“What is it?” she asked thickly.
McKenna silenced her with a touch of his forefinger on her lips, staring at the doorway of the carriage room with narrowed eyes. “I thought I heard something.”
Aline frowned in sudden worry, watching as he strode swiftly across the flagstones to the arched opening. He gazed from one side of the empty courtyard to the other. Detecting no sign of anyone, he shrugged and returned to Aline.
She slipped her arms around his lean waist. “Kiss me again.”
“Oh no,” he said with a crooked grin. “You’re going back to the house—I can’t work with you here.”
“I’ll be quiet,” she said, her lower lip pushing out mutinously. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
“Yes, I will.” He glanced down at his own aroused body and then gave her a wry look. “And it’s hard for a man to get his work done when he’s in this condition.”
“I’ll make it all better,” she purred, her hand stealing down to the fascinating bulge of his erection. “Just tell me what to do.”
With a laughing groan, McKenna stole a swift, warm kiss from her lips and pried her away from him. “I’ve already told you what to do—go back to the house.”
“Will you climb up to my room tonight?”
“Maybe.”
She gave him a mock-threatening glare, and McKenna grinned, shaking his head as he returned to the carriage.
Although they were both mindful of the need for caution, they took every opportunity to sneak away together. They met in the woods, or at their place by the river, or at night on her balcony. McKenna steadfastly refused to cross the threshold of Aline’s room, saying that he could not be responsible for his actions, were he to find himself near a bed with her. His self-restraint was far greater than hers, though Aline was well aware of the effort it cost him, and how badly he wanted her. He pleasured her twice again, kissing and holding and caressing her until she was limp with fulfillment. And then late one afternoon, as they lay together by the river, McKenna finally allowed Aline to bring him to release. It would forever be the most erotic experience of her life, with McKenna panting and groaning her name, his flesh stiff and silky hard as it slipped through the ardent grasp of her fingers, his powerful body helpless at her touch. Aline enjoyed his climax more than her own, loving the fact that she could give him the same ecstasy that he had shown to her.
If these were their halcyon days, however, their time was far too short-lived. Aline knew that her love affair with McKenna, such as it was, could never last. All the same, she did not expect it to end so quickly, nor in such a brutal manner.
Her father summoned Aline to his study after supper one evening—something he had never done before. There had never been any reason for the earl to speak either to her or to her sister Livia, privately. Marcus, his son, was the only offspring that the earl gave any attention to…and neither of the girls envied their older brother for that. The earl was especially critical of his heir, demanding perfection at all times, preferring to motivate with fear rather than with praise. And yet for all the harsh treatment Marcus had received, he was essentially a kind and good-natured boy. Aline hoped very much that he wouldn’t turn out to be like their father someday, but there were many years of the earl’s ruthless molding in store for him.
By the time Aline reached the study, she felt as if her stomach had turned into a block of ice. The coldness spread outward through her limbs until it had reached the tips of her fingers and toes. There was no question in her mind about why she had received this unusual command from her father. The earl must have found out somehow about her involvement with McKenna. If it were anything else, he would have had her mother or Mrs. Faircloth speak to her. But the fact that he was bothering to communicate with her directly conveyed that the matter was one of importance. And her instincts warned that the coming confrontation was going to be ugly indeed. Frantically she tried to think of how to react, how best to protect McKenna. She would do anything, promise anything, to keep him safe from the earl’s wrath.
Chilled and sweating, she reached the study, with its dark-paneled interior and the massive mahogany desk where much of the estate business was conducted. The door was open, and a lamp was burning inside. She entered the room and found her father standing by the desk.
The earl was not a handsome man—his features were too broad and harsh, as if fashioned by a sculptor who had been in too much of a hurry to refine the deep strikes of his chisel. Had the earl possessed a measure of warmth or wit, or any increment of kindness, his features might have lent themselves to a certain hard attractiveness. Unfortunately he was an utterly humorless man, who, with all his God-given advantages, had found life to be a bitter disappointment. He took no pleasure in anything, especially in his family, who seemed to be little more than a collective burden to him. The only approval he had ever shown to Aline was a reluctant pride in the physical beauty that friends and strangers had complimented so often. As for her thoughts, her character, her hopes and fears—he knew and cared nothing about such intangibles. He had made it clear that Aline’s only purpose in life was to marry well.
As she faced her father, Aline wondered how it was possible to have so little feeling for the man who had sired her. One of the many bonds between her and McKenna was the fact that neither of them had ever known what it was like to be loved by a mother or father. It was only because of Mrs. Faircloth that either of them had any concept of parental affection.
Reading the active hatred in her father’s gaze, Aline reflected that this was how he had always looked at Livia. Poor Livia, who through no fault of her own had been sired by one of the countess’s lovers.
“You sent for me, Father?” she murmured tonelessly.
The lamplight sent jagged shadows across the Earl of Westcliff’s face as he regarded her coldly. “At this moment,” he remarked, “I have never been more certain that daughters are a curse from hell.”
Aline made her face blank, though she was forced to take a quick breath as her lungs contracted.
