She was positively angelic.
Despite the fact I had given her a nightmarish dress to wear, she’d somehow managed to make it look regal—her head held high. The material hung on her smaller frame, a partially ripped hem dragging across the floor behind her.
But you wouldn’t have known that she noticed the pitiful garment and that it was a far cry from what she’d imagined wearing as a small girl.
That wasn’t what almost brought me to my knees—what left me with an overwhelming need to run as far away from the creature now standing before me.
She was exquisite.
She was perfection.
She is mine, a voice whispered, claiming her instantly.
“Let’s hurry this up,” I growled, grinding my teeth tightly to prevent any soft-hearted platitude from escaping. “There are more important affairs to take care of.”
I barely managed to drag my gaze away from Catriona’s features to glare at the priest.
“Is my father not coming?” Her words came out broken, and I could sense the tears that lay barely beneath the surface. She didn’t dare look about, in case it confirmed what I was about to say.
“No. This is not a celebration. I assume he is off enjoying his newfound freedom, having escaped debtors’ prison.” I resented the pressing urge to look at her—to comfort her. This was not part of the arrangement I’d committed to.
“Could we . . .” Her request died on her lips.
For some bizarre reason, I wanted to hear her complete it. “Could we what?” I pushed, gruffly.
“Nothing. As you said, this is strictly business, and I am merely your chattel.” Catriona kept her gaze trained on the floor, patiently standing still with her hands clasped in front of her. Even in her misery, she held an ethereal quality. One might’ve even suggested she was fae-like.
“At last, something we agree on.” Nodding to the priest, I indicated that it was time to begin. Father Thompson began droning on about marital bliss and the wonders of a man and woman joining together in the sight of God.
“Father,” I corrected, reminding him that this was not the speech I had given him permission to do. Platitudes were wasted in this room. We would never be a typical husband and wife, so there was no need for flowery poems and heartfelt vows.
Catriona would obey me, and in exchange, I would tolerate her presence in my life.
The priest coughed and cleared his throat, flipping through the small brown leather book in his hands until he found what he was looking for. With as little feeling as possible, I recited back the words that I would take Catriona Livingston as my wife—excluding any promises that I would cherish and care for her until death did us part.
Catriona’s bottom lip trembled when it was her turn to pledge her fealty and devotion to me—her new monster of a husband. Her eyes didn’t quite meet mine, and her fingers were white from constantly gripping her hands so tight. Silent tears fell down her cheeks—the blasted liquid somehow increasing her appeal.
Energy pulsed through me, and I ached to move. It was becoming more and more unbearable to remain in the room with her, each ticking sound of the clock wearing on my nerves.
No sooner had the priest declared our union official when Knox burst into the office. His dark hair was windswept, his eyes bright with excitement. I hadn’t questioned his absence from the ceremony, because looking for him would require time I didn’t want to waste.
“Yes?” I asked, already dismissing Father Thompson and Catriona. I was more interested in knowing what made Knox practically brim over with enthusiasm. “You have something.”
“A lead!” he exclaimed triumphantly.
It had been months since we’d received any new information about the gypsies responsible for my curse. It had left me no choice but to learn years ago the importance of patience. Sometimes answers required a lengthy wait.
I would never rest until I found them.
“Let’s go,” I fired back, the thrill of the hunt already stirring within my breast. I was already halfway to the door when I noticed Knox hadn’t moved, his own gaze directed to those behind me.
Catriona.
Barely remembering my manners, I spun about and bowed. “Excuse me, wife.” There was a slight mocking tone to my words. “It seems business waits for no man. I trust you can take care of yourself until we return.”
She nodded, and I could almost detect a hint of relief. There would be no wedding night. “When shall I expect your return?”
I drank in one last sight of her.
“When it is time to return.”
And with that, we departed—racing away into the night.
Chapter 5
Four Months Later
Soft footsteps approached my office door. It was the same sound I heard each evening as I sat at my desk, looking over papers. At first I had felt irritated by the disturbance, knowing that it was Catriona who lurked beyond the closed door. I could almost imagine her standing there with indecision warring across her features while she tried to decide whether or not she would knock.
Would tonight be the night that she found her courage and ventured inside? And how would I react to the interruption?
I’d like to think that I would answer consistently—with a stern and impatient retort, shooing her away like whatever it was that brought her to me was inconsequential.
On the odd occasion when she’d entered the study and found me sitting by the fire, reading one of the many books I’d collected over the years, she nervously licked her lips before asking if there was anything she could get me.
I wasn’t a fool. I recognized the bravery needed to approach me. I hadn’t made it easy for her since our pathetic excuse for a wedding. I’d warned her afterward that I wasn’t to be disturbed and that for her own good, it would be best that we try to avoid one another.
There was no mistaking the crestfallen expression that glimmered in her eyes. Despite every attempt I’d made to keep her at arm’s length, she was determined to breach the barrier I’d placed between us.
