As quickly as the rage had come, it was gone, replaced by sadness. He stopped in front of her, just out of reach. ‘How dare you treat me like this, Patra? How dare you make me the villain in the sad drama of your life? You still blame me for Dimitri all those years ago. I did not kill him! He died, like soldiers do.’
‘Because you arranged it! You put him in the thick of the battle. I saw the battle reports. I talked to the other captains. Everyone said you ordered his unit into the thick of the fighting knowing full well they would be annihilated,’ Patra fired back, less intimidated by him in her anger.
‘I saw him die, yes. I held him in my arms at the end.’ Castor stepped forward, stalking her now, his voice silky. She moved to the other side of the pastry table, keeping the furniture between them. ‘Shall I remind you of his last words? He said, “Look after Patra...take care of her for me.” Your husband gave you to me and yet you defy me at every turn.’ Something raw and covetous flashed in his eyes. ‘You defy him, too, by denying his dying wishes. He wanted us to be together.’
Patra’s hand closed over the hilt of her little knife. She had heard that story before. Her response was still the same. ‘So you say. Why should I believe you? There is no proof those were his last words or that you were even with him. Of course he would have asked that, he thought you were his friend.’ She preferred it that way. She did not want Dimitri to have died knowing he was betrayed.
Castor stopped stalking. He held his arms out to his side in a gesture of reconciliation. ‘Patra, you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I have wealth, a home, servants. Once the Filiki regains their political power, I will have even more and social standing to go with it. We could be one of the greatest couples in the new Greece, a new state we wrested from the hands of the Turks. This has always been our dream, why do you baulk now?’
Patra narrowed her eyes. He chuckled. ‘You dislike having your sins revisited, I see. But it’s no sin that you roused to me once. I would have made an honest woman of you, I still would.’
‘I did not rouse to you. I did nothing disgraceful with you.’ She spat. But he was right. Even though she’d never acted on it, there’d been a time in the early days after Dimitri’s death before she knew what Castor had done, when she had thought she hungered for him. He had been handsome and consoling, so very eager to comfort her at a time when the loneliness had threatened to swamp her.
‘Now there is this Englishman.’ Castor was watching her. She held her face still, willing it to blankness. She refused to be intimidated by him or the memories, but she’d forgotten how commanding he could be, how intuitive. He knew how to play on a person’s fears.
He picked up a pastry and extended it to her. ‘You say he is nothing. If so, eat this cream puff. Prove to me he is nothing.’
What ridiculous game did he play now? She was sure he played one. What did one bite prove to him? What did she risk by not doing it? What did it cost her beyond her pride? Surely she could afford a little pride if it protected Brennan. Patra reached for the pastry, but he raised it, holding it out of reach.
‘No, Patra. I will hold it while you take a bite.’ He was going to make her pride suffer, she could hear it in his tone, deceptively silky, hiding the malice beneath. But she knew it was there. ‘Come, take the food from my hand.’
She wanted to refuse, wanted to grab the pastry from him and smash it into his face. He knew it, too. She hesitated, her pride getting the better of her in the moment. Perhaps this was what he wanted. He wanted her to refuse so he could blame her for forcing his hand. Brennan would not die for the lack of a bite. Patra gathered her pride and bit into the pastry, her teeth sinking into the creamy interior. She tried not to think of his hand holding it, or of what she was doing.
Castor wasn’t going to let her off that easy. His eyes watched her chew, watched her swallow. ‘Do you remember how I fed you when you were sick, how I took care of you before you lost the baby?’ His tones were soft now, conjuring up one painful memory after another. ‘Do you ever think about that, Patra? About why that happened?’ He forced another bite on her. ‘Everything happens for a reason. With Dimitri gone, only the baby stood in our way of making a fresh start. Then it, too, was gone. I took care of everything for you, for us.’
