The Villain

by Victoria Vale

  Daphne paused with her fork halfway to her lips and frowned. She could not be certain exactly what the woman referred to given the events of the past five years.

  “Thank you, my lady,” she replied, grasping at the first thing that came to mind. “The loss of Uncle William was quite a devastating blow.”

  “Hmph,” the woman mumbled between bites of her lamb. “I am certain. Being forced to abandon Fairchild House in London must have only added to the strain.”

  This time, it was Daphne who dropped her utensil, the shock of the woman’s words lodging in her gut like a dagger. Had her parents been forced to sell their townhome in London? Her grandfather had purchased that house in Grosvenor Square, one of the loftiest addresses in Mayfair. Did that mean they had returned to their estate in Suffolk? Circumstances there were even direr than in London—the lands producing just enough to cover the necessary expenses, and even some of those would soon be neglected. In the coming years, it might become a ruin … a relic of a long-forgotten family fallen into the gutter.

  “I …. I …”

  She fumbled for words, uncertain of how to respond when Lady Stanley had blindsided her. The woman gave her a knowing look … as if she had known Daphne to be ignorant of this development. Of course she was ignorant; she’d been acting as Adam’s whore for the past four weeks.

  “Many families have faced ruin due to the actions of their patriarchs,” Adam cut in, his tone icy enough to lower the temperature in the room tremendously. “As we all know, young unmarried ladies are hardly to blame for the fates that befall them.”

  Daphne swiveled her gaze to Adam, who might have reduced Lady Stanley to ash if looks could kill. The woman’s face reddened, but she simply returned her attention to her lamb.

  Adam met her gaze and gave her a curt nod, as if to reassure her. But why? He had created this situation to gain his own ends. She was not stupid enough to believe he cared about the loss of Fairchild House. It had to have been just another step in his plan to ruin them.

  Had he spoken up to protect her from Lady Stanley’s humiliation? No, he could not possibly care about that, either. This entire farce was about humiliating her.

  Whatever the cause, she was grateful for the temporary reprieve. Though, she was hardly surprised by Lady Stanley’s behavior. The woman had never liked her, thinking her beneath her precious son—even though she was the daughter of a viscount, and Robert the son of a baron. Daphne was too wild, too unconventional to wed Robert, and the old biddy had made her thoughts on the subject known quite frequently.

  The rest of dinner continued without another embarrassing incident, the conversation turning to small talk. Adam engaged Robert over fencing—an interest they shared, while Daphne sulked in silence, moving the food about on her plate to make it look as if she’d eaten. All the while, Robert watched her pensively. She shuddered to think what he might find if he looked too closely. Like the evidence of what Adam’s touch had turned her into, and how much she’d enjoyed it.

  After the dessert course, Adam announced he would lead them on a tour. This, his guests seemed excited over, as many had only heard rumors of the old ruin of a castle the Earl of Hartmoor had turned into his own personal palace.

  He kept a hand at the small of her back while leading the party down the winding halls of the castle, flaunting the music room and sun rooms, as well as the library. He impressed them all with his knowledge of the castle’s history, right down to the various builders who had influenced its aesthetic over the past few centuries. Even she found herself enthralled by the tales he weaved, some of the information being things he had not yet told her.

  “I have heard rumors of secret passages and caverns,” said one of the gentlemen. “As well as an escape tunnel leading out to the shore?”

  “Aye, there are many passages one could get lost in,” Adam confirmed. “The cave you refer to was used for escape in many of the battles that took place here. It leads through a postern gate and down the side of the escarpment on the north face. Would you like to see it?”

  The entire group agreed collectively, even Lady Stanley seeming excited over being able to see this cavern for herself. Even Daphne could not help that her curiosity had been stoked, the cavern being one of the few places she had never seen.

  They set off with Adam in the lead. He made a stop along the way to retrieve a large candelabra, using it to light their way as they moved toward darker parts of Dunnottar … the parts that had not yet been renovated. She found the darkened corridors beautiful in their starkness, the shadows clinging to various corners lending it all a gothic feel.

  After a while, he led them into a long, dark corridor paved with stones. Adam chuckled when a few of the women gasped and whimpered in distress, moving closer to the men who had accompanied them.

  “Never fear, ladies,” he quipped. “I am certain the brave men in our company would protect you from anything that might come rushing through this tunnel.”

  The light he carried moved on, and they followed, the others walking past Daphne faster than she could keep up, eventually putting her toward the back of the procession. After a while, the stone gave way to earthen walls, and the ground beneath them began to slope sharply. The smell of earth mingled with that of the ocean as they drew nearer to the shore. Adam continued his tale of the battles that had been won and lost here, of the men who had only survived because of the tunnel they stood in. Her attention became stolen away by the hand brushing hers in the dark. A man’s hand.

  “Daphne,” Robert whispered near her ear, his familiar scent flooding her nostrils as she leaned close. “Daphne, we must talk.”

  Her gaze flitted to Adam’s shadow, large and ominous at the front of their group. He seemed oblivious to them, attending to the entertainment of his guests.

