Taming Ivy (The Taming Series Book 1)

by April Moran

  Catching sight of Gabriel striding across the wide lawn, Ivy gave a desperate wave for the man to join the two of them. It was early afternoon and refreshments were set upon the expanse of green stretching between the house and the stables. A tea tray, the remnants of a few cucumber and watercress sandwiches and an awkward silence were all that remained between Ivy and her husband. Gabriel’s presence was a godsend.

  Sebastian leaned back in the wrought iron chair, his brow furrowed upon seeing the seriousness on the other man’s face.

  "I should not interrupt.” Gabriel protested.

  "Nonsense,” Ivy said quickly. "It is little trouble to fetch an extra cup. Besides, we require more tea anyway.” She reached for a little brass bell on the tray, and in rapid fashion a fresh pot, and cup, and a new plate of sandwiches were procured.

  "Her tiniest desire is met and carried out with dizzying swiftness.” Sebastian shook his head. The staff’s eagerness to do Ivy’s bidding was remarkable. Already they spoiled her, seeking her favor with almost embarrassing compulsion.

  Ivy smiled at him. "I am a sorceress and have cast a spell over all your servants. They have no choice but to dote on me. Have a care, or I shall cast one over you as well.”

  "Too late,” Sebastian replied lazily. "My fate is tied to theirs.”

  "It’s said the bewitched are blissfully unaware and ignorant.”

  The earl tsked, his eyes hot as they swept over her. “I am neither unaware nor ignorant. My state of bliss however, is entirely dependent upon my countess.”

  A polite cough concealed Gabriel’s chuckle at the scandalous statement.

  Flustered, Ivy turned to him. "How do you take your tea, Gabriel?"

  Polite conversation ensued for the next half hour until Gabriel set his teacup down. "Thank you, milady.”

  His action triggered some type of silent communication as Sebastian stood from his chair. "My dear, please excuse us. Gabriel has information to share with me, and it can no longer wait. I won’t be long.”

  Gabriel stood as well, staring off into the distance, strangely reluctant to meet Ivy's eyes. The meaning behind the statement pounded into her awareness. Her heart clenched in painful degrees, the day growing dark although the sun still beamed bright and warm overhead.

  The stormy night of her abduction was centuries away from Beaumont’s lush gardens. Birds chirped merrily from all corners, the sickly-sweet scent of roses and jasmine perfuming the air. Ivy almost laughed. Strange, how roses continued to remind her of death. Only now, Sebastian’s mortality frightened her beyond all reason.

  "I understand.” Coming to her feet, Sebastian's hand touched her elbow. "I believe I shall visit the library. I've been wanting to explore it.”

  "For some reason, it’s filled my thoughts as well,” Sebastian said in an obvious attempt to lighten her somber mood.

  Ivy could barely swallow past the lump in her throat. The devil wanted her to remember every detail of that kiss in the library. Her gaze skittered away from his as an image of being against the bookcase flashed in her mind.

  His grin widened even further.

  "It’s an extensive collection of books, I'm sure I will find something to please me,” she said weakly. She should try harder to erase that scorching kiss. She should concentrate instead on why Gabriel sought the earl out. What report did he bring to Sebastian’s ears? Had they tracked Brandon down at last? Did they set the date and time of the duel?

  Leading Ivy a few steps away, Sebastian's smile was wicked mischievousness, his whisper hot in her ear. "Might I suggest, ‘Chaucer’?"

  Unreasonable, nauseating fear choked Ivy as she pulled free of his grip. His laughter followed her as she hurried into the house.

  "The man watching Basford’s estate says a doctor from two villages over visited early this morning.”

  "Is he certain?" Sebastian resumed his position at the small table, waving at Gabriel to do the same.

  Gabriel nodded as he sat down. "We should go while Basford is likely to still be there.”

  Sebastian mulled the options. How long the viscount might remain in Staffordshire was uncertain, and this need for revenge had become a living, breathing thing. Just that morning, he glimpsed yet another fading bruise on Ivy's creamy shoulder as she dressed. The rage it sparked was instant and hot.

