The Heir - Catherine Coulter [87]
This time she left the room. He stared after her for many minutes. Gentle, utterly guileless Lady Ann. She had become a tigress.
He left for Talgarth Hall and stayed there for the remainder of the day.
21
Elsbeth loved the sweet smell of fresh-cut hay. The smell filled the barn, making her breathe in deeply and smile. She walked quickly to the stall in the far darkened corner of the barn. It had been at least a week since she had slipped away from Evesham Abbey to meet him here. Far too long. He hadn’t spoken to her of his masculine need for her since Josette’s death. She honored him for such noble sentiments. His sensitivity to her grief after her old servant’s tragic fall made him all the more precious to her.
Yet as she spread her cloak upon the straw, smoothing the edges with loving hands, she frowned. She had sensed that during the past several days there was much on his mind. She even imagined now, even though she didn’t want to, that he had hesitated at her diffident offer to meet him here this afternoon. His slight pause before agreeing brought Suzanne Talgarth’s face to her mind. How she hated Suzanne. She knew that Suzanne wanted the comte. What woman could not? He was everything a woman could possibly want. Oh yes, Elsbeth was acutely aware of everyone’s feelings when they came close to him. Yes, Suzanne wanted him, the bitch. But he would not go to her, would he? Surely not, even though Suzanne was so gay and beautiful with her blond hair. No, he wouldn’t betray her.
The week that she had not lain with the comte had served to nurture her romantic belief that their physical union was an exquisite proof of his love for her. She had even prayed that she would feel delight at the touch of his hands, moan when his lips touched her.
She began to grow nervous as she waited in the dimly lit stall. Surely he must have been detained by a very pressing matter. She was on the point of rising to look out the front doors of the huge barn when she saw him slip silently into the stall.
“Oh, my love, I was growing worried.” She threw her arms about him, pressing kisses to his throat, his shoulders, his chest. “Is there a problem? Did someone keep you overlong? It wasn’t Suzanne Talgarth, was it? She was trying to make you come to her? Tell me everything is all right.”
The comte kissed the top of her head, then gently pushed her down onto the cloak.
“What is this about Suzanne? If she tried, ma petite, to make me come to her, I would laugh in her face. I would tell her that I do not like the pink-and-white English girls with their bovine faces.”
He dropped gracefully onto the cloak beside her, looking at her sweet face, at the besotted look in her almond-shaped eyes, eyes so like her mother’s. “No, dear Elsbeth,” he said, lightly stroking his fingers over her smooth cheek, “I was merely in conversation with Lady Ann. It would not have been polite to leave her abruptly.”
She leaned forward and clasped her arms about his neck. She felt guilty at her doubts. She felt like a shrew because she had questioned him. She wasn’t worthy of him. Yet here he was, he had chosen her. She felt a light kiss touch her hair and waited for him to pull her into his arms. But he didn’t jerk her wildly against him. She waited. Nothing. She drew back, puzzled, her eyes growing darker in her worry. Surely after a week he should want her. Had Suzanne been at Evesham Abbey after all? Had he lied to her? No, she wouldn’t think that, not for a minute. She also wouldn’t think about the relief she felt that he wasn’t taking her clothes off.
“What