He meant every damned word he said. She could read it in his eyes, feel the weight of his guilt pressed against her hands. Killing her mother had taken mere seconds, yet Victor had paid for his actions every day of his life. He wasn’t supposed to have a conscience. But he most certainly did.
So Victor wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer, yet he laid his life in her trembling hands. Could she kill him here and now? She’d dreamed her whole life of making him suffer. All she had to do was lean her weight into their joined hands, and he would be dead. But she was no more a murderer than he. She’d vowed never to take a life, unless it would save her own.
Her breaths came in sharp, little pants as she stared into his irises, wishing she could read his thoughts. The seconds ticked by, and his body relaxed. A magnetic force drew her gaze to his sensuous lips, hovering only inches away. He reeked of fresh, salty sea air, and her fingers tingled with the need to rake through his hair before she explored the sweet depths of his mouth with her own. Oh, how she ached to taste his lips once more.
Her attraction to him defied logic, yet it was undeniable. What was this madness? Victor Blackburn had killed her mother. The thought of touching him tenderly ought to be revolting.
“Release me,” she said, turning her face away as the solid foundation she’d built around her heart began to crumble. “Please, I cannot bear your touch.”
He tossed the dagger to the ground and molded his body to hers. A fire sparked in her veins, and heat pulsed through her, pooling low in her stomach.
“Lying to yourself again?” he murmured, brushing his cheek against hers. “You craved my touch last night. As I crave yours.” His lips hovered over her ear, the heat of his breath sending tingles up her spine. “Come, Mercy. You must decide. Am I a cold-blooded killer or a victim of circumstance? Do you hate me or weep for me? You can’t have it both ways. Damn me to hell or forgive me. You must choose.”
How did one abandon a lifetime of hatred in the space of a few minutes? She could not. Perhaps with time she would forgive Victor. But she could never forget. His proximity smothered her, and she desperately wanted solitude in order to process everything vying for her thoughts.
“Life isn’t that black and white,” she said, meeting his steely gaze. “So wipe that smug smile off your face and stop mocking me. The fact remains that you killed my mother.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “I beg to differ. There are no shades of gray in my life. If you cannot choose, I will choose for you.”
“Is that a threat?” she asked, struggling to break free of his hold. “Let me go, you barbarian! Forgiveness must be offered freely. This isn’t a decision you can make on my behalf.”
His brow lifted, and he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. And despite her earlier protests, she melted against him and tasted his sweet tongue with fervor while her fingers wove through his silky locks. When their mouths parted, a wicked grin spread over his mouth.
“You contradict yourself, my sweet,” he said, drawing her hand away from his hair to kiss the delicate skin on her palm. “I know you better than you know yourself.”
Her heart thundered, and she closed her eyes. The man was truly a beast. Every time she began to feel an ounce of empathy for him, he proved just how horrible he could be.
A sharp knock sounded on the door, and a rush of cold air swept over her as Victor hastily stepped away. He stomped to the cabin door and opened it, plastering a smile on his face.
“Eveline, how delightful to see you this morning. Please, do come in.”
Stepping aside, he allowed her to enter. She was accompanied by an elderly crewmember carrying a tray laden with food. The sailor set his burden on the table and shuffled back through the exit with Victor hard on his heels.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Victor said, bowing. “I must change my shirt, and I have an urgent matter to discuss with the captain.”
As the door slammed behind him, Mercy couldn’t help but wonder if the matter involved her and the choice Victor had threatened to make on her behalf.
Chapter Seventeen
The heavenly scent of scrambled eggs, bacon, and freshly brewed coffee wafted under Mercy’s nose, drawing her to inspect the fare set upon the table. She hadn’t eaten a decent meal in several days and found she was ravenous. Eveline laid out two plates along with silverware.
“Please, sit,” she said, gesturing to an empty chair.
