In abrupt reaction Lenore pushed away his arm and, feeling suddenly closed in, moved quickly in the opposite direction until she sat at the far end of the cushion. She stole a wary glance at him, unable to explain her sudden panic even to herself, and found him staring back at her in surprise. She forced a weak smile. “I’d rather sit here if you don’t mind, Malcolm. I get dizzy when I lie down.” She could probably lay the blame for this recent malady on her fatigue, but it seemed an appropriate excuse to use to avoid being confined to an area in close proximity to him.
Malcolm dropped into his chair again and regarded her for a long moment, seeming completely bewildered. “Are you afraid of me, Lenore?”
“Do I have reason to be?” she asked quietly.
He ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “I can’t think of one, but you seem so…so distant.”
Remaining aloof, she returned his gaze without giving him the benefit of a reply. Beneath her steadfast stare, Malcolm sighed and glanced around, feeling at a loss.
“You’ve always intrigued me, Lenore,” he murmured, searching for the appropriate words that would draw her from her shell. “I am indeed fortunate to have such a beautiful wife. I remember the first time I saw you, you were wearing green…the same color as your eyes. I stopped and stared, but you were with another man, and I couldn’t intrude….”
“Who was the man?”
“An older man.” His broad shoulders lifted casually. “A cousin, perhaps. I really can’t say. I was too involved with watching you to pay much attention to your escort.” He closed his eyes and smiled in dreamy reflection as he leaned his head back against the chair. “I can still remember how your skin gleamed beneath the lamplight and how tantalizing the curves of your breasts were beneath your gown….”
Lenore lifted a palmetto fan from a table near the chaise and leisurely applied its function toward the cooling of her cheeks, prompting Malcolm to open one eye and peer at her with a confident smile. She averted her face from his amused regard, irked that he should find any pleasure in her blush.
“If it was a cousin of mine, then we must have been in England. I don’t have any kin here in America anymore.” She issued the statements as if she were reading a humdrum report, and then glanced up at him with an inquiry, fervently hoping to find some gap in his story. “Can you describe the interior of the manor house in England?”
He placed the fingertips of both hands together as he delved into reflections. “I was there only briefly as a guest, so I didn’t see all the rooms, but there was a large central room…or, as your father called it, a great hall. Next to that was a long room with a huge hearth and stone stairs.”
“Do you remember if there was anything on the wall?”
He paused a long moment in deep thought. “Portraits of your ancestors, I think, and some shields and crests.” He canted his head as another memory came to mind. “There were also two other portraits hanging there, one of you and the other of your sister…larger replicas of the ones your father gave Judge Cassidy.”
Lenore shivered inside as his words struck a familiar chord within her. She could almost see the pair of paintings mounted side by side above the hearth. “Where did you say they were?”
“Above the fireplace, I think.” He nodded after a thoughtful search of his memory. “Yes, that’s where they were.”
Her hopes sank to a dismal level with his affirmation, and she felt drained and listless as she continued the interrogation: “You undoubtedly knew my portrait was at my grandfather’s house, but I’ve been wondering how you came by that information. Were you there before?”
“We went there together, my love. Don’t you remember?”
Lenore frowned as she failed to recall the event. “No, I don’t.”
He seemed amazed that she should forget. “Don’t you recall how upset you were when you learned of your grandfather’s death? The house was closed up by then, and you kept blaming yourself for having left him as you did.”
Lenore raised her head in alert attention. “How did we get there? I mean, did we walk…?”
“We took a barouche, and you were sobbing so much I wondered if I’d have to find a doctor to give you some laudanum.”
The piece fit neatly into the puzzle, but it gave her no pleasure to know that it was Malcolm who had comforted her in that faraway memory. She was earnestly trying to assimilate this latest bit of information when another question came to haunt her: “Where did you say we were married?”
“Here in Biloxi,” he replied easily. “I came to live here, and it was not very long after that that you decided to move from England and also take up residence here.” He gave her a slow grin. “I like to think you made that choice because of me.” He detected a small, puzzled quirk in her frown and let a long sigh slip from his lips as he lifted his gaze toward the ceiling. “We’ve known each other for some time now…three or so years, I guess. I keep thinking, all the years…forgotten. It seems like such a waste.”
“I’m sorry if my condition distresses you, Malcolm.” Her tone held no emotion. “It distresses me even more.”
“I’m sure it does, my love,” he murmured softly, lowering his head to stare at her. “But there’s no reason why we can’t renew some of those memories.”
Lenore took a warning from his warming smile. His eyes had grown dark and now smoldered with a light that made her fearful of what the next moments would bring. Flicking downward in one bold caress, his gaze seemed to strip her bare, and there was almost a leer lifting the corner of his lips when he raised his eyes to meet hers again. “There are times when a man needs to be reassured, and it’s been some time since we’ve made love….”
By some inner strength Lenore subdued her quaking and attempted to appear casual as she deliberately misread his meaning. “What assurances do you need, Malcolm? If you still have any qualms about Ashton, I told you that he was very polite while I was there.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and for his consideration put forth several conjectures that would hopefully ease the impact of her rejection: “I don’t know, but it’s possible that Dr. Page said something to Ashton about the delicacy of my condition and persuaded him to treat me gently. It’s difficult to say how I might have reacted had I been forced. Surely the shock would have caused me to suffer serious trauma. Even now, whenever I’m upset, I start to have strange visions. I even imagine a man being beaten and murdered….”
Malcolm’s eyebrows came up in surprise. “Murdered?”
“Oh, I know how strange it sounds, Malcolm, but during moments of stress, I begin to hallucinate. I really can’t say whether I begin to recall, in visions, events I’ve actually experienced or if it’s just my imagination creating horrible illusions. Whatever the case, it’s very disturbing.” She hoped fervently that a small part of her father’s talent for acting had rubbed off on her and that she was being successful in convincing Malcolm of her frailty. It would ease her mind considerably if she could live in the house without fear of rape. “Can you understand how I might have been affected if I had been coerced?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” He seemed almost eager to placate her fears. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset about anything, my dear. I want you to get well as quickly as possible.”
The brisk clatter of heels came along the corridor and halted at the open door. They looked around to see a young maid pausing at the threshold. Her uncertainty was obvious. Beneath their combined stares she seemed to debate whether to make a tactful retreat or chance an advance.
“Come in,” Lenore invited, extremely grateful for the interruption.