“You’ve been seen with the stable boy,” the earl continued. “Kissing, with your hands on each other…” He paused, his mouth contorting briefly before he managed to school his features. “It seems your mother’s blood has finally risen to the fore. She has a similar taste for the lower order…although even she has the discernment to indulge in footmen, whereas you seem to have confined your interest to nothing better than stable offal.”
The words filled Aline with a hatred that was almost lethal in its intensity. She wanted to strike at her father’s sneering face, vanquish him, hurt him to the bottom of his soul…if he had one. Focusing on a small square of paneling, Aline schooled herself into perfect stillness, flinching only a little as her father reached out and seized her jaw in one hand. The clench of his fingers bit cruelly into the small muscles of her face.
“Has he taken your virtue?” he barked.
Aline looked directly into the obsidian surface of his eyes. “No.”
She saw that he didn’t believe her. The bruising grip on her face tightened. “And if I summon a physician to examine you, he will confirm that?”
Aline did not blink, only stared back at him, silently daring him. “Yes.” The word came out like a hiss. “But had it been left to me, my virginity would be long gone. I offered it freely to McKenna—I only wish that he had accepted it.”
The earl let go of her with an infuriated sound and struck out swiftly, his palm cracking against her cheek. The force of the slap numbed her face and snapped her head to the side. Stunned, Aline held her palm to her swelling cheek and stared at him with round eyes.
The sight of her astonishment and pain seemed to calm the earl somewhat. Letting out a deep breath, he went to his chair and sat with haughty grace. His glittering black gaze found her. “The boy will be gone from the estate by the morrow. And you will ensure that he never dares to approach you again. Because I will find out if he does—and I will use every means
at my disposal to ruin him. You know that I have the power, and the will, to do it. No matter where he goes, I will have him hunted and found. And I will take the greatest pleasure in making certain that his life is brought to a miserable and torturous end. He deserves no less for defiling the daughter of a Marsden.”
Aline had never truly understood before that to her father she was a piece of property, that her feelings meant nothing to him. She knew he meant every word—he would crush McKenna like a hapless rodent beneath his foot. That must not happen. McKenna must be shielded from her father’s vindictiveness, and provided for. She couldn’t allow him to be punished simply because he had dared to love her.
While fear gnawed at her heart, she spoke in a brittle voice that didn’t seem to be her own. “McKenna won’t come back if he believes that I want him gone.”
“Then for his sake, make him believe it.”
Aline did not hesitate in her reply. “I want a situation found for him. A decent one—an apprenticeship—something that will allow him to better himself.”
Her father actually blinked at the bold demand. “What gives you the temerity to believe that I would do that for him?”
“I am still a virgin,” she said softly. “For now.”
Their gazes held for a frozen moment.
“I see,” the earl murmured. “You will threaten to rut with the first man you can find, be he a pauper or a pig farmer, if I don’t grant your request.”
“Precisely.” It required no acting skill for Aline to convince him. She was sincere. After McKenna had left for good, nothing would hold any value for her. Not even her own body.
Aline’s audacity seemed to interest the earl, fully as much as it annoyed him. “It seems you may have some of my blood in you yet,” he murmured. “Though that is, as always, very much in question, considering your mother. Very well, I will find a situation for the insolent bastard. And you’ll do your part to ensure that Stony Cross is rid of him.”
“I have your word on that?” she persisted quietly, her fists clenched at her sides.
“Yes.”
“Then you have mine in return.”
A contemptuous sneer distorted his features. “I don’t require your word, daughter. Not because I trust you—I assure you, I do not. But because I have learned that the honor of a woman is of less value than the sweepings from the floor.”
Since no reply was required, Aline stood there stiffly until he snapped at her to leave. Numb and disoriented, she walked to her room, where she would wait for McKenna to come for her. Thoughts clamored frantically in her mind. One thing was certain—no power on earth would ever keep McKenna away from her, as long as he believed that she still loved him.
Three
It had been a long, hard day’s work for McKenna, helping the gardener’s assistants to construct a stone wall around the fruit orchard. Hours of lifting heavy rock had caused his muscles to tremble with strain. With a rueful grin, he reflected that he wouldn’t be of much use to Aline for a day or two—he was almost too sore to move. But perhaps she would let him lay his head in her lap, and allow him to nap for a few minutes, with her perfume and softness surrounding him. Sleeping while her gentle fingers stroked his hair…the thought filled him with weary anticipation.
However, before he could go to Aline, he would have to see Mrs. Faircloth, who had bid him to come to her at once. After bathing in the old iron tub that all the menservants made use of, McKenna went to the kitchen with his hair still wet. His skin was scented with the acrid soap that was used to clean floors and wash the laundry, as well as given to the servants for their personal needs.
“The hall boy said you wanted me,” McKenna said without preamble. As he glanced at the housekeeper, he was puzzled by the consternated look on her face.
“Lord Westcliff has asked to see you,” Mrs. Faircloth said.
Suddenly the large kitchen lost its comforting warmth, and the rich sweetness of a pot of jam simmering on the stove ceased to call to his ever-ravenous appetite. “Why?” McKenna asked cautiously.
