by Meara Platt
“Forgive me, Lady Anabelle…I…that is, I thought His Grace had told you. Your brother and I–”
“Enough, Melford,” Saron said, his tone one of finality. “Sit down, Anabelle.”
“I will not.” She was enraged, hurt. Confused. They’d shared a very special day yesterday. Well, she had believed it special, even though he’d refused her proposal. Obviously, he had not felt the same way about the time they’d shared.
“Anabelle–”
“I won’t let you take him from me. Not ever.” She sighed raggedly. “I knew you were up to no good when you sought to dismiss Dullingham.”
“I had no–”
“What other sinister schemes do you have in mind?”
Since they were still standing close, glowering at each other, he had only to reach out to swallow her fists in his hands and hold them firmly in place. It was an efficient ploy to restrain her in the event she decided to take a poke at him, something she sorely wished to do. “Listen to me. Your brother is the Earl of Cleve and has a responsibility to his subjects. It is prudent that he visit the Cleve holdings as soon as possible. There is nothing sinister in my plan and–”
“If it’s so innocent, why didn’t you mention it to me last night?”
“Perhaps, I should have,” he surprised her by admitting, “but much happened yesterday and my mind was dulled by the laudanum. Also, I needed to speak with Dullingham first.”
“I knew you meant to dismiss him, but you mustn’t. He’s the best tutor Robert has ever had and he’s done an excellent job, all things considered. You’d understand that if you knew anything about my brother, which you don’t. Nor do you know anything about me, or this estate, or all those who rely on it for their subsistence.”
“Anabelle, you’ve made me out to be a total dullard. I assure you I am not.” He tightened his grip on her hands when she tried to pull away. “Will you stop fighting me and listen?”
“Why should I? You don’t respect my opinions. You’ll do as you wish, whenever you wish, tragically with the law on your side. What point is there in hearing you out?”
“Apparently, none,” he said dryly. “Nevertheless, you will listen if only to allay your fears. I intend to do what’s right.”
“Hah!”
“I asked to speak to Dullingham not to discharge him, but to decide upon a suitable study schedule for Robert while he’s traveling. Sir John and Mr. Dullingham will accompany him to Cleve.”
“What if Robert doesn’t wish to go?”
He shook his head and sighed. “You know in your heart the lad is aching to go. I know he wishes it because he and I discussed the possibility last month. He approached me and asked me to take him to his properties. I couldn’t then, but I promised to arrange it on my return, a promise I intend to keep.”
Anabelle’s anger deflated only to be replaced by sorrow and frustration. This was indeed a man’s world, where any male, no matter how young or ignorant, took precedence over the best, the wisest, the most worthy female. Not that she was good or wise or worthy, but she did have a well-meaning heart, probably too much pride, and a strong desire to protect her family.
Saron, obviously sensing her surrender, eased his grip and led her to a chair. “You may as well hear the rest of it. I’ve invited Lord Markby to join your brother, Sir John, and Mr. Dullingham.”
Her eyes rounded in horror. She tried to rise, then realized Saron still held her hands in his. “Why invite him?”
“He cares deeply for you and Robert.”
She made a sound of disgust. “Awarding you Harleigh proves that he does not, but how can you possibly understand that when you’ve cared for nothing and no one in your life? I love my brother. He and I are more than siblings to each other. I’ve been like a mother to him these past four years. Do you have any idea how painful it is to separate a mother, any parent, from their child?”
Sir John gasped.
Saron released her. “Apparently, you think I don’t. You are dismissed, Anabelle.”
“We haven’t finished discussing–”
He turned and strode to the door, holding it open. “The matter is settled. You may go.”
There was the same dark, animal look to his eyes that she’d noticed earlier. A barely leashed anger, this time fully directed at her. Though she had no intention of accepting his decision about Robert, she knew better than to press him on it now.
She swallowed hard.
At this moment, Saron did not look human.
At this moment, he truly scared her.
*
Saron heard the slam of the front hall door as Anabelle stormed out of the house. He turned toward the window and watched her march angrily toward the front gate. Where was she going? He didn’t like her walking anywhere alone, not while the danger from wandering demons still existed.
“She believes you know nothing about the care of children. She’d be more accepting of your decisions if you told her about Gideon, Your Grace,” Melford said, coming to his side.
Saron frowned. “And give her a potent weapon to use against me? I think not.”
“But you left me instruction to tell her about Gideon if you failed to return from the realm of the Dragon Lords. Why refuse to tell her now?”
“That was a different matter entirely. If I were dead, her only thought would have been to protect the boy’s grave. I wanted someone stubborn and fiercely determined to watch over him. Who better than Anabelle?”
“Not a very flattering description of the girl.”
He cast Melford a withering look.
“I like her. So does your aunt,” Melford said with a shake of his head. “So do you, I think, though you have a poor way of showing it.”
“Blast it, Melford.” Saron ran a hand roughly across the back of his neck. “She’s heading toward the lake. She thinks the danger has passed, but now that I’ve returned, so will the Dragon Lords. I had better go after her.”
Melford nodded. “Shall I come with you?”
“No. Stay here and keep everyone out of my way.”