Mercy eyed the food warily. On the one hand, she wished to take her fill, and on the other, she knew better than to trust Victor. Had he somehow convinced Eveline to help him in his pursuit? Certainly not! Her friend was a woman of strong faith and would never stoop to trickery. She was going mad, driven to insanity by that damnable man and his threats. And even if he had somehow convinced Eveline to assist him, why would he storm out of the cabin and leave her to eat in peace? Unless he didn’t realize how the potion worked.
Mercy poured two cups of coffee and spooned sugar and milk into her cup while keeping an eye on Eveline, who filled a plate with the delicious smelling fare.
“I thought you might join me for a stroll on deck after breakfast,” Eveline said, smiling. “This is my first time aboard a ship, and I’m anxious to discover the wonders of the sea. Have you journeyed on a ship before?”
Mercy shook her head. “This is my maiden voyage as well. Yes, I’ll be glad for a bit of fresh air, but I’m not sure Victor will allow me out of his sight.”
The door swung open, and Victor strolled in with the captain. Both men were laughing, though she could not discern the cause of their laughter. She lifted her cup to her lips and sipped the strong brew while assessing Victor. How different his mood was compared to their earlier encounter.
The captain settled into the chair next to Eveline as Victor hauled the chair from his desk closer, taking the vacant spot next to Mercy. He snatched a rasher of bacon from her plate and chewed on it lazily, all the while grinning at her.
“Enjoying your meal?” he asked, lifting a brow.
A sense of foreboding prickled over her skin. His behavior was that of a lover, not an enemy. Why was he baiting her?
He gestured to the pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice sitting before the captain. “Pour me a glass, would you? I’ve yet to break my fast, and I find myself both thirsty and hungry.”
Eveline clucked her tongue. “You should’ve told me. Allow me to fix you a plate, Victor. I’ve cooked enough for an entire army, I’m afraid, and you know how I hate to waste food.”
While Eveline prepared his plate, Victor slathered butter on a slice of toast and then heaped on a spoonful of jam. He bit into the bread, gobbling up more than half of it with a single bite. How abominably rude!
The captain poured juice into two glasses, handing one to Victor while setting the other in front of Mercy. She sipped her juice, enjoying the tangy sweetness as it slid down her throat. Orange pulp clung to her lips, and she licked it away, savoring the burst of flavor.
Victor cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Her head snapped up in time to catch his eyes lingering on her mouth. He gazed at her as though she were a piece of apple tart and he desperately wanted a bite.
Heat flared in her belly. Why must the man be so beautiful and have such an annoying effect on her? The corner of his mouth quirked up, and she returned her attention to her meal, determined to ignore him.
“Tell me about Blackburn Castle,” Eveline said while setting a plate heaping with food in front of Victor. “Dominick says it’s hundreds of years old. Is that true?”
Victor shoveled eggs into his mouth and nodded. “It dates back to the early fifteenth century. The castle was originally known as Castle Thorne Am Bodach, but Ambrose Blackburn renamed it after inheriting the estate through his marriage to Vivian Thorne.”
“What a shame,” Eveline said, sipping her coffee. “Castle Thorne Am Bodach has a lovely ring to it.”
“It may sound pleasant, but the meaning is horrid,” M
ercy said, venturing a glance at Victor. “Bodach is Scottish Gaelic for bogeyman, or trickster.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and grinned. “Fitting, under the circumstances. My ancestors haven’t escaped the bogeyman in more than four centuries.” His eyes widened, and he wiggled his fingers. “Run, run, but you cannot hide.”
Gooseflesh rippled over Mercy’s arms. She rubbed them vigorously but to no avail. An odd tingling sensation crept along her spine and into her legs, all the way to her toes.
“Please, do not jest,” Eveline said, her face a ghastly shade of white. “It pains me to no end. We’ll find the missing amber stones. And if we do not, there must be some other way to save your life.”
Victor leaned over to clasp Mercy’s chin. “There is only one way. Isn’t that so, my love?” he whispered.
He held her gaze for a long while, his hungry stare unwavering. She could stare into his eyes for an eternity. Beautiful, soulful eyes. Beckoning her closer, drawing her in. His thumb grazed her bottom lip, then the corner of his mouth curled up in the most sensual way.