I found small trinkets throughout the house—items that she’d somehow known would please me. Countless nights I’d entered my study for solitude and there would be some type of treat. I’d even walked in to discover freshly cut flowers from the garden arranged in a crystal vase in my bedroom.
My first instinct was to hunt down my disobedient wife and rebuke her for violating the sanctuary of where I slept, but something inside me counseled that I tread carefully. For what reason I didn’t know. Sure enough, the next time I passed by her in the house, the words that formed in my mouth went unspoken.
Even with all the precautions I took to not allow her closer, she was changing me with her small acts of kindness.
She still lurked outside, and as I closed my eyes, I could faintly hear the beating of her heart. I held my own breath this time and silently willed her to enter. If only to see what her reasoning was tonight.
She fascinated me.
She terrified me.
“Catriona,” I called out, summoning her to come in.
The door handle jiggled slightly, and then it stopped moving. What would she do?
A few moments later, she retreated, making her way back up the hallway from where she’d come. I guess tonight wasn’t a night for conquering fears.
I sat there staring at the door, but it was my thoughts that kept me from returning to my reading. I’d lost count of how many conversations I’d had with myself since that night when I’d been cursed. I tried not to think about what might’ve happened if I’d been far away from that alley, or better yet, had never laid eyes on Primrose. I’d allowed my lust to override common sense and had been punished for that decision ever since.
I could’ve been anything I wanted—anyone I wanted—because the world had truly been mine to explore. Having been born into wealth and privilege, very few doors had been closed to me.
Yet, here I sat behind one, shut away from the world. I had what many woul
d call a beautiful wife, a woman who appeared to at least try to bridge the distance between us.
For each small kindness she extended, I returned it with indifference. She didn’t deserve such treatment. What scared me even more was the voice that had started whispering to me since I met her—that I didn’t deserve such a life either.
Monster or not, I was at a crossroads. I would either need to let Catriona in or squash any hope she may have of melting the iciness in my heart.
Pushing away from my desk, I decided to seize the moment and follow her. I needed to understand what drew me to her—what made her so different that I was finding it harder and harder to resist.
Instead of going upstairs, however, the sound of Catriona’s footsteps revealed she wasn’t heading to her bedroom suite. Curiosity piqued my interest. She was hurrying in the opposite direction, and if I guessed right, toward the rooms reserved for Knox.
Interesting, I murmured beneath my breath.
Then, to my complete surprise, she briefly knocked on his door before entering. There was no waiting to be granted entrance. There was no gruff appearance of Knox—annoyed that she would dare to invade his privacy.
Anger rose sharply, followed by jealousy. How often did they meet late at night? What could they possibly have to discuss? And even though I’d shown no interest or intention of ever treating her like a true wife, there was no mistaking the word that came rushing to the forefront of my mind . . .
Mine.
Ready to burst through the door and catch them in the midst of their indiscretion, all logic and reason abandoned by the irritating sense of possessiveness, I abruptly stopped in my tracks when I caught the first sound of her voice.
She was crying.
Something—someone had upset her.
Reduced to spying on others in my own home, I reserved judgment for a moment and listened in, my ear close to the door. Despite the fierce pangs of mistrust I was feeling, there was one thing I did know with certainty . . . Knox had never given me a reason to doubt his loyalty. There was something else happening—another motive for Catriona to enter his room like they were friends meeting. Like she belonged there.
A muffled noise broke through her sobs.
“Why won’t he let me in?” came the broken words of the woman crying like her heart was splintering into pieces. I pushed down the guilt that surfaced. I owed her nothing.
Or did I?
I could almost picture Knox standing there, unsure of how to handle someone so emotional. He’d shared that he’d had sisters growing up, but from the stories he’d confided in me over the years, he wasn’t particularly close with them.
“What happened, Catriona?” he asked with compassion. It was strange hearing him speak so softly and tenderly. The only time I’d heard him talk in such a way was when he soothed a spooked horse down in the stables. He had a magic touch with animals, the creatures instantly calming under his touch and guidance. It was a trait I often envied. It was as if they could sense the beast I was . . . the predator I was cursed to be.
“I wanted to wish him good night. I remember you told me that such simple things might work in softening his attitude toward me.”
Knox had told her that? How often did she come to him? Questions flurried around inside my head, each one left unanswered. Part of me knew I could barge in and demand the information I wanted, but it was a wiser part that urged for me to remain hidden. Sometimes the things you seek can only be revealed through being still and silent.
“And?” There was a hint of concern in that one word. I didn’t blame him. I knew who I was and how others saw me. No amount of counsel had managed to tame my rough edges. I’d assumed he’d given up trying.
There was silence before she quietly answered. “I was a coward. I left before he could yell at me.” There were a few more betraying sniffles. “I don’t understand why he hates me so much, Knox. He doesn’t even know me! Am I to be condemned to a life of misery because of my father’s foolishness with money?”
The guilt had returned, and it frustrated me. I was tempted to flee back to my office where I could put more distance between this blasted woman and me. Maybe I would show her how truly cruel I could be and send her away to live in a nunnery. There she could curse my existence to her heart’s content. She would at least find some semblance of peace.
