Trace laughed. I laughed. Tension slipped away just like that, replaced by the bond and easy relationship we'd had since we could babble and crawl.
Babble and crawl.
"Trace, I have to go." I stood up and dropped my fourth empty glass to the table. "See you tomorrow?"
Trace frowned, but making a quick exit wasn't uncommon. I didn't like people. I didn't enjoy socialising. I'd spent over an hour sitting in one spot without pacing or worrying or checking my phone for news on a massacre. He'd assume I'd need to escape to check in on task forces. He'd think I'd socialised myself out. He'd think it was innocent. He'd finish his cigar, drink himself into a stupor, and return to Ashford House at the crack of dawn to sleep away the day and prepare to chase traffickers as soon as night fell.
Life went on as usual.
Except for me.
I stumbled from the parlour, slammed the door closed behind me, groaning when it reminded me with a mocking whisper that the doors couldn't be slammed. My father had installed dampers when I was a raging hormonal teenager with tendencies to ruin century-old mahogany doors. I hadn't always embraced the life I'd been born into.
I tore along the hallway, slamming my shoulder into the wall as I took a wide turn. I didn't stop. I kept running, along dark corridors that led to darker and more sinister parts of the house—forbidden to all except Ambrose. I passed the kitchen, the pantry, the staircase to the staff quarters and finally, came to the medical room. GRIT didn't attend hospitals. We were never admitted to Minors, Majors or Terminals, and we never ventured into the city to visit a GP. We didn't give blood, didn't donate organs. We were careful. Every time. Except...
I tore through the cupboards, pulling brown bottles and white boxes of pills from shelves, cursing myself for drinking too much to read the names of the medicines with ease. After mumbling many expletives, trapping my hand inside the cupboard, before tearing the door open to smack me in the head, I found what I was looking for. I stood hunched over, taking deep breaths and growling on every exhale. I never made mistakes. I never let my guard down. I never allowed the unpredictable to creep in and catch me unaware. What was happening to me?
Snatching the box off the side, I left the room and locked the door behind me. I'd clear up the mess in the morning, before anyone had the chance to think we'd been raided.
Running up the stairs two at a time, I stripped out of my shirt, suddenly suffocating in the soft cotton I purchased specifically to let me feel free. I dropped it to the floor, and the belt of my trousers came next, open and fluttering when the air whooshed up around me as I headed through the final corridor.
Trixie was sleeping. Her exhausted form lay on top of the sheets, bed clothes crumpled beneath her. In the darkness I saw every curve and ridge of her body. A body I couldn't get enough of. I would never get enough of Trixie Ashford-Blackwood. A body I wouldn't allow to be changed by evil. I forbade it.
"Trixie?" I called, sitting on the edge of the bed as I tried to rouse her gently from sleep after the brutal fucking I'd given her just a few hours ago. "Trixie, baby, wake up."
She did. Slowly. Sensually. With a moan and a groan that made me hard, despite the building anticipation of what I was about to do. Again.
"What is it?" she asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Her voice was a hoarse rasp and it had direct access to the thickening mass in my pants. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. Here..." I popped out the pill and held it out towards her. "Take this."
"What is it?"
It killed me. I was being deceptive. I was being a coward. I was doing it again, stripping her of power and control and forcing my hand on her. She held her hand out palm-up and accepted the pill.
"Elias..."
She'd woken up now, and she'd know exactly what I was trying to feed her in her half-asleep state.
"Just take it. Please, let's not talk about it. Just take the pill, Ashford."
"I don't need to."
"You do. You need to stop conception. You need to make sure it stops. I shouldn't have come inside you. That's my fault. But now the responsibility is yours."
"I don't need to take this."
"Trixie, God damn it. Do you have to fight every fucking step of the way?"
I tore my hands into my hair. Every second that ticked by, we were closer to a mistake. No, we were closer to holding a mistake, in a fucking blanket. A mistake with a future mapped out for it, with no choice but to go into the family business of disgrace. Not now. Perhaps not ever. At least not until I'd fixed this city and moved us as far away from it as possible. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I couldn't not have Trixie. And we couldn't have a…baby. There was only one way to ensure it wouldn't happen. A small hand curled around mine and stopped my furious scrolling.
