Retribution (Sebastian Trilogy Book 3)

by Rosen, Janey

  Moonlight finds its way through a chink in the curtain, casting a blue white glow across the bed. Sebastian’s leg rests on my hip. We’re both hot, sweaty. He’s deeply asleep and I’m still awake but my eyelids are growing heavy. Sleep is finally enveloping me in its comforting arms.

  The shadow moves so slowly that, at first, it seems that it is not moving at all. Rubbing the onset of sleep from my tired eyes, then repeatedly blinking helps to clear my vision. The shape of the armoire, chest of draws, the mirror, all as they should be. Nothing unusual. Back to the armoire, a colossal wardrobe housing the dresses chosen for me by Scarlett. I wonder how she felt, forced to shop for an adversary who had stolen her true love’s heart. How painful that must have been for her. The inky outline of the armoire stretches, then I realise that it’s another shape. The shape of a woman.

  “Sebastian!” Shouting his name, I reach to the bedside lamp, flicking on the switch with urgency, the soft yellow light banishing the shadows. I blink as my eyes adjust to the light. He jerks and sits up, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

  “What…the fuck?” He looks around the room then turns to me, his eyes wide and questioning. “What is it?”

  “Scarlett! Oh my God, Scarlett was here.” My trembling arms grip my knees, my eyes dart about the room for a sign of her but I find nothing amiss.

  “Scarlett’s dead, Elizabeth. She’s gone.” He sighs deeply, gathers me to him and holds me, stroking my hair. “It was a nightmare, darling, just a nightmare.” I know that he’s right. I was falling asleep; the mind plays tricks in that half-sleep state.

  “Could it be her ghost?” I whisper into his warm skin.

  “No darling, no ghosts. You’re exhausted and you need to sleep.” He strokes my shoulder, kisses my hair. “Did you take your medication tonight, Elizabeth?”

  “My pill?” When I realize what he’s talking about, I wonder when I should tell him the truth. “No, darling, I didn’t take it.”

  He stops stroking, and stiffens against me. “I’ll fetch you a glass of water. You can take it now.” Pulling away, he throws his legs over the side of the bed and pads over to the chaise where his black silk robe lies folded. He slips it on and loosely ties the belt. My gaze roves over his taut body; he looks so damn sexy. I’d rather he ravish me than enter into another difficult conversation but there is never going to be a good time to talk about this. It’s better to get it all out now so that we can put it behind us and live our lives together in peace. How we need some peace.

  Sebastian returns with a glass of water and my bag. “Sorry we didn’t eat the dinner you cooked. It looked delicious,” he mutters as he hands me the glass and places the bag on the bed beside me.

  “It will keep,” I reply, my tummy grumbling at the reminder of my starvation. “I need to talk to you, love.”

  He removes his robe and struts in all his masculine glory back to the bed, sliding under the duvet. “Can’t we sleep? It’s nearly two.”

  “No, Sebastian. This can’t wait. I know it’s probably not the right time at all to discuss this, but there will likely never be a good time.” I have his attention; he sits up and plumps his pillows, resting back against them, his arms folded defensively. “I have not taken a single tablet prescribed by Doctor Fairfax.” He sucks in a sharp breath and spears his hair with his fingers. “The reason that I chose not to was my utter conviction that Scarlett was drugging me.” I cast a glance at his face. He’s looking straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. His jaw is set, his lips a poker straight line.

  “Go on. This had better be good, sweetheart,” he spits.

  “You all wanted me to take the medication. I know you meant well, had my best interests at heart, but ultimately you all believed I was mad with grief, and you wanted to believe that a little pill would cure me. Who was I to counter that? I wasn’t in my right mind, it’s true, but I was aware enough to know it didn’t feel like grief or depression. I’m not denying they probably both factor in my screwed head somewhere, but this was different. The hallucinations, the paranoia came on so suddenly, it was like I became a different person entirely. Don’t you see?” He strokes his square jaw with the palm of his hand and nods sadly for me to continue.

  “So I told you all what you wanted to hear, that I was taking the pills and feeling better. In fact, I truly was feeling better, but not because of the medication. That confirmed to me that there really was a connection between my symptoms and this place. In Dorset, my head started to clear, the fog lifted, and the hallucinations stopped.”

