Blood and Damnation Read online

  I exhaled sharply—instantly stopping.

  Her breath now came out in heavy pants, but that wasn’t what held me hostage.

  My lips found her skin again, my tongue tracing the contour of her neck. It was the one spot that always controlled me, although I fought it with everything I had.

  Her pulse.

  Gently, I began sucking on the spot, and it caused her heart to race so fast, I could feel it against my mouth.

  That was when I realized she wasn’t the one in the most danger.

  It was also when I began second-guessing my decision to accept her as payment. There was nothing sweet and innocent about the young woman limp with pleasure in my arms.

  No, she was much, much more than that.

  There was a good chance she was one of Satan’s sirens—sent to tempt me to Hell with lust—the one who believed it would be her to bring me into submission.

  It was that last thought that acted like a much-needed slap in the face.

  Dumping her unceremoniously on the floor, I fled from the room, driven from my own sanctuary like the Black Plague had returned to claim me as its victim.

  I was no one’s victim—not anymore.

  Never again.

  Chapter 3

  We didn’t talk again until a week later.

  She was already moved in, Knox having placed her in a room that was as far away from me as possible. I didn’t want her entertaining any kind of illusion that she could tame me, or that she was in fact wanted.

  She was a means to an end.

  If there was one thing she could rely on from me, it would be that I was consistent.

  I would consistently keep her at a distance.

  I would consistently remind the annoying female I was not her knight in shining armor and there would be no happily ever after in her future.

  It was the only offering I would bestow on her.

  She ranked just below the discarded furniture stored away in the wing she now lived in. I felt some kind of emotion toward the antiques passed down through the generations, however.

  I could at least see some functional use for them.

  She’d finally spotted me passing through the kitchens quickly, having spent the past hour walking the estate. It had become my nightly routine and was one of the very few rituals that brought me any semblance of peace.

  That contentment shattered as soon as I heard her shriek my name.

  Truth be told, this confrontation was days overdue. Part of me had expected her to barge into each and every room in the house, searching to see where I’d been hiding.

  What she didn’t understand was it wasn’t really hiding when you had zero intentions of spending time together in the first place.

  My hands clenched by my side, and even though I willed them to relax, they simply tensed up again.

  Would I ever be able to roam freely about my home again without being pestered?

  “What happened?” Her voice was filled with accusation and anger.

  I replied with stony silence. I didn’t care how much that unsettled her.

  She reached out to touch me, an unforgivable act, and stumbled back when I moved like lightning, roughly grasping her wrist with a steel-like grip.

  Tears flooded her eyes at the pain.

  Bending her wrist slightly, I added enough pressure to elicit another moan of pain.

  Damn, the sound was like a shot of pure, unadulterated lust to my groin. As she looked up at me, her rage was replaced with undiluted fear.

  Gone was any semblance of defiance. In her eyes, the monster was fully unleashed.

  I towered over her smaller form, forcing her to cower before me.

  “Don’t ever make the mistake of touching me. You will not survive the consequences.” I kept my tone cold on purpose.

  “I’m sorry.” Catriona cringed at the way her voice had quickly devolved from confident to whimpering. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just wanted to know what happened.”

  “What do you mean? Nothing happened.” I spat the words out impatiently, releasing her wrist and brushing past her. I didn’t have time for such feminine nonsense.

  “But the last time we spoke . . . you and I . . . we—” She had the decency to appear humiliated about bringing up last week, and the fact that I feigned ignorance.

  I knew exactly what she referred to. Memories of the kisses we’d exchanged and the way she roused the man in me still plagued me at the most inopportune times.

  I whirled around, wearing what I hoped was a look of complete derision. All I could see was the ghost of her swollen lips and the breathless way her chest had heaved with passion. Each step I now took toward her caused her to retreat—as though she recognized the predator in me and that she was prey to be stalked.

  I shoved her to the door, finally pressing her body against the frame with my own.

  It was infuriating how perfectly we fit and how incredible she smelled as the subtle perfume of her skin infiltrated my senses.

  The wind blew, rustling the leaves on the tall trees that stood proudly in the gardens. There was no one but Knox around, but I had no idea whether she’d met him yet—whether he’d deemed her worthy of his attention. I kept him busy on projects of vital importance. It wouldn’t surprise me if he avoided her just as much as I did.

  “There is no one to hear you scream, Catriona. No ally to protect you.” Without thinking, I traced the curve of her cheek with my finger. Too soft for her own good.

  “Should I be crying out for help?” she countered bravely. I could see the thread of restraint that kept her from shrinking back from my touch. In some other lifetime . . . it was a thought I couldn’t indulge.

  Loneliness could be something we held in common—separately.

  She clutched the doorframe for strength.

  “You think that inconsequential display of affection meant something? Did you suppose it’s something you can look forward to once we’re married? Or are you hoping for another taste, perhaps?” I searched her face for the answer and replied with a deep throaty laugh that flushed her cheeks with a mottled shade of red. “You did, didn’t you?”

