Free Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) by Lynette Vinet Page A

nodded, but her gaze searched for Quint. She longed to catch a glimpse of him, but he didn’t wait with the others on the road side. She decided this was just as well--his hatred would unnerve her.
    The cold rain stopped as Dera alighted from the coach with Avery's help. He led her up to the manor just as the door swung open by servants alert to their coming. She entered Quint's ancestral home as Lady Fairfax. Her old life lay behind her like a discarded gown.
    Tales of the manor's grandeur hadn't adequately prepared her for her first view of the interior. The vestibule floor was inlaid with black Italian marble, as were the twin staircases leading to the second floor. Two marble pilasters graced the center landing and the balustrades were of white wrought iron. A huge chandelier hung from the dome in the high ceiling; flickering candles illuminated the colorful Roman frescoes painted upon the walls. Grecian urns and Roman statuary, dating from the first century, were ensconced in wall niches, looking important and impressive.
    "The entire house underwent extensive renovations before I took up residence," Avery explained to Dera, noting the gleam of appreciation in her eyes as he escorted her into the drawing room.
    "How lovely," Dera breathed. The room was painted a bright shade of blue, matching the Persian carpets that covered the marble floor. The ceiling was white and trimmed in a golden scroll work design. Portraits of dead Fairfaxes gazed proudly but sternly upon Dera.
    She felt like a beggar, unprepared for such breathtaking luxury. Although as a child, she and her mother had resided in fashionable quarters, moving in with Timothy had taught her the ways of simple folk. She found that she didn't quite feel qualified to be married to Avery Fairfax, to suddenly become a lady simply by pronouncing a marriage vow. For the first time, the reality of her situation struck her.
    Cecilia sat down upon a Georgian sofa, totally ignoring the others. A servant appeared and offered everyone champagne. Timothy and Lydia took a glass, but Cecilia waved it away.
    "I want to toast my bride, Cecilia," Avery said, insisting.
    "You know I detest spirits."
    "Take it. You don't have to drink it."
    There was a finality in Avery's tone. Cecilia knew disobeying him wasn't wise, so she grudgingly took the proffered glass.
    "Come here, my dear," Avery said, drawing Dera near to him. His gaze was soft, as misty and unfathomable as the mountains. He held the fluted glass high. "To my bride, may God smile upon our union."
    "To Lord and Lady Fairfax," Timothy said. Cecilia repeated the toast, then placed her full glass upon the table.
    "Oh, Timothy, it tickles," Lydia laughed delightedly and Timothy agreed. Avery refilled his glass and then poured one for Dera.
    "My darling wife, there is one toast I wish to add."
    "Yes, my lord?"
    He whispered into her ear, "To both of us, that our nights together be filled with passion and that I fill you with the seed of my body. To our future, my love." In one gulp, he drank the contents of his glass and grinned wickedly, his look promising the intimacy that Dera feared.
    Dera took a small sip, her face burned a bright red, and her hands shook. Truly, she was not prepared for her life as Avery Fairfax's wife.
    CHAPTER TWELVE
    One of Avery’s servants, a middle-aged woman whom Dera recognized as Katie from a neighboring farm, helped her change into a sleeping gown of pale pink silk. The peasant-style gown was trimmed with red rosettes along the scooped neckline; the flowing sleeves trailed the floor.
    Only minutes before, Timothy and Lydia had departed and Cecilia had retired for the night in a guest bedroom. Avery had escorted Dera to her room, Katie following closely on their heels.
    "Katie will take the place of lady's maid until the woman I hired arrives from London. When you're ready, have Katie fetch me." He opened the door for her and lightly brushed her forehead with his dry lips before leaving.
    Dera