Darkness In The Flames Page 9

  Adrian nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Oh, and give me a little more of your blood, would you? I’d like to run a comparison between today’s vintage and last month’s.” Sidney’s thoughts scuttled happily into the scientific realms where he felt so much at home.

  Adrian’s thoughts were far less cheerful and his face reflected his mood.

  Sidney paused. “Adrian. Remember one thing.” He rested his hand on his son’s broad shoulder. “A monster would not worry about killing. A monster would have already drunk his fill of Katherine Edgeworth without regard for her safety. He would only have thought of his own needs—his own satisfaction.”

  Adrian was silent, listening to his father’s words.

  “And a monster, Adrian, would not deny himself that which he desires most. A monster could not love.”

  “So you are saying I must not think of myself as a monster?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. You are no monster, Adrian. You are my son.”

  Sidney allowed his voice to quaver, refusing to hide the emotion that flooded him every time he looked at Adrian. Truly he had come to regard this young man as his very own, such a closeness had they developed between them.

  “I shall ever and always be proud to be called thus, Father.” Adrian’s hand rose to cover Sidney’s, and squeezed it hard. “Monster or no, there are some things that will not change. That is one of them.”

  *~*~*~*

  Katherine’s sleep over the next few days was as refreshing and untroubled as she could have wished, and her recovery continued to please everybody including herself.

  She was no longer weak or light headed, could enjoy a meal and began to yearn for the chance to step outside her sick room and stretch her legs.

  “Soon, Mrs. Edgeworth, soon.” Mrs. Tooting smiled at her over the teapot after she voiced her umpteenth comment to that effect.

  They’d quickly become accustomed to sharing a cup during the day, and Katherine had learned much of the Chesswell family from these friendly sessions amongst the bone china.

  “I hope so. I look forward to the chance to step outside and see St. Chesswell’s Chyne first hand.” She smiled into her cup. “I must confess I’ve never seen a chyne.”

  Mrs. Tooting snorted. “Not much to see really. Just a bit of a drop, a couple of rocks and some boulders. Rather a fuss made over nothing if you ask me.”

  “But this whole house takes its name from there, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, yes…but that was hundreds of years ago. I daresay it was a lot more impressive back when our monk was living there.” Refusing to be anything other than casual about the local landmark, Mrs. Tooting shrugged. “Sir Sidney likes to tell the story of the monk, and the locals enjoy hashing it out over a pint or two on a Saturday night, but other than that…”

  Katherine had learned the story of the original St. Chesswell, along with as much as she could subtly extract as to the nature of the current residents.

  She’d been told of the miraculous return of Adrian Chesswell to his father’s bosom, and also of the dread malady afflicting him, preventing him from enjoying the sunshine.

  “One of them terrible French things, Ma’am.” Mrs. Tooting had been quite distressed as she related the tale. “It’s a miracle anybody manages to live in that godforsaken place, if you ask me.”

  And “ask me” was exactly what Katherine did. With quietly interested curiosity and her usual flair for friendly conversation, Katherine assembled a reasonably accurate picture of the Chesswells in her mind, thanks to the garrulous Mrs. Tooting and her love for tea.

  She even touched on a vague memory. “You know,” she frowned. “I think I remember somebody saying something about red hair.”

  Mrs. Tooting chuckled. “That was probably me. Silly story.”

  “Oh?”

  Always ready for a good gossip, Mrs. Tooting settled her skirts. “Well, legend has it that redheaded women bring the curse of change to St. Chesswell. There’s even one that says a red-haired wench tried to seduce the original saint so long ago.”

  She snorted as Katherine’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  “I doubt it. And I’m sure the holy man had nothing to do with her. After all, he was a saint, wasn’t he?” Mrs. Tooting nodded firmly.

  Katherine would not have bet very much money on that particular assertion, but remained silent while the tale came to a conclusion.

