Desire

Chapter Sixteen

After the ominous carriage incident, Brynn’s feelings of dread returned with a vengeance. So did her dark dream of Lucian dying while she stood over him, her hands stained with his blood. Her sense of urgency, however, deepened to near panic when she actually found herself with child.

It was her maid, Meg, who first recognized the symptoms. Brynn was dressing for her morning ride when she began to feel strangely nauseated. When she pressed a hand to her stomach, Meg took one look at her face and went to fetch the chamber pot.

“You should sit, milady. Put your head down, between your legs… There, that’s it.”

Sinking down into a chair, Brynn obeyed, wondering what was wrong with her. She was rarely ill, and she had eaten nothing to cause this bilious sensation. She covered her mouth with her hand and tried to take slow, deep breaths as her maid ordered.

“It will pass in time,” Meg said soothingly, stroking her mistress’s forehead. “Once your stomach starts to swell, you’ll not feel ill. I scarce feel it now.”

“Swell?”

“With the babe.”

Startled, Brynn stared down at her abdomen. Was it possible? Was she carrying Lucian’s child within her body? But of course, considering their determined efforts to conceive. And somehow she knew it was true.

A ripple of joy flowed through her, followed by a sharp pang of dismay. A child only made her dilemma more difficult. Lucian had promised they could live separate lives in exchange for her giving him a son, but heaven help her, she didn’t want to leave her child behind.

Brynn raised a hand to her temple. In all likelihood, she would have no choice. She had to protect Lucian, whatever the personal cost. Indeed, if she were wise, she would leave him now, immediately, before the risk to his life grew any greater.

“Will his lordship be pleased, do you think?”

Brynn nodded slowly. Lucian would be elated when she gave him the news, but what then? Once he knew of her pregnancy, there would be no chance of her evading him. He would insist on her remaining by his side, under the care of the best doctors. She would have to endure his tenderness day and night…

She doubted she could be strong enough for so long a duration. Each day that passed, her feelings for Lucian grew ever more acute. She couldn’t envision keeping her heart’s defenses intact until she gave birth. Certainly she could never spend a lifetime with Lucian and maintain an emotionless detachment. Perhaps she should indeed leave him at once, before it was too late…

No, Brynn reflected, she didn’t dare tell him about her pregnancy. Not until she had decided her course of action.

“I don’t intend to inform him just yet, Meg,” she murmured, trying to swallow her nausea. “Not until I’m certain I truly am with child. Please, I would like to keep it between ourselves.”

“Of course, milady. Whatever you wish.”

Brynn went to him that night, her emotions in turmoil, the wonder of having part of Lucian growing inside her body battling her fear of the future. But he kissed her with a slow, soul-destroying tenderness, sending passion, sweet and heavy, flowing through her, shattering her reticence. She melted against him, welcoming him with all the longing within her.

The intensity of their mating was stunning. Lucian took her body with fierce hunger, muttering hoarse, unintelligible words against her throat as he demanded her surrender, but he gave her indescribable pleasure in return. Her sobs of rapture were not only physical, though. Brynn felt a bond with him she had never experienced with any other human being.

Afterward she lay in his arms, her breath tangling with his, his fingers caressing her bare skin with soft strokes. She could feel the solid beat of his heart beneath her palm, feel her own heart aching. What they had shared had been, for her, beyond words.

He had made her feel thoroughly possessed, utterly desired, truly cherished. She had never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable. So filled with longing.

She wanted the child inside her, without question, but what was far worse… She wanted her child’s father. She wanted Lucian as her husband, wanted a real marriage. She wanted his love, wanted to love him in return…

Dear God, Brynn thought, shutting her eyes in dismay. She dared not love Lucian or he would die.

She sat at her dressing table the following morning, clutching her mother’s locket in her hand. Her nausea was just as strong today, dispelling any lingering doubts that she was carrying Lucian’s child-and strengthening her dread. What if their child was a daughter? If so, the curse would be passed down and the whole terrible cycle would begin all over again.

Please God, no, Brynn thought fiercely. Let it be a son. She couldn’t bear to think of her daughter suffering her fate.

She knew now how her mother had felt. Blindly Brynn stared down at the locket her mother had given her as a reminder of the peril she faced. Inside was the miniature portrait of her legendary ancestor, Flaming Nell, but it was her beloved mother’s face Brynn saw. A face ravaged by the pain of a fatal childbirth.

You cannot give in, her mother had whispered hoarsely on her deathbed. Promise me, Brynn. Swear to me you won’t let yourself love any man. It will only bring you terrible heartache. Though weak from the loss of blood, she had forced the locket into Brynn’s hand. Look at this… whenever you feel tempted. Look and remember.

Brynn felt tears burn her throat now at the memory. Her mother had succumbed to the temptation of love-and suffered untold grief as a result. Her final words had been of warning, a plea to beware. Gwendolyn Caldwell had understood all too well the unquenchable hungers of the heart. The aching need to love and be loved.

The soul-deep longing that was tearing at Brynn now.