Patra choked, gagging on the cream. It was the one thought she had never allowed herself to entertain—that Castor had been responsible for the miscarriage. It wasn’t because she wanted to protect Castor, she was far beyond that. She wanted to protect herself. There was only so much tragedy a soul could bear. Losing Dimitri and the baby so close together had been all she could take. It was easier to believe she’d lost the baby due to grief. It was what the doctors had believed and it made logical sense. No one wanted to believe a man would be depraved enough to kill a woman’s husband and her unborn child. She fought back the rising bile. She would not retch in front of him. He would relish the degradation, would relish the victory in knowing she had to face that truth.
‘Just one more bite, Patra,’ he said, as if she hadn’t just choked on the last. ‘Take it for your Englishman. It’s rather intimate, isn’t it? Eating out of someone’s hand?’ he drawled, his voice low. ‘This pastry, this cream, your mouth on it, your teeth sinking in to it, it all calls to mind another rather intimate act you might perform for me with your mouth.’
Patra spat the remainder of the pastry into his face, anger taking hold before she could think better of it. He’d deprived her of so much and she wanted him to pay. Cream and spittle clung to his cheek. ‘I would never do that!’
He withdrew a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his face, unfazed by her outburst. ‘I think you would do a great number of things if you thought it would keep your Englishman safe.’ A malevolent grin twitched at his lips. ‘After all, you ate the pastry.’
She began to argue, to protest, but he overrode her with his voice. ‘The Patra I knew would not have eaten the pastry. She would have fought me because she had nothing left to lose. But you...’ his gaze raked her intimately ‘...you, come in here glowing and radiant, quite obviously the products of a night well spent in a lover’s arms, and ask clemency for him. You, my dear, are a woman who has everything to lose. It makes you vulnerable. You ate the pastry and you will do a sight more than that if you think it will keep Brennan Carr alive.’
‘I hate you.’
‘I’m sure you do, despite my willingness to kill for you. If that is not devotion, I don’t know what it is. Many women would see that as a grand token of affection. But in a gesture of good will, I will make you a deal. You did do my bidding, after all, as much it galls you to admit.’ He chuckled and rested a hip on the table. ‘Brennan Carr is to be gone in two days. Either you see to his exodus, or I will.’ He picked up a bougatsa and bit into it. ‘Don’t look so horrified. I’m not asking you to kill him. Just make him leave.’ He took another bite, his tongue licking the cream off his lips. ‘Of course, I might, but I hope it doesn’t come to that.’
Her knife wouldn’t be enough. She couldn’t carve out Castor’s heart with its small blade, but she did think about it. ‘That is no deal at all. You are forcing me to give him up!’ It was a ridiculous argument to make with a delusional man.
Castor gave a careless shrug. ‘But he’ll be alive and you can take comfort in having saved him. Now, I have other appointments to see to. If you will excuse me? Thank you for coming by. I look forward to seeing you and the Englishman tonight at the banquet where we will have one more opportunity to share a meal together. Think about my offer. Two days, Patra. Today and tomorrow. Remember, if I can’t have you, no one will.’
She made it outside before her stomach gave out, retching up its contents with vehemence. She should not have come. She should not have tried to bargain with Castor. All it had proven was that he controlled everything about her life. Even when she fought him, he won, perhaps especially when she fou
ght him. Nothing she’d done in the past twelve years had stopped his hold on her. The further she retreated from society, the more alone she was, the more victory he claimed. He wanted her to be alone, cut off from any support. He was a mad man. He would wait. Four years, five years, it wouldn’t matter to him. He’d taken her husband, he had taken her baby. Now, he wanted to take Brennan. He preferred she be the one to make the ‘choice’. He liked manoeuvring people into such corners where they chose their own unhappiness.
Two days! Two days to say goodbye, to convince Brennan to leave without letting on that this was Castor’s bidding. If Brennan suspected that she’d gone to Castor, that this was part of a deal, he would be furious. He would go after Castor himself. Castor might even be angling for such a reaction. Then he’d be justified in ‘defending’ himself. This was all her fault, Patra thought, not for the first time. This was what she got for being happy, for letting down her guard just for a moment.
