"Christ, Elizabeth! Could you have worked harder to antagonize her?" Michael's hands were busy with the ropes as he spoke, and he soon had her free.
She sat up gingerly, wincing when her abused flesh touched the mattress. "I was certainly trying," she muttered. "Did you notice that she was too weak to put a spell on me? Surely, we can take advantage of that."
"I'm not sure how. She has Stevens and Richard under her thumb, and I don't think we can overpower them both."
"Perhaps not, but we can try!"
"I think you have more courage than good sense, my lady."
"Do you have a better idea?"
He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. "Not at present." He helped her to her feet. "Let's get this over with. Perhaps something will come to me."
She shivered in the chilly fall air as he led her outside. Clouds scudded in dirty trails across the full moon and a frigid wind sent a cold ache deep into her bones. She ignored the discomfort as Michael led her to the folly where she and Richard had first decided to make a go of their marriage.
A large bonfire burnt between the folly and the pond. Her feet stilled and she came to an abrupt stop as she saw her father standing almost too close to the flames, his face slack and wooden as he gazed at the evening sky. Yet she could see his hands clench reflexively as he fought against the spell. Why had he returned? Did he still wish for Angeline?
She shook her head. They'd gotten rid of the geas binding him. His presence made no sense to her.
Stevens grinned at her, his nasty smile sending another chill down her spine as he jostled Gabriel in his arms. The witch held Amelia and gazed down at her, a troubled expression on her face. For her part, Amelia met her eyes as if she wished she was big enough to sink a blade into the witch's chest.
"I think I shall keep you," she murmured to Amelia. "I'll raise you as my own and we will have such entertainments…" The witch shook her head and handed Amelia to Elizabeth's father. "Give me the boy. It's time."
Angeline pulled a long, ornate blade from the sheath at her hip, and as Stevens handed Gabriel over, she began to chant in a language Elizabeth didn't recognize. It seemed to be partly Latin, yet she sensed it was much older and every consonant grated against her senses. The sound made her want to retch, and she was grateful she didn't understand that horrible tongue. Utter terror made her bowels clench and she held her belly as she tried to push through whatever held her.
The words held everyone in stasis. Elizabeth wanted to rush toward Angeline, hurtling herself in between that dagger and her son's tender skin, yet she couldn't move. Tears poured from her eyes, and she screamed out in despair as the witch raised the blade. She pushed harder, desperate to reach Gabriel, even if it meant she died to protect him. It would be worth it. She screamed again as she struggled against the barrier, managing to move her right foot a few scant inches.
Something heavy pushed her and she fell to her knees, cutting them on the gravel surrounding the folly. She blinked up in surprise at her father. "Go," he whispered. "I can't— She holds me…"
Gabriel screamed, his terrified cries reaching her over the roar of the bonfire. A tempest swirled around them, trying to force her back, yet terror gave her feet wings, and she raced forward, reaching the witch as she lifted that terrible dagger over her head.
Angeline blinked at her and bared sharpened teeth, her black tongue dripping slime down her chin as she hissed. For a scant second, Elizabeth felt the spell release, and something pushed her sideways until she stumbled.
Her father stood in Elizabeth’s place, thrusting his body between the dagger and her son. His eyes widened as the blade sank deeply into his chest. He fell to his knees as the witch screamed out her rage. Elizabeth caught Gabriel to her breast as Angeline tossed him aside, her wrinkled hands scrabbling at the dagger lodged in Sir James’s heart.
Angeline cried out, terror filling her face. "No, no, no! It had to be an infant! They demand a babe torn from its mother's breast!" She tugged at the blade yet it wouldn't come free.
Sir James smiled, blood trickling from his lips as he grasped her hand to hold her still. "For taking my son, my wife, and my peace, I hope you rot, witch."
The storm grew tooth and claw as dark shapes emerged from the raging winds. Things of nightmares with wings and crooked limbs revealed themselves, and they circled Angeline as their wicked laughter filled the air. The witch struggled to escape, but Sir James’s grip was too strong.