"I've already done it."
I froze, gawping at Trixie in shock. "Done what?"
"I did it months ago, not long after I got out of the dungeon."
"Did what?"
"I take a pill every morning, Elias."
"You arranged contraception?" She nodded. My temper flared. My emotions frayed. "Without me?"
"What was I supposed to do, ask for your permission? You have no qualms with shoving a pill down my throat, so why would you care that I do the same?"
"Of course I care. Who..." I frowned. I felt my nostrils flare. "Lola."
"She's my maid. I instructed her to make an appointment with the doctor and she told me there was one on call in the house." She cocked her head, eyes tinted with confusion. "You haven’t been around to notice.”
I hadn't. Jesus, how had I not noticed? What if she hadn't made arrangements? She could have been carrying a bastard child and I didn't have the attention-span to have noticed if she was.
"I have now. Why, Trixie?"
"For the same reason you stormed in here and woke me up to halt conception."
"You did this without me. What if I wanted a child?"
"You don't," she challenged, her eyes sparking with raging fireworks. "You think the choice is all yours when it's an appropriate time to impregnate your irrelevant wife?"
"Stop with irrelevant stuff. You know better than that and you're clawing for reassurance."
"Go away, Elias." She stretched arching her back. "Your swimmers are as good as useless and I'm tired. You're safe."
"I want to know why."
I grabbed her shoulders and shook her, needing to know—I needed to know why she went to the lengths she did to stop us having a child.
"Because I know what happens to the first-borns." I gasped and let her go, my fingertips burning where I'd touched her, my palm throbbing with heat from her skin. "I'm not sacrificing a child of mine to a cause I don't wholeheartedly believe in. I'm not going to raise another Eli."
"Because the one you married is such a monster."
"Now who's clawing for reassurance?"
She was mocking me. Her fire burned far brighter than mine, and all the power she'd been gifted at birth swirled around me to choke me with agony. She didn't want my child. She'd done everything she could to make sure we wouldn't have one. She'd done it without me. I'd torn through the house to protect us both from an outcome we weren't ready for, and she already had a synthetic blocker in place, ready to shut me out and show me she held all the cards.
"Fuck, Trixie."
"Elias." The way she said my name sent goosebumps to erupt all over my body. When she reached out and grabbed my forearm, I stepped back. "I didn't do this because I don't want us to have a family one day. But this-" she waved her hand around her, signalling at our home. "This isn't what our child would deserve. You know it, which is why you brought me the tablet. And I know it, which is why I make sure neither of us can slip up. Don't read more into this than what's there."
"You...you took it away. You took the control. You said you wanted to share. Y-you said you wanted to do this together, but you've shut me out. No matter what reason you're giving now, the only reason to go to the d
octor without me, and keep this from me for months, is because you've taken away my share in the decision."
Suddenly a child didn't seem so bad. Suddenly, the first-born, mine to train and educate the way I saw fit, sounded a hell of a lot better than a wife who lied and stole.
"Elias."
"No." I held my hand up to shut her up. To shut her filthy distrustful mouth. "You will receive packages throughout the day tomorrow. You are not to open them until you are told to. You will meet me in the foyer at seven pm. If you are late, I leave without you."
"What?" She reached for me, but I was already backing away. "Wait, please."
"See you tomorrow, Ashford."
I left her to it, no longer willing or able to stay in the same room. I slammed the bedroom door shut, but I stood outside for what felt like all night, wondering what had gone wrong. Where had we taken a wrong turn that had led us to something synonymous to both loathing and dangerous devotion? Why had she shut me out? Because you shut her out. Why had she taken the step without me? Because you refuse to let her in. Why was I so fucking angry? Because you don't know how to make this right.
Trixie was like the underground. She was dangerous and unpredictable. She was strong and she was stubborn. She refused to back down when it would be easier to concede and because of her tenacity, she continued to grow stronger, while I had the energy zapped from me like I was dying from the inside out.
I would fix this. I would fix us, find a way to keep her safe, and kill any man who threatened her safety or my reliance on her.
