Duncan's Rose

by Safi, Suzannah

  She smiled, then giggled, then laughed hysterically. What was she to do? They kept her locked in the dungeon; they told everyone in town she had gone to France, where her aunt lived. Even the sun had been shut out of this place; a small oil lamp spread just enough light to show her the filth of the rotted ground and the damp walls. She inhaled the stench of the humid air mingled with the odor of rat droppings. But she had grown used to it. And honestly, she prayed to God she would choke on the food that had been sitting in her room since it had been delivered that morning. Maybe then, she could escape them and run to Duncan.

  Her brother held her shoulders and shook hard. She laughed.

  “You are mad!” he said harshly.

  She leaped to her feet, held her skirt in her hands, and twirled around and around, humming the song and laughing hysterically. Who cared if she had gone mad? Didn’t they understand? The man she loved was dead because of her…it was his blood on her hands, staining her soul. Madness seemed a paltry penance.

  Miranda snapped out of her vision. Tears streamed on her cheeks as she realized Rose had been driven insane. The room spun and she fell to the floor, into darkness.

  The soft whines of a dog and its warm, wet licks on her face tugged at her mind, pulling her from the dark. How long had she been unconscious? A voice from across the room barked out an order: “Down, boys, that’s enough! Miranda, Sweetheart, wake up.” Soft tapping on her cheeks awoke her. Her eyelids fluttered open and she saw Mac leaning over her. He’d put her on the blue sofa.

  “Mac, what happened?” Weak and slurred, her question brought a haunted look to his face. Suddenly, in slow motion and vivid color, her mind tossed the memory of her vision at her. Rose’s sad end shocked her, and she wept, her hands tangled in Mac’s shirt.

  “Shhh, hey now,” he said. “I’m here, don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she lied. It was better than the truth, because Miranda was afraid now that she would end up just like Rose. The seeds of fear were already planted in her soul when her visions began. What would it take to meet the same fate as Rose? Maybe Rose was preparing her or warning her—she wasn’t sure anymore. Her feelings of adoration and deep yearning for Mac surfaced, and suddenly her heart ached from losing him, as Rose lost Duncan. She was surprised at the sudden rush of emotion. Am I starting to fall for him? Or have I already fallen?

  “What happened?” His concerned eyes concentrated on her.

  “Rose.” She hugged Mac tightly, and he clung to her. He patted her head, comforting her.

  “What about Rose?”

  Miranda began to laugh and cry, the sound turning hysterical. He looked at her, puzzled. What was happening to her? She pushed him away, stood, and laughed more. She wanted to run, to hide, and she didn’t know if that was possible any longer.

  “Miranda!” He rushed to her and hugged her tightly. “Stop!”

  “She went crazy,” Miranda cried. “Rose was held in a dungeon so filthy and rotten, and…”

  “What?”

  “Rose! She ended up going crazy. Her family held her in a dungeon as a punishment for loving Duncan, and she went crazy, Mac. She lost her love, her life, and her dignity.”

  She giggled and her tears streamed out. She couldn’t stop laughing until Mac grabbed her and kissed her hard on the lips, hugging her tightly to him again. He eased her back on the sofa. She didn’t know what was happening, but his sensual kiss had drawn her mind from laughter into a delicious feeling.

  “Oh, Duncan, I love you.”

  His body became rigid; so was hers. They were silent for a moment.

  She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

  “You didn’t mean to say what?” he asked, his voice taut and on edge, as though he awaited her response with fear.

  “I didn’t mean to call you his name.”

  “So you meant that you love me.” He blinked, holding his breath.

  “I am falling for you,” she sighed.

  “And I’m falling for you.”

  “Mac, are you doing this because you want to stop me from publishing my book?” Miranda hadn’t meant to ask, and she could have cheerfully disappeared after the question left her lips. With a sad shake of her head, she sighed. “Don’t answer that.”

  Mac didn’t even blink. “I’m doing this because of this.” He kissed her on the cheek. “And for this.” He kissed her on her neck and nuzzled her collarbone.

  “What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I’m bringing you to your senses.”

  Her thoughts distracted her, her brain was fuzzy, but with each kiss from him, all other thoughts faded and turned into one stirring sensation. “Well…it’s working.”

  Mac hungrily took his mouth from hers and kissed the side of her throat, moving from the hollow beneath her ear to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She arched against him, her eyes closed, wanting more of him. His fingers worked quickly, unbuttoning her dress. She gasped beneath him; he parted her legs with his strong thigh. Her dress fell around her, exposing her body.

  Mac bent his head, his hair falling forward to brush against her naked flesh, sending a bolt of heat through her. Using the tip of his tongue, he traced a damp circle around her bare nipple; her body shivered when he took her pointing nipple into his mouth. He suckled and nibbled with his teeth while his fingers toyed with the hardening peak of her other breast. Her fingers twined in his long, dark hair, and she drew his face upward, to kiss him. Her intense kiss brought a moan from his lips. “Oh, Miranda, how can I live without you?”

