “My turn.” He said quickly, shooing her out the door before Tara dissolved to tears in the wake of Adrian’s cruelty.
When it was her turn again to sit with him, Dan refused to allow it, taking Tara’s watch as well as his own. Tara didn’t argue. She couldn’t bear to see Adrian in such a state or listen to more of his pleas or cursing.
Still, she remained nearby. She heard Adrian weeping at one point as she lingered outside the closed door. He begged Dan to have mercy on him, to give him a small sip to stop the pain. Dan refused, and then Adrian turned on him, telling him to just shoot him and put him out of his misery like a lame horse.
Poor Fiona was beside herself, as any mother would be at hearing her son’s suffering and being unable to ease it.
The week following Burke’s departure stretched painfully into two.
Tara gazed out the windows at the usually busy street, surprised to find it nearly deserted in the middle of the day. People were staying indoors as much as possible soldiers roamed the streets searching for rebels. They stopped to question anyone caught loitering about as to their purpose as they imposed military law.
Adrian was finally free of the opiates. He left his bed, shaved, bathed and dressed, and yet remained upstairs in his room. He was still sharp tempered with all who attended him. Tara couldn’t reconcile the gentle, patient lover of the past months with the arrogant jerk who now inhabited her husband’s body. Being shot had changed him, brought the worst in him. Tara was afraid his attitude toward her was due to more than mere pain. She interfered in his plans and her interference left him maimed for life and ruined his reputation among his peers, those that hadn’t yet been hung for treason, that is, as his inability to attend the meeting had made him appear to be the traitor.
If only she hadn’t drugged him that morning!
Yet, if Tara hadn’t, Adrian would have been at Bond House with the others. He’d be arrested and hung. She saved him from that, and at
what price
; the loss of his love?
Tension and mistrust ruled the city of Dublin. A great part of Ireland was regarded and treated as in a state of actual war. Reports poured in from all over of troop brutality toward the general populace in response to the free reign given them under martial law.
Disturbances broke out in the counties of Leinster and Munster. The little town of Cahir in County Tipperary was rumored to be occupied by armed and mounted rebels numbering from three hundred to one thousand, and that great robberies of arms were taking place in Kildare. Ambercromby was under orders to disarm the rebels.
Underground sources still promised the revolt would begin on old May Day, May the twenty-third. Lord Edward was still at large, remaining one step ahead of his pursuers and throwing them off his trail time and again. He did not contact Dillon House again.
As April drew to a close reports of drunken brutality among the troops prompted Ambercromby, the newly appointed Commander-in-chief, to resign. He issued a formal statement throughout Ireland, blaming his resignation on the unruly behavior among the troops that went unchecked due to corruption from within the government. Lord Lake, one of the strongest proponents of harsh tactics such as house-burnings and pitch caps, replaced Ambercromby as the Commander in Chief of Ireland.
Six weeks had passed since the shooting. Adrian’s moodiness softened by degrees. He seemed to have come through the worst of his ordeal, managing his pain and learning slowly to manage his irritability. Tara found herself tiptoeing around him, uneasy with his surly demeanor.
“Sit with me, dearest.” He patted the cushion beside him at the windowseat.
“I’m tired. I need to lie down for a while.”
“Plenty of room here.” He gestured expansively to the long, cushioned seat, giving her a rare smile. “The sun is shining. You can doze in my arms like a kitten.”
Tara wanted to accept his invitation and sit with him. She longed to reclaim their former closeness, but she couldn’t simply behave as if nothing had changed between them. Anger and hurt simmered in her heart. “I prefer my own room.” Tara said, turning on her heel and walking out of his chamber. She was truly tired these days. Whether it was due to pregnancy or the stress of living in a fishbowl with government eyes watching their comings and goings, she didn’t know. It was probably both.
She descended the stairs and slipped into her husband’s study, now her own retreat within the household as Adrian was restricted to the second floor due to his heavy dependence on a cane to walk.
A wall existed between them, a wall of deception. Tara’s mind kept returning to the fact that Adrian
used
her. True, he may have ‘saved’ her from the soldiers and the suspicion of being a spy months ago by taking her into his protection. His motives for doing so were not as gallant as he liked to believe, for he ultimately did so to save his own neck. He took advantage of her in her helpless state, used her amnesia to convince her they had a history and they belonged together. And for her part, Tara wanted to believe his claim. She yearned for someone to want her after a lifetime of being unwanted, so she gave in and said yes to him.
