Blood and Damnation

by Belinda Boring

  I wanted to smooth out the permanent wrinkle on her brow. “In one breath you speak of honor and justice, yet you thirst for your revenge. They are at odds with each other—you can’t have revenge and remain honorable.”

  “Watch me,” I fired back, my own annoyance flaring. “Endure what I have and see whether you still believe that. I didn’t ask for this life, but I will use whatever gifts it has given me to claim some semblance of peace.”

  She had the audacity to laugh. “You call this peace, Marcus? Let go of your need to make those who’ve harmed you pay. Embrace this new life and make the best of it. Imagine the great things you could do with your extended life. Think of the legacy you could leave in your wake . . . of being someone who rises above the harshness of life and makes the world a better place.”

  I shook my head, already dismissing her words as folly. “Can you not see that this is the path I am destined to walk? I used to believe I held some control over what Fate did . . . that I chose the life I wanted. If there was one thing the curse has taught me, it’s that I was a fool, and in order to survive, I needed to kill that side of me.”

  “Then I pity you, Marcus, I truly do. You’re wasting the chance given you to find meaning and purpose.”

  Anger continued to bubble up inside me. While I’d granted her the freedom to talk to me as she wanted, to ask her questions, it still rankled. Her fear I could handle. Her disappointment and disgust were expected.

  It was her pity that irritated me, because I didn’t need her sorrow.

  “This is why we can never have the kind of relationship you yearn for.”

  “So, you chose to act like a barbarian because you felt I was too weak and feeble-minded to understand your plight?” She finally stood and approached me, placing her hand over my chest. “Do you really think so little of me?”

  It was my turn to be speechless.

  “Thank you for confiding in me. Your secret is safe with me.” Patting my chest affectionately, she left me with a smile that tugged at my heartstrings again. “Let us be friends.” And with that, she kissed my cheek and turned to head back to the house.

  Right before she disappeared from my sight, I found my voice.

  “Catriona, thank you,” I called out. Then, as a new thought arose, I threw caution to the wind. “Prepare to journey to London later this morning.”

  She stilled ever so slightly, then nodded.

  Falling onto the bench, exhausted, I couldn’t help but wonder if this had been yet another mistake in a long line of many.

  Friends.

  It was more than I deserved.

  Much more.

  Chapter 10

  Mrs. Pickering was worth every pound her services demanded.

  Upon our arrival in London, I quickly sent Knox to see whether the popular seamstress would see us. Those who recommended her were adamant there was little chance of her granting our request because of how highly in demand she was. I’d listened to them all attentively, but I also recognized a greater truth.

  Lengthy waiting lists could often be obliterated when enough money was placed on the table. I had extremely deep pockets and no problem spending the wealth I had accumulated.

  Sitting on the gold brocaded chaise longue in the corner of her workshop, I couldn’t keep the smug expression from settling across my face.

  Catriona had been so anxious about being dressed by the woman who boasted about a client list containing some of the most elite aristocrats in our country. Hell, Mrs. Pickering had even adorned the king and his queen with her fineries.

  After glaring at my speechless companion, I reminded her that her new wardrobe was a gift from me—my way of showing her how truly sorry I was for my former treatment of her.

  As far as I was concerned, the moment we were able to, I would order a bonfire to destroy the tacky clothes I’d forced on her.

  “What do you think, Mr. St. James? Does your wife not look stunning in this emerald green dress?” The older woman stood back from her creation, gesturing to Catriona, who was raised up on a wide stool so Mrs. Pickering and her apprentice, Harriet, could move about easily. “With the rich darkness of her hair, and her flawless skin, you may wish to hire a guard to keep this one safe.” Gazing up at Catriona, the seamstress continued. “You, my darling, are quite stunning.”

  She rattled off a long string of instructions to her apprentice, who in turn faithfully jotted it all down on a small pad. I’d told her the outfits I believed Catriona would need and that she was to spare no expense.

  She’d simply chuckled softly and patted me on the arm like I was a child. “My dear, I have no doubt that you are quite accomplished at what you do. However, you don’t see me come into your office and tell you how to do your work. Do you doubt my abilities? My skills?” She cocked an eyebrow as if daring me to challenge her. “I didn’t think so. You’ve come to me because you heard I am the best. Perhaps you should’ve left with your manservant?”

  Answers bounced around in my mind, but something warned me that this was not a woman to argue with. Resigning myself to the corner, I’d spent most of the past few hours watching the process.

  And watching my wife . . . who wasn’t truly my wife . . . who was barely a newly formed friend . . . the woman who continued to complicate my life.

  “What do you think?” Catriona asked, chewing her bottom lip as she twisted, the dress swishing about her. “You don’t think it’s too elaborate for spending each day at the estate?”

  I heard the question within the question she asked.

  Why was I going to such an extreme when all she would ever see were the walls within my home? So far, I had not taken her out into society, refusing any invitations to balls and dinner parties that were extended.

  People would always be curious about me—the reclusive heir of Smithersby Field—but she was something else entirely. Rumors had labeled me a confirmed bachelor after my constant refusal to court the local beauties. Yet, here I was, married.