  “Long and short of it is that there’s been a history of goings-on at St. Chesswell and people like to find a reason for them. Hair color is as good as any.” She shrugged in her practical way. “It’s all a hum, I reckon, but it makes for a good story. And of course you having red hair…well, there you are.”

  Katherine smiled. “Yes. I can claim no credit for my hair color, and so far my stay at St. Chesswell is quite beneficial, at least for me, so I’m guessing we can lay that legend to rest.”

  Mrs. Tooting agreed. “That’s what I tell my girls. Listen to the stories but don’t believe ‘em.” She poured more tea. “And heaven knows we have enough local tales hereabouts.”

  She related several of them to Katherine’s amusement, and interspersed them with information about the Chesswells themselves. These anecdotes were of particular fascination to her listener who was, of course, extremely careful not to reveal that her interest centered about the history and character of one Mr. Adrian Chesswell.

  But center it did, and Katherine spent many of her waking hours trying to come to terms with this man and his effect on her. There had been no one in her life who had even come close to affecting her the way Adrian did. No one she could remember who had quickened her pulse with just a look. No one who had made her thighs ache just with a certain expression in his eyes.

  And no one, she confessed to herself in the most private of moments, no one had ever aroused that piercing emotion she now recognized as lust. And she’d met him for all of a few hours, no more.

  She fell asleep each night with a certain amount of trepidation, wondering if this would be the time he came to her dreams again. She awoke refreshed, trying to decide whether she was relieved or disappointed he’d not been a part of her rest.

  Mrs. Tooting had let slip the information that Mr. Adrian had gone exploring into the Chyne for a bit—apparently he was fascinated with the caves that lay within it and spent several days at a time investigating them, thinking nothing of sleeping in them as he needed.

  The housekeeper had wrinkled her nose in distaste, but Katherine could understand. The fascination of such places—and right outside one’s own front door—well, it would be a fool who failed to take advantage of such an opportunity.

  Part of her wished she could be at his side as he prowled the understructure of the earth upon which they walked. And part of her wished she could simply be at his side no matter what they were doing.

  Another part was glad he was away from the house, since her peace of mind was much restored with his absence. She was rising now for a little time each day, moving around, bathing, dressing, and eventually declaring herself well enough to venture downstairs at Sir Sidney’s invitation for dinner.

  “And Mr. Adrian’s returned too, Mrs. Edgeworth. So you’ll be dining with them both. Won’t that be nice?” Mrs. Tooting beamed as she spread Katherine’s only wearable gown on the bed. “This one cleaned up real well, Ma’am. The color’s not what I would’ve suggested for you—if you’ll forgive my saying so—but at least it’s your own.”

  As Katherine allowed Mrs. Tooting and a maid to lace her into the gown, she agreed. The brown bombazine was sturdy but unattractive, and the style did little to accentuate Katherine’s generous curves, all but hiding them beneath a modest collar.

  But it was, as Mrs. Tooting had correctly pointed out, her own. And if she secretly yearned for a diaphanous silk dress that clung immodestly to all the right places, she kept such yearnings to herself.

  Securely tucked behind the façade of respectability as represented
by an amazingly unattractive outfit, Katherine descended the staircase that evening with a becoming flush on her cheeks. She told herself it was from the exertion of bathing and dressing.

  She knew she lied. It was from the prospect of seeing him again.

  And perhaps finding out whether that certain something between them was real or just a fantasy borne of laudanum and delirium.

  If the latter were true…Katherine bit her lip as she crossed the hall to the dining room.

  A servant opened the doors and ushered her into the snug parlor where an informal dinner was being served. Sir Sidney Chesswell rose with a welcoming smile, but Katherine’s gaze was immediately diverted to the figure standing behind one chair.

  They exchanged a glance, black eyes meeting blue ones in a collision so abrupt Katherine wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a crash accompany it.

  Her question was answered. It was no dream, no creation of an injured or disordered mind.

  Adrian Chesswell was real, as real as her immediate attraction to him. As real as the blush that crept from her breasts to her neck, and as real as the heat flowering between her thighs.