  "If we leave at once, we could be back before morning.” Sebastian decided. What should he tell Ivy? How to explain this abrupt abandonment on the fourth night of their marriage? The logical course would be to explain the reason for his departure after, and not before. If things did not go to plan, his original strategy of pinning the viscount to a duel would be kept, and she would be none the wiser.

  "You wish to leave right away?" Gabriel cocked a brow at him.

  They were both eager for this particular task to be done and over. It was dangerous, stealing into the viscount’s house in the dead of night.

  “Yes. I do not wish to be away longer than necessary.” Sebastian wished the matter dealt with quickly. The time was better spent seducing his wife.

  Upon informing Ivy of his impending departure, explaining an urgent matter required his presence at one of his smaller, nearby estates, her eyes narrowed slightly. She did not smile in understanding nor did she ask to accompany him. Sebastian held her hands, told his lie, and when he finished, she carefully pulled from his grasp. With the primness of a schoolmistress, her fingers laced together and dropped to her lap.

  "Will you be back tomorrow?" She sounded indifferent.

  "By dawn, I imagine.” Sebastian frowned. "My apologies for being forced to miss dinner. I’ve enjoyed our evenings together.”

  "It is of no matter.” She waved in breezy dismissal. "I'm certain it is only the first of many I’ll spend alone.”

  "Ivy...” He reached for her.

  Eluding him with the grace of a bullfighter, she was at the library doors before he could stop her. "Safe travels, my lord.”

  Sebastian’s jaw clenched with annoyance at the cavalier farewell. Then, she hesitated, a hand upon the curved door lever, shoulders squared as if accepting the heaviest of burdens.

  Swinging to face him, her eyes appeared wet, as though she might burst into tears. She stood motionless, a statute in the golden lit sanctuary of Beaumont’s library and she took a step toward him. Then another, and another. Sebastian was completely unprepared as she flew across the polished wood floor. Clinging to him, standing on tiptoes, pulling his head down to hers, she pressed her mouth to his. A sigh of pleasure escaped her as his arms slid around her waist, hauling her against him.

  Why she willingly initiated such contact hurtled beyond his comprehension. He only knew it felt incredible to have her in his arms. His mouth moved, shaping, molding her lips, their tongues swirling in a hesitant dance. And somehow, it was bittersweet. As if the kiss was a final farewell. Dazed by the whirlwind of it, Sebastian stood overwhelmed.

  Ivy seemed intent on committing each of his features to memory, her eyes brimming with tears. Why she might cry confused the hell out of him.

  "Come back to me.”

  Her words were so softly spoken, it was uncertain she said them at all.

  It was nearly a three-hour ride, the time passing slowly. Sebastian wanted to return to Ivy as quickly as possible. What did she mean by that kiss? The manner of it was so puzzling, an element of desperation lurking beneath the sweetness. Were her defenses finally weakening?

  Light sizzled in his brain. She thinks I’ve gone to duel with Basford. She fears I will not come back. His heart somersaulted with possibilities and relief. Ivy wanted him back. He was sure of it. Regardless of her ice, regardless of the pain her heart still harbored, she cared for him.

  Oh, Ivy. Have you learned nothing yet? Nothing on this earth could ever keep me away from me.

  Upon his return to Beaumont, he intended to prove it.

  "Hello, Basford.”

  The viscount frowned in his sleep, rolling over the best his broken arm and b
usted ribs allowed. While attempting to readjust the pillow, he was jerked from the bed, his body dangling a good three feet or so above the floor. Held aloft, Basford struggled, his broken arm flapping in its sling. The hard, capable hands holding him prisoner gripped bunches of his nightshirt, like a hawk holding tight to an unfortunate creature soon to be devoured.

  "What the devil...!" He kicked wildly, twisting in vain, broken ribs stabbing viciously. His eyes struggled to adjust to the blackness of the room and the brightness spilling from the single lamp.

  "Shut up, if you possess any desire of saving your miserable hide.” A soft, deadly voice drifted from the depths of the shadows. "I find myself extremely vexed and quite willing to rid the earth of your filth.”

  Basford stared into the darkness beyond the glow of the lamp. His gaze drifted down to the burly fellow holding him. The man was straight from a drug-induced nightmare with that wicked scar slashing across his face. His grin revealed even, white teeth, but to the viscount, they appeared like fangs. "He means it, you know. Don’t tweak his nose any further. He’s got the devil’s own temper, he does.” The monster holding him high with such ease possessed the achingly beautiful voice of a celestial being.

