Read Online Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) by Lynette Vinet - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lynette Vinet
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"Damn his lordship! Take the teasing wench back with you." Quint grabbed her arm and steered her out of the cottage. Timothy followed.
Quint mounted Devil Man and looked down upon Dera. "My mother was wrong," he told her. "You are not the one." He kicked violently at the horse's flanks and galloped away.
"Consider yourself fortunate to be rid of him," Timothy mused. "What was that fool talk about his mother?"
"Nothing," she replied with dry eyes, admitting to herself that Quint was right: Mrs. Flannery had been wrong.
CHAPTER TEN
In the weeks preceding Dera's wedding, minor burnings occurred in the area. Dera was cognizant of Quint's involvement and detested his crimes, but she didn't want him to be captured. She prayed that the hatred in his soul would die. This time, his hatred wasn't only for the English, but also for her. Revenge was a tangible thing to Quint. She wondered how he would seek his revenge upon her.
Early one morning, the dressmaker and a slew of seamstresses arrived from Dublin.
Yards of silk, velvet and satin covered Timothy's house from one end to the other. Dera insisted Lydia also be measured for appropriate attire. "Thank you," she gushed to Dera, her blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.
Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach whenever she remembered her approaching marriage, Dera found herself caught up in the extravagant preparations for her trousseau.
The jeweler also arrived, bearing trays and boxes of precious gems. When she decided upon a piece and was told the price, she hesitated. The jeweler, his hands waving in impatience. spoke to her with a trace of condescension in his voice. "Lord Fairfax has requested that you choose what pleases you. Cost is not to be quibbled over." And after a while, she chose what caught her fancy. From the jeweler's broad smile, she surmised she had chosen well. The sapphire necklace certainly cost a small fortune, as did the emerald ear bobs and brooch. Each purchase was boxed and dutifully carried by one of his lordship's servants to the manor house.
'''Tis a pity you can't keep the jewels here," Lydia remarked. "But I suppose they'll be safer at the manor."
"Yes, I suppose," Dera agreed absently, as she noticed Mrs. Randall, the dressmaker, unrolling a bolt of silver satin.
"Let's measure you for your wedding gown," the dressmaker said. She held the material up to Dera. "The color will do nicely on you. I'll add something lavender to bring out the color of your eyes." She smiled. "Lord Fairfax is indeed a lucky man."
Dera stood erect while the woman measured, clipped, and turned her about to get a proper fit. She felt there should be no elaborate preparations, that she should be marrying Quint in her good dress and standing before a priest. Quint's face, handsome and cruel, filled her mind. The memory of his hands upon her brought fire to her blood, causing her to blush. "Can we continue another time, Mrs. Randall? I need some air," she said.
"I've finished. Tomorrow, I'll start on the gown so it will be completed in plenty of time. His lordship is allowing us a room in the manor to complete your trousseau. He seems a kind and thoughtful man."
Dera said nothing in reply. Lord Fairfax was kind when he wanted something. He wanted her and this made her shiver. She left the house and wandered aimlessly in the meadow.
The countryside was still lovely so late in the year, but it brought her no pleasure. Her mind was crowded with memories of Quint.
"Ah, 'tis the future Lady Fairfax." She turned and saw that Jem McConnell had stealthily come up behind her. She stared into his long face; his chin was thick with stubble, his bright eyes leered at her. Yet he moved uneasily from one foot to the other, as if he were unsure of himself.
"Hello, Jem. I hope you are well."
"I am."
"Then good day," she said quickly, walking on, anxious to take leave of him. Jem unnerved and frightened her. To her dismay, he fell into step beside her.
“‘ T’was a
"Damn his lordship! Take the teasing wench back with you." Quint grabbed her arm and steered her out of the cottage. Timothy followed.
Quint mounted Devil Man and looked down upon Dera. "My mother was wrong," he told her. "You are not the one." He kicked violently at the horse's flanks and galloped away.
"Consider yourself fortunate to be rid of him," Timothy mused. "What was that fool talk about his mother?"
"Nothing," she replied with dry eyes, admitting to herself that Quint was right: Mrs. Flannery had been wrong.
CHAPTER TEN
In the weeks preceding Dera's wedding, minor burnings occurred in the area. Dera was cognizant of Quint's involvement and detested his crimes, but she didn't want him to be captured. She prayed that the hatred in his soul would die. This time, his hatred wasn't only for the English, but also for her. Revenge was a tangible thing to Quint. She wondered how he would seek his revenge upon her.
Early one morning, the dressmaker and a slew of seamstresses arrived from Dublin.
Yards of silk, velvet and satin covered Timothy's house from one end to the other. Dera insisted Lydia also be measured for appropriate attire. "Thank you," she gushed to Dera, her blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.
Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach whenever she remembered her approaching marriage, Dera found herself caught up in the extravagant preparations for her trousseau.
The jeweler also arrived, bearing trays and boxes of precious gems. When she decided upon a piece and was told the price, she hesitated. The jeweler, his hands waving in impatience. spoke to her with a trace of condescension in his voice. "Lord Fairfax has requested that you choose what pleases you. Cost is not to be quibbled over." And after a while, she chose what caught her fancy. From the jeweler's broad smile, she surmised she had chosen well. The sapphire necklace certainly cost a small fortune, as did the emerald ear bobs and brooch. Each purchase was boxed and dutifully carried by one of his lordship's servants to the manor house.
'''Tis a pity you can't keep the jewels here," Lydia remarked. "But I suppose they'll be safer at the manor."
"Yes, I suppose," Dera agreed absently, as she noticed Mrs. Randall, the dressmaker, unrolling a bolt of silver satin.
"Let's measure you for your wedding gown," the dressmaker said. She held the material up to Dera. "The color will do nicely on you. I'll add something lavender to bring out the color of your eyes." She smiled. "Lord Fairfax is indeed a lucky man."
Dera stood erect while the woman measured, clipped, and turned her about to get a proper fit. She felt there should be no elaborate preparations, that she should be marrying Quint in her good dress and standing before a priest. Quint's face, handsome and cruel, filled her mind. The memory of his hands upon her brought fire to her blood, causing her to blush. "Can we continue another time, Mrs. Randall? I need some air," she said.
"I've finished. Tomorrow, I'll start on the gown so it will be completed in plenty of time. His lordship is allowing us a room in the manor to complete your trousseau. He seems a kind and thoughtful man."
Dera said nothing in reply. Lord Fairfax was kind when he wanted something. He wanted her and this made her shiver. She left the house and wandered aimlessly in the meadow.
The countryside was still lovely so late in the year, but it brought her no pleasure. Her mind was crowded with memories of Quint.
"Ah, 'tis the future Lady Fairfax." She turned and saw that Jem McConnell had stealthily come up behind her. She stared into his long face; his chin was thick with stubble, his bright eyes leered at her. Yet he moved uneasily from one foot to the other, as if he were unsure of himself.
"Hello, Jem. I hope you are well."
"I am."
"Then good day," she said quickly, walking on, anxious to take leave of him. Jem unnerved and frightened her. To her dismay, he fell into step beside her.
“‘ T’was a
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