“Give him time, Catriona. I told you. Marcus is not the man you assume him to be. I warned you it wouldn’t be easy, but you were adamant that you could break down his walls. Remember, I told you it was a foolish waste of time.”
It was interesting to hear him speak so freely about me.
“How can you sit there and defend him? Why won’t you talk to him on my behalf? Tell him how lonely I’ve been and how much I wish to at least be friends? Food I take him, hoping that it will tempt him, is left untouched. The other day I found the freshly clipped roses I’d gathered tossed in the pile to be thrown away. It’s as if he’s doing this on purpose to drive me crazy!” As she uttered each word, I could hear her anger growing stronger and stronger. I didn’t blame her. I would never accept such treatment myself. I wanted to not care, but that lack of sentiment felt like it was slipping through my fingers.
“Catriona, my loyalty belongs with him. He is my master, and no matter how many tears you shed, or how often your lip quivers, there’s nothing I can do to change your circumstances here. You asked for my advice, and I gave it.”
I bent forward and tried peeking through the large keyhole. There they both were—Catriona standing still with her arms wrapped around herself, and Knox, perched on his workbench stool, turned about so he could face her. Just as I had assumed, there was a hint of frustration at being kept from his work, but he was also staring at her with sympathy.
“So, you truly won’t help me?” Tears began welling in her eyes. Catriona looked longingly at him . . . beseechingly. “I am all alone.”
He slowly stood and walked over to where she stood. I expected Knox to guide her toward the door, but instead, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder for comfort. “Don’t give up. If this is something you really want, then you will have to use that stubbornness I’ve seen in you. Fight for what you want. If at first you don’t succeed, step back, re-evaluate, then try again.”
Wiping her face with her fingers, Catriona slumped with resignation. “I didn’t imagine it would hurt this much, Knox. I told myself that hope would be futile when it came to this marriage. I knew I was merely property exchanging hands. I didn’t wish for a love-filled marriage . . . I’m not that naïve. But what harm could come from being friends? Am I really that unlikable?”
I couldn’t see Knox’s face. He squeezed her shoulder once more before dropping his arm. “You’re asking questions I don’t have the answers to, and what I do know, I can’t share without betraying his confidence.” Fingers raked through his ash-blond hair, a gesture I’d seen him make countless times. He was ready for the conversation to be over. He was ready to return to his work that beckoned him to finish.
Catriona let out a loud sigh. “Then I will keep trying.” She gave one last glance about the room, and headed toward the door I was hiding behind. “Just tell me one last thing. Was he always like this?”
“Like what?” Knox asked over his shoulder, having already turned his back.
“Unapproachable. Cold. Indifferent.”
He caught her gaze and held it. “He has good reason to be untrusting. Earn his respect, and you’ll see he’s not the monster you believe him to be.” Having said all he intended to say, Knox returned his attention to his work, dismissing her.
I quickly stepped back to hide in the shadows, not wanting to let them know that I had been eavesdropping like a common thief. There was a strange mixture of emotions flittering about in my head.
There was pride and gratitude that Knox had kept my secrets, proving that my faith and trust in him were well placed.
There was a growing sense of apprehension that Catriona was determin
ed to establish some kind of relationship with me—despite my many protests. But I was also impressed that she wasn’t relying on her beauty or feminine wiles in seducing me. She had known immediately that such attempts would fail, and instead, tried to find ways to please me.
Watching her finally retreat in the direction of her own rooms, I stayed where I was for a moment, trying to absorb everything I’d heard.
“It’s safe to come in now, Marcus.”
He’d known I’d been there. Clearly I’d underestimated how observant he could be.
“I’m glad she has someone to talk to,” I countered, entering his work space.
“She wants to be free to speak with you . . . her husband.” He didn’t bother disguising his bold smirk.
“I am her husband in name only,” I retorted, completely unamused with this side of him. He was getting more and more brazen when we talked. It usually didn’t bother me, unless, like now, he was not agreeing with me.
He cocked his brow, his boyish features turning hawkish. “I believe it was you that decided that, Marcus. I am but your obedient servant.”
I ignored his last comment, choosing to focus on the more important issue. “You’re to stop giving her advice. If she comes to you again, send her away. We don’t have time for comforting a lonely female. Your focus is best placed elsewhere.” I gestured to the experiments that covered his workspace. “That is why I hired you.”
“Yes, master,” he replied, with only a hint of contrition in his voice.
“No more,” I reiterated, reinforcing that whatever alliance Catriona believed she had with Knox would be ended from this moment forth. “There is too much at stake.”
I didn’t wait to hear his response. He knew that what I said was law, and that whatever flights of fancy he might be entertaining by encouraging Catriona’s visits would no longer be tolerated.
It didn’t stop me from dwelling on it the rest of the night, though.
I didn’t want her.
I didn’t love her.
So why did I hate the idea of his arm around her shoulder, her turning to him for comfort so much?
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