“All right, then where is the second stone? I’ve offered my theory. Let us hear yours,” his father said.
“Is Vivian buried on the estate?” Mercy asked. “When we were in the graveyard, I combed the area for her headstone, but it wasn’t there. Elizabeth’s twin sister perpetrated the betrayal. The second stone rests with her. I would bet my life on it.”
Victor smiled then, despite the tense air in the parlor. Mercy had a fascinating mind. She was a beacon of calm resolve in the midst of a terrible storm. Of course, her logic was sound.
His mother nodded. “Vivian’s remains are held in the family crypt within the chapel. She was laid to rest there by her sister. Elizabeth’s tomb lies next to hers. We rarely visit the crypt. Could it be that simple?”
Dominick chimed in for the first time, while offering glasses of wine to Cora and her husband. “We won’t know unless we pay a visit. I would suggest we follow Mercy’s instincts first. If we aren’t successful, we can revisit our next steps.”
Father’s steely expression announced his true feelings. He did not agree with a single word spoken out of Mercy’s mouth. But he had always seemed a fountain of wisdom, and Victor looked up to him. Seeing him at odds with Mercy did not sit right in Victor’s gut.
Did he support the father he had always loved and respected or the woman who held the key to changing the course of his life forever? He wanted to believe in Mercy. He had to believe. Because the alternative was untenable.
Victor wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to his side. “I cannot speak for the rest of you, but I’m exhausted. We’ve battled rough seas for almost a week to arrive here, and we’ve already discovered the first amber stone of Freya. After toasting our success today, I’ll be ready for a solid night’s rest. We can visit the family crypt tomorrow morning.”
“Are you crazy, man?” his father asked. “Wait an entire night to determine whether or not the second stone is within our reach?”
Victor sighed. “Father, please. I cannot bear finding out that it is not within our grasp and then fighting through another sleepless night. Better that I have hope than none.”
“But we could reverse the curse tonight if we find it.”
“No, we cannot,” Mercy declared. “The counter spell should be cast during a full moon, because healing spells are strengthened by its pure light. Casting during the wrong moon phase can have a disastrous effect. You’ve read the counter spell, Victor. Once spoken, the divide between our families will be healed. I didn’t wish to worry you any more than necessary, so I did not mention it before.”
How could she have failed to inform him of such an important detail? He narrowed his gaze on her. “My birthday falls before the second full moon. I thought we had nearly two months on our side.”
She cast her gaze to the floor and chewed on her bottom lip. “But we’ve already found the first stone.” Her tone lightened. “We will find the second. And if I must, I can cast the counter spell at any time. Though I recommend we wait for the full moon.”
He nodded woodenly but was unable to share in her confidence. A lifetime of facing his certain death was difficult to overcome, and he could not truly hope until the puzzle pieces fell into place.
“Well, tomorrow is a big day,” Dominick said, handing out the rest of the glasses of wine. “A toast to Mercy for discovering the first stone. Here is hoping for equal success in our endeavors tomorrow.”
Eveline nodded her agreement. “I have an excellent feeling about the crypt. Here, here.”
Everyone raised their glasses and drank.
After five minutes of congratulations and excited speculation on the following day’s venture, Eveline yawned and patted Dominick on the arm. “Can you escort me to my room?”
He nodded and held his hand out to his fiancée. She graciously accepted his assistance in standing. As they neared the door, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Good night, and rest well for tomorrow.”
Victor’s family filed out of the room after them, with Hatchet trailing close behind. Mercy’s gaze bounced from Victor to the dark hallway. His lips twitched, but he suppressed his urge to chuckle. She was afraid to walk the halls of the castle alone at night but would never admit to it aloud.
“Allow me to escort you to your room, Mercy. But first I must apologize for my father’s behavior,” he said, cradling her cheek. “You haven’t earned his distrust and scrutiny.”
She laced her fingers through his. “Nonsense. He loves you and only wishes to look out for your interests. I cannot fault him for that. Come, let us retire for the evening.”
