by Olivia Drake
She did look much prettier from a distance …
Those had been the first words she’d heard from him upon awakening from a drug-induced stupor. Evidently, he preferred beautiful women, a fact that suited Ellie perfectly well. Nothing could be worse than having to fend off the amorous advances of a notorious scoundrel.
She had a sudden, vivid recollection of how large and strong his body had felt the previous night, when he had trapped her against the boulder in order to stop her furious attack on him. His chest had been like an iron plate pressed against her back, his legs like solid oak columns. Never in her life had she experienced anything so unsettling to her senses. Even now, the memory of his muscled form made her knees weak, for it was a reminder of how easily he could overpower her …
Mrs. MacNab’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Sit ye down by the fire, hinny, an’ break yer fast. I’ll be awa’ then, t’ finish me chores.” The woman wrapped herself in a shawl and vanished out the door.
After a meal of warm scones with gooseberry jam and a pot of bracing tea, Ellie felt restored and ready to do battle with the Demon Prince. She donned her cloak and boots, and as she stepped out of the tower bedchamber, she was surprised to see another door opposite hers.
The darkness must have been too thick for her to have noticed it the previous night. She opened the door in curiosity, only to be battered by a rush of frigid air. Poking her head outside, she found herself gazing upon the battlements atop the castle wall. A narrow walkway in between the ramparts led to another tower far in the distance.
The notion of looking out over the sea appealed to Ellie. But the furious gusts of wind and icy rain made her think better of it. It might be safer to wait until the storm had died down. Closing the door, she set forth down the winding stone steps.
The lighting was dim inside the stairwell, but thankfully she didn’t need a candle today. Cold drafts of air swirled around her, and raindrops blew through the narrow slits that were set at regular intervals in the curved walls. Despite the thickness of the stones, she could hear the faint, muffled crash of the surf and the shriek of the wind.
The tempest did appear to have increased in intensity during the night, Ellie acknowledged uneasily. Yet she held out hope that her departure might yet be arranged. Storms had a way of petering out after a time. With luck, the sun would be breaking through the clouds within an hour or two.
Today marked the fourth day of her absence from London. The longer she was gone, the more dire her predicament became. Had Walt concocted a false story to cover up her disappearance? If he’d failed to do so, the consequences would be grim. She would be deemed an unfit companion for Beatrice and ejected from Pennington House.
Disquiet nipped at Ellie’s composure. With her storybook far from complete, she wasn’t yet ready to earn her own living. Where would she go? No one would hire a ruined woman, and her meager savings would sustain her only for a short while.
She drew a lungful of damp, cold air. Succumbing to panic would only make matters worse. Better she should focus her mind on escaping this island prison by persuading Damien Burke to release her.
For all his fearsome appearance and brusque manner, he had struck her as a rational man, well spoken and reasonably civil. During their conversation in the middle of the night, he had shown no propensity to do her bodily harm. Rather, he seemed to believe that he had a true grievance against Walt for stealing that key. A grievance powerful enough to justify the kidnapping of Walt’s sister.
In spite of her predicament, Ellie found herself intrigued by his drastic scheme. Why on earth was that key so vitally important to the Demon Prince? What exactly did it mean to him? He’d said it had been given to him as a child, but mere sentiment didn’t explain why he would go to such an extreme length to retrieve it.
According to him, Walt had swiped the key out of malice. Did that mean there was a long-standing feud between the two men? If so, what was the basis of it? Ellie knew little about her cousin’s private life, aside from the fact that he often griped about his lack of funds, complaining that he couldn’t even afford to move out of his father’s house. Did the key perhaps fit a strongbox or a bank vault? Had Walt needed money to pay off a secret gambling debt before the earl found out?
Her mind swirling with questions, Ellie reached the door at the bottom of the stairs. She was struggling with the stubborn latch when the sturdy oak panel suddenly banged open, causing her to scuttle backward with a gasp.
The Demon Prince loomed in the doorway.