The cold breeze did nothing to cool Saron’s anger, nor did the bright sun or brilliant blue sky lighten his spirit as he strode from the house in pursuit of Anabelle. He understood the girl’s anguish. She feared to lose her brother to his influence, but it wasn’t at all the same thing as his losing Gideon.
Anabelle’s brother was alive and well.
Gideon was dead.
The boy’s murder still haunted his dreams, darkened his every waking hour. Even now, he felt the demonic rage stirring within him, felt his skin begin to harden into dragon scales and knew he could not approach Anabelle in this state. He had to control his rage, for the last thing he wished to do was hurt the girl any more than he already had. He was capable of evil, of committing unspeakable acts, but he’d given his oath to protect her and he meant to honor that vow, even if it meant protecting her from himself.
Surprisingly, thinking of Anabelle managed to soothe him as nothing and no one had ever done before. The fiery heat coursing through his veins began to subside as he recalled her innocent, doe eyes and the soft curve of her mouth whenever she smiled at him. That she had an openhearted smile that reached her eyes, amazed him. He refused to think of what the rest of her lush body could do, for he was trying to calm himself, not stir himself into an animal frenzy.
He cursed himself a fool and walked on, ignoring the pain to his sore thigh as he cut through the flower garden and turned down the lane. He tried to ignore the reminders of Anabelle that caught his eye at every turn, but couldn’t. She’d left her nurturing mark on the flower gardens bursting with spring blooms, on the fields where her beans and corn crops were beginning to sprout, on the animals grazing contentedly in the meadow, and on the happy villagers who waved as he strode by.
Was he overly concerned?
All appeared peaceful.
He paused beside the tranquil shore of Derwentwater and looked out over the magnificent blue la
ke. No demons in sight. So why were the short hairs on the back of his neck standing on end?
He noticed Anabelle on a small outcropping by the water’s edge, her gown billowing around her and her hair flailing in the cool, windy air. She had her arms wrapped around her shoulders and appeared to be studying the fish and frogs swimming beneath the small, white-capped waves.
He removed his jacket as he approached and wrapped it around her. “You must be cold, little one.” Close to the water, the wind blew with a gusty force and must have chilled her to the bone. “Why did you come out here alone?”
She wiped away a tear that had fallen upon her cheek. “What concern is it of yours? At this moment, I don’t care if some vicious animal leaps at me and rips me to shreds. No animal could possibly hurt me worse than you already have.”
He sighed, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease her ache. She wished to believe the worst in him. What did it matter? He was worse than she could ever imagine. He’d already made a shamble of her life. But giving in about her brother’s trip to Cleve would not fix things. The boy would only be gone a few months, and in her heart, Anabelle knew that the lad would enjoy the trip.
“I came here to get away from you, Your Grace. Go away.”
He’d hurt her very badly. He was no longer Saron, but the duke she detested. “I handled the matter poorly, Anabelle. I’m sorry.” He turned away to pick up a stone and skip it across the water, silently watching as it skimmed the lake waters. The gesture may have appeared casual, but it wasn’t at all.
If something lurked beneath the waters, he wished to draw it out now, rather than fend off a surprise attack later. He didn’t like that Anabelle was out here, but at least he was close enough to protect her. The Fae were close by as well and would respond to his call for help if assistance was needed.
But all seemed quiet.
All the better, for it was time to tell Anabelle about Gideon and the Dragon Lords. It was time to reveal his secrets. But where to start?
He picked up another stone and watched it drop into the distance. “Will you not accept my apology?”
She refused to look at him.
“Melford thinks I handled the situation poorly, as well.”
She laughed softly. “Do you need your learned counselor to tell you that?”
He shrugged. “At times, it seems I do.”
He had been wrong about many things. For one, refusing to return Harleigh to Anabelle the moment he’d won it from her father. But now he feared it was too late. The Dragon Lords knew of her, that lamb had been their calling card. They were watching, waiting for a sign of his weakness.
Anabelle was his weakness…rather, the yearning he felt for Anabelle was his weakness. The girl herself was strong and spirited and had an incredibly tender heart.
He couldn’t give her back Harleigh. The Dralochs did not lose, nor did they ever show mercy. Not ever. In any event, to give this estate back to her now would probably mean…hell, he didn’t know what any of it meant anymore.
He was drawn to Anabelle, there was no denying it. But was it she who stirred his dying soul or was the Stone of Draloch manipulating his affections for the girl?
And what of the danger he posed to her? The darkness was a part of him, would always live inside of him.
“Anabelle, in truth where you are concerned…I am at a loss.”
“So am I about you,” she replied, the strain of their earlier disagreement evident in her drawn features. “I’ve tried so hard to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you always do something to hurt me.”
“It is not intentional. I’ve already admitted my mistake in not mentioning your brother’s trip to Cleve.”
“Not mentioning it? You should have consulted me first, considered my wishes before making any arrangements. Your actions were beastly!”
An interesting choice of words. If only she realized how close to the mark she’d struck. “Do you expect me to disagree? I won’t. This is what I am.” He winced as the lingering traces of poison from Bloodaxe’s arrow began to wend through his veins. He was slowly turning into the very beast he’d detested all these years, and no doctor, no matter how good or dedicated, could undo the harm already done to his body.
