by Adele Clee
Lord Markham had the look of a man who trusted no one.
“Give me two hours,” he said moving to the door. “And lock this behind me.”
Mrs. Harlow was a short, stout woman with ruddy cheeks, and hands so dry and chapped they left a dusting of flaky skin over her brown dress.
“Your brother is mighty worried about you,” she said, settling down in the chair by the fire. She folded her arms across her chest to support her drooping bosom and appeared grateful for the opportunity to take a much-needed rest. No doubt, Lord Markham had paid handsomely for the pleasure.
“My brother,” Evelyn said trying not to smile. “Yes, he is most attentive.”
“It always comes down to family in the end. We all need someone to offer support and guidance. More so, when you’re just getting ready to fledge the nest.”
Oh, she’d taken that first leap; she’d fluttered her wings and soared through the air, carried on a breeze of resplendent pleasure. Only, her wings were not as strong as she’d thought and she had come crashing back down to reality.
Mrs. Harlow was right. Everyone needed support at some time. Aunt Beatrice had been there for her when her parents had died, and she couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to be alone.
Alexander had suffered, too. Only he’d had no one to turn to. And so he had shut himself away from the world and barred the door to all visitors.
After her bitter betrayal, she doubted he would ever smile again. And he looked so handsome with laughter flashing in his eyes. The thought brought to mind his reaction to her tipping pond water over her head, to the way his eyes twinkled as he picked algae from her hair.
Another wonderful memory that would crumble to dust if Lord Markham wished it so.
“Never mind, miss,” Mrs. Harlow said mistaking her forlorn expression. “You’ll soon be on your way home. You’re brother said you’ll be leaving for London this very night.”
Soon she’d be in London and then thousands of miles away in India. Poor Aunt Bea must be so worried. Her thoughts turned to the man responsible for causing her misery. She’d not even thought to ask what had happened to Mr. Sutherby.
“Some ladies don’t like to travel in the dark,” Mrs. Harlow continued, “not through the forest.”
“Oh, I don’t mind the dark. I find it peaceful, magical almost. I always struggle to settle at night. If I had my way I would sleep away the day.”
Mrs. Harlow narrowed her gaze. “Well, all folks are different I suppose.”
The night is my home. It is where I belong.
Alexander’s words flooded her mind. The night was where she belonged, too. But she had let him down. He would never forgive her, never trust her again.
Perhaps she could try—try to understand him, to help him, to love him.
Hope blossomed in her chest.
Any life without him was not a life worth living. She had to be with him. She would give up her days to slumber, spend her nights in his company.
She would give up everything for him.
A tap on the door disturbed her dreams and Mrs. Harlow eased out of the chair and answered it. Evelyn heard her muttered protests and groans of discontent.
“I’ll be but a few minutes,” she said, already halfway out of the door. “Someone’s asking for a hot supper, and I swear that girl’s never set foot in a kitchen her entire life. Now lock this door behind me.”
As Evelyn turned the key, she was suddenly hit with a deep pang of sorrow, a heart-wrenching sense of anguish. It wasn’t her own pain she was feeling.
Eve.
The word resonated like an ear-piercing cry. He needed her.
“Alexander,” she whispered, her trembling fingers unlocking the door. “I’m coming.”
Chapter 25
“You let Sutherby go!” Alexander thrust his arms behind his back for fear of lashing out. “What the hell were you thinking? The man deserves to swing for what he’s done.”
“Well, I didn’t just let him go,” Elliot said with a mischievous grin. He picked up the glass from the side table and sipped the blood. “I used a little mind magic. He’s probably wandering the woods looking for fairies. I convinced him his life was dependent upon rescuing a hundred and he’s only got a week to achieve the task.”
Alexander paced back and forth in front of the fire. Being back at Stony Cross reminded him of Eve. Her presence lingered in the hallways, in his parlour, in his study. When he’d ventured into the garden, his mind conjured her image watching him from the upstairs window, and he called out her name in his grief.
“And you think that a fitting punishment for kidnap and whatever else he intended to do?”
“I was thinking of Miss Bromwell’s precarious reputation,” Elliot said with a hint of frustration. “She’ll be ruined if word of this gets out. Besides, someone had to tend to Sutherby’s wound. Someone had to ensure he remembered nothing of how he came by it.”
Alexander brushed his hand through his hair. “And for that I’m grateful. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I left you there with him. I didn’t thank you for dealing with his coachman.” The only thing on his mind had been the look of sheer terror on Eve’s face. He’d felt her fear like the slash of a sword, slicing through his stomach, his guts spilling out onto the floor.
It was his fault. He should have told her before. He should have controlled his urges.
“You were not thinking clearly then,” Elliot said draining his glass and slamming it down on the table, “and you’re not thinking clearly now.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I know little of love.” Elliot’s dandified wave and curled lip conveyed disdain, as though the word was foreign to his repartee. “But I know Miss Bromwell believes she loves you deeply. Yet still you would have her forget you. Are you certain there is no hope of helping her to understand? Can you not—”
“You saw her face,” he said picking up the poker and prodding the fire. “She despises what I am. To her, I will always be an abhorrence, a distortion of all that is normal and natural.”