She felt her fingers clench reflexively over the locket. She had sworn solemnly that day never to let herself love, but she was in danger of breaking her promise. She very much feared she was falling in love with Lucian. Her desire for him was becoming a torture she could no longer endure. No longer wanted to endure.

Setting her jaw, Brynn dropped the locket into her jewel case, banishing it from sight. She would have to leave Lucian at once, unless…

She went still. Unless she could find some way to fight the curse. She drew a slow breath, remembering the handbill advertising Gypsy fortune-tellers at the upcoming Westminster fair. Was it possible that Esmerelda was in London? Could the Gypsy woman offer her any hope?

Years ago she’d gone to Esmerelda, grieving over her dead suitor, seeking any sort of comfort, perhaps even some measure of absolution. At the time she had been too distraught by the tragedy to question the possibility of breaking the spell. Indeed, just the contrary, Brynn reflected. Because of James’s death and her own ominous dreams foretelling it, she’d finally accepted the destructive power of the curse and resigned herself to her fate.

But she was desperate enough now to grasp at any straw. If there was any remotely possible way for her to remain with Lucian without causing his death, she had to try.

Not wanting to give rise to scandal by attending a fair alone, Brynn seriously considered asking Raven to accompany her. Yet she would feel awkward discussing such intimacies as her marital relations and pregnancy with her virginal, unmarried friend. Besides, Raven was close to Lucian, and she might feel obligated to reveal the secret. And Meredith was too happily engrossed in her own family, Brynn felt, to become involved in her troubles. She took Meg instead, knowing it wasn’t totally uncommon or beyond the pale for an adventurous lady and her maid to enjoy such an escapade.

Fortunately the autumn day was overcast and chilly enough for her to wear a cloak without arousing comment. Brynn kept the hood drawn close around her face to prevent being recognized and hired a hackney to take them to the fairgrounds in Westminster.

The fair, she discovered, was typical of other ones she’d attended in Cornwall with her brothers, with jugglers and puppeteers vying with vendors hawking oranges and gingerbread and hot meat pies, as well as dealers in finer wares-satin ribbons and gloves and knives.

The grounds were not yet crowded so early in the day, but finding the Gypsy fortune-teller was more difficult than expected. Brynn passed numerous stalls and performers before finally reaching a tent at one end.

She was greeted eagerly by a young beauty garbed in scarves and bangles and colorful skirts who immediately offered charms and dried herbs for sale. Requesting instead to have her fortune told, Brynn left Meg to await her outside and entered the tent.

The interior was dimly lit with a golden glow cast by a handmade oil lamp. When her eyes adjusted, Brynn could see that an old woman sat on a carpet before a low table. It was indeed Esmerelda, Brynn realized, her heart beating faster.

The Gypsy was gray haired and nearly toothless, with a swarthy complexion the texture of leather. Her black eyes, however, were sharp as daggers.

“My lady,” she said in a cackling voice. “I heard of yer good fortune. Ye’ve become a countess.”

“Yes, Mother,” she said, using a term of respect the Romany people employed when speaking to their elders. “And yourself? Are you faring well?”

“Well enough,” Esmerelda replied with a grin. “‘Tis a good year for gullible Gorgios.” With a sweep of her bony, silver-beringed fingers, she invited Brynn to be seated before her at the table.

When the Gypsy reached for her hand, however, Brynn shook her head. “I have not come to have my palm read, Mother. Rather, I have a specific question.” Taking a deep breath, Brynn drew several guineas from her reticule and placed them on the table. “A matter of grave importance.”

“Yer dreams have returned,” the Gypsy replied solemnly, even as her eyes glinted at seeing the gold coins.

“Yes.”

“I see. And what is yer question, my lady?”

“I hoped you might tell me if… Is there anything I might do to end the curse?”

“Ye fear for yer lover,” the old woman surmised.

“Yes,” Brynn replied. “My husband.”

Picking up a coin, Esmerelda bit down on it with her few remaining teeth, testing. “‘Twill not be easy. The curse on Flaming Nell was wondrously powerful.”

“But can it be broken?”

For a long moment, the Gypsy scrutinized her. Finally she nodded. “Do ye love ‘im, yer ’usband?”

“I… I am not certain,” Brynn replied quietly, not wanting to face that question. “If I allowed that to happen, I would be endangering his life. I cannot bear the thought of causing his death.”

“But are ye ready to die for ‘im? That is what ye must ask yerself.”

“Die for him?”

“Aye, m’lady. Ye must love ‘im enough to sacrifice yerself. ”Tis the secret of true love. Are ye ready to give yer life for ’is? Only ye can know yer own ‘art.“

Brynn stared at the wizened Gypsy, her thoughts spinning. Could she love Lucian that much?

Finally she shook herself. “You are saying I must die for him?”

Esmerelda gave her a sympathetic look that held a touch of sadness. “Perhaps ‘twill not come to that.”

“But you cannot tell me what I must do to save him?”

“No, I cannot tell ye that, my lady. Only what I ken for certain. A love that is true can battle the most evil spell.”

It seemed a contradiction, Brynn thought with growing frustration. If she loved Lucian, he would die-yet she must love him deeply enough or he would die.