  She tried to hide the hurt she was feeling and failed. It was her own fault that she’d gotten caught up in the moment and romanticized me into someone with a heart. Someone with the ability to show and enjoy passion.

  “Poor fool of a girl. How about some brutal honesty since we’re to be married? I took one look at you gazing at my portrait with such lovestruck eyes and felt nothing but pity for you.” I reached up and pushed a lock of hair back from her face. Instead of lowering my arm, I traced the side of her face as I crooned softly into her ear. “So soft. So innocent. So horribly naïve.”

  Catriona tried to fight her way out of my tight embrace, but came up short because she was no match for my superior strength. Clutching the sides of her arms now, I shook her. Hard. The force caused her head to roll back and slam against the door.

  My cruelty was rewarded with an unwanted twinge of guilt.

  Had I truly become the very creature people accused me of being—that I often told myself I was? How had I completely lost sight of the young man I had once been before that fateful evening a decade ago?

  I instantly squashed that emotion. It would only undermine the person I had to be in order to survive the curse.

  “Let. Me. Go,” she demanded through gritted teeth.

  “Not until we get this foolishness of yours resolved. Consider what happened a gift, the only one you will ever receive from me. The man in that portrait is dead, and no amount of girlish charm will resurrect him. Accept that and we may be able to reside alongside each other in tentative peace. All thoughts of affection, loving gestures, sweet whispered words are fruitless. You will receive none from me. This is an arrangement that comes from the ridiculous begging of your father. The man is a fool who squandered his fortune and then expected someone to reach into their pockets and save him. Nothing in this life is free. Everythi
ng has a price, and you, Catriona, are the price for your family’s pride and vanity.”

  Her temper rose again in her eyes. I’d besmirched her father’s name directly to her face. Her hands formed into claws, and I knew she wanted to reach up and scratch my eyes out for showing such dishonor.

  I grasped her arm and brutally squeezed.

  “That got your attention. Learn now that I won’t be ignored. When I speak, you would do well to hang on my every word as though it came from the mouth of God. I’m to be obeyed and maybe, just maybe, you will survive this farce of a life forced on both of us.”

  “You bastard!” She raised her hand to slap me across the face and almost connected before I wrenched it away. I’d finally found the limit to her patience and self-control.

  “So you’re not the submissive mouse you pretend to be. Good to know. It can be beaten out of you, if you think to push me. Don’t ever think you can raise your hand to strike me. In three days, I will own you, and you’ll be mine to do with as I please. Play the role of the dutiful wife well, and I may just leave you alone. Annoy me, and you’ll wish you’d never stepped foot in this house. Do I make myself clear?”

  Catriona refused to look at me, another rush of defiance keeping her from caving to my demands. It was as if she silently challenged me to do my worst.

  Foolish. Very, very foolish. I hoped she never got to witness firsthand the extremes I had, and would go to, in order to get what I wanted.

  “I asked you a question.”

  Resentment shone from her eyes as she met my gaze. She realized she truly was a prisoner here, that I was her warden, and that returning to her former life was a hopeless cause. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she fully understood the extent of her situation.

  What she didn’t know was that I was just as much a prisoner to this life as she was.

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Good. Now go away and do something. I’m sure you have things that will occupy your time here. If you don’t, talk with the maid I’ve hired for you, and see what she suggests. I trust we won’t have to meet too often once we’re married. It may serve you well to find a friend.”

  Catriona nodded her head, biting on her bottom lip. She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, and when I finally let her move freely, she turned to retrace her steps out of the kitchen. Right before she left, with her back to me, she asked one last question.

  “What about children?”

  My incredulous gasp answered it.

  “What makes you think I would want to bring children into this shamble of a life?”

  Her mouth popped open with a gasp. I’d shocked her.

  “You want no sons? No heirs?” Judging from her response, the idea was beyond anything she could understand. It was something that society drummed into us from childhood—that the greatest accomplishments a man could achieve was his ability to pass his legacy on to his children. Her gaped mouth showed she’d never met anyone who thought the idea of it a joke.

  “You don’t want to pass your legacy on?” The question flowed from her mouth without thought.

  “You have no idea what you’re asking, Catriona.” I’d grown tired of the conversation and brushed her away with a hand gesture. “Go away. Your questions offend me.” This would be the last warning she got.

  With my hand on the doorknob to go back outside into the twilight air, I ignored the melancholy that descended across her gentle features.

  Let her be sad.

  Let her be disappointed.

  Welcome to the ways of the world, wife-to-be.

  Welcome to reality.

  Chapter 4

  Fiddling with the last cufflink on my sleeve, I quickly glanced over my shoulder to the only person with permission to enter my bedchambers unannounced.

  Phineas Knox—manservant and trusted confidant. Our relationship was a far cry from the business-driven contract I’d initiated when I first met him. Back then, he had merely been a necessary cog in the machine—someone to run my errands while I chased every rumored gypsy sighting across England and into Scotland.