“Those are your words, not hers.”
“They are true all the same. She could never love me as she used to.”
He wished he could go back to the time when all he felt was anger and bitterness. He wished he had no knowledge of love’s beautiful ache. Self-pity was not a quality he admired, yet he could not help but grieve for all he had lost.
He twirled the iron rod between his fingers and thrust the handle at Elliot. “If you want to help, you can start by driving this through my heart, or what’s left of it.”
In a sudden fit of rage, Elliot seized the poker and shot to his feet knocking Alexander to the floor with a punch to his chest. “You want to bloody well die,” he spat, “then let me put you out of your misery.” The point of the poker dug deep into Alexander’s skin, and Elliot put his boot on his chest to keep him on the floor.
“Do it,” Alexander cried, his heart too weak to protest. “I have nothing left to live for.”
“Know this,” Elliot said, his face red and distorted in his rage. “Miss Bromwell does not want to forget you, and I will honour her wishes. Know that she will always remember the love you shared. Her nightmares will be haunted by the image of a monster. She will always know what you have forsaken, know that you’re a coward.”
Elliot’s taunts failed to penetrate his shield of despair.
All except one.
“You promised me you would make her forget, that you would erase her pain.”
“I did not promise you anything, Alexander. But know that in your absence, I will pursue Miss Bromwell. Perhaps I will take her to Bavaria and beg the golden-haired goddess to turn her.”
“No!” The word sounded like a howl as he unleashed the wrath of the devil inside. He felt his fangs protract as his vision sharpened. Drawing all his strength, he writhed and kicked out as Elliot struggled to contain him.
Elliot threw the poker to the floor
and stumbled back. “This is who you are. The sooner you learn to accept it, the easier your life will become.”
“I should rip your throat out for your callous remarks.”
“But you won’t,” Elliot said with a smirk.
Alexander stepped back, feeling disgust for the beastly image he knew marred his face. “Just leave me the hell alone.”
Stalking away without another word, he marched through the house and out into the garden. The fresh night air failed to bring the usual relief, and so he wandered over to the bench, flopped down and let his head fall into his hands.
Now he knew all his efforts to occupy his mind during the long, lonely nights had been for naught. Nothing would fill those hours now. Whenever he sat at his easel, he would think of her. Whenever he glanced at the moon’s reflection glistening upon the water, he would recall the night he’d watched an angel swim. The scent of cherry blossom would remind him of the intoxicating taste of her skin, of the night she gave herself to him.
“Alexander.”
Just to torture him all the more, his mind conjured the sweet sound of her voice. The soft timbre was more beautiful than any musical arrangement he’d ever heard, and he closed his eyes and tried to imagine it again.
“Please, Alexander. I know I’ve hurt you, but give me a chance to explain.”
His eyes flew open as he felt a hand on his shoulder, the warmth rushing to his heart in a desperate bid to stoke the burnt debris.
“Eve.” He shot up and swung around, forgetting his teeth still overhung his bottom lip, that his eyes were not the blue she remembered.
She gasped and swallowed visibly, her head jerking back in shock and he wanted to scream and curse. In his shame, he shuffled back, his gaze falling from her wide eyes.
“Don’t hide from me,” she suddenly said rushing around the bench to stand in front of him. “Let me look upon your face.”
“It is the face of a beast.”
“No, Alexander. It is the face of the man I love.” She put her hand on his chest, and his heart pounded against his ribs. “I love you, and I want you to know that I’m not afraid.”
He struggled to believe her pretty protestations. His faith in all things just and equal having deserted him. Still, he longed to hold her close, to kiss away his fears.
Alexander raised his head, and her hand moved up to caress his cheek. Her fingers trembled against his skin, and he found he admired her all the more for her courage. Blinking back a torrent of emotion, he covered her hand.
Desire, love and longing pulsed through him.
Eve looked tenderly into his eyes. “Please say something. Say you forgive me.”
He was suddenly overcome with the urge to release all his pent-up emotion.
“I … I love you,” he said softly. “You are everything to me, which is why I want you to forget you ever met me. Let your life be free of this hideous burden.”
He watched a tear trickle down her cheek and guilt flared.
“I have something to ask of you,” she said lifting her chin.
“Ask what you will. But know I only desire your happiness.”
“Good,” she said, her voice sounding strong, more confident, “because I want you to marry me. I want you to be my husband, my lover, my friend and companion. Let me live here with you. We shall spend the nights together. During the days, you may sketch me whilst I sleep.”
Marriage?
The sense of remorse that always accompanied unobtainable dreams burst through him. In his wild and vivid imagination, he could almost picture the blissful scene.
“There’s more to this affliction than my strange countenance.” His voice sounded more natural as his features returned to their human form. “Things beyond your comprehension.”
She smiled up at him. “You don’t like the sun, and you drink blood.”
“Elliot told you?”
“He also told me about the golden-haired lady.”
Alexander sucked in a breath. “She’s no lady. But those things are not what trouble me most.”