  They wanted to meet her with the hopes of understanding how she’d managed to tie herself to such an affluent family.

  Let them wonder, I silently grumbled.

  I nodded my agreement. “You look beautiful, Catriona.”

  I added a smile to my words, hoping that it didn’t reveal the true depths of my feelings. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was extraordinary.

  She flinched as Harriet accidently pricked her with a long dressmaking pin. It earned the poor young girl a slap from Mrs. Pickering, and the admonishment that should she spoil the fabric with blood, it would come out of her meager wage.

  The mention of blood tugged at my senses, and my mouth watered. The elixir Knox had brought the previous night had all but left my system, and oddly, my hunger had roared back with a vengeance. There might not be time enough to wait until we returned home.

  There was a knock at the door, and to my relief, Knox entered, his eyes glued to Catriona’s svelte figure on display.

  Whistling softly, he dragged his gaze away from her, and approached me. “Marcus, we have a problem.” He crouched down beside me so he could whisper. “I tried to get you an audience with her, but she is unmovable. I couldn’t even gain entrance to her home to ask her personally and share your plight with her.”

  It was as I thought. We had been lucky with Mrs. Pickering, but meeting with the infamous seer of London proved to be impossible. People came from near and far to have Lady Hannah read their futures. I already knew mine, but I had desperately hoped she could grant us some insight into the curse I bore.

  “Perhaps I should try,” I answered, already moving to stand. As pleasant as the view had been, Catriona’s new wardrobe would not restore me to the man I was. It wouldn’t help me gain my revenge. It was simply a means of distraction.

  “I’m afraid I need to take my leave, ladies,” I announced, tilting my head forward with respect. “It seems that my associate here requires my help with another errand.” Catching Mrs. Pickering’s gaz
e, I added, “How long will you still be needing Mrs. St. James?”

  It felt odd addressing Catriona that way, but I knew it was a title that removed suspicions. No one needed to know we were far from the typical married couple.

  She waved me away impatiently. “You can’t rush perfection, Mr. St. James. Go, take care of your business, and return in a few hours. By then I should have most of the measurements needed to create a wardrobe fit for a queen.”

  To show me just how unimportant my being there was, she then turned her back to me and continued talking with Catriona and her apprentice quietly.

  Thoroughly dismissed, I bowed once more and left the house, Knox in tow.

  “Good God,” he complained once we found ourselves out on the street. “How are you not tearing your hair out from boredom?” Knox threw one last glance over his shoulder before climbing into my coach behind me. “All that material and lace.” He shuddered hard.

  “It paled in comparison to where I placed my focus,” I chuckled, giving him a knowing look. “Heaven help me, but I’ve grown to appreciate my . . .” It was on the tip of my tongue to call her my wife. Thankfully, I caught myself in time. “My new friend.”

  Knox snorted, recognizing my explanation as the falsehood it was. He was gracious enough to let me continue fooling myself, anyway.

  “I hate to tell you, but I don’t think you’ll have any better luck talking to her Ladyship’s footman. He was quite firm in her refusal.” Knox bounced up and down as the carriage wheels hit an uneven portion of the cobblestone road. “I tried every kind of plea to convince him. I even took a page out of your book and offered to throw an obscene amount of money for him to turn a blind eye.”

  It was a dig at my spending a year’s monetary allotment on Catriona’s wardrobe.

  “And you told them it was a matter of life and death?” I asked, trying to think of any other way to approach the London seer. “That my sanity hangs in the balance?”

  “Does it?” Knox fired back, that ridiculous smirk on his face again. He was thoroughly enjoying the way Catriona had gotten under my skin. I hadn’t breathed so much as a syllable regarding the change of heart that was currently happening, but somehow, he still knew. It was the consequence of assigning him the very specific role of ensuring that I didn’t lose what little humanity I had to the beast that lurked inside. “I would have said your control was slipping the moment you announced Catriona was going to join us today so she could go shopping.”

  I couldn’t deny it. It was definitely a sidestep from my usual behavior. “It seems I need to remind you, again, that I am the master in this relationship, Phineas. Although—” I let out a heavy sigh. “I’m tempted to side with you. Love is a fickle thing that has turned on even the strongest of men and rendered them blithering idiots. Maybe, instead of petitioning Lady Hannah, you should take me to the nearest asylum and have me committed.”

  I knew the second I closed my mouth that I had revealed the secret I’d been harboring in my heart since I’d woken from our shared dream.

  “Love?” Knox was too damn observant for his own good.

  “Shut up,” I grumbled back. “My feelings aren’t a subject for discussion.”

  I peered out the carriage window at the passing scenery. London was always a bustling town—filled with people going to and from—both the upper and lower classes coexisting. They didn’t acknowledge that they all walked the same paths and needed each other to maintain whatever level of lifestyle they enjoyed.

  “So, do you really want to try again?” Knox asked, his fingers drumming against his knee as he studied me.

  “With Catriona?” I replied absentmindedly.

  He burst out laughing. “No, with the sole reason you journeyed to London. You wanted to ask the seer if she could shed any light on the gypsies and where they were hiding.” Knox shook his head at me, a look of bewilderment on his face. “Or does that no longer matter? Maybe I should give up my attempts to break the curse as well. You know . . . now that you’ve found love.”