  It had taken me a while to call him by the correct first name. Who he was personally was inconsequential and I hadn’t cared enough to learn anything about him—other than to exact his complete obedience. By chance, I’d discovered that his talents and skills lay beyond the superficial running of an estate and ensuring his master’s needs were met.

  Knox was a man who held great value.

  He would bring me the cure on a silver platter—most likely with hands splattered with the blood of those he forced to bend to my will.

  “You plan on wearing that to the ceremony?” he asked quizzically. He strode over to where I stood before the full-length mirror and began brushing along my shoulder blades—straightening the fabric of my shirt.

  “Am I expected to dress up?” I retorted, checking my appearance. My linen shirt was pressed to perfection, and my black trousers held a sharp crease down the front. I didn’t move as he finished his own inspection.

  For all intents and purposes, to the outside world, he was my valet. When we were alone, we often continued the façade, even when there was no one to witness it.

  “Honestly, Marcus?” he offered me a respectful bow and came to a stop beside me. “I anticipated finding you in your underclothing, clothes crumpled and creased from the lack of care. You’ve made it perfectly clear that today’s formalities are simply that and that you hold no affection for the girl. I’ve seen you show more excitement over the prospect of inspecting new horses for your stables.”

  “Well, one usually dresses to impress for their wedding, Knox.” I didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm or smirk that danced across my lips.

  My wedding.

  How the hell did I allow things to get this far?

  “Have you seen her yet? Did you deliver the outfit I requested she wear?”

  Part of me wished I’d been a fly on the wall when he presented her with the garment I’d found stuffed in a long-forgotten storage trunk that once belonged to a dead ancestor. Insects had eaten jagged holes in the yellowed lace, thread hanging loosely from various hems. I had no idea whether it could be laundered back to its former glory, but deep down, I felt it was an appropriate representation of this whole fiasco.

  She wouldn’t be the blushing bride, and I wasn’t the doting husband.

  If it fit her, that was sufficient for me.

  Knox cocked his eyebrow before nodding his response. “And she was far from . . . enthusiastic.”

  He’d searched for the right word—always in his role as a diplomat. It’s why I had kept him in my services for so long. He knew how to soften my edges when interacting with others.

  I shrugged on the last item of my outfit he held up behind me, sliding my arms into a dark blue jacket. “How she feels is not my concern. She could always attend the ceremony wearing nothing, if that is more to her liking.”

  He burst into laughter. “Why does she irritate you so much? She’s pleasant to look at, and I’m sure if you treated her with even a shred of civility, she would warm your bed quite nicely. Do you truly have to act like such a bastard toward her?”

  “How I treat my betrothed is not your concern,” I quietly warned, catching his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. I all but spat out the word betrothed. The truth was, I still felt resentful this was becoming a reality.

  Women were good for only a handful of things.

  They were nuisances, otherwise, always getting involved in affairs that didn’t involve them. One look at Catriona, and I had instantly recognized that same defiant spirit, one that would no doubt become a thorn in my side for years to come.

  “I beg to differ, friend.” He added his own weight to the word. “Surely you see that this borderlines on cruelty. Set her free and let her at least claim some semblance of contentment. Marriage to you will not be easy.”

  “Don’t forget your place.”

  “How can I, when you enjoy rem
inding me on a daily basis?” There was no malice or resentment in his response. In fact, his grin revealed that as always, his loyalty lay with me. “Sometimes twice, if I’m a good boy.”

  “Have I told you how much I hate you?” I grumbled, my mind already flickering forward to what was about to happen. Marriage had once been the ideal—the expectation bequeathed on every son to carry on the family lineage. I’d abandoned all hope once I realized that life was no longer compatible with the one I was now forced to endure. “Summon her to my office.”

  I didn’t wait for an answer.

  Knox would obey, and this farce would be official within the hour. The last thought I had as I left my bedchambers was a hollow one.

  I should’ve seized control of his estate instead. That would’ve at least made a hell of a lot more sense than this did.

  A wife.

  One more cursed achievement to add to a growing list of many.

  True to her sex, Catriona was late, no doubt using her tardiness as one last, failed attempt at showing her defiance and reluctance to follow through with her father’s deal.

  I refused to pity her. She had been born a female and therefore knew this was her lot in life—to never have control over her own destiny. Unfortunately, that had been placed in my hands.

  Even the local minister whom I’d overpaid an exorbitant amount to hurry along the process and abandon tradition was impatiently shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. He knew better than to try to engage me with small talk.

  There was no commiserating over the weather we were experiencing. He hadn’t so much as peeped about a possible donation to the parish. Instead, Father Thompson stood in his worn priestly garb and stared at the closed door—as if to will Catriona’s appearance so he could then flee the house and my presence.

  Finally, the doorknob jiggled, and despite my efforts to not turn and greet the person entering, I obediently glanced over, and that’s when I experienced something I had long thought dead.

  Speechless. I was utterly, unbelievably, uncontrollably . . . speechless.