Tara was angry; with herself as well as with him. As she reflected on their relationship she came to a painful realization: she was his pawn in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Oh, sure--he may have come to
love
her in the midst of his deception. Or he convinced himself that he was in love with her. The ugly truth remained that he lied to her. He used her when she was weak and vulnerable, unable to even speak up for herself due to the side effects of being struck by lightning.
It might be possible to forgive him for it if he hadn’t called her such foul names during his illness. Being called a mewling cunt, a greedy slut and f***ing bitch by a man who claimed previously to love you more than his own life was hard to forget, despite Dan’s assurances that it was just the craving talking and to ignore it. Adrian had been her hero, her champion, her gallant knight of old. Yeah, she’d been deluded, willingly so.
The honeymoon, as it were, was now over. Now she saw him as just another arrogant ass. It was a cruel joke. She believed she was living every woman’s fantasy, married to a rich, handsome lord and living the idyllic life in the pre-regency era of history. Every woman wanted to marry Mr. Darcy, didn’t they?
It was just a stupid fantasy. The reality of such a match sucked. Tara was from a time where women didn’t admire men who were jerks, a place where women confronted men who were verbally abusive and controlling. Women in her time left men who behaved like Adrian had. Sometimes they left for a lot less.
In that instant, Tara wished for something she thought she had given up longing for months ago. She wished she could go home; back to the future. Sure, she lived in a mobile home in a pokey trailer park. But it was her home, hers alone. And she might have had a low end job as a radio DJ and ate Ramen twice a week to make ends meet, but she answered to no one, and certainly not to someone who called her such foul names.
Sure, she had a ton of student loan debt and a Master’s Degree to finish, not a sterling outlook for employment when she graduated, but at least she was captain of her own ship. At least, in that world, she didn’t have to take any bullshit from a guy just because he paid the bills and had the corner on legal and civil rights which she and every other female lacked here. What could happen to her if Adrian lost control? Suppose one day he went back to drinking Laudanum like water again? What if he became an alcoholic, like his mother? Tara had a child to consider, it was no longer merely herself and her own future she had to worry about.
Oh, but what to do about it? She couldn’t just strike out on her own. Could she?
“Hey, kid. Why so glum?” Dan peeked his head into the small study. There was no point explaining her hurt to him, he wouldn’t understand. He would tell her to grow up, face reality, that marriage wasn’t supposed to be all fairy-tale magic and romance. She would leave without him. Unlike Tara, Dan could do as he wished. Adrian wouldn’t stop him. Dan could practice medicine. With his degree in surgical nursing, he had a greater knowledge of medicine than the doctors of this era.
“Tara.” Dan persisted, taking a step toward her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She turned to face him, steeling herself. She was a survivor, after all. She was acquainted with partings, rejection and being alone. It was best to get on with it.
“I’m leaving. I’ve had enough of his lordship and of 18th century married life.”
“You can’t leave!” Dan stepped inside the study and closed the door. “We’re in a frickin’ war zone. You’ve seen the soldiers outside, and any day its all going to blow up between them and the rebel forces. Tara, just sit tight. Wait it out. We’re safe here. I know, he’s been a jerk lately, but he’s been in a lot of pain. It will pass--“
“No, don’t. Don’t make excuses for him and what he’s done.” Tara rounded on him, furious that Dan would expect her to stay when she did not wish to. Next, he’d be reminding her that they had it good here, with their rich benefactor and all that crap. She was having none of it. “This isn’t a little spat. I married him too quickly. He’s a stranger, it was a mistake. I’m tired, Dan. I’m tired of tiptoeing around him. I want out.”
Dan’s scowl didn’t move her. He just stared at her for a long, tense moment. “What about me? What about us? We’re family, you and I, and yeah, Lord Jackass. We’re a family, Tara. And you don’t run out on family when they’re having a crisis. You stay, you endure, and wait for better days to come.”
“I’ve never had a family.” She retorted. “I’ve been alone all my life.”
“Well, you do now. You have me, Adrian and a baby on the way. You don’t run out on family. You wanted a family? Well, it ain’t all wine and roses, sweetheart.”