  He shifts and turns, his eyes finally meeting mine. “No, Elizabeth. That tells me that the moment you were away from me the depression lifted.” His brow arches as he awaits my counter.

  “Not at all. You are my soul mate, Sebastian. I’m clear on that now. Please, let me finish. After you left me, on Bella’s birthday, I went to the police station and filed a Temporary Restraining Order against Scarlett.” His eyes darken and he looks away from me. “I did this so that we could be together, to force her hand, to get her to move out of here. I also had blood taken, to test for toxins and traces of poison or drugs—”

  He rakes his hair again, shaking his head forlornly. “Fuck.”

  “Fuck, indeed.” I sigh. “The results showed anti-depressants in my blood, fluoxetine. Do you realise what this means?”

  His hand drops to his side, his eyes widening. “It means…but how could your blood show that? You weren’t taking…oh Christ. Oh, God no.”

  Laying my hand gently on his arm, I nod in confirmation. “It means Scarlett was lacing my food or drink with the drug, and in large quantities. I know this is painful for you, but you need to know this about her, to see the full picture. You have to know that it wasn’t me, Sebastian. The woman was sick in the head—very sick. Sebastian, she murdered her parents.”

  His face contorts with pain as he lets out a low, fierce growl and leaps from the bed. He begins pacing the floor like a wild tiger, his eyes narrow, his teeth bared. “Is this true?” he hisses. “All these fucking years I’ve been living with…loving, protecting…a fucking murdering, lying, evil bitch?”

  Sliding from the bed, I tentatively approach him, scared to get too close in case he lashes out. I have never seen him this enraged, this savage, like a feral cat. “She was sick, Sebastian. I honestly believe that she didn’t know what she was doing. How could she? How could a woman hold so much malice and hatred and not be extremely ill?”

  He stops pacing and stands before me, puzzled and desperate. “Why? Why did she kill her parents? She told me so many lies about them.”

  “DI Chambers has been liaising with the police who dealt with the case. It seems her father was abusive, used to beat the living shit out of her. Her mother, by all accounts, did nothing to stop him. Who knows why she did what she did in the end, perhaps she just snapped that day. Maybe she suffered one beating too many.”

  He considers what I say, his brow furrowed. “What drives a person to do that? When I think back, my own mother…how she used to beat me, and yet…I could never have lifted a hand or a fist to her.”

  “You’ve never really talked about her, Sebastian.” I stroke the silver flecks of hair at his temples. “Would it help to talk?”

  He stiffens, his mouth set in a stern line. “Nothing to tell,” he mutters gruffly. “She used to drink too much and beat the crap out of me. I used to dread coming home from school for the holidays and then dread going back to school wearing her bruises. In Mother’s social circle, one didn’t talk about such things. Discipline was an everyday expectation of our class. I loved her though, Elizabeth. Fuck knows why, but I did.” He rubs at the back of his neck as if massaging the tension away. “I think that’s why I took pity on Scarlett. She said she’d left home because of her father’s cruelty. It felt like we were kindred spirits in that regard.” He chuckles. “Isn’t it bizarre that two people who have been abused, both enter adulthood with an inherent fascination with pain…?”

 
“Not so strange, darling. It’s what you both knew, what you both understood.” My hand replaces his, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s so tense.

  “How she thrived on pain,” he continues. “I’ve seen her. She craved the lashes, the bite of…” He lets the sentence hang unspoken but I know what he is telling me. I have always known in my heart. He sees the pain in my eyes, his face crumples and he weeps into his hands. “Oh God. All those times, Elizabeth. All those times she begged me to do it, and for what?”

  I take his hands in mine and look up into his sorrowful eyes. “We will never know. Listen to me. Perhaps it was her way of taking the punishment her father would have given her, of atoning for what she did to them. We don’t know and never will.” I wipe a stray tear from his cheek. “It was in the past, Sebastian. I know you didn’t love her as you do me.”

  “Never,” he rasps. “It was at a time when I was out of my mind. I’d watched Libby get so sick. Oh Fuck. Libby. Does this mean…did Scarlett…?”

  Chapter 15

  Pausing to take a deep breath, I stroke his temple as I gently nod. “Probably, darling, yes.”