She couldn’t let Brennan pay the ultimate price for her failure. But he would pay in other ways. It would destroy him to leave Kardamyli. He’d found a place for himself here and peace. Kardamyli made him happy. He would take her happiness with him, too, she realised. She wondered if she could be happy here without him. She certainly hadn’t been before. She’d spent those years reclusively, trying hard not to call attention to herself. How could she go back to that now, knowing that it was what Castor wanted? That he was out there just waiting for her?
She stumbled away, hardly aware of where her feet took her. She had not realised how much Brennan had changed for her, how much of her happiness was tied up in him, in a person, not a place, not a cause. Love took too much out of one. It was the very thing she’d vowed not to allow and yet it had happened. She loved Brennan Carr. She’d said the words last night, but the understanding of what that meant had come upon her like the tide to the shore, not all at once, but in gradual waves until it covered the beach and there could be no retreat.
It was hard to catch her breath. She was climbing and crying, not an ideal combination for breathing. Her breaths came in gasps and sobs. What was she going to do? How could she get Brennan to leave without destroying him? It wasn’t just leaving Kardamyli that would ruin him, it would be leaving her. She’d said she’d loved him and he’d been so desperate to hear it. To thrust him away now would obliterate the hope those words had brought to his eyes.
Patra stopped climbing and looked about her, trying to steady herself. She knew where she was. Brennan’s hill, the place where Brennan liked to think. She’d not meant to come here, but her feet had picked this path anyway. And she wasn’t alone.
Chapter Eighteen
Brennan stalked towards her, bristling with temper and relief, but it was his temper that got the better of him. ‘Where the hell have you been? How do you think I felt waking up to find you gone with no note? No idea? I was worried sick.’ For a man who was used to sleeping in two-hour naps, he was sleeping far too soundly these days if a woman could sneak out of bed on him.
‘I went into town.’
‘From the looks of you, that’s not all.’ He was regretting his outburst even if it had been provoked by concern. Patra looked terrible. Her face was pale, almost greenish, and she’d been crying. Then he knew what she had done and he felt almost as pale. ‘You went to see him.’ He jammed his hands into fists at his sides, impotent to reverse that choice. She didn’t need to confirm his guess. The meeting had clearly devastated her. His gut clenched at the thought of her alone with the bastard, at the thought that he hadn’t been there to defend her, to fight for her. But he was angry, too.
‘You didn’t trust me to handle it. What did you promise him to leave me alone? Because there’s only one thing he wants and that’s you.’ Brennan threw back his head and gave a frustrated groan to the sky. ‘Why couldn’t you trust me to protect you? You say you love me, but what is that love worth? If you love me, let me defend myself, let me defend you.’
His words were harsh, painting her as a whore willing to bargain herself. ‘Apollonius is my problem. I’m the one he wants to kill. I don’t need you to beg for me.’ Brennan paced the hilltop, pushing a hand through his hair. He was hurting her because he was hurting and now she was angry, too.
Tears came afresh and her voice trembled with emotion. ‘I went to him and I denied I felt anything for you. When that didn’t work, I begged him, because I love you! I ate a pastry for you, fed to me from his hand for the chance that you would be safe, and all the while he...’ She couldn’t get the rest out.
The words, the tears, broke his anger. This wasn’t about him and his wounded masculine pride. This was about what Castor had done to her, what she had been willing to allow all for him. She had sacrificed for him and it humbled him to his core. He did not deserve her goodness, but he would fight to earn that right. Brennan shut his eyes, castigating himself. When he spoke, his voice was soft but forceful. He gathered her to him. ‘Patra, I’m not a child.’
‘I know.’ Her voice was small against his chest. ‘I don’t want to lose you. You say I won’t, but you don’t know all that he is, all that he’s capable of.’ Her hand reached up to stroke his face, her eyes sad. He let her touch him, tolerated it for the moment. He was a boiling pot of emotions; other feelings competed with his anger. She had done what she thought was best out of loving concern for him at great risk to herself and she had paid for that risk.