“Tell me. Tell me everything.”
Unable to resist the urge clawing away inside, he took her face in his hands and caressed the soft skin. “What if I can’t control the beast inside? What if you grow more frightened of me each day? I couldn’t bear to see fear in your eyes.”
“I’m not afraid anymore.”
Alexander snorted, recalling the harrowing image of her fleeing through the chamber door in terror. “You may say that now, but what if the episodes become more frequent? In a year, things might be different.”
She put her hands on his chest and all of his fears melted away. “What if you tire of me, Alexander?”
He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “My love for you has no limits,” he said stroking her hair.
Eve looked up to gaze into his eyes. “I would rather spend every day loving you than spend a lifetime alone. And I would be alone, Alexander, for there will never be another. Not for me.”
At some point in his life, he must have done something wonderful to deserve the love of an angel. Struggling to contain his raging emotions, he brushed his lips across hers, the brief touch causing their passion to flame.
“Let us make each night we spend together more precious than the last,” he said, his voice brimming with desire as he surrendered to the light.
She stepped away from him, a coy smile playing on her lips. “Then let us begin right now, with a swim.”
Alexander scanned her dress. “We’ll need to be less encumbered.”
They stripped off their clothes in great haste. He helped her with buttons and undergarments before throwing their discarded items on the bench.
Holding hands, they walked down to the river’s edge; the moon’s incandescence casting a silvery sheen over their bare skin. As Alexander helped her down into the water, swimming was the last thing on his mind. But the cold was biting, his desire momentarily overshadowed by the sharp shock and he pulled her into an embrace to ease her shivering limbs.
“We should move if we’re to keep warm,” he said as desire burst forth again with its usual intensity and he poured it all into a devilishly sinful kiss.
In the water, they were weightless, and she wrapped her legs around him with ease. “Don’t wait,” she whispered against his mouth, her thigh brushing against the only part of his anatomy impervious to the cold. “I want to join with you—now, tonight, forever.”
“Your happiness is all I seek,” he said, as he positioned himself and pushed inside her, giving her everything she needed. “I love you.”
She threw her head back, her perfect breasts ripe for the offering, and he took her nipple into his mouth as he thrust deeper.
“I love you,” she said between breathless pants.
As she cried his name in the wild throes of her pleasure, one thought pushed to the fore.
He was no longer a lost soul wandering the darkness.
He had found his way home.
Epilogue
“It took a little mind manipulation,” Alexander said, “but the bishop had no choice when faced with the wrath of an earl. He insisted that I call the next morning, although he soon understood that the evening suited me much better.”
“And now she’s your wife.” Leo nodded over to Eve as she chatted with their guests. “You’re a braver man than I.”
Elliot patted him on the back. “You’re definitely lucky. I doubt there’s another woman alive who would choose to marry a man plagued with our afflictions. Your wife is a true original.”
Alexander glanced at Eve with pride. Sensing his gaze, she looked up and smiled. “She’ll always be unique in my eyes, but there’s nothing original about love.”
Leo shivered visibly. “Just hearing the word makes me want to run for the hills.”
“Have no fear,” Elliot said with a chuckle. “The day either of us declares love will be the day the sun fails to rise.”
“I used to be
just as cynical.” Had Eve not thrown the stone through his window, he’d most likely still be brooding in his chair. “Nothing can prepare you for such a delicious form of agony.”
Leo’s eyes widened. “It’s the agony that terrifies me. That constant pining I hear so much about.”
“Trust me, your day will come. Although I have a strange feeling, Elliot will be the first to fall. And I shall look forward to the day with eager anticipation.”
Elliot scoffed. “You’ll be waiting an exceedingly long time, my friend.”
Alexander sipped his brandy, but it still made the muscles in his throat spasm.
“If you drank it more often, you’d soon get used to it,” Elliot said. “I’m assuming it was your idea to have an informal supper as opposed to dinner.”
“My wife thought it would save me having to explain why I’d not touched a morsel. I did nibble on a sandwich, but I spat it into the plant pot when no one was looking.”
Although that wasn’t quite true. Mrs. Shaw had witnessed the whole thing, but it seemed nothing could erase the smile she’d worn for days.
Leo’s eyes bulged. “Who’s that?” he said nodding to a pretty lady with honey-gold hair. “She is trying to act all demure though I swear she keeps looking over here.”
“That is Mr. Hartwood’s niece and she is strictly off bounds.”
“This penchant for golden hair worries me,” Elliot said. “If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you have unresolved issues from your traumatic experience in Bavaria.”
Leo screwed up his nose. “Don’t be so ridiculous. I have no preference when it comes to women. I’ll take them any way I find them.”
“Prove it,” Elliot said with an arrogant grin. “I’ll wager twenty pounds you end up bedding a golden-haired goddess at the masquerade tomorrow night.”
Leo thrust his hand out though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Done.”
Alexander chuckled. Perhaps there was no hope of either of them finding a life companion and the thought reminded him of his pressing problem.
“Can I speak to you both alone, in private?”