  “Robert, please …”

  His hand enclosed around hers, squeezing tight. “Just tell me if he’s hurt you, Daphne. Should I call him out?”

  She snatched her hand away as if he’d burned her, uncertain why allowing him the liberty felt so wrong after all they’d shared together. It felt like betrayal of Adam.

  “Ask me no more, I beg you,” she hissed. “You will only make matters worse.”

  She tried to move past him, but she felt his presence near her constantly. He stood at her back during the rest of their walk through the cavern, then beside her once Adam had guided them to the moonlit shore.

  After what felt like an eternity, Adam turned to lead their party back toward the tunnel. Turning to fall in line with the others, Daphne lifted her skirts and trudged over the sand. Just before the mouth of the cave could swallow her up, a hand closed around her arm, and she was brought up short.

  Robert.

  She stifled a sound of alarm as he pulled her into his arms and propelled her toward the outside edge of the cave. Pressing her against the hard rock, he covered her mouth with his hand and kept it there until the voices of the others had faded down the tunnel.

  Then, removing his hand, he replaced it with his mouth. His kiss muffled her protest, his hands insistent as they swept over her shoulders, her neck, moving up into her hair. He kissed her hungrily, lapping at her with his tongue and cupping the back of her head the way he knew she liked.

  The way she used to like.

  Now, she could not help but compare his kiss to another’s and find it lacking. His body was too sinewy against hers, lacking the hardness of Adam’s. He held her too gently, as if she were some fragile thing he was afraid to break. She almost wished he would tighten his hold on her hair, thrust his hips at her, bite her lip … something to show her that he realized she was no longer the innocent maiden he had kissed and touched in hidden meadows six years ago.

  When he finally pulled away, she sighed, the sound one of disappointment. He hardly seemed to notice, pressing his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek. He pressed little kisses against her nose, her cheeks, her neck.

  After a while, she placed her hand
s against his chest and pushed. She did not know why she’d allowed it to go on this long. Perhaps she had sought some of that lost innocence. Maybe, her disappointment was not with him, but in her own self and the depths she had sunk to.

  “Robert, we cannot do this,” she insisted. “Adam … he will not like it.”

  “So, it is Adam, is it?” he scoffed.

  The moonlight illuminated his face, showing his clear annoyance. She had never noticed how petulant he looked when angry.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, running a hand through his hair. “The rumors of your family’s desperate situation have reached Suffolk. I cannot blame you for whatever situation you’ve found yourself in, but … dash it all, Daff! Why did you not come to me?”

  Indignation bristled her spine, annoyance heating her face. “You? The man who refused to offer for me after I came of age? The man who let me go off to London for my first Season and did not even possess the bollocks to come after me?”

  He grasped her shoulders again, holding on tight, his eyes wide and wild as he drew her back to him. “I have so many regrets, Daphne … you have no idea. I was young, and thought perhaps there might be more for me to learn before I could marry you.”

  She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “More like you thought there might be more cunt for you to chase!”

  He reared back as if she’d struck him, and she reveled in the satisfaction it caused her. He needed to understand she was not the girl he’d once known.

  “You are right,” he replied, lowering his head. “I was a fool, and after I had finished chasing the things I came to realize were meaningless … there was only you. The woman I love. The woman I—”

  “It is too late,” she interjected, knowing she could not bear to hear him confess to wanting to marry her.

  “Of course it isn’t,” he declared, giving her a shake. “Do you not realize I’ve loved you since I was a boy? Nothing will change that.”

  “I cannot be what you want me to be, Robert,” she argued, trying to dislodge herself from his hold and failing. “I am ruined.”

  He grew stronger in his desperation, his fingers biting painfully into her arms. Finally, a display of strength from him … and she did not find it the least bit appealing.

  “Do you think I care that he’s had you?” he demanded. “I don’t… not when I know he must have coerced you or forced you … God, Daphne, tell me he forced you, and I will call him out. The bastard … sitting there flaunting you like some bloody mistress! Baiting me with those sly remarks. Say the word, and I will give him what for.”

  She stifled a laugh at the thought of Robert attempting to engage Adam in a duel. The man who had so effortlessly bent her to his will was no weakling. She could imagine him wrapping one massive hand around Robert’s throat the same way he had her … only this time, he would squeeze and squeeze until Robert ceased to draw breath.

  “Things are different now,” she said. “Please … leave me be.”

  She tried to brush him off, but he pursued her, grasping her wrist and attempting to pull her back against him. Despite knowing she had no need to fear him, she struggled in his hold.

  “Robert … unhand me this instant … let … let go!”

  “Just wait a moment … please!”

  A dark shadow fell over them both, blotting out the moon. She went still, the shiver running down her spine putting her at ease instead of frightening her. Robert, fool that he was, only tightened his grip, narrowing his eyes at the intruder.

  Adam’s voice washed over them like a frigid tide, turning her blood to ice in her veins. “Is there a problem here?”

  “See here, Hartmoor—”

  Daphne wrenched her arm from Robert’s hold and rushed toward Adam, seeing in his eyes what the fool behind her could not. Murder glimmered in the depths, turning his irises into cold, hard emeralds. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, pulsing them as if imagining strangling the life from Robert.