  “Oh, fuck no. My poor darling Libby…” He sobs in my arms, the world he knows suddenly spinning wildly on its axis. “She took her. She fucking stole Libby, and she nearly took you too.”

  “Look at me, Sebastian.” I tilt his chin so that his hooded blood-shot eyes meet my intense stare. “It’s over. We have each other. We. Are. A. Family. You have me and you have Bella. She has not won. Do you understand?”

  He wipes spittle from his chin and sniffs. Shoving his broad shoulders back, he nods. “It’s over. Thank God for you, Elizabeth—my wilful, disobedient, deceitful girl. Love of my life.” He steps back a pace and throws me a sideways glance, his eyes narrowed, a small smile playing on his lips. “Not a single tablet, huh?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, shaking my head, I confirm, “Nope. Not a single one.” My brow forms a defiant, mischievous arch matching his.

  In a heartbeat he has me on the bed. The weight of his taut body, pressing down upon me, my nails raking his back as he claims me as his. He makes love to me—possessive, powerful—taking back what is his own, stamping his ownership, marking his territory. After, as we lie recumbent in his vast bed, sleep comes to us both and I feel an inner peace so alien that it is almost unearthly. It’s as though the angels have taken the badness, the evil, and replaced it with all that is good—love and acceptance.

  ***

  Three days have passed and police have yet to retrieve Scarlett’s body from the ocean. DI Chambers advised us that there will imminently be an inquest, and it could take several years before a death certificate is issued if her body isn’t found. She has left a small estate, money from the sale of her parents’ house: an inheritance, which she apparently never touched. Sebastian continues to wander the beach, aimlessly walking back and forth, saying he needs to see her corpse for closure. The divers have stopped looking; one told Sebastian that Scarlett may have drifted hundreds of kilometres, though more likely she will wash up along the Cornish coastline eventually. He told me that he asked the diver if Scarlett would be recognisable, and the diver advised that after a few days she would decompose. I had a dream that night that she was hooked by a fisherman and hauled aboard the trawler, her lips and eyes having been eaten by crabs and fish.

  This morning is spectacular. The sun is already high in the clear blue sky; it promises to be a sublime summer day. Bella has decided to stay in Dorset. I imagine this to be a consequence of Ruth giving us time alone as she is kindly staying at the house with her. My mother is arriving on the train this afternoon. No amount of reassurance has prevented her from coming, insisting she won’t believe I am safe until she sees me. This morning, however, right this moment, is about Sebastian and I having fun. It helps us to forget, if just for a moment. He has been exceedingly mysterious since waking me a little after dawn. He seemed as excited as a schoolboy as he led me across the yard behind Penmorrow, in our robes and wellington boots.

  “Tell me.” I giggled. “What have you done?” He takes my hand firmly and leads on until we reached the stables, stopping as we reach the far box. With a dramatic sweep of his hand, he introduces me to the most spectacular horse I have ever seen.

  “Darling, meet Brutus. Brutus, old boy, this woman is not to be messed with.” He winks at the horse and I swear it winks right back as it snorts loudly through its flared nostrils.

  “You bought another horse?” I stroke the horse’s velvet nose; he is a beauty. He reminds me so much of Sebastian—wild, untamed, strong. “What about Zariya? Won’t she feel abandoned?”

  “No, because I am entrusting her to you.” He beams with joy, hands on hips as he admires his new acquisition.

  “Sebastian.” I gasp. “The last time I rode her, she threw me off and I ended up in hospital,” I remind him, incredulous.

  “Which is precisely why you need to get back in the saddle, Elizabeth Dove. Come. We will ride together after breakfast.” He takes my hand firmly in his and struts back to the house with a firm determination and glint in his eye.

  Some time has passed, and now he looks like a model from Horse and Hounds, resplendent upon his new steed, while I sit, a quivering mess, upon the beast with a death wish—my death. “Don’t let her know you’re scared,” he’d warned me as I mounted. “Horses are intuitive. You need to let her know who is the boss.”