Her heart made a mad leap. Tall and broad-shouldered, Damien Burke looked larger than life in his black greatcoat and gleaming knee boots. He wore no hat, and his dark hair was windblown and tumbled onto his brow. His strong-hewn features showed a hostile expression in the gloom of the stairwell.
Those extraordinary green-gray eyes gave her a quick scan from head to toe. “Another escape attempt, Miss Stratham?”
Ellie clutched the edges of her cloak together. It was in her best interests to be courteous, but his mocking tone grated on her nerves. “Actually, you’ve saved me the trouble of hunting you down,” she said stiffly. “I was coming to see if you’d made arrangements to take me back to London.”
“No. Nor did I ever agree to do so.”
With that, he presented his back to her and bent down to peer at the door latch. Ellie clenched her teeth. What a rude, obstinate man! Maybe he had decided to wait and see if Walt would bring the ransom, after all. The Demon Prince must not know her cousin very well, she thought bitterly. Walt wasn’t likely to leave the comforts of London for a long journey into the middle of nowhere, especially in foul weather. There was a chance that he might send the key by post, but Ellie had no desire to tarry here long enough to find out.
Just then, she noticed that Damien Burke held a small can in his bare hand. He applied the spout to the latch, letting a small amount of liquid dribble out. Next, he used a rag to daub away the excess. She stared, riveted by the sight of him getting his hands dirty at a task more suited to a servant.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“It’s rusty, and I’m oiling it. Now, go back up to your chamber. It’s too cold and damp for you to be roaming about.” His manner dismissive, he turned his attention to the topmost hinge.
Ellie compressed her lips. Did he expect her to meekly obey his order? Apparently so. Yet as much as she wanted to rake him over the coals, she needed his help. For that reason, she had to avoid antagonizing him.
“You’ve had ample time to consider my predicament,” she said evenly. “Since I’m not Lady Beatrice, it’s extremely doubtful that Walt will deliver the ransom. So you must see the futility in holding me here.”
A grunt emanated from Damien Burke. It was the only indication that he’d heard her.
She doggedly went on, “I suspect that you’re angry about the way things have turned out. But what’s done is done, and now we must be sensible. You won’t get your key back so long as we remain on this island. However, I am willing to look for it—in exchange for you returning me to London straightaway.”
He muttered something under his breath, a sound that conveyed skepticism, though the noise of the storm muffled his precise words.
“The sooner we leave, the better,” Ellie persisted. “You said yesterday that a ship brought us here. Where is it now? Is it anchored nearby? If we could board it as soon as the storm clears—”
“The ship is gone,” he growled over his shoulder. “I sent it to harbor.”
“To harbor? Where is that?”
“Over a mile distant. In this weather, there’s no way to signal it. So you see, Miss Jabbermouth Stratham, we won’t be leaving here. At least not anytime soon. Good day.”
Oil can in hand, Damien Burke strode back through the tower entry and shut the door in her face.
Ellie stood stunned. Not leaving? And what did he mean by “not anytime soon”? He couldn’t hold her here indefinitely!
The newly oi
led latch lifted easily, unlike the previous night when she’d had to wrestle with it. Clutching her skirts, she hurried after him. The Demon Prince was already far ahead of her down the long, narrow passage, and she half ran to catch up to him.
“Wait!” she called. “Haven’t you a rowboat that could take us to the ship?”
He paused to flash her a scornful look through the gloom. “Even if I did, it would be suicide to set out in such a gale. The waves would drench you inside half a minute. In another half a minute, we’d capsize and drown.”
“It’s only a storm. Surely it will end soon.”
“We’re in the North Sea. Winter storms here can last for days.”
Days! Her insides twisted into a knot. Was she truly going to be stuck here with him for heaven only knew how long?