“Take ‘art, my lady,” Esmerelda said, reaching across the table to grip Brynn’s hand. “All is not lost.”

“Thank you, Mother,” she murmured, offering a distracted smile.

Rising slowly, Brynn left the tent, feeling somewhat numb. She had been given an answer of sorts: she must be willing to sacrifice her own life to save Lucian’s. And yet…

Could she actually credit Esmerelda’s enigmatic counsel? And if so, how could she initiate such a sacrifice, even if it was the key to breaking the curse?

Surprisingly, Lucian was at home when Brynn arrived. She found him descending the grand staircase as she entered with her maid.

As Meg scurried past him toward the rear of the house, Lucian bent to kiss Brynn’s cheek. “There you are. I wondered where you had gone. I trust you had a pleasant morning?”

Brynn hesitated. She didn’t want Lucian to know she had visited the Gypsy fortune-teller; she couldn’t have him asking disturbing questions about her reasons. If he probed too deeply, she would have to acknowledge her growing feelings for him, which alone might be disastrous.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I went with Raven to the lending library.”

She saw his eyes narrow a fraction. “Odd. I encountered Raven just now on my way home from Whitehall. She was bemoaning the fact that her aunt had required her attendance all morning.”

Brynn found it hard to contain her flush. “How scatterbrained of me. I meant, my friend Meredith. I visited the library with Meredith.”

Lucian glanced down at her empty hands. “You must not have found any books to your liking.”

“No, nothing,” Brynn replied, trying to appear undismayed as he searched her face. She gave him her most brilliant smile. “If you will excuse me, I must change for luncheon.”

Lucian watched her go, remembering the guilt he’d seen flash in her green eyes. Brynn had lied to him just now, he had no doubt.

His fists clenched involuntarily as he followed her retreating back. She had never shared her secrets with him in the beginning of their marriage, but lately, with the evolving of their relationship, he’d come to expect a measure of honesty between them. Perhaps he was a fool.

Lucian felt his features harden. He’d once suspected Brynn of complicity in her brother’s unlawful activities, but he’d determinedly quelled his suspicions, resolving to make a new start between them. Had he been too hasty? Why would Brynn lie to him? More critically, was this the first time? Or was it merely the first time he had caught her?

If Lucian was troubled to discover her lie, he was more disturbed the following morning when he encountered Meg hurriedly leaving his wife’s room with a chamber pot.

“Is something amiss?” he asked of the maid.

“No, milord. Nothing to fret about. Her ladyship is feeling poorly because of the babe, ”tis all.“

Lucian felt shock run through him. “Babe?”

Seeing him stare, Meg clapped a hand over her mouth in dismay. “Oh my, I wasn’t to tell. Her ladyship didn’t want you to know.”

He willed himself to smile. “Well then, it will be our secret that you told.”

After the maid was gone, Lucian stood in the corridor a long moment, feeling stunned. Was he truly to be a father? Was he one step closer to achieving the goal he had desperately longed for?

His emotions ran the gamut from pride to possessiveness, to wonder, to anger that Brynn would purposefully keep such a revelation from him. Why hadn’t she told him? Why had she permitted him to learn secondhand that she was pregnant with his child, especially when she knew how much it would mean to him?

And yet… perhaps there was a reasonable explanation. Perhaps Brynn simply wanted to tell him herself.

Forcing his suspicions aside, he rapped softly on her bedchamber door. When there was no response, Lucian entered quietly. Brynn was sitting before the fire, staring into the flames, a faraway look on her beautiful face.

Tenderness filled him as he watched her. A child bound them together in a way their marriage vows never could. Perhaps now Brynn would come to accept their union…

Lucian drew a slow breath. Only now was he realizing how desperately he wanted her acceptance. She had become increasingly precious to him, more precious even than the child she was carrying.

“Brynn?” he murmured.

She gave a start and looked up.

“Meg said you were feeling ill.”

Flushing, Brynn shook her head. “It’s nothing really.”

Feeling a sudden chill sweep over him, Lucian gave her a measuring look. She intended to keep silent on a matter of such import? Even when he gave her an obvious opening? “You’re certain you are all right?”

She tried to smile. “I’m fine now. Perhaps something I ate at dinner last night disagreed with me.”

Disappointment, sharp and bitter, stung Lucian, before another, more dreaded explanation occurred to him. Was it possible she planned to escape before he could learn about her pregnancy, so that he wouldn’t claim her baby? He’d warned Brynn he meant to keep his son with him, even if she wanted to live apart. Was that why she was determined to remain silent? She was planning to leave him?

Grimly Lucian forced his thoughts away from such a possibility. He couldn’t believe Brynn would serve him such a devastating blow, not when she knew how much siring a child meant to him.

Yet he found his trust greatly strained. Perhaps he was merely searching for excuses to exonerate her. What did he really know about his bewitching wife after all?

“Very well, then.” Willfully Lucian schooled his expression into passivity, but inside his thoughts were roiling.

Brynn was deceiving him, there was no question. And if she could conceal something as momentous as her pregnancy, what other secrets-perhaps even sinister ones-was she keeping from him?