Across Captive Seas Page 3
At night they lay each on their own side of the bed and she listened to Scott’s tortured breathing, knowing he was awake, dying for him to make a move toward her. But he never did and heaven help her if she crossed the invisible line of demarcation in the center of the bed. Angela had questioned him, cajoled, threw temper tantrums and resorted to tears, all to no avail. Her questions remained unanswered, her body unfulfilled.
Scott’s mouth tortured hers, hard and cruel reminiscent of his rough treatment of the past. But she slid her arms around him molding her body to his, so close a shadow couldn’t fit between them. It didn’t matter if he hurt her as long as he wanted her again, and Angela thrust her tongue into his mouth taking him by surprise.
There was passion now and tangible desire as Scott pressed his hips against her, moving as if he was going to take her then and there, right through her clothes and standing against a tree trunk. Angela’s starved body began to respond and she arched hungrily against him begging him without words to take her any way he wanted her. But he froze and a moment later collapsed against her, tremors coursing through his whole body.
When he jerked away from Angela his face was a mask of pain and humiliation. She caught at Scott’s sleeve but he shook her off.
“What’s wrong?” she cried looking into his dark, mortified eyes.
Scott snarled at her through twisted lips, “I want you so much that I can’t even control myself—I’m a debased animal!”
“But—but what happened?”
Bitter, sarcastic laughter tore from his throat and Angela stared with dawning comprehension at the spreading damp stain on his breeches.
“Darling, it was only an accident. We haven’t made love in so long that—”
Scott strode to his horse and mounted it, then said mockingly, “The only way we will ever make love again is the way we just did—fully clothed!”
He sawed on the reins making his mount rear, then dug his heels sharply into the animal’s flanks racing away from an astonished Angela, fleeing from his own disgrace.
Angela sank to her knees, heedless of the mud ruining her new riding habit. She hurt all over but not from Scott’s handling; she ached at the suffering and anguish revealed in his eyes. Those bitter words made no sense to her. Why shouldn’t he love her and want her? Why was he denying them what they both obviously wanted and needed?
Tears squeezed from beneath her tightly closed eyelids. The questions had been unanswered since Robert’s birth, and the more she pressed Scott the more closemouthed he became. Somehow she had to find out what was going on before their lives were ruined.
Angela rode long and hard, almost wishing she would fall off the horse and injure herself. At least when she was sick Scott paid attention to her. But she was too good a horsewoman and rode as if she were part of her horse. She got lost, but didn’t care; she was trying to run away from her problems just like Scott did.
Why? Why? She kept asking herself. With Scott there were a thousand, no a million whys, that always seemed to elude an answer. Angela could see how the incident had been the ultimate humiliation for him, a man who was as haughty and virile as he was. But it had been seven months since they had done anything in bed but fight and sleep. And Scott was a man with a lusty appetite—that she knew well. So why didn’t he just make love to her?
She was right back where she had started again. It was impossible for Angela to read his mind and he absolutely refused to answer any questions. She tried to put herself in his place but could still think of nothing. He had said he wanted her so much that he couldn’t control himself; yet it must have taken an enormous amount of self-control to keep away from her for so long. And the last parting words he had shouted at her about only making love fully clothed—that was ridiculous and made no sense at all.
Unless—another woman! That was the only possible reason. He couldn’t have kept celibate for seven long months, not Scott! The liar! He had set up a mistress somewhere now that she was safely tied to him and he virtually owned her. Yes, her and the other half of his father’s estates. Her hands clenched on the reins and the horse nervously tossed his head.,
Hadn’t he always coveted everything of his father’s, even his wife? Some event in his childhood had twisted his mind making him desire revenge and even after his father’s death Scott was still trying to prove something. Angel’s nostrils flared as her breath came hot and fast. Dew dropped onto her from the disturbed needles of the pine trees she was making her way through, but she didn’t notice. Her fingers curved into claws; she would find Scott’s mistress and scratch her eyes out. She would mark her up so badly that no man would ever look at her again. The slut!
She broke through the trees and found herself at the place they had picnicked last autumn. It was the spot where he had seduced her into marrying him by flying that damned flag. The Bratach Sith, the Fairy Flag, that tattered silken banner with a gruesome history. When flown it would ensure victory; when touched one would yearn for death and find no release from the curse. The gesture had seemed so noble then but now Angela saw it for the ploy it had been. He had probably planned it all—making up that stupid legend—and she had been taken in. What a naive fool she had been!
Slowly Angela rode back to Seafield letting her rage simmer. As she caught occasional glimpses of the castle through the trees she started crying again. Everything was ruined. The magic was shattered. She had grown up in the past few hours and faced the truth. She couldn’t believe in fairy tales or enchanted places any more—they were for children.
As she strode into the castle Molly exclaimed at her bedraggled appearance and she screamed at her to shut up. Immediately regretful at the pain in the servant’s eyes Angela started to call her back but Molly had already left. She took off the ruined clothes and kicked them into a pile on the floor; she would never wear that riding habit again.
