Blackburn Castle (Tortured Souls Book 2)

by R. C. Matthews

  “Thank you,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose in the crook of his neck. “I love you.”

  Her words rang with sincerity, though he knew that to be a falsehood. His stomach fluttered, and he held her close, wishing he could return the sentiment if only to make her happy. But he would never utter those three precious words unless he meant them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sun poked through the clouds and glared into Victor’s eyes. He slapped on his black wool cap and adjusted the flat rim to block the bright rays before resuming his hold on the helm of the ship. They would arrive in Cape Wrath by nightfall two days hence, if all went well.

  Mercy’s trill of laughter filled the air, and he directed his gaze to the mainsail, where she worked the rigging together with Eveline under Dominick’s close observation. Her cheeks were rosy from exertion and her hair windswept, a halo of golden curls.

  He looked to the horizon, away from her angelic beauty. Her transformation since drinking the love potion boggled his mind. Gone was the bitter, sassy–mouthed wench he’d grown to admire, and in her place was a vibrant young woman full of life and curiosity. And love. She showered Victor with compliments and stole sweet kisses. Her mind was magnificent, and her thirst for knowledge insatiable. She teased and laughed and played a well-thought-out hand of whist. And she was relentless when it came to what she desired most: him in her bed, making love.

  He would go mad if they didn’t reach the castle soon. The woman was grinding away his iron will, layer by layer, with her attempts at seduction. She’d made her wish to explore the marriage bed quite plain.

  “I’m twenty-three, Victor,” she’d said, gazing coyly through thick lashes. “My aunt is a modern woman, so I know what pleasures await us. Let’s not wait for a piece of paper. Make love to me, please.”

  Her pleas were sheer torture. But not scandalous, considering they were engaged to be wed soon. Still, he could not bring himself to claim her maidenhead, yet. He hadn’t done many honorable things in his life, but dammit, he would control his libido until after Mercy broke the curse. Once he confessed the truth, then he would let her decide if she wished to marry or not.

  “Good day, my love,” Mercy said, racing up the stairs to the quarterdeck. “I’m determined to climb the crow’s nest and see the world from that awesome height!”

  He grinned, unable to stop himself. Her enthusiasm was charming. Dipping his head down to her level, he kissed her lips and said, “Absolutely not. That task is reserved for seasoned crewmembers and is far too dangerous to attempt in a dress.”

  “Eveline has a pair of breeches on board she would lend me.”

  “Does she, now?” He was going to wring the woman’s neck for putting fanciful thoughts in Mercy’s head and making the reckless offer. “Still, the answer is no.” Her lips dipped into a frown, and he rubbed her cheek. “Please, understand. It’s dangerous. Perhaps on our next voyage after you’ve gained your sea legs.”

  “I’m not a child, and I know my limits.”

  “The answer is still no.”

  Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin. “I wasn’t asking your permission.”

  He lowered his head to her eye level. “You are not climbing the crow’s nest, even if I have to lock you in that chest again to stop you.”

  She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she contemplated his anger, and his heart skipped a beat when a calculating gleam suddenly shone in her eyes. He’d seen that look before. She was up to no good.

  “I shall concede to your wishes, Victor,” she said, lowering her voice, “if you teach me one of the pleasures enjoyed between a man and woman tonight.”

  He hardened at the mere thought of intimately touching her body in any way. God help him, but she would be the cause of his death. Still, he couldn’t allow her to do something as foolish as climb the crow’s nest, and she was stubborn as a goat.

  “Fine,” he said, narrowing his gaze on her twitching lips. “One little pleasure, of my own choosing.”

  “Excellent!” She smiled and held out her hand in invitation. “Come, Hatchet’s here to relieve you of your duties, and it’s time for us to share tea in the captain’s quarters with Eveline and Dominick.”

  He sighed, taking her hand and following her to their cabin, where he deposited his heavy coat and hat on top of his chest. She lay across the bed sideways and propped her head on her hand, watching as he washed his hands in the basin.