My love. She nodded and smiled with a soft hum of appreciation bubbling through her throat. Her stomach fluttered, sending ripples of excitement coursing through her body. Goodness, what was happening? She felt so alive . . . so . . .
Wrong . . . This is very, very wrong. Mercy stood and swayed. Victor’s face swam in front of her then came back into focus. His smile was radiant. Triumphant.
How had he slipped her the love potion?
“Damn you to Hell, Victor,” she rasped, and her knees gave out.
• • •
Victor caught her as she fell into a dead faint, cradling her in his arms. “I hate to disappoint you, Mercy mine, but I’m already there.”
He examined her face closely as he strode to the bed and laid her down. Her brow was still scrunched in anger. By God, he was a heartless bastard. He drew in an elongated breath, trying to regulate the rapid-fire beating of his heart. His plan to divert Mercy’s attention while Dominick poured the potion into her orange juice had worked seamlessly. And now there was no turning back.
“What have you done?” Eveline shrieked. The legs of her chair scraped the wooden floor, and she dashed to the bedside.
“Don’t worry, love,” Dominick said, trailing after her. “We used Mercy’s love potion, so she’ll be fine.”
Eveline’s eyes widened, and she glared at Victor. “She warned me. I didn’t believe her. Oh, how could you?”
He suddenly felt like a lad of eight again, drowning under the weight of his mother’s disapproval for one of his schemes. But his current course of action would not end in tragedy—instead avert it. Eveline must see the wisdom in his plan.
“It’s for the best,” Victor said, rubbing his tired eyes. “Besides, she left me no choice.”
Eveline shook her head in disgust. “There is always a choice, and we still have six weeks. Why couldn’t you wait? Given time, she may have come around and forgiven you of her own free will.”
“We aren’t even sure the love potion will work,” Dominick said, clasping Victor’s shoulder in a show of solidarity. “Especially given the level of animosity Mercy holds toward Victor. Best we discover the truth sooner rather than later. And we may need Mercy’s assistance in searching for the stones. Would you prefer Victor sacrifice his life?”
“Of course not, but there were alternatives. You forgave your mother in a little more than a month.”
A slow grin spread over Dominick’s lips. “I was highly motivated, love. Faced with the choice of losing you forever or forgiving my mother, well, the choice was clear. Mercy despises Victor, and she was unmoved by the fate of his nephew. She also wasn’t lying about the counter spell. It must be cast with love in her heart.” He pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back with long, soothing strokes. “Is loving Victor a truly horrible fate?”
“Not at all,” she said, still pouting. She patted Dominick on the chest and turned to Victor. “But you’ve compromised her reputation, a lovely young lady from a respectable family, so you must accept responsibility for your decision and marry her.”
A wave of dizziness crashed hard against Victor’s head, and he sat on the edge of the bed before he embarrassed himself by planting his face on the floor. Marriage? He was too bloody young to be married, not to mention the fact that his intended bride hated him.
“Let’s not be hasty. She wouldn’t desire me as her husband. She loathes me, and we can’t know for sure whether the potion will work, or for how long.”
Eveline took his hand in hers. “Please, after everything you’ve done, be an honorable man.”
A cold sweat broke out on his neck. He should’ve anticipated this reaction from Eveline and arranged for Hatchet to call her to the galley soon after they entered the cabin.
“You cannot expect me to agree to propose marriage without proper time to think on it,” Victor said, steeling his spine. “This isn’t your decision to make, Eveline.”
“But you may decide Mercy’s future? Actions have consequences, and you should’ve thought on them before you forced her to drink the love potion. You will propose marriage to Mercy when she wakes, or I will be forced to tell her the truth.”
For being such a tiny thing, the woman was tenacious and infuriating. He couldn’t allow her to ruin his well-laid plans. And if he survived the curse, he would need to settle down at some point.