She couldn’t accept that fate. Not when she burned to find out how Walt had explained her abrupt absence. Her fear was that Uncle Basil wouldn’t swallow a trumped-up tale of her being called out of town to care for a sick friend. Nor was her sharp-eyed grandmother likely to believe it. Subjected to their questioning, Walt might have to confess that Ellie had been abducted by a scoundrel who had been tossed out of society for seducing a young lady.
Some six or seven years earlier, Ellie had been present when Walt had gleefully related that gossip to their grandmother. The countess had condemned the Demon Prince in no uncertain terms. Now, Ellie felt sick to imagine her family learning that she was with that very man. Although she was innocent of any wrongdoing, her reputation would be tarnished irreparably. Her family might very well disown her.
Directly ahead, Damien Burke was striding toward the open archway that led to the castle yard. But he didn’t go outside. Instead, he turned right and proceeded through another doorway that she hadn’t noticed during her nighttime trek.
Ellie went flying after him. He wasn’t going to brush her off so easily. If she had to be trapped with the ill-mannered brute, then the least he could do was to explain certain matters to her.
As she passed the open doorway, an icy gust from the courtyard nearly blew her off her feet. Shivering, she scurried behind him down a shadowy tunnel until they reached another heavy oak door. He pushed it open and she followed him into a high-ceilinged chamber.
While he stopped there to apply oil to the door hinges, Ellie found herself distracted by the surroundings. She walked slowly forward, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls. On either side of her lay double rows of stone benches. Directly in front of the aisle, the stained glass in two high windows cast a faint, reddish-gold light onto a stone altar. She bent down to run her gloved fingertips over the elaborate Celtic cross that was carved into the base.
“What a lovely room,” she said over her shoulder. “This must be the chapel.”
“How brilliant of you to notice.”
Ellie had had enough of his boorishness. She went marching back down the aisle and stopped right in front of him, tilting her head up to glare at him. “No wonder you’re called the Demon Prince. You’re the rudest man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. And if I may point out, it isn’t my fault that I’m trapped here with you. The least you could do to atone for ruining my life is to be civil.”
He glared, his eyes as hard as gemstones in his harshly handsome features. Rain pelted the window glass, and she had a keen awareness of how isolated they were. He could attack her and no one would hear her screams over the noise of the storm …
His mouth uncurled ever so slightly from its disgruntled expression. “Pray accept my apologies, Miss Stratham. If you don’t care for my manners, I’ve given you leave to return to your chamber.”
“No. You owe me answers to my questions.”
He gave her a hooded stare, then crouched down in front of the door to oil the bottom hinge. “What questions?”
Gazing down at his damp, tousled hair, Ellie had the peculiar impulse to reach out and comb it with her fingers. She gripped her gloved hands together. “Last night, you claimed that Walt took the key out of malice. But you never offered any further explanation. Tell me, why would my cousin feel such spite toward you?”
“It’s a long, complicated story.”
“Well, it appears that you may have several days in which to relate every last detail. So start at the beginning. Where did you two meet?”
He cast a wary glance up at her. “In my first year at Eton. I was a scrawny, half-grown lad and he was a bully.”
Ellie compared the two men in her mind. “But you’re much larger than him now.”
“Yes, I sprouted up the summer after that first year.” As if to lend substance to the statement, he rose to his full height. “And once I’d thrashed him a time or two, Walt learned his lesson. After that, he quit pestering me—and stealing my belongings.”
On that, Damien Burke turned and stalked out of the chapel.
Ellie’s eyes widened as she absorbed the startling revelation. Then she scurried to catch up to him. “Wait. Are you implying that Walt stole that key from you all the way back in your school days?”
“Yes.”
“But that had to have been some fifteen years ago! How can you be sure that he still has it in his possession?”
“Because I could see the truth in his face when I questioned him. Walt never was a good liar.”
As they headed down another dank corridor, Ellie struggled to wrap her mind around the notion that the inciting event had happened so far in the past. “For pity’s sake, why did you wait so long to try to get the key back?”
“I did make several attempts while still in school. I searched his belongings, but the key was nowhere to be found. Walt taunted me that he’d hidden it where I’d never find it. So I decided to bide my time until I had the power to force his hand.”