One creature stared at Elizabeth, its red eyes meeting hers. She froze with terror as she clutched Gabriel to her chest. It had clawed feet and hands, and long teeth protruded from a vulpine muzzle. Its arms and legs had too many joints, making them bend in a manner that made Elizabeth ill to watch. Coarse hair covered its scabrous body. It ignored the screaming witch as it stared at her, but made no move to approach.
The thing looked over her shoulder, its muzzle widening into a grin at something behind her. She did not dare take her eyes away from the creature to find out what caught its attention. It bowed to her, its joints bending in all directions. Thankfully, it said nothing as it turned its attention back to Angeline.
The hag cried out and gnashed her teeth at the clawed hands reaching for her through the storm. It seemed an eternity but the tempest was gone almost as quickly as it had come, taking the witch and the monsters back to Hell, along with the raging bonfire.
Richard fell to his knees and covered Elizabeth with his coat as she clutched her son and stared down at her dying father. "You saved my son, but where is Amelia?" she whispered.
Sir James smiled, blood falling in a steady stream from his mouth. "Atonement for my vast sins." He coughed, the sound tearing and wet. "Denforth has your daughter, my dear. She is quite safe with him, you know. I'm sorry. I don't expect you to say a prayer for me, but it would please me if you would say one for your mother." He lifted a hand to touch her face, but it fell away before his fingers reached her.
She sighed heavily and drew a hand over his unseeing eyes. She could not grieve for the man he'd been, but said a prayer for the man he'd become in those last moments. She hoped that both he and her mother found peace in Heaven, for neither of them had had it on Earth. Tears welled in her eyes as relief filled her. Both her children were safe, forever free of Angeline’s unholy machinations.
"I'm so sorry, darling. I let her into our lives once again when I promised I'd keep you and the children safe."
She glanced up at Richard's stricken face and opened her mouth to tell him it wasn't his fault. Yet the words wouldn't come. For all she knew, he had been at fault. Instead, she asked, "What happened?"
"She found me the night you gave birth. Stevens let her in and knocked me on the head to keep me still for her."
"Where is the awful little toad?" she asked, searching for their former butler.
“Right behind you, little pet. Angeline has already paid me, and promised you to me for my trouble.”
They spun around and stared in surprise. Stevens had a rather large pistol leveled directly at Richard's forehead.
Elizabeth let out an irritated breath. "I should have sacked you when I had the chance," she muttered. Yet her caustic words belied the fresh surge of fear in her heart at the sight of the gun pointed at Richard’s head. His eyes were filled with madness and she shuddered at the gleam of sick desire in his eyes.
"Angeline promised me I could have you when she was finished." He stomped a foot, looking like nothing more than an overgrown child. "If you’d like to see your husband live to take another wife, you’ll come with me now." The pistol made a clicking sound and he turned it toward her, lowering it until he’d aimed at Gabriel. “And drop the brat before I shoot him. I plan to put my own child in your belly soon enough.”
Richard roared in anger and darted forward, grabbing Stevens's arm as they wrestled for possession of the pistol. Wrenching the weapon away from him, Richard punched him in the face, making him fall to the ground. Straddling the butler’s hips, Ric
hard rained blows down on his unprotected face, growling as he pummeled the other man. Stevens reached into his pocket, pulling out a slim blade.
“Richard! He has a knife!” Elizabeth watched in horror as Stevens stabbed upward into Richard’s body, her warning coming too late. She darted forward, but Michael caught her before she could reach Richard.
“No! You must stay away! You must protect your children, Elizabeth!” He pulled her away as Richard and Stevens fought, one arm clenched tightly around Amelia.
She knew Michael was right, but sobbed in despair as blood trickled from the wound in Richard’s side. Stevens sidled away, his hand reaching for the pistol. Richard fell upon him again, his fists flying as they grappled for dominance.
She held her breath waiting to see who would win the gun. Michael stood between her and the combatants, protecting her from gunfire.