  His gaze swept over her and returned to her face as if taking his own visual inventory. She couldn’t help but notice his body stirring behind the tight fabric of his evening trousers.

  There was something between the two of them.

  It was undeniable, it was hot, it could well be dangerous and it would probably lead to places Katherine had no business going.

  But it was there. And Katherine wanted it.

  She shoved all pretense aside and admitted the devastating truth. She wanted him.

  *~*~*~*

  Adrian’s thoughts were fractured as he sensed the desire rise inside Kat. Their gazes sought each other like magnets finding true north, and he could damn near taste her on his lips.

  Her pulse fluttered above the collar of her hideous gown, and had it not been for the politely restraining presence of his father, Adrian would probably have stripped her and taken her on top of the dining table, cutlery be damned. He’d have done so with her full cooperation, too. He just knew it.

  His need exploded within him, sending bolts of hunger to his cock and a stain of embarrassment to his face as he realized his arousal was obvious.

  Hurriedly he took his seat, thankful for the arrival of their light repast.

  Sidney was saying something—his Kat was answering, but Adrian knew not the subject under discussion, nor the day, nor the time. His food could have been sawdust and twigs, rather than the light broth of vegetables and herbs he found tolerable, and St. Chesswell itself could have disintegrated around him. He would not have cared.

  If this was truly “love”, as his father believed, then Adrian almost wished it away. It consumed him, turning him into a besotted creature with a passion for the scent of his prey—the red-headed charmer who managed to control her own impulses with decorum and composure.

  Then she moved to accept more wine and Adrian caught a whiff of her—she was aroused, readying herself for his possession, and he all but snarled his eagerness.

  The last few days he’d buried himself deep within the earth around St. Chesswell, enjoying his hobby of exploring the caves, and finding quiet solace away from the people—and his Kat.

  She’d healed, her color and the brightness in her eyes was proof of that. Had she forgotten him? Or worse—found a fear inside herself that would taint their interactions from now on?

  Adrian found his guts unclenching as the answer to both those questions was an obvious and resounding “no”. She sipped her wine, ate—or rather nibbled—at her food and deliberately avoided looking at him unless it was absolutely necessary.

  She was every bit as aware of him as he was of her, and finally Sir Sidney bowed to the undercurrents even he could feel swirling across the table.

  “Well, this has been delightful, Mrs. Edgeworth. And I’m glad you forgive us our light repast—neither Adrian nor I find these enormous dinners to our taste. In fact, it’s my opinion they are deleterious to one’s health.” Sidney nodded decisively.

  “Very true, Sir Sidney. I couldn’t agree more.” Katherine slid her plate away from her. She had eaten little, noted Adrian, yet she did not seem hungry. For food anyway.

  “I will ask you to also forgive our lack of formality in ignoring the customary port and cigars. At this time I usually return to my scientific inquiries and Adrian…” He smiled up at his son. “Adrian does whatever he wishes after dinner.”

  Adrian smiled back and stood. “It occurs to me that our guest might enjoy a view of the Chyne, Father. The rain has cleared and we finally have a good moon—full tonight, I believe?”

  Sidney nodded. “Oh yes. So it is—I had nearly forgotten. Do go with Adrian, Mrs. Edgeworth. I think you’ll find the sight to your liking.”

  Katherine rose and shook out her skirts. “I confess I’d be very interested to see the Chyne, Sir Sidney. Mrs. Tooting has told me of your legends and I’d love to see it for myself.”

  Adrian bit down on his lust and extended a gracious arm. “Very well, Ma’am. If you’d care to accompany me?”

  She laid her fingertips on his sleeve and glanced once more at Sir Sidney.

  He made scooting motions with his fingers. “Go, children. Enjoy. I must away to my laboratory.” He paused. “Adrian. Did you take your elixir?”

  Adrian glanced over his shoulder to catch a quizzical look on his father’s face. “Yes, Father.”

