Chapter 3: Chapter Three
Miss O’Sullivan clearly shared Darius’s distaste for Reverend Smythe’s son, Johnathan.
“She causes much unrest,” Smythe said. “Yesterday a docile horse became alarmed at her presence. It surely looked into her entrancing eyes and became quite mad. It’s a miracle the Proctor boy yet lives.”
“A boy was injured?” Darius asked.
“Nay, he said the witch calmed the animal and saved him. He, too, has been bewitched.”
“Let me get this straight. You and your father left Miss O’Sullivan in your pillory during a miserable storm because she saved a boy from a spooked horse?”
“She only saved him so we’d not suspect her.”
“That didn’t exactly go in her favor, did it? You do admit she saved the boy?”
“She has already cast her wicked charms upon thee. Even I have not escaped her unholy feminine bewitchment.”
Although he didn’t believe Smythe was bewitched, Darius could see he was besotted with Miss O’Sullivan. He stared openly yet appeared afraid to look into her eyes.
“My father said thou interfered yesterday and he suffered mistreatment at thy hands this morning.”
“I’ve not mistreated your father. I merely escorted him downstairs when he wouldn’t be dissuaded from disturbing Miss O’Sullivan.”
“Thou hast no claims on the witch and cannot interfere.”
“Since Miss O’Sullivan has no family, I intend to take her away from your objectionable village. Evidently you’ve no proof of actual wrongdoings.”
“Go back to living amongst the murdering heathens, Mr. Wyndham; perhaps breed a savage like thy father.”
Darius was furious at Smythe’s words, but refused to resort to violence, yet when Smythe stepped closer to Miss O’Sullivan, his temper flared.
“I’ll take her to the pillory to serve her time. Shouldst thou attempt to prevent it, I’ll have no choice but to see thee jailed.”
“Exactly how would you do that, Smythe?” Darius asked, but Miss O’Sullivan’s next words heightened his fury.
“Is that the only intention you have for me, Mr. Smythe?”
He seemed stunned she’d speak of it in his presence, but the man foolishly clasped her injured wrist.
The pain was agonizing as Smythe squeezed her bruised arm. She winced, but he held tighter. Mr. Wyndham roughly grabbed Smythe’s arm.
“Be warned, Smythe, I won’t hesitate to break it if you don’t release Miss O’Sullivan straightaway.”
Smythe finally complied. Mr. Wyndham gently settled her upon a chair then seized the other man by the throat. In his anger, he seemed to effortlessly hold Smythe in midair as he ineffectively thrashed about and sputtered.
Arianna saw the fury on Mr. Wyndham’s previously gentle face.
“How does it feel, Smythe, to be manhandled by someone bigger and stronger? How dare you hurt the lass! It only proves you’re a bloody, despicable coward!” he snarled.
“Mr. Wyndham, you must stop.” She touched his shoulder. “It’ll only make it worse for me!”
He released the struggling man. With an expression of humiliation, Smythe darted from the room. Arianna saw that Mr. Wyndham fought to gain composure as he sat upon the bed. She went to him, reached out and brushed a curl from his eye with a familiarity she couldn’t begin to comprehend. He gently caught her hand and placed his lips to it. It all seemed oddly, yet comfortingly recognizable. That startled her and she moved away.
“You must sleep,” she said.
“Why; do you think I’m a wee bit irritable?” he jested.
She smiled in spite of what had occurred.
“Sit with me a little longer, Miss O’Sullivan.”
It was probably unwise, but she sat upon the chair.
“Johnathan Smythe’s been cruel and disrespectful to you?”
“He doesn’t usually enjoy the pain of others like his father, but…” She hesitated, for he appeared calmer, yet Mr. Wyndham seemed intent on hearing. “He’s inappropriate with young women, groping when no one sees. When women dare speak out, they suffer further. Reverend Smythe’s blind to his son’s perversities.”
Mr. Wyndham’s very blue eyes filled with disapproval. “You were one of these women?”
“Aye, he squeezed my breast, but only once because Johnathan Smythe’s afraid of me. I told him if he ever touched me again, I’d have the hounds of hell tear him to shreds.”
He stared at her. “I fully understand you wouldn’t want his lewd advances, but do you believe it was wise to threaten him with that when he wants to prove you’re a witch?” His worry was evident in his strained expression.