  “Do you think our children will love sailing?” she asked, sitting up suddenly. “I want a lot of children. Please, tell me you wish for a lot of children, too. Growing up as an only child was dreadfully boring. We must have at least three, perhaps four. Boys and girls, though I suppose we cannot choose the sex.” Her eyes widened, and she perched on her knees. “Unless we use my fertility potion.”

  Victor paused and wiped his hands on a towel. His heart clattered as he gaped in her direction. “What are you saying? I must’ve misheard you, because it sounded as if you suggested that your potion is capable of ensuring the desired sex of the child.”

  Mercy waggled her eyebrows. “Brilliant, isn’t it? I don’t generally advertise that fact, else there will be too many of one or the other sex. Except in our case. We may decide because we wish to have so many.”

  “You have an interesting code of ethics,” he said, laughing.

  While I possess none at all. Had he known this golden nugget of information, he might have attempted to seduce her instead of using the love potion. Then he wouldn’t be in the damnable position of having to marry against his will. Still, he couldn’t turn back time. And she was witty and kept him on his toes. Plus, he didn’t doubt for a moment they would be compatible in bed. Best that he embrace the situation and set the groundwork for an agreeable marriage.

  “I don’t profess to be ethical,” he said with a wink. “How can I guarantee our first child is a golden-haired lassie like her mother?”

  Mercy stood and sauntered to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She laid her head on his chest. “You wish for it deep within your heart after making love. But why a girl? All men wish for an heir.”

  He kissed her head and sighed. “Not until you’ve broken the curse, Mercy. I wouldn’t wish my fate on our son. No, let our first babe be a girl.”

  She squeezed him tight. “You needn’t worry. We’ll find the stones, and I’ll break the curse. Our children will not suffer as you did all these years. I promise, Victor.” Her lips found his in a long, heartfelt kiss. “Please make sweet love to me tonight.”

  His heart ached with a desire to live the dream with her. She spoke with such conviction and certainty. He could almost believe her words to be true, as she did.

  What a crazy turn his life had taken in the past few days. He hadn’t known what to expect when Mercy drank the love potion, but it wasn’t this loving, adoring woman who remembered their history yet chose to see only the good in him while letting go of the bad.

  The effects were remarkable, and he struggled to remember her feelings for him weren’t real. That this happy life they were envisioning and building would crash down when he eventually revealed the truth. Making love to her under these pretenses felt akin to forced seduction. He wasn’t a rapist. For once in his life, he would do what was right.

  “When we are wed,” he said, cradling her face. “Then I will make you mine.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  A crisp wind tossed Mercy’s hair in her eyes, and Victor wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, sharing his warmth as he had each night in the cozy confines of their bed.

  “We’ll disembark soon,” he said, his words a soft caress in her ear. He pointed to their left. “Blackburn Castle lies there on the shore. A short ride in the carriage, and then you’ll be warm again.”

  She gazed in the direction he indicated. The crescent moon provided little light. Still, she couldn’t miss the monstrous fortress perched on the craggy cliff. A dark cloud burst from the highest tower, and she squi
nted, watching in fascination as it wavered precariously through the sky until it dispersed in the surrounding forest, swallowed whole by the trees.

  “Bats,” he offered, as though reading her mind. “The west tower has been vacant for more than a century. Never venture into that section of the castle alone. The stairs have been sadly neglected. It’s dangerous and may catch even those with good intentions unawares.”

  She threaded her fingers through his and leaned back against his solid chest. Did he speak from experience? How he must’ve explored the grounds as a child and played hide-and-seek within the castle’s endless chambers, nooks, and closets.

  “From this vantage point, the castle is quite intimidating,” she said with a sinking heart. They had so much ground to cover and so little time. How would they ever find the missing stones?

  He leaned down and kissed her neck. “At first blush, I imagine so, but I doubt anything can truly intimidate you. Lord knows I’ve tried.” His rumbling chuckle tickled the sensitive skin below her ear. “Either way, I assure you, the estate has its charms.”