Angela attended to the small domestic duties that had to be done but neither her mind nor her heart was in it. She fed Robert and put him to bed, looking down at the small replica of Scott. He was so like his father in every way. She stood over the cradle for a long time, a horrified realization taking shape in her mind, growing clearer and clearer as the minutes ticked past.
She was in love with Scott! Why else could the thought of him with another woman hurt so badly that she thought she would surely die? And the rage that bubbled within her—if she felt only indifference for him there would be no reason for it. Angela sank down reside the cradle touching the pink and white fingers of her son, clenching her teeth so hard to keep from crying that she got a pounding headache.
Going to her room Angela bathed and got ready for bed. It wasn’t even dinner time yet but she informed Eilean that she wanted to be undisturbed. Getting into bed she knew she wouldn’t sleep. She just lay there listening to the crackling of the fire, the wind rattling against the window panes and the sound of her own breathing. Reaching out her hand she touched Scott’s pillow, wondering if he was with her.
How ironic; now that she was hopelessly, head over heels in love with her own husband, he didn’t want her. All his gentle wooing and persuasive talk had been a sham. Scott didn’t love her and never had!
Angela agonized over what to do, several possibilities forming in her mind. She could stay and fight for him, a selfish egotist who had rejected her. She could leave him and take the children, going to another country so that he could never find her.
Angela sat bolt upright. How stupid! She would get the marriage annulled. Now that she thought of it their marriage had never been consummated. Scott had taken her against her will before their marriage but not afterward. Her health had been too delicate and then after Robert’s birth she had been sick and weak for months and months. Angela punched her pillow viciously; she would get even with him and hurt him where he would feel it most—his pride and manhood. She would take the children and her half of the estates back, then prove that he had been no husband to her.
At last Angela fell aslee
p but even that was troubled. She tossed and turned in the big empty bed, her mind twisting and turning down strange treacherous paths.
Angela awoke with a start. It was morning, very early and her eyes were heavy with fatigue and she felt as if she had been beaten. There was a large, shadowy shape in the doorway that stumbled into the room lurching against the furniture. Scott fell heavily on the bed and she uttered an exclamation of protest.
Scott was dead drunk, unconscious as soon as he hit the bed. He was all mud-spattered and still had his boots on. The pale gray light was unkind showing the harsh lines on his face that hadn’t been there yesterday. Angela’s lips curled in distaste and she got out of the bed drawing on a robe.
He was welcome to the bed and the room. It was his and she would never share it with him. She went into Lorna’s room and curled up beside her, stroking the silky hair out of her daughter’s eyes. Poor innocent, to have a father capable of such unspeakable, devious deeds. Well Scott wouldn’t be her father for long. She would start making arrangements today to leave this place and go back home. She should have married Keith in the first place and spared herself all this suffering.
While Scott slept, Angela had all of her clothes moved to another room near the children. It was small but tastefully furnished in the Jacobean style and done in colors of palest apricot and blue. Molly arranged all of Angela’s clothes in the large armoire, her feelings soothed by Angela’s apology.
Something was definitely in the air and Molly didn’t want to be around when Lord Harrington found out about the move. Angela had seemed so happy just yesterday morning but after her ride she had been in such a state, physically and emotionally. There must have been a colossal argument between them because lord Harrington had stayed out all night and came home drunk.
Molly shook her head in disapproval. All kinds of strange things had happened in the past few years, most of them in connection with Angela’s present husband. She should have married Lord Montgomery—now there was a steady, cool-headed man and handsome to boot.
After Angela settled into her new room she had her horse saddled and rode into the village. She made many inquiries and decided that the best route of escape was by sea. The Highland roads were atrocious or else non-existent, resting places and inns few and far between. It would take weeks of hard traveling to get back to England, with the threat of Scott finding them along the way and dragging her back to Seafield.
So she decided on going by ship, but in such an out of the way place there were only tiny fishing vessels. It might be some time before a sizable ship put in so she would have to bide her time. The very thought of living under the same roof with Scott now was distasteful but she would keep out of his way.
Scott didn’t appear for dinner and Angela smiled grimly wishing him the worst hangover in history. She couldn’t eat and just rearranged the food on her plate as she dined alone. Her only enjoyment that day was the time spent with the children and even that was dimmed by the nagging jealousy eating at her thoughts.
"I'm going to stop loving him!” Angela told herself when she was alone in her room, as if expressing her thoughts out loud would make them come true. “I’m going to uproot him and tear him out of my heart!”
Chapter Two
The door crashing against the stone wall snapped Angela awake. She had slept late, exhausted by her foray into town and the conflicting emotions that tossed her this way and that like a ship on a stormy sea. Then Robert had awakened several times during the night, as if sensing his mother’s unease, and she had soothed the baby back to sleep.
Scott lounged against the door, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes lazily slithering over her body. Damn, she was beautiful, the most gorgeous creature in the world—his untouchable little wife. She was just waking up and that was always the time Scott found her the most irresistible, all warm and pink from sleep. Her heavy-lidded eyes stared at him in shock.