The ruthless look on his face sent a chill down her spine. If he would do anything to retrieve his precious key, then he wasn’t likely to let her go very easily.
“You don’t have the power,” she said firmly, “because I’m not his sister. As I’ve told you already, Walt will feel no obligation to rescue me.”
“Then perhaps your uncle or grandmother will do so. Now stop following me, lest you tempt me to lock you in the dungeon.”
With that, the Demon Prince stalked through an arched doorway and plunged out into the storm-swept courtyard.
Chapter 10
This time, Ellie didn’t go after him. Lashed by rain and wind, she stayed within the stone archway. The icy torrent appeared not to affect Damien Burke at all. He made no attempt to duck his head as protection from the downpour. His strides long and even, he proceeded across the yard to the tall keep with its high, barred windows.
Let the Demon Prince run off to his lair, she thought scornfully. He was like a grumpy child who needed time alone to cool his bad temper.
If indeed the storm kept them stranded here for the next day or two, she’d have other opportunities to question him. For one, she wanted to know what had turned him into such a cold, callous man. Being bullied as a youth? Or was it his ouster from polite society for his shameful behavior with that innocent young lady?
She also wondered about his family background and the source of his funds. How had he acquired this castle? By lease or by inheritance?
Gazing up at the high turrets and the crenellated walls, Ellie felt no inclination to return to the safety of her tower bedchamber. The prospect of reading all afternoon sounded far too dull. Despite the nasty weather, she had a keen desire to explore the castle. And why not? Fate had handed her this rare opportunity to gather details for the illustrations in her storybook.
She headed down a passageway that led away from the chapel. Immediately, she yearned for a sketchpad and pencil. How she would love to capture the atmospheric gloom of this corridor, the rough-hewn shape of the stones, the green moss that grew like a carpet on sections of the walls. Coming upon a closed door, she opened it to peek inside at a cluttered storeroom. The shadowy interior appeared to hold a cache
of old weaponry, from crossbows to spears, pikestaffs to broadswords.
Ellie gingerly picked up a long sword and nearly staggered from its weight. For a moment she imagined herself using the blade to force Damien Burke to free her from this island prison. Just as swiftly, she acknowledged the futility of that scenario. They were both stuck here so long as the storm continued to rage.
But she did like the sense of power the sword gave to her. It made her feel brave and heroic. Gripping the hilt more firmly with both gloved hands, she hoisted the blade and made a few experimental swings in the air, the cloak swirling around her. She was Princess Arianna battling the evil rat prince who had invaded her chamber …
Prince?
No, the man-sized rat was merely the latest in a series of mythical creatures to be slain by the princess in her quest to find her way home. A rat could not be a prince … unless perhaps he was an enchanted rat.
The notion caught Ellie’s fancy. Propping the sword against the wall, she mulled over the possibility of adding a new twist to her story. Suppose a witch had cast a spell over a cruel, hard-hearted prince as a punishment. Suppose again that the only way to break the spell was for him to prove himself worthy of love. Yet try as he might, he could never succeed because people either screamed at the sight of a gigantic rodent or tried to kill him. Nevertheless, he could not give up. Resolving to win Princess Arianna’s heart, he entered her chamber to help her fight off an invading ogre …
A wry smile touched Ellie’s lips as she closed the storeroom door and resumed her stroll down the passageway. Damien Burke could never know that he was the inspiration for this new character in her story. And she would take great pleasure in molding and shaping him exactly as she wished.
A pity she couldn’t do the same to him in real life. Unfortunately, he would always be a surly scoundrel. Outside the pages of a book, rats simply had to remain rats.
Roaming onward, Ellie could see that the castle was laid out in a large square, with the occasional chamber here and there, mostly empty or scattered with rubble. There were open archways to the courtyard at regular intervals, and whenever she passed one, she hurried her steps to avoid being spattered by freezing raindrops.