  “As does its future owner,” she said, turning in his embrace. A lock of his blue-black hair dangled over his forehead, and a roguish smile split his lips. Her insides melted as she brushed the silky strands back into place. “Does everyone in your family have your coloring? I’ve never seen green eyes in your hue before.”

  He nodded. “Except that my mother’s eyes are blue.”

  “Your family must be anxious for your arrival. Sixteen years is an eternity for a mother to be separated from her child.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “We shall know soon enough.”

  “But surely you wrote to them of your visit?”

  “Of course I did,” he said with a wink.

  Her heart sank, and she captured his hands. “But you didn’t post the letter. Why do you withhold your letters from your mother? You’ve read her missives countless times. And you respond to each and every one. Why didn’t you go home after the Butcher’s demise?”

  The muscles in his neck convulsed as he swallowed before he looked away. “Mercy, please, do not ask that of me. You will despise me once you learn the truth.”

  She squeezed his hands and brought them to her lips. “You were a child, scared, and all alone. My uncle was brutal. I can’t hold against you anything that happened under his watch. Please, let me ease your burdens by sharing them with you.”

  He stared out to sea for a long while. “When your mother refused to divulge your location, the Butcher declared I must fight her to the death. ‘And then you can go home. Life is full of choices, Victor, and only one of you will walk away. Do you choose life or death?’” He leaned on the railing and bowed his head. “But it is your mother’s response that haunts my dreams. ‘Everything will be all right, Victor.’ As we stood in the face of death, your mother made me feel safe and loved. And I killed her.” A tear gathered in the corner of Victor’s eye, and he swiped it away. “How could I go home to my mother when you could not?”

  Mercy’s heart shattered for the little boy who had never allowed himself to go home as his just punishment. She hugged him close. “Everything will be all right. The Butcher would have killed my mother either way. She knew the truth. Don’t punish yourself or your poor mother any longer. You should’ve sent the letter!”

  “Believe me, I had honorable intentions and planned to post it directly after the ball. But then, well, you can imagine the chaos that ensued. Hatchet was in no state to assist Dominick, and there was much to attend to in the following days. I’m so sorry for your loss, Mercy. Emma was a dear friend to many.”

  He lowered his lashes, staring warily through hooded eyes.

  After the way she’d lambasted him for his role in Emma’s death, he had every right to be wary. Cruel and unfair—that’s how she’d behaved. She could see everything so clearly now.

  “Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hands. “You must accept my apology for lashing out at you. My only excuse is that I was grieving; still, it wasn’t well done of me. I’m afraid I’ve treated you unfairly in more than one respect these past years. Will you forgive me?”

  He stiffened and looked away, but not before she caught sight of a flash of insecurity. Why could he not look her in the eyes and accept her apology?

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said, his gaze fixed on something over her shoulder. “You’re here, and tomorrow we will begin our search for the stones. Come, it’s time we depart.”

  She nodded and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, allowing him to lead her to the gangplank. Victor’s posture was stiff, and he stared, cold and distant, into the dark night. Had his thoughts turned to the Blackburn curse and the fate awaiting him?

  “Everything is in order,” Hatchet said, leading them toward the dock. “Your luggage will follow in a separate carriage, and I’ll accompany you to the castle to ensure your safe passage.”

  “What of the captain and Eveline?” she asked, skimming the deck for any sign of the two.

  Victor patted her hand. “They’ll join us on the morrow. Dominick felt it best to allow us an evening and breakfast alone with my family, to get reacquainted.”

  She slowed her steps and placed her free hand against her suddenly queasy stomach. “Yes, of course. How silly of me. I should stay behind as well. I’ll only intrude on your homecoming.”

  Victor chuckled and ushered her into the awaiting coach, his mood no longer dark and cold. “Do you think me mad? Your nerves have taken flight, and you’ll have Dominick sailing for Devil’s Cove within the hour after my departure. No, my sweet. You shall be Mrs. Victor Blackburn by month’s end.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “It’s torturous enough that you will not share my bed here. I cannot abide the thought of you miles away in a cold cabin all by yourself, without me near to warm your toes.”