  "This is obviously a mistake,” Basford sputtered. "I’ve no idea what you want or why you are here.”

  Ravenswood emerged from the shadows. A sinister figure clad in black, he so perfectly resembled an avenging angel of death that Basford's mouth dropped open in astonished horror. This could not be happening. It was truly a nightmare, a by-product of the opiates that sham of a doctor prescribed.

  "Really?" Ravenswood’s laugh was the sound of the Devil poised to collect a new soul. "You’ve no idea why I’ve come? I warned you once. Do you remember? You should have kept your distance from her.”

  The viscount’s mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to squawk, "You ended things with her! You’ve no standing to demand a duel. No right!"

  Gabriel tsked- tsked, his head shaking in mock disappointment. Arms bulging, he was in no danger of becoming fatigued as Basford hung suspended. "Wrong answer, my fine gent. Must you insist on annoying the earl? This won’t end well, should you continue.”

  "No need for a warning. It seems we’ve passed any point of negotiation.” Boredom etched Ravenswood’s tone. His impassive gaze raked the viscount. “Make it appear an accident.”

  "Wait! Wait!" The man twisted with desperate futility. "What do you want? A duel? Good God, man! You broke my arm and three of my ribs when you pitched me out of my own damned coach. It will be weeks before I can meet you on the field!"

  "You are most fortunate I did not kill you that night. And this conversation bores me. Mister Rose, proceed as you will.”

  Gabriel lowered the viscount to the floor, happily preparing for the ‘accident’.

  "Wait! Goddamn it! I'll leave the country. You won't see or hear from me, I swear it. Won't tell anyone why, I'll just go. France, Ireland, you name it and I’ll go there.”

  Ravenswood swiveled to face the viscount. His lips twisted with a cruel smile as he considered the offer. "Strangely enough, that was an option I was willing to extend. From the kindness of my heart, you understand. It’s probably terrible to give you false hope, but would you care to hear the others?"

  Basford’s head jerked in the affirmative.

  "Very well.” The earl stepped closer, his black cloak swirling in a dark cloud.

  The viscount shrank back. Ravenswood truly resembled Lucifer, his eyes glowing like silver chips of hellfire in the darkness of the room. Half his face remained shadowed, the other half only dimly lit. There was no mercy in his features. No hint of civility or humanity. Only a mask of retribution and absolute possessiveness for what belonged to him.

  "Option one. You leave England. I do not care where you go. I would prefer America or maybe even Spain. I have no holdings in those countries and little reason to travel there. As long as you are not on English soil, I shall be content. It goes without saying you will never mention the reason for your exile. Should I hear the slightest rumor regarding the night you abducted my wife, I shall seek you out and tear you apart. Slowly. Limb from limb. And I won’t care to make it appear an accident.”

  Basford’s features registered shock.

  "Ah, you did not know. As we were secretly engaged, you must understand how aggrieved I was when you abducted her.” Clasping his hands behind his back, Ravenswood was a study of nonchalant violence as he murmured low in the other man’s ear, “Your second choice - stay and do nothing. But I shall still challenge you to a duel. And rest assured, viscount. I will kill you. Whether by sword or pistol, or my bare hands, I will dispatch you to hell and take the greatest pleasure in doing so.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper, as though relishing the thought of undertaking the task right then and there.

  “The last option is to avoid the duel entirely as you have thus far.” His smile was tight hearing Basford’s gulp of relief. “This carries its own problems. Mister Rose has kindly shown me a few of his favorite methods of disposing nuisances. And what would appear nothing more than a regrettable set of circumstances to others, would unfortunately for you, result in a very painful demise. A useful skill set to be sure, but something I doubt you want to experience firsthand. Not a pretty sight, I’m afraid.”

  Basford swallowed against a lump of fear, eyes wide as the earl came closer to taunt him.

  “I’ve learned the art of entering and leaving a residence so one would never know I was there. You may foolishly believe you can hide from me. Keep me from killing you. Impossible. I will always find you and be able to reach you. That's the easy part, being able to come and go anywhere, anytime without detection. A skill perfected during my time abroad.”