  “Everything is fine,” she said, hoping the softness of her tone would convince him. “Adam … we are fine. Robert simply wished to have a word with me in private.”

  She pressed a hand to his chest, flinching when he growled, moving as if to take a step toward Robert. The hard muscles flexed and hardened against her palm, but her touched stilled him, though he never took his gaze away from Robert.

  “If you are quite finished now, perhaps the two of you might come inside,” he snapped. “Mr. Stanley, I do believe your mother is wondering where you’ve gotten off to.”

  Robert’s gaze burned into her back, and Daphne felt it sliding over her, watching the way she interacted with Adam … the way she touched him.

  After a long moment of silence between the two men, she felt movement at her back.

  “Of course,” Robert replied, his voice clipped and strained. “I shall go to her directly. I am certain we will depart shortly. We’ve a house party to attend not far from here. Daphne, it was lovely seeing you again.”

  She avoided meeting his gaze as he brushed past them, storming back toward the cave and disappearing inside.

  Lifting her eyes to meet Adam’s stare, she choked on a gasp, her breath hitching at the expression she found upon his face. Moonlight slashed across his features, illuminating the pure rage burning in his eyes. His mouth contorted into a sneer as he leaned down toward her, one hand shooting out to grasp her jaw.

  Her pulse ramped up at his touch, the familiar fear curling low in her belly and spreading warmth between her legs.

  “Did he touch you?” he growled, his fingers biting into her jaw. “Did you let him put his hands on you?”

  Knowing he had clearly seen her struggling in his hold, she knew not to lie to him. However, telling him Robert had kissed her would be a mistake.

  “J-just when he grabbed my arm,” she managed between rushed breaths. “That is all.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, but then nodded as if accepting her word. “Then you aren’t hurt?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not. Robert would never—”

  “Come,” he snapped, taking hold of her arm and pulling her along the way Robert had gone.

  The darkness swallowed them without the benefit of his candelabra, but he walked confidently, allowing her to relax at his side. For some reason, her heart thundered in her chest, her mind hardly put at ease by his easy acceptance of what he’d just seen.

  The tension in Adam’s body did not abate, only seeming to increase as they drew closer to the castle, his long strides forcing her to trot to keep up with him.

  She shivered at the silent promise his tight hold upon her arm made. He was angry, and she was sure to suffer his wrath once his guests had departed.

  The insides of her thighs became smeared with arousal as she wondered just what he might do to her.

  She almost laughed again at the absurdity of it all. When she’d told Robert she had been ruined, she had not meant it in the way he’d thought. Losing her maidenhead had not ruined her … Adam had ruined her. He had made her want things she should not, things no proper lady should desire. And now, she could not stop craving him or the things he’d taught her body to enjoy.

  She was ruined … perhaps even beyond repair.

  An hour later, with the party guests gone, Daphne followed Adam into his bedchamber. The tension that had been present during the encounter on the shore had not left his body. In fact, it had seemed to grow worse with each passing minute, his scathing glares settling on Robert several times throughout what had remained of the evening. Then, he would settle that stare upon her, his eyes promising retribution.

  The guilt and fear she had experienced upon being caught alone with Robert melted away, indignation taking its place. He had no right to be angry with her when he had orchestrated this entire evening. She had gone along with it all, smiling and putting on a brave face just as he’d told her to. Was it not enough that he had destroyed what remained of her reputation? Had he not been satisfied
with her performance, even after all the insults and slights she’d suffered throughout the evening?

  By the time the last of the guests departed, she had begun returning his angry glares with a few of her own. The long evening had frazzled her nerves, and she was short on patience, as well as exhausted.

  So, when she pushed the bedroom door closed behind her, it was with the intent to undress and fall immediately into bed.

  Adam, it would seem, had other ideas.

  He kept his predatory gaze upon her while he disrobed, each movement of his hands clearly showing his agitation. It showed in the way he jerked at his cravat, tossing it carelessly onto the bed, and the way he tore at the buttons of his waistcoat, sending one of them skittering across the floor in his haste.

  Once he had stripped to the waist, he raised an eyebrow at her. “You are still dressed.”

  Scoffing, she rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. “So it would seem.”

  He moved toward her, the firelight emanating from the hearth playing over the muscles moving fluidly beneath his skin.

  “Do not play games with me, Daphne,” he growled.

  Not in the mood to cower away from him after being browbeaten all evening, she jabbed one finger at the center of his chest.

  “Why not?” she challenged. “You certainly seem to enjoy playing them! Is that not why you purposely invited Robert and Lady Stanley here without warning me?”

  Reaching out to grasp her wrist, he hauled her closer—until their bodies collided. The heat of his skin burned through the satin of her gown, searing her to the bone.

  “You precious Robert is fortunate I did not tear him limb from limb for daring to lay a hand upon what is mine,” he snarled.

  She fought his hold, but he only tightened his grip on her wrist. When she swung her opposite hand at him, he snatched it out of the air, too, holding both her arms between their bodies and refusing to let her go.

  “I do not belong to you,” she spat, unable to help the spark of defiance causing her to go against him.