“It’s served my purpose. Although I despise the pillory, I’d rather suffer there endlessly than have him paw me. Death would surely be more welcome than being forced to be bedded by the likes of Johnathan Smythe.”
“Is he a violator of women?” Mr. Wyndham asked.
“He’s never alone with women long enough for that to occur. I’m thankful of that.”
“Just because Smythe hasn’t done so yet, doesn’t mean he won’t,” he ominously warned.
Darius saw how impassioned she’d become, but strong-willed women were often forced to bow to men. Fear of being labeled a witch had further ensured female submissiveness. How could Darius keep the lass safe when he had no familial or marital connection and couldn’t force his company?
He found himself unable to take his eyes off her. Her green eyes mesmerized him. She had flawless fair skin with soft pink cheeks, a small straight nose. Her lips were rosy and generously full. He imagined kissing those lovely lips. It was peculiar, for he felt he remembered what it was to kiss her lips, which was wholly irrational when they’d only just met.
He willed himself not to lower his eyes to observe her appealing form. Her full breasts, small waist and curvaceous hips hadn’t gone unnoticed. He admitted the notion of how much he’d like to bed her had crossed his mind. She was beautiful and enticing; they were alone in a bedchamber and it had been a long time since he’d bedded anyone. He’d have to be dead not to want her.
Yet now he was ashamed of his surging male desires and didn’t want to be grouped with the likes of Johnathan Smythe. Still, an image flashed before him of them intimately joined. It was so real and visceral he shook his head to clear his lustful thoughts, then rubbed his eyes at how distinct it seemed, almost like a memory.
“You really must sleep,” she repeated.
She was correct, but he didn’t want to end this time with her. He also feared what would occur if he slept and she needed him. As if knowing his thoughts, she spoke.
“I’ll be well enough, Mr. Wyndham. I’ve survived this long.”
“But suffered the pillory and apparently floggings as well.”
“I’m not your concern, Mr. Wyndham. Now, I’ll leave you to your sleep.”
“I am concerned knowing you might be in peril. Would you agree to remain here with me?”
“Here?” she asked, her eyes widening as she looked at the bed and blushed.
“Not…here…precisely,” he stammered for he would have liked nothing more than to kiss her, carry her to that bed and… There it was again, the image of them unclothed, passionately joined. He even heard her sighs of pleasure. Now mightily aroused, he cleared his throat. “Would you promise to wait for me, perhaps in the kitchen?”
“I don’t make promises, Mr. Wyndham. Unfortunately, I’ve broken too many.”
“Just agree to wait in the kitchen, then I’ll see you safe from this village.”
“You’ve shown me much kindness, therefore I’ll repay you with solid advice. Forget we ever met and you’ll fare much better.”
“You’d be impossible to forget and I’m not afraid how I might fare being linked with you.”
“You don’t know my disturbing history, Mr. Wyndham. Tragedy follows me and I bring misfortune to others. I’d be sorry to see you hurt because of me. Now, I’ll bid you farewell.”
She surprised him by leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He turned and their lips touched. Her expressive green eyes flew open; she pulled away and picked up the tray. He stood beside her wanting to hold her.
“Leaving a man with a kiss isn’t wise if you want him to forget you.”
“I only intended a gesture of gratitude; it was you who kissed me,” she scolded, but he didn’t miss her radiant smile. It pleased him she didn’t completely oppose the kiss.
“I won’t sleep if you don’t agree to wait at the inn.”
“I’ll go visit my two friends. I assure you I’ll do everything I can to avoid the Smythes.”
She closed the door behind her. He sighed, increasingly aware how much he’d been affected by Arianna O’Sullivan. He couldn’t say he was bewitched, but he was utterly captivated. Was he meant to find her? Did that peculiar event yesterday truly lead him to her? It seemed too much of a coincidence and it was as though he’d known her before. If their souls were paired for eternity, it would explain why she seemed familiar although he’d never been a believer in destiny before.
The spirit woman said he was her guardian, but how would he protect her? He couldn’t make her leave with him or force his company. After two nights without sleep, he’d be no good to her if he couldn’t hold his head up. Lying upon the bed, his last waking thought was of the sweet scent upon the pillow and the lovely deep-red curls that rested here not long ago.