  Sidney appeared relieved. “Good. Run along then.”

  “Your father is most concerned about your health, Mr. Chesswell.” Katherine’s voice was cool as she voiced the casual comment. They walked through St. Chesswell arm-in-arm, as if they were nothing more than a gentleman and a lady enjoying an after-dinner stroll.

  Adrian knew how wrong that assumption was. “You will have already been told of my…my unfortunate ailment?”

  “Indeed yes. You have my sympathies.”

  “Thank you.” Adrian inclined his head. “Although none are really needed. I find I can enjoy most common pleasures just as well at night as during the day. My vision has, perhaps, become slightly more enhanced thanks to my nocturnal habits, but other than that…”

  He led Katherine through more rooms until they reached two glass doors opening onto a stone balcony. Stepping outside, he led her to the low balustrade and waved his hand in a suitably dramatic gesture. “Behold, Mrs. Edgeworth.” The view overlooked the coastline, which marked the southern boundary of the Chesswell estate.

  “There, Ma’am. D’you see it?” He paused dramatically as the moon emerged from behind a cloud and shed its soft brilliance down over the countryside. “St. Chesswell’s Chyne.”

  His voice was rich with pride, he knew, since this was truly a magnificent sight. The soft turf was ripped apart as if by a giant’s scythe, the valley thus created making an enormous gash in an otherwise pristine landscape.

  The darkness of the rift was interrupted by the gleam of white chalky veins that protruded from the sides of the Chyne like the ribs of some ancient skeleton. Adrian knew that water burbled softly along the floor, around boulders bigger than small houses, but such revelations were not visible from where the two of them presently stood.

  Katherine seemed spellbound. “Oh my.” Her whisper was breathy, her eyes wide as she scanned the unusual feature before her. “This is magnificent.”

  She licked her lips and Adrian’s vision blurred red as every iota of his being turned to this woman and hungered. His gums ached with the need to release his fangs and his very soul ached with the need to restrain them.

  He dragged his gaze back to the moonlit scene before them with an effort. “It is quite a sight, isn’t it?”

  So mundane, so idiotic—so far from what he wanted to say. “I need you beneath me. I need to strip you of that godawful dress, fuck you senseless and limp, drink your cries and your sweat and then do it all over again.”

  �
�Yes.”

  Adrian blinked for a moment as his wits struggled to replay their verbal conversation and establish exactly what Kat was agreeing to. Ah yes. The Chyne. “We don’t know exactly how old it is, of course, since it’s continually eroding in response to the elements. It was probably much sharper and higher in St. Chesswell’s day.”

  “Where did he live, do you know?” Kat’s gaze wandered over the irregular terrain.

  Adrian pointed. “At the far end. There’s a natural rise that would have offered protection, and we found a few stones that were rough hewn and laid out in a clearly man-made arrangement. It’s the most logical place, too.” He chuckled. “To be very honest, we have no idea where the fellow lived. We just took what we found and improvised.” He glanced at Katherine. “You must admit it makes for a good legend.”

  She laughed back. “Such honesty is refreshing, Mr. Chesswell. I find myself wondering exactly how many of our local legends have been…adjusted to fit their surroundings.”

  She glanced back at the Chyne. “And yes to your other comment too.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I hear your desires, Mr. Chesswell. I do not understand any of this. I do not understand why you were a part of a dream for me and I you. Nor do I understand how it is that I can hear your thoughts now and again. But I can. Not so much in words as in colors.”

  She remained unmoving, her face turned to the moonlight and the ocean. “You are thinking passionately crimson thoughts. Things are happening which are strange and unusual. I should be frightened of you, but I am not. I feel quite a different emotion…” For the first time her voice stumbled.

  Adrian reached for her, his hand not quite touching her hair. “What emotion is that, my Kat?”

  “Don’t you know?” Finally she turned her face to his and let him see her eyes. The fierce heat behind the blue gaze stunned him.

  “Yes, Kat, I know.”