Those eyes, so clear and sparkling, the color of shallow, limpid Caribbean lagoons, he had never seen their color duplicated in any other woman. They blazed pale, almost transparent in her angry face and Scott thought of the aquamarines he had given her a year ago. Never would he forget his homecoming and their day of sunshine and flowers—the day Robert was conceived. Whenever he saw daffodils he thought of that day.
“Well?” Angela said impatiently, very much aware of his scrutiny and her own disarray.
“I was informed by Angus that you had moved out of our room. Was that little incident the other day so distasteful to you?”
“I was under the impression that you would rather not share a bed with me,” Angela said, her anger building at the sardonic look on his face and the way his eyes moved over her coolly, unhurried as if he was inspecting one of his horses. She was just a possession to him, a pretty china figurine to be kept on the mantel and occasionally taken down and admired—then put back in her place again. “And I definitely do not want to share one with you. You’re disgusting!”
“You are quite right, my lady,” Scott mocked. “I have no desire, whatever, to share a bed with you. And as for the other day—you need have no fear that will ever happen again. Just stay out of my sight!”
Scott left then, quickly in fear of what he might do. Angela had tossed her head back as if he had struck her, her hair tumbling provocatively around her shoulders. And he saw her breasts heaving beneath the thin stuff of her nightgown, round and full with milk, the nipples taut and clearly outlined in the morning sun. Scott could still see her image and he rubbed his knuckles into his eyes as if to erase it from his mind.
He wanted to fasten his fingers in her thick, midnight hair, bending her back until she was lying beneath him on the bed, his mouth lost in hers. To feel her arms around him, her fingers teasing the flame of his passion, until overcome with ecstasy they would melt together, taking each other to that place of soft forgetfulness.
“Stop it!” His words were a whisper that seemed loud in his ears. And then he heard the other sound, muffled, coming from behind the closed door. Bitter agonized sobs—Angela was crying as if her heart was broken and the sound of her suffering shuddered through him. “Why?” Scott asked himself. “She made it perfectly clear she despises me.” But she had been so sweetly forgiving the other day. Something must have happened between then and now to change her mind.
They rarely saw each other anymore, a silent pact to keep out of each other’s way was in force and when they did meet it was cool and withdrawn. Scott was absent for long periods of time, sailing the ketch or riding; returning late at night when everyone was in bed.
Sometimes he took Lorna sailing with him and those were the best times. Children could make up for so much. He could see why many couples stayed together for the sake of their children. They were so precious and loving with absolutely no preconceived notions, and an insatiable urge to learn everything. Scott never tired of answering Lorna’s questions and when he was with her the world was a new, exciting experience seen through her eyes.
Angela never tried to stop him from seeing them; in fact that was usually the only time they met. Scott would sweep into the sitting room and find Lorna, Robert, and Angela romping together. But upon his appearance Angela usually went to sit in a quiet corner and he could feel her eyes on him as he played with them.
How long could this state of affairs continue? Scott wanted the estrangment to be over and for things to be the way they were in the months after Robert’s birth. They had been a closeknit family unit then, doing things together and enjoying one another’s company. It had been good and even though he hadn’t possessed Angela physically, they had been happy.
It was up to him. Angela wasn’t going to patch up their differences, she seemed to be drifting further away every day. And her eyes were big and sad, like the heroine in a tragic novel with her secret woes. The only time she smiled was at the children.
Scott decided he had to do something to bring about a reconciliation. Things could not continue to d
eteriorate at this rapid rate. Why they might as well be separated, so little did they see each other. He could do it, he knew he could, but he must choose the time and the place with care.
As Scott came home very late one night he heard Robert crying. He paused but the screaming continued and he wondered angrily where everyone was. The thought of his son all alone in distress was upsetting and he was ready to bite someone’s head off. Opening the door to the nursery he found Angela walking back and forth with the squalling baby in her arms. She stopped, her eyes alert, as Scott entered the room.
Angela looked exhausted, her face white with smudged shadows under her eyes. Her burgundy velvet robe only accentuated her paleness and she winced as Robert grabbed a fistful of her loose, raven hair and tugged angrily. She tried to loosen his grip with one hand but it was impossible and Scott went to her aid, prying open the tiny fingers and brushing the silken curls away from the baby.
“Why don’t you feed him?”
“He won’t eat. I just tried and he’s not hungry.” Angela touched her hand to Robert’s forehead and cheek. “I think he has a little bit of fever. Children often do when they are teething.”
“Let me hold him.” Scott took the baby who immediately quieted in his arms. Anxiously he felt Robert’s face and said, “Should we call the doctor?” With a weary smile Angela shook her head. “There is nothing the doctor can do that I’m not doing. His teeth are coming in and it hurts and makes him irritable. I went through exactly the same thing with Lorna. It’s worse at night—I’ve been up with him all week.”
“Then where the hell is Molly? You look like you’re ready to drop.” He couldn’t keep the concern from his voice.
As if his words suddenly recalled to her mind how tired she was, Angela sank down onto the sofa curling her feet beneath her. “Molly,” she told him tartly, “just went to bed. She is tired too and has other duties to perform during the day. Besides, Robert wanted me.