Some Enchanted Waltz (51 page)

Tara had no idea of where she would go and what she would do.

Now that she’d made her decision to leave, she felt relief. Dan had left her in the study without further argument. He didn’t speak to her at dinner.

She was lying upstairs in her room, looking up at the tapestry above the canopy bed in the dimly lit chamber as the sun set on the city of Dublin.

There were so many things to consider. Napoleon was a growing threat. He would soon swallow most of Europe in his quest for world domination. America was unstable. Having recently won their war for Independence, they were struggling to emerge as a nation.  Ireland was in chaos, France was Napoleon’s playground.
England?
England seemed to be the safest place, for this time period. Knowing the future of each country made her decision more complicated.

Where could she go in England to live a quiet life and raise Adrian’s child?

Someplace in the country, not in London, for certain. It was too dirty in the capitol city. The English countryside had many possibilities. She could live in a cottage by the sea, learn to weave, grow a garden, raise sheep or chickens. Maybe Dan was right, she could write a few books, like Jane Austen, become a novelist. Maybe she’d have to work hard, but she’d do it and do it gladly if it meant she could have her freedom and not be beholden to a man for her keeping.

Tara rose from the bed and felt about in the darkness for the washbasin. She splashed water on her face. A shuffling noise across the hall brought her attentions from the window. Her door opened slowly. The figure in the darkness shuffled painfully along, his presence obvious to all as he groaned with every step. Captain Midnight would never tip-toe in the shadows again. His injury left him irrevocably maimed.

Sadness filled Tara at that thought. Yes, it was her fault. She had been the one to drug him, leaving him lethargic, unable to respond when O'Reilly came to call.

No wonder he resented her.

“Tara?” The figure limped forward, scanning the dark chamber for her presence. “Where are you, sweetheart?”

Now it was Sweetheart
? Wasn’t it just weeks ago he addressed her in less savory terms, pushing her away when she sought to help him, to comfort him.

He was fully dressed as if to go out. Where did he suppose to go this time of night, with soldiers on every corner?  The bump and scrap of his heavy boot as he dragged it would give him away. “Tara, please light a candle. We need to talk about our future.”

Tara took a reed from the mantle and placed it in the small bed of glowing coals. It ignited, and she lit the candelabra on the mantel. There he stood, leaning heavily on his cane, not more than six paces away. He was dressed in one of his best suits, and his hair had been carefully combed, for once. His eyes were pleading.

“Since when does the bold Captain Midnight consult his wife?”

 Adrian released his breath with a grimace. He hobbled to the window and stood looking down at the street.  “I deserve that, and much worse.”

 Tara didn’t respond. She wasn’t going to say anything that might start an argument, and these days, she’d learned that it didn’t take much to set him off.

“I wanted to apologize for being such an ogre these past weeks.” Adrian said at length. He turned away from the window to gaze at her expectantly.

Oh, crap. Why was he looking at her as if he knew what she was planning to do?

“Dan told you, didn’t he?” She stated the obvious.

“Dan?” Adrian’s brow raised in question. “You would call your father by his first name?”

Tara rolled her eyes and huffed. She wasn’t about to explain that Dan was not her real father. She didn’t care anymore about maintaining the ruse. She didn’t care anymore about appeasing this man, as Dan had so often admonished her because Adrian was their great benefactor, their meal ticket. Well, from now on Dan could suck up to the jerk and kiss his ass. She was not going to live on the edge of reason any longer.

“It’s over. You used me to escape Burke’s snare. Well, you’re free of him now, and any suspicion of being part of the Irishmen’s plot. It’s time I reclaimed my own freedom.”

“Tara . . . I know I said things that hurt you.” Adrian whispered in a thick voice. “It wasn’t me--I mean--I was so full of pain--you can’t imagine. I never meant those things.”