How long before his heart turned to ice, before he forgot how sweet the taste of Anabelle’s mouth felt on his lips, how warm and soft she felt in his arms?
Anabelle had to be free of him before then.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t nearly so eager to be rid of her as she believed. No, to him she was one of those rare beauties of legend, a pure spirit capable of healing a wounded beast.
“Come away from the water’s edge and sit with me a moment,” he said, motioning in the direction of a fallen tree a short distance from the shore.
She shrugged and walked beside him, settling on its knotted trunk and clutching at several blades of grass beside her feet as though they were a lifeline in her hands.
He stood beside her, propping his booted foot on the tree.
“I know I’m a bossy bit of goods,” she said, looking up at him with a tearful gleam in her soft, doe eyes that never failed to stir his damaged heart. “It is in my nature to lecture and direct. My mother was never in the best of health and I took over many of her duties early on, particularly matters concerning Harleigh, and toward the end, concerning Robert. To be suddenly shut out of all decisions, well, it surprised me.”
“I’m truly sorry, Anabelle. I know these past few months haven’t been easy for you.” He tucked his jacket more securely about her shoulders when she shivered again.
“You must be cold, too. Here, have it back.”
“No, I don’t need it.”
“Why? Because you’re cold and heartless?” She shook her head and sighed. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said that. As duke, you’re used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question.”
“I do not ever do so recklessly. There is always a purpose to my decisions.”
“A method to your madness?”
He arched an eyebrow. “My orders and objectives are always well thought out.”
“You may believe they are.”
“And you’re about to tell me that they are not.” He ought to have been angry, but he always enjoyed the challenge of this little sprite with hair of golden fire. She looked so small and vulnerable wrapped in his large jacket. Yet, she always held her own against him. He liked that about her.
“You’re no fool, I’ll give you that. And you have advisors and friends to help you. Sir John, for one. I like him, by the way. He speaks honestly and perhaps with more tact than I,” she admitted. “My point is, you cannot make intelligent decisions concerning my brother as long as you exclude me from the conversation. I know him far better than you or anyone ever will and I love him fiercely.”
“As his guardian, I have no less of a responsibility to him.”
“The title means nothing,” she said in disgust. “Any greedy or cruel man may be appointed guardian and destroy the very child he is charged to protect.”
“And you think that’s what I plan for your brother?”
“I don’t know what to think. You haven’t explained your actions to me, or allowed me to agree, or object, or offer suggestions.” She turned to him and studied him a long moment, her exasperation evident. “I don’t know whether to like you, hate you, trust you, or shoot you. The problem is, I don’t know you at all.”
“Few people do.”
“That should not be a source of pride to you.” Having given her rebuke, she returned her gaze to the lake and the sun’s rays glistening as brilliantly as heirloom diamonds upon it. “Masterson said that I should learn to restrain my temper and discuss my differences with you. He seems to think we both have Robert’s best interests at heart.”
“Ah, Harleigh’s phantom head butler.”
“Phantom? Haven’t you met him yet?”
“No. He hasn’t seen fit to present himself to me, but I ex
pect he will in time.” Saron knew he could have summoned the entire staff and formally introduced himself as the new owner, but decided against it. The servants knew Harleigh belonged to him and had, for the most part, accepted it. To insist on a ceremonial welcome would have served no purpose but to humiliate Anabelle and he hadn’t sunk so low as to desire that.
A blush rose in her cheeks. “I’ll introduce you when we return to the house. He’s certainly familiar with you. In fact, he seems to understand you better than I do, which isn’t saying much since I don’t understand you at all. But I’m trying.”
“I know you are,” he said, softening his tone to match Anabelle’s.
She took a deep breath. “I love this place. I love to walk along the lake at sunset, reflect on the events of the day, and take in the beauty of the high fells and soaring pikes. There’s such majesty to these surroundings.”
“Indeed. It makes one feel quite insignificant, even humble.”
“I hoped you’d see it that way. With the proper attitude, even our differences can become insignificant.”
“Little one, you are as determined as a force of nature.” He laughed and returned his gaze to the water, for he thought he’d detected a movement. Perhaps something more sinister lurked in those depths, something that could not be so easily handled by him or the Water Fae who guarded this lake. He took Anabelle’s hands in his and nudged her to her feet. “Come, walk with me.”
She hesitated, then nodded and fell into step beside him as he strolled along the lakeshore path that would take them back to Harleigh. “About my brother,” she started tentatively, but he stopped her.
“Anabelle, I’m sorry. I know I was in the wrong this afternoon.”
She gazed at him, obviously startled by yet another apology issuing from his lips. “Well, you should be.”
“I just said I was,” he responded with a frown. “Is this how I’m rewarded for my honesty?”
“Would you prefer lies and flattery?”
“No, not from you.” He liked her well enough as she was, open and direct, unwilling to pull her punches.
“Nor do I wish it from you. I’m no shy maiden who needs coddling or protecting from the ills of the world.”