  Nor did she wish to be far away from him, truth be told. They had only recently become acquainted, and yet she felt as though she’d known him the whole of her life. Cecelia would be shocked by her hasty decision to marry him, but their journey over the past days had confirmed their compatibility. He’d taught her how to manage the helm of the mighty ship and plot their location on the charts. She was an eager student, enthralled by the endless blue waters and star-filled nights. In the evenings, they’d played cards with Eveline and the captain, laughing into the late hours.

  And the nights.

  Those were her favorite, because he held her close in his strong embrace and stole sweet kisses, making her feel cherished and, above all else, safe. He would protect her with his life. She felt it instinctively. He was so honorable, lying with her in bed each night yet refusing to deflower her before they were properly wed. But she did not doubt his desire for her, not after feeling his rigid member against her back as they fell asleep each night. His kisses invited strange and wonderful tingling sensations throughout her body, and she longed for him to teach her everything there was to know between a man and a woman. He’d shown her a small taste that one night when he’d hiked up her nightgown and ran his bare hands all over her naked skin, taking her breasts into his firm grip and massaging until her nipples formed tight buds, aching with need.

  With persistence, she might break through his honorable barrier and convince him to make her fully his before their nuptials.

  The carriage took off with a start, startling Mercy back to the present. Hatchet sat opposite her, his eyes locked on her hand entwined with Victor’s. He grunted under his breath and gazed out the window, suddenly engrossed in the activity of the wharf. How odd her change of heart toward Victor must appear to his friend. But she was not too big a person to admit when she was wrong. Finding his letters to his mother had opened her eyes and heart to his misery. And after witnessing the scars on his back, she could not hold him accountable for her mother’s death. Once she’d come to terms with the truth, she could see only the handsome, vibrant man she’d come to desire in Devil’s Cov
e.

  As the miles stretched on, Victor spoke of the vast history of Blackburn Castle and Cape Wrath, pointing out various matters of interest through the window.

  “That oak marks the property line on the east side,” he said, a distant gleam in his eyes. The carriage came to a rolling stop.

  “What is it?” she asked, glancing out the window.

  “We have arrived at the gate.” Victor opened the door and jumped out. “Excuse me for a moment while I give poor old Mr. Phipps the surprise of his life.”

  Mercy leaned out the door. Before her stood a stone wall stretching out in each direction as far as the eye could see. An archway carved out of the center of the wall was blocked by black iron gates illuminated with ornate gas lanterns on either side. Beyond the gate, a gravel path led to the castle in the far distance.

  An old man hobbled out of the gatehouse, and Victor clapped him on the back with one hand while shaking his other vigorously. “Still favoring your left leg, Phipps? I’m sorry to see it. My father should’ve added another twenty lashes of the paddle to my punishment for tripping you, at the very least.”

  “Master Victor!” he croaked. “It cannot be. You were knee high to a grasshopper last time I laid eyes on you. Don’t mind my leg. I’m getting old, nothing more. What’re you about, sneaking home in the dead of night? And not a word of warning. Would you give your poor mother a heart attack?”

  Victor chuckled. “Glad to see you again, Phipps. What fun is there in announcing my arrival? Shall I find everyone home this evening?”

  “Yes, sir, but it’s late,” Phipps said, scurrying toward the gates. “The family retires early these days. Your sister and brother-in-law are visiting with the wee babe. They’ll be mighty glad to see you again.” He unlocked the gates and pulled them wide open. “Don’t tarry with an old fool like me. You might still catch them enjoying a nightcap before they take to their beds.”

  Mercy sat back and smiled. She couldn’t recall all of the names of the servants who had worked for her father in Woodland Hall. Only the cook, Annabelle Weatherby, stood out in her mind. But she liked Phipps already.