  His palm swept upward between her legs, his fingers dipping inside her panties to the damp triangle between her thighs. Her heart raced in anticipation. He parted the swollen folds and stroked a gentle fingertip between them. Miranda pushed her body against him. She took a deep breath and he brushed kisses across her parted lips, trailing the kisses to her ear and catching her lobe in his teasing teeth. “Say you love me,” he murmured, his warm breath stroking her ear.

  Mixed emotions bloomed inside her: desire, fear, and a despair that froze her blood. She shivered. “Relax,” he said. “You don’t have to answer me. Do you want me to stop?”

  “No,” she whispered, pulled him closer kissing his neck. When she traced a wet line to his ear, using the tip of her tongue, she stole a moan from him, and he relaxed in her arms. She pushed her hip impatiently against his playful fingers, inflaming him; he relaxed and responded with a groan of need. He inserted his finger into the opening of her body and thrust deep, while her swollen flesh clasped his knuckle.

  Miranda sobbed and squirmed, her mouth pressed against his neck in hot, open kisses. His finger withdrew from the sensitive folds between her thighs. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  He grinned, edged closer, and dropped his voice. “How bad do you want me?”

  “So bad, so bad.”

  “I’ll give you something better.”

  He unzipped his trousers and pulled them off; the shaft of his cock bobbed heavily as he settled himself atop her. He pushed the taut crest against her clit; she could feel his heart pounding fiercely beneath the weight of her palm, which slid beneath his white shirt as he entered her.

  Like icy water tossed on them, the sound of the two dogs barking outside the door interrupted them. Mac cursed between his teeth and pulled out of her. “Someone is coming, and this door doesn’t have a lock.” He pulled his trousers on as Miranda sat up and fastened her dress. Her heart was pounding; she didn’t want anyone to see her naked.

  Footsteps neared the room they were in. Mac helped her dress then buttoned his shirt just as they heard a knock on the door and Jack’s voice.

  “Sir, are you here?”

  “What brings you here, Jack?” He wanted to choke him for the interruption. Jack knew better than to follow him; it had better be important.

  “My apologies, Sir, but your uncle appears to be getting worse. He needs a doctor.”

  M
ac looked at Miranda, checking her appearance, then went to the shelves and grabbed a book. He sat on the sofa and lay back, crossing his legs. “Come in, Jack.”

  Jack entered, and as he saw Miranda, he frowned. “Oh, sorry, Sir, I didn’t know you had company.”

  Oh, sure you did, you son-of-a-bitch. You knew exactly when to interrupt. “What happened?” Mac asked impatiently.

  “Mr. Wardlaw is having one of his asthma attacks.”

  The bastard, Mac thought. He wants Mac to get the doctor out of hiding. They knew Mac had something to do with it. His uncle’s wish to harm the doctor was too much for Mac to handle. He would have to solve this problem soon.

  “Where’s his nurse?”

  “She is there with him. She has tried everything, but he still has difficulty breathing. We can’t find the doctor; he’s disappeared from the village,” Jack said, looking back and forth between Mac and Miranda.

  “Oh God, where might he have gone?” Miranda asked, looking at Mac with a quizzical gaze.

  Mac knew Jack wanted to put him in this situation in front of her.

  “Keep looking for him,” Mac said, calm as a fox. If his uncle was indeed in danger, he would get the doctor, but he had to see him first to make sure his uncle wasn’t bluffing.

  “He said something about visiting London,” Miranda offered.

  “The nurse didn’t know where he went when I asked, and she said that he wouldn’t leave the Island without leaving a note for her,” Jack snapped. His words had a haughty, knowing air.

  “That’s worrisome,” Mac said. “Well, let’s go see my uncle. We’ll find the doctor eventually.”

  Jack must have followed him to the room.

  He would have to talk to his uncle at once, to put a stop to whatever the old man was planning. As for Jack and the other guard, Mac would fire them and expel them from the island. But he needed to be careful; not only would he be in danger, but Miranda’s life depended upon him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mac marched down the corridor with Jack right behind him. That bastard’s blistering breath is stinging the back of my neck. Mac’s thoughts drifted as he continued down the hall to the east side of the mansion, to his uncle’s room.

  Rose was driven crazy, the poor soul. He’d thought she had conspired with her family against Duncan. Mac realized now that there was so much more to this story than his blind, revenge-driven conclusions. When he had a moment, he’d dig a bit further. But for now, he had to deal with his uncle.

  What you see is not always the truth, he reminded himself. Sometimes, he thought he knew it all, but the fact was, he misled himself about many things.

  His heart burned between his ribs, and sadness and rage flew through his veins. When he reached Ken’s room and opened the door, the old man was coughing and wheezing, trying to pull air into his weak lungs.

  Mac strolled toward him and knelt beside the edge of the bed. “Uncle, how are you feeling?”

  “Call…the Doc…” his voice whispered in painful desperation.

  No, not possible, Mac thought. He will expose the Doc, and maybe I won’t be able to protect him.