Tara waltzed to the bed post, spun around it playfully, feeling like a gypsy dancer, daring herself to confront him for his lies. “It’s much more complicated than a few foul insults, Lord Dillon.” She spoke in a mysterious voice, savoring her moment of inspiration. “You took advantage of me when I was too weak and wounded to make a rational judgment. You convinced me to marry you in haste. Did you think this was going to last forever? That I would just become the docile little wife for you?”

He looked startled as the meaning of her words sank in. He gripped the cane with white knuckles. “I needed a bride to protect me from Burke’s schemes. I had planned to hire a French actress to play the part for a time. It would have been a pretend marriage, nothing more.”

“And then I conveniently fell in your lap.” Tara finished for him with difficulty.

“Aye.” He nodded, looking down at the floor.  “Our marriage did protect both of us. And I told myself at first that I would not mate with you, so that you could have the marriage annulled if you wished, once the danger was past.” He lifted his eyes then, giving her a look that made her heart quicken. “I never sought to bring you pain. I came to love you, lass, and that’s the truth. I fell in love with you.”

Tara held his gaze, feeling that insistent stinging in her eyes as her throat constricted with pain. “I’m sorry you were shot. I was only trying to protect you from a greater danger. It’s my fault you can’t walk right any more. But I loved you, Adrian, I  only wanted to keep you safe, with me.”

“I do not hold you responsible for what happened to me, sweet Tara? How could you think that? You couldn’t know O’Reilly would come here? None of us could.”

“That’s not what you said to me last week.” She countered. “You told me it was my fault you were crippled, along with some choice words I’d care not to repeat.”

Adrian’s face paled. He looked truly astonished by her words. So, perhaps Dan was right, and he did not remember all those nasty things he said after all. “Tara, my sweet, I never--I never meant to hurt you.” His voice thickened and became wet. He reached one hand toward her imploringly. “You loved me?” He croaked. “Is that in the past, my sweet sprite? Is there no manner in which I might make amends for insulting you so in my brush with madness? Have I completely destroyed your love for me?”

Tara bit her lower lip.
Oh, God. He was crying
. Not blubbering, but tears were streaming down his rugged cheeks as he regarded her silently, his handsome face stained with raw, unfeigned grief.

“Forgive me. Let me spend the rest of my days worshipping you.” He whispered in a rough, broken tone. “
Your every wish will be a wish that I will make come true. And if you want the moon, I swear, I’ll bring it down to you, if you’ll just believe in me.
”

 Tara was speechless. He was quoting the words to her favorite romantic ballad, Meatloaf’s
I’d Lie For You (And That’s The Truth!).
 The man she loved was speaking words she never expected to hear spoken to her, begging her to give him another chance.

Before she realized it, Tara was across the room and in his arms.

“I was so scared.” She hugged him. “I didn’t know what to do. I was just trying to protect you. I couldn’t let you walk into an ambush.”

“I know.” his mouth caressed her ear. “I know, sweet Tara.”

“I was afraid they would take you away from me, drag you away to jail and hang you, even after you were shot. The constable kept coming around and asking more questions.”

“
I’d walk across the fire for you, I’d walk on the wild for you, if you’ll just believe in me.”
Adrian whispered against her temple, continuing to woo her with the words to her favorite ballad. “Sweet Tara, don’t leave me. I would never, ever leave you. I love you. Stay, lass, let me love away the hurt. Let me make it up to you.”

His fingers brushed away her tears. Slowly, his lips graced her eyes, and then her cheekbones and her nose, until their mouths joined. His lips were soft, enticing. They begged, they promised. They urged her on in a head long rush of passion as Tara pulled him with her toward the bed. They fell together on the feather mattress, kissing with an urgency that could not be denied.

“I’ll stay.” Tara answered between kisses. “But I do expect the moon!”

He laughed. Tara laughed with him and gave herself up to his loving, savoring every touch, every patient caress as they danced the enchanted waltz of lovers.

Chapter Thirty Nine

“One Thousand Pounds for the Apprehension of Lord Edward Fitzgerald
.”

They were seated in the parlor, one week later. Adrian held up the paper in front of them as he read the headlines aloud.