They entered the foyer as the others in their party reached the second-floor corridor, dispersing in opposite directions. The warmth of her hand calmed his nerves as they ascended the stairs together. A howl of wind mingled with the incessant creaking of the wood stairs beneath his boots, sending a chill through his body.
“There are far too many strange noises here for my liking,” she said with a nervous giggle. “Are you certain the castle isn’t haunted? Living here is quite unnerving without the noise of the tavern to wash away the creepy sounds.”
He chuckled and squeezed her fingers. “I’d never thought of it as haunted until you discovered Ambrose’s spirit lurking in the graveyard.”
They reached the top of the staircase and turned the corner. Milton stepped out of the shadows, and Victor gasped, suppressing a full-fledged scream.
“Good Lord, Milton,” he said, glaring at the butler. “Must you lurk in the shadows, like a villain waiting to pounce? It isn’t well done of you.”
With a stiff upper lip, the butler tugged on the lapel of his jacket. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I do not lurk. I’m completing my rounds for the evening before I retire. I’ll take care not to surprise you in the future.” Milton’s dark eyes narrowed on Mercy, and he bowed stiffly. “Madam, please accept my sincerest apologies. Good night.”
Victor breathed deep and nodded, watching as the servant disappeared down the black corridor. An iridescent light passed through his receding form, and with every second, the light became brighter. What the bloody hell was going on?
“Ambrose,” Mercy exclaimed, her eyes widening.
“I see him, too,” he said, mesmerized, as the luminescent figure walked past them, crooking his finger as he headed down the stairs.
“He wants us to follow him,” she said, already trailing the apparition.
Victor tightened his hold on her hand and dashed ahead, pulling her along behind him. But the faster he set the pace, the faster the ghostly form descended the stairs. At the bottom, Ambrose gazed over his shoulder and crooked his finger once more. The spirit glided through the closed parlor doors.
Mercy shoved Victor forward. “Don’t lose him.”
He charged inside the empty room and gazed frantically around. “Over there,” he said, pointing to the fireplace, where Ambrose leaned against the mantle. The ghost slipped behind the screen covering the hearth and vanished.
Mercy kneeled beside it. “Why would he lead us here if not to offer another clue about the second stone? Light one of the lamps so we can have a closer look. We haven’t studied this peacock screen. There are gems encrusted in the feathers.”
After lighting one of the portable lamps with his candle, they inspected the ornate brass peacock with care. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there were no blue amber stones among the gems.
Victor licked his thumb and worked it against the first few stones, but all of them were pristine, as he suspected they would be, having been cleaned on a regular basis by the maids.
“Well, it doesn’t appear any of these are the stone we seek,” he said with a sigh. “We should retire for the night and speak with Eveline in the morning. She may offer an idea of the ghost’s intentions.”
“Where did your family find such a treasure?” Mercy asked, accepting his offered hand to stand. “I’ve never seen a screen in the shape of a peacock. It’s
breathtaking.”
Victor shoved his hands into his pockets and truly inspected the screen for the first time. “I haven’t a clue. You’ll have to ask my mother.”
Amber flames from the lamp flickered between the open eye markings on the fine brass feathers, and he found himself entranced by the brilliant color. Amber. His fingers encircled the amber stone of Freya in his pocket, sending his mind on a journey back in time to the first day he’d learned of the stones’ existence . . . the day he had watched The Butcher murder Mercy’s father.
They’re worth a goddamned fortune.
Apparently enough to kill your own brother. Victor held up the amber stone of Freya to the fire to inspect it at his leisure. The edges of the triangular stone were smooth, and it felt cool to the touch. Blue amber.
“When I first heard of the stones,” Victor said, gazing at Mercy, “I couldn’t understand why they were valuable. My mother has a necklace adorned with gold amber stones, and while pleasing to the eye, amber doesn’t rival pearls or diamonds. But blue amber . . . it’s extremely rare and exquisite. Do you believe the legend of its origin?”