  So I squeeze my heels into her flank to remind her of her lowly status and—too late—recall that this is a sign to walk on. Sebastian’s laughter can be heard behind me, damn that man. He trots alongside me, all confidence and pride, his jaw squarely jutting forward as he controls Brutus as if he and the horse are conjoined, while I cling to the reins of Zariya, as though my life depends on it.

  “Race you to my tree,” he quips, the challenge clear on his roguish face. “Last one there strips naked.” And off he canters, knowing very well that the most I will risk is a rising trot.

  When a frustrated Zariya, carrying her sulking mount, arrives at the tree, Sebastian is lying on the long grass, his back resting against the expansive trunk of the ancient oak. He’s chewing on a long blade of grass, his lips forming a perfectly satisfied smirk. “Ahh, if it isn’t Elizabeth.” He grins. “I need to get that horse seen to. Seems she’s not running at full speed. Perhaps we’re putting the wrong fuel in her, or maybe it’s simply a case of bad driving.”

  “Piss off, you cheating son-of-a-bitch.”

  He cocks an eyebrow in response to the expletives that I fire at him. “Really?” He growls in return. “Take your clothes off like a good loser and come here and say that.”

  Stifling a giggle, I shake my head. “Make me,” I challenge. He stands and languidly stretches, the blade of grass still gripped between his teeth, his eyes dark as coal, narrowed, boring into mine. Having tethered the horses to a sapling, he slowly walks toward me, taking the blade of grass and casting it aside. His hips sway, black riding jodhpurs slung low, his hair messy where he’s removed his protective skull cap. He is smouldering hot.

  “Clothes. Off. Now,” he commands, grinning devilishly, clearly savouring my dare. “Elizabeth, either you be a good little loser, or I take you over my knee and give you a short, sharp lesson in sports etiquette. Either way, you get naked. Choice is yours.”

  “Fine.” I giggle. “I take option two.” My core clenches, my panties dampen. He is close enough to grab me. I feel his hot breath panting against my face. Instinctively, I reach up to the chinstrap, releasing the clasp and slipping the skull cap from my head, freeing my hair which tumbles over my shoulders. His breath catches.

  “Fuck, you look sexy like that.” His gaze roams hungrily down my body and rests on the knee-high black riding boots, before travelling up and settling on my breasts which heave beneath my t-shirt. “Off. All of it.”

  Compliant and driven by raw need for him, within a moment I have shrugged off my t-shirt and bra, naked from the waist up.
Holding a boot toward Sebastian, he clutches the heel and tugs it from my foot so sharply that I lose my balance, falling heavily on my arse. He’s upon me in an instant, his mouth covering a nipple as he lathes and sucks the sensitive bud.

  My fingers fumble at the button on his jodhpurs as he more deftly undoes mine, pushing them down past my hips. He sweeps my hand away from his fly and rocks back, resting on his heels. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly but purposefully frees his button and unzips his fly. Reaching inside his boxer shorts, he frees his erection—gloriously hard, the prominent vein throbbing along its length, the crown shining in the sunlight, a single dewy drop glinting like a tiny diamond of the tip of his cock. He towers majestic and masterful above me as I bite down on my bottom lip.

  “Don’t bite your lip, Elizabeth,” he warns, his voice a deep rumble.

  My tongue licks across my top lip, my teeth clamp down on my lip once more, my eyebrow arched in defiance. With a sudden fluid motion, he has me locked in a firm hold. His powerful arms heaves me supine across his lap, my face in the grass, daisies tickling my nose, my legs thrashing and arms flailing. He anchors me with a muscular forearm across my shoulder blades.

  “Stay still,” he barks. “You chose option two, so take it like a good girl.”

  “Sebastian! Get off me, you bully.” He has me held firm; my buttocks feel the cool rush of air as he exposes them with a downward tug to my panties.

  “Don’t threaten the big boys, unless you can take what’s coming to you.” He laughs, tenderly massaging my right buttock. Thwack! His palm slaps against my skin; it smarts but he’s holding back, capable of more. Again he rubs, extinguishing the sting. Thwack!Harder this time, surprise forcing a shrill laugh from my throat. “How many do we think is reasonable, darling?” he asks playfully. “Or shall I just continue until we see a rosy glow on these wonderful white peaches?” He massages and kneads my cheek, again dulling the soreness, immediately following the tenderness with a biting slap.