He swept the back of his hand over Mercy’s cheek, creamy and oh so delicate. She was a beautiful woman. One he would enjoy bedding, and often. Especially if she gazed upon him with desire burning in her eyes, the way she’d looked upon him for a few brief moments in the alley and again in the tavern.
“The moment she awakens, I will propose marriage,” Victor said, blowing out his breath in one even exhale. “But if she refuses, you must let the matter rest.”
“Excellent,” Eveline said with joy sparkling in her eyes. “You’ll make her a fine husband.”
Dominick’s lips twitched as he stared at Victor. “Please accept my warmest wishes for health and happiness.”
Victor stood and shook his best friend’s hand, pulling him in for a clap on the back. “Should’ve set sail without you, you bloody bastard,” he hissed in his friend’s ear.
Dominick roared with laughter. “When can we expect to celebrate the happy event?”
“Let’s wait and see if she accepts my offer of marriage before you post the banns,” he said, gritting his teeth.
Eveline slapped Dominick on the arm and shooed him toward the door. “Stop teasing him. It isn’t well done of you. We’ll leave you in peace now, Victor, so that you might have a moment of privacy with Mercy when she wakes.”
When he was alone, Victor sank into a chair and stared at the bed. A knot grew in his stomach. Administering the love potion had been a hasty idea. He had only meant to kidnap Mercy for a month or two and instead found himself soon to be engaged to the smart-mouthed witch. Eveline had the right of it. Why had he not waited awhile to see whether Mercy’s heart softened toward him? Though unlikely, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
He had never expected to propose marriage to a woman. What would he say? How would he say it? His palms began to sweat, and he stood, pacing alongside the bed. Mercy stirred, tossing her head from side to side, drawing his attention. Her eyelashes fluttered, and he held his breath, dreading the first words to fall from her lips yet hoping for the best. His gaze connected with hers, and a slow smile curled her lips. He strode to her side and pushed an errant curl out of her eyes, smiling back.
“Why am I lying in bed?” she asked, leaning up on one elbow.
“You fainted,” he said, pushing her gently until she lay again. “How do you feel?”
She licked her lips. “A little dizzy, but I’ll be fine.”
Had the potion worked? Or did she hate him as much as ever? He could tell little from her reaction. Though, surely, she would have admonished him the
moment she roused from her faint if the potion was defective.
Drawing her hand to his lips for a brief kiss, he said, “Don’t do that again, my love. I was quite beside myself with worry.”
Little pink roses bloomed in her cheeks, and she glanced away. “I don’t know what came over me. But, for you, I shall endeavor to keep my wits about me. Have you any idea what happened? I can’t recall a single thing after you stole my bacon at breakfast.”
He rubbed her cheek and laughed. Oh, dear God. Who was this woman, blushing prettily and wishing to please him?
“Must’ve been my offer of marriage,” he said, seizing the opportunity to make good on his promise. Her eyes widened, and he grinned. “Wasn’t quite the response I’d hoped for, and did a fair bit of damage on my ego, I might add. Should I read into your actions, lass, or am I to get a proper answer?”
“Oh, goodness.” She sat up and ran her hands through her hair, twisting it around and pulling it over her right shoulder. “Please, offer once again.”
His heart hammered, thumping loudly in his ears. “Will you break my heart?”
“Victor, please!”
He kneeled at the side of the bed and took her hand in his. “Mercy Seymour Limmerick, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
She hesitated then threw her arms around his neck for a brief hug. “Yes, of course I will, Victor, my love. Say we shall marry soon!”
A lump lodged in his throat. Her caramel eyes stared into his with such longing it took his breath away. Could this truly be happening, or did she play a cruel jest with the intent of making a fool of him once they gathered before a congregation? No matter, he found himself unable to deny her anything when she gazed upon him in this way.
“As you wish,” he said, dipping his head and kissing her lips. He may not have loved Mercy, but his desire and respect for her ran deep. He would do anything within his power to please her in amends for betraying her trust. “We shall marry in the chapel on the premises of Blackburn Castle as soon as I can arrange for a special license.”
Blackburn Castle (Tortured Souls Book 2) Page 11