Elizabeth screamed and hunched protectively over Gabriel as the pistol went off. Yet nothing hit her and she straightened to try to see around Michael's body. He laughed but didn't move out of her way.
"Bloody good show, Shepton!"
Footsteps crunched on the gravel and suddenly she was in her husband's arms. He was covered in gore and the stench of gunpowder but miraculously alive. "He will trouble us no more, my dear. Perhaps he'll join the witch in Hell when he finishes dying."
Stevens laughed, the sound hysterical and chilling. “You lose, Shepton. That whore you married isn’t worth what you paid—”
Elizabeth let out a short scream as the pistol went off again. Richard lowered the pistol to his side and she stared at the neat hole between Stevens’s eyes. Though clouding with death, the insanity in them made her shiver in fear and sick horror.
“I have had enough,” Richard hissed. “I have done too much harm in this life and there will be no more. The next person who threatens my wife or children will meet the same fate as this offal at my feet.”
He turned and walked toward her, heat in his eyes as he approached. Michael took Gabriel from her and wisely backed away as Richard reached her. The look in his eyes was so feral, so dangerous, that she did not protest. Could not protest. Without a word, he took her into his arms, plucking her off her feet as he kissed her.
His fingers dug into her ribs as his tongue explored her mouth, kissing her as deeply as he’d done during those first heady days of their reconciliation. If he hadn’t supported her weight, she was sure she’d have fallen to the ground. She sank her fingers into his lush black hair, desperate to draw him ever closer.
He groaned and pulled away. “Not tonight, darling. I’m afraid we both need our rest. When we are whole again, I believe I will buy you one of these marvelous pistols and teach you to use it.”
She laughed, but just as suddenly, she burst into tears, sobbing as she clutched Richard's shoulders. Her tears set both children to wailing as if they wished to spill their relief to the night sky. Michael gave Gabriel to his mother, and juggled Amelia as he tried to soothe her, but she cried all the harder. Though she'd screamed before when separated from her brother, this was the first time she'd ever cried.
Richard shook his head and swung Elizabeth into his arms. "Let's get them inside."
∞∞∞
It was a solemn group that entered the house, fouled with dirt and blood. Elizabeth shared the bathing chamber with Michael, her husband, and both children without complaint. They all needed the warmth and cleansing of hot water and tremendous amounts of soap. And she did not give a single moment's thought to the impropriety of Michael seeing her body.
It wouldn't be the first time, after all, but by God's grace, it would be the last!
Richard was stoic as she cleaned and bandaged the knife wound under his arm. It had bled profusely, but was surprisingly small. Indeed, she thought it might already be healing, but such things weren’t possible.
He dressed her carefully in one of his soft shirts and got her tucked into bed with both children, now cleaned and sleepy from their ordeal. Once Elizabeth had nursed them, Stella took them back to their nursery.
"Leave the connecting doors open, please," Elizabeth called after her.
Stella blinked in surprise but nodded. "Of course, my lady. Did you have an enjoyable evening? You and Lord Shepton looked very fine tonight. We were all surprised to see you back so early."
Elizabeth's mouth fell open. Stella had been there when the witch took the babes! Yet her face bore no hint of distress, and she smiled expectantly as she waited for Elizabeth to reply. Why, she hadn't even said a word about Michael's presence in the lord's bedchamber!
She looked at Amelia nestled safely in her nursemaid's arms. Gabriel was already asleep and tucked into their cradle, yet Amelia was wide awake and alert.
Amelia closed both eyes very slowly then opened them, pinning her mother with that enigmatic gaze. Elizabeth hissed out a breath as a black stain appeared in her daughter’s eyes, vanishing almost as quickly as it came.
"It was a lovely entertainment. Thank you for asking."
Richard and Michael stared after the departing maid, and nobody said a word for several seconds.
It was Elizabeth who spoke first. "Michael, I want you to be her godfather. We haven't had the christening yet. Gabriel's too, I suppose, but I think we're going to need your help."
Michael coughed and closed his eyes. "God help me."