  I banged hard on the roof of the carriage, demanding that the driver stop immediately. I kicked at the door, making it fly open.

  “I’ll say this once: whatever I may feel for Catriona is not up for discussion or ridicule. Nothing and no one will stand in my way, do you understand? My first priority—my only priority—will always be to undo that bloody curse and then destroy those who dared harm me. Everything,” I thundered passionately, small flecks of spit flying from my lips, “everything I do—that I order you to do—is for that one purpose. All I have is my revenge, Knox. I would caution you to never forget that.”

  I expected him to argue back, or to at least act indignant that I’d chastised him, but he did neither. He actually grinned wider, and it made me wonder who was the crazier of us two.

  “Good to hear that, master,” he replied, acting submissive by bowing low. “The apothecary had many of the ingredients I needed for my new experiments. It would be a shame if they went to waste because you’ve been struck with Cupid’s arrow.”

  And with that, Knox reached over and closed the coach door, signaling the driver to continue on.

  “I’m sure you presented my case well, but refusing a servant as opposed to a master and gentleman . . . I would feel much better talking with her footman myself.” I relaxed back into the seat and gently smoothed out the creases forming in my trousers. “I can be quite persuasive.”

  As we jostled toward the seer’s Cavendish Square residence, I vowed that I wouldn’t leave until I had gained what I wanted.

  And should she continue to refuse?

  Then I would take what I needed by force.

  Chapter 11

  The tension in the carriage was practically palpable.

  Gone were the plans to spend a few days in London, introducing Catriona to society, and showing her that I could be the reformed “monster” she wanted. While I wasn’t promising her sonnets and a showering of hothouse flowers, a night listening to a popular opera singer would have gone a long way toward softening the damage I’d already done.

  All plans came to a crashing halt when the front door of Lady Hannah’s home slammed shut in my face—denying me entrance to talk with her.

  The force I’d threatened to use was extinguished as easily as blowing out a candle. Before Knox could pull me back, I had pushed against the door with my body, determined to rip it from its hinges if needed.

  A pulse of explosive magic zapped across my body, sizzling the hair on my arms with its current and almost throwing me off my feet and down the steps onto the street. It made sense that the famous seer had taken the necessary precautions to protect her residence, but it didn’t help my wounded pride any.

  A crowd quickly gathered at the gate, watching with astonished faces when I repeatedly tried breaking through the spell that now barred my entrance.

  It had been a humiliating waste of energy, but that hadn’t kept me from my repeated attempts. It wasn’t until Knox finally dragged me away, whispering the need for decorum, that I remembered who and where I was. Word would spread like wildfire and make me the brunt of the gossip mill’s mockery.

  Amidst my cussing and vehement promises to burn the damn town to the ground for this slight, Knox had gotten me back into the carriage. We returned to Mrs. Pickering’s seamstress shop without another word spoken and retrieved Catriona. Arrangements were made to have the new clothes delivered to Smithersby Field, and we were gone within the next hour.

  Since then, I’d sat fuming in the coach, staring out the window while Knox and Catriona quietly talked to each other. Every now and then I caught a furtive glance from her, but after a while, she gave up trying to ease me into a lighter conversation.

  As if to match my mood, a dark storm was rolling in from the east, making it all the more important for us to reach our destination. The roads were treacherous enough without having to navigate around potholes filled with water.

  Knox seemed to have the same th
ought as he studied our surroundings. A crease lined his brow, and for what seemed like the hundredth time, he massaged his temple gingerly with his fingers.

  “What?” I barked, noticing that his concern wasn’t lifting.

  He didn’t answer immediately, instead leaning forward to get a better look outside.

  “Something doesn’t feel right, Marcus,” he murmured, loud enough that I caught his response. “I know you’d rather continue traveling until we reach home, but I can’t shake the feeling that we would fare better if we traveled during the day, and not during this storm.”

  I glanced at Catriona to see if she also felt the same. She remained tight-lipped, but her features gave away her similar worry. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, crumpling the material of her dress.

  “We should be safe, Knox,” I answered, peering forward to where the driver sat, controlling the horses with his leather rein. “If we push the horses, and don’t stop as often, we should arrive with no problems. Unless you’re truly worried about a mere storm?” I ribbed him, knowing it would gall him to admit his fear.

  “Does that look like a mere storm to you?” he countered, challenging me. “It looks as though the gods themselves are angry and have unleashed their wrath on us petty mortals.”

  I exhaled sharply. “When did you become so dramatic? You sound more like a woman than a man, your delicate sensibilities all aflutter.” I raised my voice until it sounded more like Catriona’s than mine. I was in no mood to be argued with.

  “Damn you,” he answered angrily, his gaze narrowing on me. “I would follow you into Hell itself, Marcus, and that may make me a fool, but mark my words—there’s an ill wind out tonight, and we need to find shelter.”

  “Do you agree?” I turned my focus to Catriona. “Do you believe we’ll be struck down by lightning if we don’t find a place to spend the night?”