Sighing, I pressed my palm to the bedroom door and whispered that I loved her before heading to one of the other rooms on the floor for another sleepless night. I laid awake for hours with the door open, listening for the slightest noise that told me Trixie was running—again. I listened for a nightmare, a cry for help, or a wail of longing for my body pressed against hers, but nothing came. I'd never felt so alone.
How could he hate me for protecting us both? Something had gone wrong. The love we had that had ignited into a fire so intense it threatened to tear the world from existence before it burned out, had morphed into a battle of wills, a fight to survive before we were killed by the other; it was a civil war—one we should have been fighting out there, while we stood proudly together. That hadn't happened, but I couldn't figure out what had. All the lies, the separation, the fear...history had finally succeeded in tearing us apart, but without each other we were nothing. I had to find a way to convince Elias that I was strong enough to take on his evil...and he had to find a way to trust me to fight for him. We had to find a way to the softer side of our feelings for each other, before the hate took over and extinguished us both.
I hadn't slept. Not for one minute. I'd laid awake all night and listened to my husband shuffle to get comfortable—to draw attention in the hopes I'd go to him. All night I'd felt the conflict waging a war on his psyche. I felt the different Eli's move in and try to take control but in the end, as the sun rose and the shadows gave way to bursting orange light, it was my husband who had spent the night without me. Because I did something no woman should do...I'd sold myself to the devil and punished him the only way I could. By denying the continuation of his bloodline, even when it wasn't what he wanted. The mere thought that I had the power to halt his legacy living on in his children, brought him to his knees, cracked the hard shell I'd been trying to ease inside for months, and I’d gutted him. I knew I'd hurt him. Last night, I hadn't cared, too focused on my hatred for him for waking me up and trying to sneak a pill in my mouth. This morning, I missed him. I missed his scent, of sandalwood and ginger. I missed his deep breathing the only time he was content—when he was sleeping next to me. I missed the tender moments we’d shared just weeks ago; now they felt like a lifetime of dreams that had crashed into contraception hell. I wanted to find him, to fight this until we fixed it, but he’d asked me to stay away. I could only assume it was for both of our sanities.
“Lady Blackwood?”
I’d drifted back off to sleep and woke up to Lola’s voice as she quietly tapped on the door.
“I’m awake,” I said, although I was far from conscious.
I wanted to be lost in dream land, rewind time so I could discuss taking the pill with Elias before I took it. We’d made progress; he’d begun to trust me. Now I’d hurt him. He thought I’d betrayed him, and the thought of him suffering alone through today was worse than any punishment he could have inflicted on me for going behind his back to stop us having children.
Lola entered the room with a silver tray balanced on one upturned palm, and closed the door softly behind her.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile as she approached my bed. She set the tray down on the bedside cabinet and stood straight with her hands behind her back. “Are you ready for your bath?”
“I’d rather take a shower.”
Lola poured a cup of tea before answering me, holding out the cup and saucer. “Mr Blackwood has requested you take a bath.”
“Why?”
She smiled softly, giving her shoulders a slight shrug. I accepted the tea and took a sip, ignoring the scald on my tongue.
“He has a plan.”
“Of course he does.” I grabbed at a handful of grapes in a ramekin on the tray. “A bath would be lovely.”
I sat in bed, drinking the tea and eating an unusual brunch of grapes and dry bread, while Lola busied herself in the bathroom. She’d pushed the door so I could only see her through the thin opening, but the room soon filled with an unfamiliar scent as steam seeped out.
“Lola?”
“Yes, ma’am?” she asked, peering around the door.
“What is that smell?”
“Herbs, ma’am.”
I frowned.
“Why have you put herbs in my bath?” I sniffed. “Rosemary?”
“Yes.” She grinned, impressed I had identified the scent. “May I continue?”
Knowing this was my husband’s doing, I nodded and sat back on the bed, resisting the urge to stand and open a window. It wasn’t that the smell was unpleasant, I just didn’t want to spend the day smelling like a lamb dinner. A new scent invaded my nostrils, and one after another, different fragrances filled the room in a mash-up of conflicting scents. Mint. Rose. Lavender. Nutmeg. My head whizzed and my nose burned from the strength of each less-than-subtle smell.
“Lola?”
“Yes, ma’am?” She peered around the door once more.
“No more. Whatever your instructions are, that’s enough.”