  Gabriel chuckled, giving the viscount a rough shake to gain his attention. “Those particular adventures usually involved females, milord. You understand my meaning?” He nudged the man’s broken ribs with a blunt elbow to emphasize his words, eliciting a sharp groan of pain.

  "So, I will allow you a choice, although it goes against the grain to do so.” Ravenswood flicked a speck of imaginary lint from his black cloak. He eyed Basford in a way clearly indicating he hoped the choice allowed the opportunity to dispatch the young lord slowly, painfully and at his leisure. “Make it now. I grow weary of the time spent in your presence.”

  The viscount did not consider matters for long, his choice made before option two was enumerated. "I shall leave the country. I shall go to France…to see a specialist for my injuries. Then, to Spain. I shall leave within the week.”

  "Tomorrow,” This was murmured in a most ruthless manner.

  "Tomorr-” Basford’s protest died a quick death when a deadly light flared in the earl’s eyes. “Yes, yes. Tomorrow. How-how long must I stay away?"

  "A lifetime,” Was the cold reply. “Or until I deem your life no longer a nuisance to the countess or myself.”

  "I see.” The earl would allow him to live. The viscount sagged with relief; his head still reeling with the news Ravenswood had married Ivy. How the hell did he managed it so quickly?

  "Excellent.” Ravenswood nodded to Gabriel who loosened his grip so Basford could stand on his own once more. “Although, my man here is sorely disappointed. There are so few opportunities to hone our particular skillset.” He stepped closer while Gabriel grinned in unabashed delight, subtly moving a few paces away from the viscount.

  “There are a few matters I cannot, in good conscience, depart here without seeing done. If you will indulge me?" Ravenswood’s tone was deceptively soothing.

  “Anything. Anything.” Basford gulped, nodding in furious desperation. He wanted nothing more than for these men leave his home.

  He was completely unprepared for the fist slamming into his jaw. The sheer force of it spun him around, knocking him onto the bed. His head spun dizzily before the world tilted to dump him in a painful heap on his shattered arm. The broken and cracked ribs robbed him of
breath. Bile rushed to the top of his throat, the searing pain choking him until he teetered on the verge of blacking out.

  "That is for terrorizing her.” Ravenswood snatched Basford back up to his feet, his hands hard and hurtful before tossing him to the other man. With a terse nod, Gabriel’s hand immediately covered the viscount’s mouth, and he held him upright.

  “And this is for hurting her, you bastard. For bruising her. For making her bleed. For daring to touch what is mine.” Ravenswood drove a fist into Basford’s flank, breaking the tenuous knitting job Nature had begun on the broken ribs. Two completely healthy ribs cracked, an agonized groan muffled behind Gabriel’s huge hand. Leaning close to the sagging man, eyes burning with the fires of hell, the earl said, “Never speak of her. Not even to mention her name in passing. Ever. If I discover you ignored my warning, our next encounter will make this one seem like a pleasant daydream.”

  The viscount watched with bleary eyes as Ravenswood exited the room, a hazy swirl of black melting into the dark night. Gabriel's laughing, melodic words buzzed in his ears while he hovered on the edge of pained unconsciousness.

  "I told you the earl was vexed.”

  Chapter 30

  Sebastian expected to find Ivy in his bed. He expected to climb between the sheets and hold her close, even while his body screamed for release. Sleep would be elusive, but he expected that too.

  His bed was empty; the coverlet pulled back, the sheets icy cold. No warmth lingered on Ivy’s pillow. The adjoining bedchamber was empty and unused and she was not in the bathing room. Sebastian stood in the middle of the suite. Where could she be?

  Perhaps the library. She was quite taken with it - his search would begin there. Then he would rouse the whole damn house to search for his wife.

  The faint glow of firelight emanating from the library flooded him with relief. Securing the doors behind him, the soft click of the lock barely discernible, Sebastian scanned the room. A divan was pulled close to one of the two fireplaces. Its high back concealed the plush cushions, but a flimsy, pale blue robe trailed over one of the gently rolled arms, the edges brushing the floor. A lamp cast a feeble radiance on a stack of books piled haphazardly upon a large table beside the divan.