Dan groaned his frustration. Lady Fiona sniffed with indignation. Dr. Magnus remained unmoved. Tara felt a lump rising in her throat, knowing Fitzgerald’s demise. Adrian looked ill. He sat in the chair with a dejected look, allowing the paper to dangle from one hand. Standing behind him, Tara stroked his shoulder, wishing she could assure him that his friend would be all right.

“Be thankful it isn’t you hiding in attics and warehouses, being forced to dress as a woman to elude the authorities. If Edward had tended his own little family, instead of abandoning them in his zeal for freedom.”

“Yes, Mother.” Adrian waved a hand at her, as if swatting an annoying fly buzzing about his head. Tara caressed his raven locks as she stood behind him. She wished Mrs. Dillon would take herself off now that Adrian was recovering. Her gloomy, sour attitude was not helping him at all.

After a brief rallying of his spirits due to their recommitment to each other, Adrian became pensive and withdrawn again. This time, rather than snapping at everyone, he moped silently about the townhouse with the ever present cane, dragging his injured limb stiffly behind him. Tara wished he would turn his face from the newspapers giving constant reports of troop movements, that he could stop tormenting himself for not being able to help his comrades.

“I’ve an announcement to make.” Lady Fiona began in her grating voice. “We are leaving Ireland for a time. I’ve had such dreadful nightmares of late, I fear closing my eyes. Richard has recommended a more serene atmosphere, for my nerves.”

Dr. Magnus fidgeted near the window, looking the school-boy caught with his britches down. “Milan is beautiful this time of year. We’re off tomorrow, before they truly close all the ports.”

Adrian tossed the paper away from him. “Wonderful.” He snapped sarcastically. “Italy will never be serene again. Not with you in Milan and Napoleon’s troops stationed in Naples. Do send us a note now and again to let us know who is truly the vanquished. I doubt it shall be you, Mother.”

“Let me assure you, young man, I will take excellent care of Fiona. She has agreed to be my wife.” Dr. Magnus offered in a slightly defensive tone as he went to stand beside Lady Fiona. “We would wish your blessing, young man.”

Tara suspected all along that the doctor fancied Fiona Dillon. After all, she was a very attractive woman, in spite of her domineering personality. Dr. Magnus seemed the more passive of the pair, perhaps they would complement one another.

Adrian rose from his chair with difficulty, clutching the cane to gain his balance. “This is unexpected.” He struggled to find the words to express his shock.

“You were so wrapped up in your own affairs, you scarcely noticed us, my boy.” Dr. Magnus offered. “Do you mean to tell me you believed all those visits to Glengarra over the past year were merely of a professional nature? Good heavens, lad, you’d best start noticing the goings on in your own household or you will wake up one morning to find your son is off to the battlefields and your daughter eloped with the plowboy.”

Dan’s hearty laughter echoed in the room, joined by Dr. Magnus and Fiona.

Adrian looked from Dr. Magnus to his mother, then to Tara with bewilderment.

“That’s wonderful.” Tara smiled, urging him to say as much with her eyes.

“Yes, yes.”  Adrian said slowly. It was good that his mother remarry. And Dr. Magnus was a fine fellow. He just hadn’t noticed they were developing feelings for each other. “Are you to be married in Dublin?”

“No.” Mother smiled. Dr. Magnus took her hand in his. “We will wed in Milan. Will you accompany us? It would mean a great deal to me to know that my son and his family are safe, away from this madness.”

“I cannot. I have responsibilities here, an estate to run. I wish you all the best.”

What followed were protests from mother regarding his refusal, which sparked an argument between them. Mother dissolved to tears, and Dr. Magnus escorted her out of the parlor. Dan, too, took his leave of them after tempers flared between mother and son. Tara remained at Adrian’s side, giving him a look that tugged at his heart.

“You look tired, my love.” He offered her a tender smile. “Perhaps you should lie down.” His wife looked worn out, worried, not jubilant and glowing, as an expectant mother should be. The stress of living in a city under siege was not helping matters. At least her morning sickness had ceased.