“I’m done, ma’am. I just had to prepare.” She stepped out of the bathroom and gestured for me to go in. “Please.”
Shaking my head and stabbing my fingertips to my forehead to refrain from saying something I’d regret, I got out of bed and padded across the room to the bathroom. Lola had turned Elias’ en-suite into a sauna. Steam choked me, the smell of herbs and flowers tickling my throat and burning my eyes, before the relaxation set in. The steam began to clear, but Lola closed the door as she stepped in, allowing it to build up again.
“What is this for?” I asked, wafting my hand in front of my face in a desperate search for pure air.
Lola didn’t answer me, but gentle fingers threaded into my hair and gathered it at the back of my head. She collected the strands together, curled them around each other and secured them high on my scalp.
“I’ve been given my instructions, ma’am,” she said, tucking stray pieces of hair into the bun she’d created. “Mr Blackwood is a proficient herbalist. He gave me the recipe for a bath that would prepare you for tonight.”
“What happens tonight?”
“I’m not permitted to say.”
“But you know?”
“Yes, I know.”
I was in the dark again, with a room full of steam that felt like an alfresco kitchen preparing for Sunday dinner. I had no idea what was happening, only that Elias was absent while he transported me back in time. I wasn’t stupid. P
eople of the twenty-first century didn’t bathe in rosemary. I jumped when Lola reached for the hem of Elias’ t-shirt I’d slept in last night. She eased it up over my hips, exposing my stomach and bare breasts. I wasn’t ashamed. I didn’t feel the need to cover myself up or smack her hands away. I settled into my role as a woman of importance. Sovereigns hadn’t undressed themselves. They hadn’t bathed themselves. In fact, I was sure they’d done very little themselves. If Elias wanted to give me a day from Tudor times, I’d embrace it. I’d allow myself to escape the present and transport myself to a time I would never get to live, but would always be influenced by. I raised my arms and Lola removed the-shirt. I watched as she folded it and placed it on the shelf beside the bath. I decided to remove my underwear myself. I wouldn’t have her touch my knickers, or kneel in front of me, or whatever would have come next. I tossed them on top of Elias’ t-shirt and held my hand out expectantly as I faced the tub. Lola took my cue and held her palm up for me to use her as her support. With my hand in hers, she helped me step into the monstrous bath. I sat down, sinking into the flowery herby bubbles and closed my eyes.
“Where are the herbs?” I asked, noticing the smooth oiliness of the bath. There were no floating bits of rosemary or sprigs of mint.
“The herbs are in the steamer, ma’am. You’re bathing in rose water and peppermint. They will ease sore muscles and comfort your nerves.”
So that was his plan. He wanted to soothe me after the brutality of last night that had left me with faint bruises and fading red cuts. He knew I’d be nervous; he knew what happened last night would be playing on my mind today. He may have been punishing me with his absence, but he was very much with me. He was in my thoughts, and I knew I was in his.
“Thank you.”
Lola knelt by the bath and dipped a sponge into the hot water. I hummed and kept my eyes closed as she cleaned me. I allowed the gently lapping water, the cloudy fumes of steam, and the medieval concoction of scents to calm me. My mind slipped, releasing itself from some of the shackles that kept me hostage constantly. For the first time in months, I wasn’t weighed down by expectation I didn’t know the reason behind, love and hate I couldn’t distinguish between, helplessness and a sense of wasted power; I was just…floating. A soft piece of harpsicord music sprang from the speakers in the corner of the room in a delicate rhythm that reminded me of pixies and untouched lands. Lola washed me, skirting the sponge over the tight muscles in my shoulders, around my neck with the burn of Elias’ fingertips singing gloriously. She didn’t flinch; her eyes didn’t linger on the marks left behind by my anti-hero. Had she seen this before, or did she believe in him so completely he could do no wrong? Tapping my back, she signalled for me to sit forward, dipping the sponge again and squeezing silky water to cascade over my back. My eyes rolled closed when she cupped my shoulder and eased me back to lay down. The water rose to my neck as I rested my head on the back of the tub with a sigh, and Lola began to wash the front of my body.
The Uprising (GRIT Sector 1 Book 2) Page 25