Mercy nodded. “How can you doubt it?”
“Gems formed from the tears of a Norse goddess?” he whispered, pocketing the stone again. “You’re a witch. Can you extract love from a stone? Is that truly how Vivian stole Ambrose’s love away from Elizabeth? My mind cannot seem to stretch that far, I’m afraid.”
She tilted her face up, gazing into his eyes. “Any yet you believe you’re cursed to die on your twenty-seventh birthday.”
Witchcraft was a nebulous notion, and Norse mythology was, well . . . myth.
“The historical evidence of my impending death is irrefutable. Every single Blackburn male to inherit the curse over the generations has died on his twenty-seventh birthday.”
“You speak of historical evidence?” Her eyes widened with indignation, and color bloomed in her cheeks. “What of the gatekeeper to Hell? I’ve heard the tales of what occurred during the ball at Devil’s Cove Manor, how Josephine appeared in her half-woman, half-serpent form and shattered the glass dome of the ballroom.” She poked her forefinger in the center of his chest. “How can you doubt Norse mythology so quickly after that? You kidnapped me from my home in the dead of night and dragged me to your godforsaken castle to break the Blackburn curse with my witchcraft. But you don’t believe in it? You don’t believe in me?”
Her nostrils flared, and he imagined she would have scorched him dead with her fiery breath were she a dragon, yet he found her adorable. Snaking one hand around her waist, he pulled her into his embrace, entrapping her hands against his chest.
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, squeezing her tightly until she glared up at him with eyes that betrayed the hurt coursing through her. He sighed, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “If I believe in witchcraft, then I must believe there is hope you can break the curse. I’ve lived without hope for so long.” He wrapped his hands around hers, cradling them to his furiously beating heart. “Trust me when I say I want to believe, but I’m afraid to hope.”
“Oh, Victor,” she said in an anguished whisper. “I’m so sorry. You mask your fear so well that I sometimes forget how vulnerable you must feel. I’ve trained my whole life as a witch, and Elizabeth’s tome provides the counter spell. My parents died so that you and future generations of Blackburn males may live. Please, believe in me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Victor was captivated by her eyes. She would do everything in her power to save him. He felt it deep within his soul.
“I trust you with my life,” he said, kissing their joined hands.
Mercy was not a monster. She would understand his motivations for slipping the love potion into her orange juice. And, with time, she would forgive him. Dominick hadn’t witnessed all of the changes in her, hadn’t listened to their conversations or seen the way they held each other.
“Then make me truly yours tonight.”
He nodded, unable to bear the thought of hurting her feelings yet again by denying her wish. Tonight was theirs to cherish. A brilliant smile spread over her lips, and he led her upstairs once more, escorting her inside The Golden Room.
“Mary will arrive soon to undress you,” Victor whispered, pulling Mercy into his embrace.
His hands roamed over the plump curve of her buttocks, and her body trembled beneath his touch. He leaned down and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, brushing his tongue along the silken flesh. She whimpered, low and deep, sending blood on a direct course to his shaft. God, he wanted her.
“Enjoy another glass of wine before I come to you, if you wish. Or have you changed your mind already?”
Her eyes narrowed, but she smiled. “I know my mind, Victor. Come to me.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he grinned. “I aim only to please you. Last night you said you knew your heart, and I’ve given you fair warning. Once I’ve tasted your sweet body and claimed your maidenhead, you will be mine. So I ask again, do you still wish to make love tonight?”
Her breath quickened, coming in soft pants, and she nodded.
“Do not fret, sweet lass,” he said, kissing her ear. “I will return in a short while.”
Slipping out into the hallway, he shut the door and leaned his forehead against it. His heart thumped wildly in his breast. Tonight, he would make love to her, and by the grace of God she would forgive him whenever the love potion wore off.
A spark of hope ignited in his breast, and he strode in the direction of the small chapel room nestled on the first floor. As he knelt in the first pew with his head bowed, a smile spread over his lips. Eveline would be so proud if she knew of his visit. He struggled to find the right words but was determined to give prayer a try.