Mrs. Faircloth shook her head. The heat of the kitchen had caused wisps of her salt-and-pepper hair to stick to the sides of her cheeks. “I’m sure I don’t know, and neither does Salter. Have you gotten into some kind of mischief, McKenna?”
“Mischief, no.”
“Well, to my knowledge you have done your work, and you’ve behaved yourself as well as a boy your age is able.” She frowned contemplatively. “Perhaps the master wishes to commend you, or send you about some special task.”
However, they both knew that was unlikely. The earl would never summon a lower servant for such a reason. It was the butler’s province to offer praise or discipline, or hand down new responsibilities. “Go put on your livery,” Mrs. Faircoth bade him. “You can’t appear before the master in your ordinary garb. And be quick about it—he won’t want to be kept waiting.”
“Hell,” McKenna muttered, cringing at the idea of dressing in the hated livery.
Pretending to scowl, the housekeeper raised a wooden spoon threateningly. “Another blasphemous word in my presence, and I’ll rap your knuckles.”
“Yes, ma’am.” McKenna lowered his head and attempted a meek expression, which made her laugh.
She patted his cheek with her warm, plump hand. Her eyes were soft pools of brown as she smiled. “Be off with you, and after you’ve seen the earl, I’ll have some fresh bread and jam waiting for you.”
As McKenna left to comply, his smile vanished, and he let out a long, taut sigh. Nothing good would come of the earl’s request. The only possible reason for the summons was his relationship with Aline. A slightly nauseous feeling came over him. McKenna feared nothing except the possibility of being sent away from her. The thought of days, weeks, months passing without being able to see her was unfathomable…like being told that he must try to live under water. He was overwhelmed with the need to find her, now, but there was no time. One did not tarry when the earl had sent for him.
Dressing quickly in the livery of gold-braided velvet, pinching black shoes, and white stockings, McKenna went to the study where Lord Westcliff waited. The house seemed peculiarly quiet, filled with the hush that occurred before an execution took place. Using two knuckles as Salter had taught him, McKenna gave the door a cautious rap.
“Enter,” came the master’s voice.
McKenna’s heart pounded so hard that he felt light-headed. Making his face expressionless, he entered the room and waited just inside the door. The room was stark and simple, paneled in gleaming cherrywood and lined on one side with long, rectangular, stained-glass windows. It was furnished sparsely, with bookshelves, hard-seated chairs, and a large desk where Lord Westcliff sat.
Obeying the earl’s brief gesture, McKenna ventured into the room and stopped before the desk. “My lord,” he said humbly, waiting for the ax to fall.
The earl regarded him with a narrow-eyed stare. “I’ve been considering what is to be done with you.”
“Sir?” McKenna questioned, his stomach dropping with sickening abruptness. He glanced into Westcliff’s hard eyes and then looked away instinctively. No servant ever dared to hold the master’s gaze. It was an untenable sign of insolence.
“Your service is no longer required at Stony Cross Park.” The earl’s voice was a quiet lash of sound. “You will be dismissed forthwith. I have undertaken to secure another situation for you.”
McKenna nodded dumbly.
“I am acquainted with a shipbuilder in Bristol,” Westcliff continued, “a Mr. Ilbery, who has condescended to hire you as an apprentice. I know him to be an honorable man, and I expect that he will be a fair, if demanding, taskmaster…”
Westcliff said something else, but McKenna only half heard him. Bristol…he knew nothing about it, save that it was a major trading port, and that it was hilly and rich with coal and metal. At least it was not too far away—it was in a neighboring county—
“You will have no opportunity to return
to Stony Cross,” the earl said, recapturing his attention. “You are no longer welcome here, for reasons that I have no wish to discuss. And if you do attempt to return, you will regret it bitterly.”
McKenna understood what he was being told. He had never felt so much at someone else’s mercy. It was a feeling that a servant should be well accustomed to, but for the first time in his life, he resented it. He tried to swallow back the seething hostility, but it remained sharp and stinging in the back of his throat. Aline…
“I’ve arranged for you to be transported tonight,” Westcliff said coolly. “The Farnham family is conveying goods to be sold at Bristol market. They will allow you to ride in the back of their cart. Collect your belongings at once, and take them to the Farnhams’ home in the village, from whence you will depart.” Reaching into his desk drawer, he extracted a coin and flicked it to McKenna, who caught it reflexively. It was a crown, the equivalent of five shillings.
“Your month’s pay, though you are a few days short of the full four weeks,” Westcliff commented. “Never let it be said that I am ungenerous.”
“No, my lord,” McKenna half whispered. This coin, along with the meager hoard of savings in his room, would amount to approximately two pounds. He would have to make it last, since his apprenticeship would probably begin as unpaid labor.
“You may leave now. You will leave your livery behind, as you have no further need of it.” The earl turned his attention to some papers on his desk, ignoring McKenna completely.
“Yes, my lord.” McKenna’s mind was a welter of confusion as he left the study. Why had the earl not asked any questions, why had he not demanded to know precisely how far their short-lived affair had gone? Perhaps the earl had not wanted to know. Perhaps Westcliff was assuming the worst, that Aline had indeed taken McKenna as her lover. Would Aline be punished for it?