He covered her hand with his where it lay against his face. ‘Patra, let me be your man.’ He broke from her long enough to retrieve his hidden blanket, long enough to force the anger out of his thoughts. She didn’t need his rage. She needed a listener. He spread the blanket. ‘Come and sit, Patra. Tell me everything that he is.’ Perhaps in listening, he could figure out what to do. The only thing that was clear was that this was going to come to a head. He needed a plan, not just for himself, but for Patra.
She leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder, the truth she’d meant to tell him tumbling out. ‘If I ate the pastry, he agreed to give you two days to leave. If not, he will come for you.’ Her fist tightened in the folds of his shirt. ‘He will come, Brennan. He will allow nothing to stand in his way.’ She paused and he waited, sensing there was something more. He felt her body start to shake, sobs precluding the words that explained them.
‘God, Patra, what else did he do?’ Part of him didn’t want to know. That part wanted to run as far away from the evil as it could. But the other part, the part that wanted to be a man who stayed even through difficulty, understood that the tragedy had to be shared.
‘There was a baby. When Dimitri left for Modon I was pregnant. I had just begun to suspect it. I only confided in Dimitri, partially in the hope that if it were true he would not go. But Dimitri told Castor.’
Cold horror uncoiled in Brennan’s stomach as the realisation swept him. Castor had known Before Dimitri was killed. No, it wasn’t possible. Brennan wasn’t comfortable with the dark direction of his thoughts. How depraved did a man have to be to deliberately deprive an unborn child of his father? But Patra would not let him hide from them. ‘I did not want to eat for days after Castor brought the news about Dimitri. But he begged me to eat. He tempted me with rich lamb stew and other foods. I relented for the sake of my baby. The baby was all that kept me going. I had to take care of Dimitri’s child. One night not long after Castor had been bringing me food, I took ill. I thought it was the unfamiliarity of food in my stomach which had been empty for so long. But there was blood and it became something far worse. By the next day, the baby was gone.
‘For a long time, I tried not to believe the worst. I told myself it was due to grief.’ Patra shuddered, sobs racking her. Brennan held her close, letting his strength absorb her sorrow. ‘Today, while he forced that pastry into my mouth, he told me what he’d done. He’d done it for us so there would be nothing between us, nothing of past reminders.’
/>
He was going to kill Castor Apollonius. That was the plan. A man that depraved could not be allowed to live, could not be allowed to threaten others’ lives. But he couldn’t say that out loud right now, not to Patra, who had just learned of the new horror Apollonius had wrought in her life. No wonder she wanted him to leave. Apollonius was pure evil and pure evil could not be reasoned with. It could only be destroyed. Brennan kept his words calm. ‘I am to simply go away and forget the life I made here, the love I made here, the love I found here? I am to leave you behind?’
‘I bargained for your life. It was the best I could do,’ she reminded him, her voice under control. ‘It does not come without cost. Surely you would agree you are better off alive with your memories than dead at thirty.’
‘I refuse to pay that price,’ Brennan said softly.
‘There is no choice. Castor won’t fight fair. This won’t be a duel with rules.’ She lifted her head and fisted his shirt in her hands. ‘Castor will come when you least expect it. He won’t even come himself. He’ll send some lackey who had been told he is ridding the world of an unpatriotic traitor. It could be anyone on the street. I won’t ask you to live like that. The waiting, the wondering would drive a person mad long before a dagger did the job.’ Patra shook her head. ‘I’m not worth it, Brennan. I love you, but I don’t want you to give your life for me. I want to know that you’re safe. I want you to leave in the morning. Talk to no one. Just go, just disappear. I will make your excuses to Kon and Lydia.’
‘Out of love for you, you want me to go?’ His voice was dangerously quiet. ‘But out of that same love, Patra, I choose to stay.’ A plan was starting to percolate in his mind. The final choices were not clear to him, but the beginning point was. He needed to beard Castor in his den and the banquet tonight would be the perfect place to start.
Rake Most Likely to Sin Page 15