Neither man disagreed with her.
∞∞∞
"I'm going to take care of the—" Michael looked uncomfortable for a moment then continued. "I'm going to make it look like Stevens fought with your father. When we tell the constable, we'll simply say they engaged in an altercation, but that we don't know why." He finished tugging one of Richard’s shirts over his chest, buttoning it haphazardly.
Richard kissed Elizabeth's cheek and reached for his coat. "I'll come help."
"No! Stay with your wife. The fewer people out there, the better. I'll say I went out to have a cigar and found them so you and Elizabeth aren't involved."
Michael left quickly, not giving Richard the chance to speak. He sighed then crawled into bed and pulled her to his chest.
"I wish we hadn't lost your father, darling, but I've never seen a more courageous man. I couldn't even—" His voice trailed off and he clutched her tighter. "I couldn't move, and I failed you yet again."
"I couldn't either until my father pushed me. I don't blame you for any of it." She refused to give voice to her thoughts on how her father had managed to move when no one else could. He'd been holding Amelia.
"How could you not?" He shuddered and his breath hitched against her shoulder.
She turned in his arms to face him. "I felt her spells. When she touched me, and put that thing inside my body, all I wanted to do was please her."
Climbing from the bed, she paced, her hands twitching with discomfort. She still felt the foulness of her actions like insects on her skin. "I ate food from the floor like an animal, Richard. I did unspeakable things and loved that they pleased her. If I had labored under that weight when—" She took a breath then let it out. "If I had been under her control tonight, I might have wielded the blade myself just to see her smile."
She sat back down, clutching his hand in her lap. "So, you see, if we are to play guilty parties, I bear every bit as much of that shame as you do."
"But I—"
"Hush." She laid a finger over his lips. "It's done and we're free of her. We both saw those creatures take her." She chuckled. "She's gone, and unless she can buy her way out of Hell, she can't hurt us."
"That brings me to another question. What do you wish to do about Amelia? You saw her eyes—" Richard coughed and looked away, his expression tormented. “Her eyes, Elizabeth.”
She climbed back into bed and allowed him to spoon around her. That question would plague her, she was sure. "I have no idea. I suppose we shall have to pray for guidance and love her. Isn't that all anyone can do with their children?"
"You're very wise, darling."
"Imp." He set his fingers to her ribs and tickled her.
She laughed softly, unwilling to wake her sleeping infants. "We must make sure she knows she's well loved by both of us. It is a terrible thing to grow up without that security." She nestled into his arms and yawned, suddenly beyond exhaustion. "Perhaps her odd behavior will fade as she ages. We should ask Roland."
"Perhaps."
She knew neither of them truly believed it. Yet as time passed, Amelia grew into a cheerful, happy child with lovely hazel eyes, and the worries lessened as their home was filled with love and laughter.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth collapsed to her belly, spent from Richard's naughty depredations. Her bottom was pink and sore, sending delicious warmth through her core. He fell next to her and she slid down his body to take his softening cock into her mouth, sucking it clean of their play.
He shuddered in pleasure as she worked her tongue along his shaft, carefully avoiding the sensitive crown. She would have spent many hours tending to him, but he pulled her up to face him, kissing her softly.
She inhaled the rich scent of their sex, drawing it deep inside her as she returned his sweet kisses. He petted her rounded belly, already swelling with their third child.
"Are you happy, beloved?" Richard pulled her against him, his arms wrapped around her midsection as if he'd never let go.
"Deliriously so. But I believe I would like some ham."
He peered at the mantle clock, squinting to read the hands. "It's three in the bloody morning! Can't it wait?"
"Please?" She batted her eyes at him, and he sighed wearily as he delivered one more slap to her bottom.
"Cheeky girl. I'll have to spank you again."
"Can it be after the ham?"
Richard's eyes narrowed, and he delivered several hard spanks to her bottom, warming the flesh and her cunt all over again. She wriggled under him, lifting her hips to invite his touch, the food forgotten.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 22