“Lord,” he said into the quiet room. “I promise to honor Mercy and care for her always. Open her heart so that she will forgive me my sins and break the curse of her own free will. For this, I would be eternally grateful. Amen.”
He stared upon the crucifix shrouded in the warm glow of a candle, and a sense of calm enveloped him.
Five minutes later, he rapped softly on Mercy’s bedroom door before entering. She sat in the bed with her back propped against the headboard and the spell book open in her lap. Golden curls fell down each side of her face, covering the swells of her naked breasts. So utterly beautiful. She smiled at his perusal and set the book next to an empty glass of wine, meeting his gaze with hungry eyes.
He strolled forward, drinking in the lovely picture she painted, confident and eager for his touch. His fingers trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt. Knowing she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her invited strange, exciting feelings throughout his whole body. The carnal desire burning in her eyes was so real.
She could’ve waited in her nightgown, but the little minx was not giving him an opportunity to renege on his promise tonight. Everything about her attracted him, and he would embrace the dream for as long as it lasted.
“I was beginning to think you had abandoned me,” she said, pulling back the covers on her side of the bed, revealing the curve of her hip and one long, shapely leg. A blush crept into her cheeks, and she scooted aside, making room. “Come lie with me.”
God help him, but he wanted to toss aside the blanket and feast on every inch of her creamy skin. “You’re killing me, lass.”
His loins hardened and strained against his buttons, sending a shiver of anticipation through his veins. His fingers couldn’t move fast enough with her greedy eyes measuring his progress. He tugged his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. When her gaze dipped to the bulge in his pants, she sucked in her bottom lip, and he knew instinctively that her slick tongue rubbed provocatively against it.
He groaned and closed his eyes against the image of her mouth on his stiff member. An all-consuming need pummeled him, urging him to part her milky thighs and claim her before she changed her mind. He inhaled sharply and blew out one long, measured
breath. She was a virgin, and he wanted their first joining to be beautiful, memorable.
“Are you afraid, Victor?” she inquired, claiming his attention with her wide-eyed stare.
He laughed then, a full, belly laugh. Tension eased from his body, and he sat on the edge of the bed, removing his boots and pants.
“Honestly, I am. I’m afraid of disappointing you.” With the last of his garments removed, he slipped into the bed beside her and propped his head on his hand. “When we make love, I want it to be magical.”
She giggled and leaned in, kissing his lips. “Why? So I’ll want to make love often?”
He growled and rolled on top of her, and their heated skin ignited a flame deep within. Gazing into her sparkling eyes, he knew he was lost. “You’ve a saucy mouth, Mercy, but I love it. Don’t ever change.”
Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she held his steady gaze. “You love my mouth?”
His heart thumped madly, and he nodded. “Your mouth, your ready wit, your independent nature, your strong mind.” He nuzzled the pulse point of her neck, smiling at the way her heartbeat matched his. “But most of all, I love your wild attraction to me.”
Laughter rumbled in her chest, and she hugged him tightly.
“Do you deny it?” he asked, his voice husky. With his lips, he trailed a path to her pert nipple and sucked the taut peak into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it. He would tease her into submission, if he must.
She gasped, and her hips lifted off the bed, pressing into his rock-hard shaft. “Oh, Victor . . . ”
He latched on tighter, gazing into her hooded eyes while he sucked. Her head fell back on the pillow, and she moaned, massaging his head with her fingers as she pulled him closer still.
“Admit it, kitten,” he said, releasing his hold. “You want me as much as I want you. Say it.”
Mercy leaned on her elbows and grinned. “Incorrigible, arrogant man! Yes, I’m insanely attracted to you. I want to bear your children. Especially a little rascal of a boy . . . with your green eyes . . . and irresistible smile.” Her expression softened, and she sighed. “Are you going to make love to me now or not?”
Blackburn Castle (Tortured Souls Book 2) Page 17