  “I sent him to London. He was complaining about needing a new piece of equipment or something. Shall I have someone go to the city and bring another doctor back?” Mac lied to him and he knew it was impossible for his uncle to wait that long if, in fact, he was ill.

  “Please…do.”

  “Hmmm, Jack!” Mac called, and Jack opened the door and entered. “Take Bob with you and bring back a doctor from the city.”

  “No, you go,” his uncle said. “I don’t trust anyone but you.” The old man’s hacking cough filled the room.

  Damn, what if the old man was ill for real? “I will not leave you, Uncle. They will do as I say,” Mac stated calmly.

  “Fine, then stay with me.”

  Jack was dismissed to get a doctor from the city, and Mac brought the oxygen device and placed it on his uncle’s mouth. “Breathe, stay with me,” he said gently. Mac wasn’t comfortable with his uncle’s request for him to go off the island, as if he wanted him to stay away from something.

  It took a few minutes before his uncle’s wheezing and coughing subsided and his breathing returned to a normal rhythm.

  Mac was not sure now if the old man faked his medical crisis or not. He was fine for weeks, this condition never occurred unless he was exhausted or nervous. In either case, when his face returned to normal, his uncle’s frown eased.

  The moment Mac removed his uncle’s oxygen mask, the old man began shouting. “I want her out and I want the book destroyed!” his uncle roared.

  “She is not a danger and neither is her book,” Mac said. “I don’t believe it anymore, uncle.”

  “You listen to me, you foolish Romeo. The villagers need to be punished, and her truth about what happened will destroy your power on this island,” Ken gasped out, his face flushing with ire.

  “What power? Listen to yourself! We are not a mafia, and just to let you know, I have changed my plan.” Mac straightened and walked lazily to the window and watched the ragged waves crash against the hardened black rocks in the distance.

  “Changed your plan to what?” his uncle’s voice, now strong, echoed in the high-ceiling room.

  “I am not going to destroy this village,” Mac answered. “I will make them happy and I will live with what happened, whatever it was. I’ve seen enough hatred. Why should we hate and destroy for revenge? I’d rather forgive them all and start new. Rage only backfires.”

  “You lost your family because of this village! Has she changed you? Are you a softy now?”

  “She has nothing to do with it,” Mac said through clenched teeth.

  “Oh, I’d say she has everything to do with it. She is not Rose. Do you hear me?” Although he didn’t raise his voice, there was a savage note in it that gave Mac pause.

  “She is what she is,” Mac replied. “I love her, and nothing is going to change that. I want to build this village.”

  “With that bitch at your side?”

  “Watch it, Uncle! She is my wife to be.” Mac turned sharply to glare at the old man. Pain prowled the corridors of his mind, sharpening its claws against the sides of his skull.

  “Oh, you have gone crazy. I knew it! You didn’t deserve my care all those years. I made you someone with power.”

  “Power to destroy. I’ve learned hatred from you. That wasn’t power. I have learned to love and care from her, and I will marry her—if she accepts me and believes I am worthy, after all the bad things you planted in my head and soul.”

  A smile of darkness, a slight arch on his uncle’s right lip, brought chills to Mac’s spine. It was the sly smile of a wolf waiting to jump on its prey without mercy. “We will see.”

  Something was eating at Mac’s heart; his uncle’s insistence on destroying the village was nothing new, but Miranda and her boo—-really, why did it matter so much? When his uncle had first claimed that the woman and her book were dangerous, he’d chosen to obey his elder. But now he realized, with sickening clarity, the danger his uncle represented to both him and Miranda. The old man’s face was twisted with insanity, with a strange, ugly madness that sickened and terrified Mac.

  Standing by the window, watching the sun reflect its tiered orange and red blanket on the dark blue carpet of the ocean, Mac swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. The first order of business was to rid himself of the guards and employees who were loyal to his uncle. He had to protect what was his, even if it meant cutting all ties with his last living relative.

  A slight movement outside caught his attention and he turned to stare in icy terror. Outside the far end of the mansion, Jack and Bob had Miranda’s arms and hurried her inside the remains of his old house.

  A terrifying rage yanked at his heart as he realized he’d been betrayed. He turned and faced his uncle, who sat with a look of expectancy and anticipation on his face, as if he were awaiting a reward for h
is master planning.

  Mac raced from the room—the echo of his uncle’s deep chuckle tore through him to the core. One thought was in place, one clear memory that made his blood run cold. Once more he envisioned Miranda dangling in the air, her body swaying before him. He pushed himself harder, his legs pounding as he tore after the woman he loved and the men who would harm her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The speed with which Mac’s feet slammed against the marble floor equaled the racing pace of his heartbeats. Each step took him closer to Miranda, yet he was terrified he would not be fast enough.

  “Thomas! Mathew!” he shouted, a note of desperation and fear woven into each syllable, as he stormed through the corridor to the east exit of the mansion. Hurried footsteps echoing on the marble floors announced his men heard him. As he ran past, he heard the sound of his dogs barking in the room where he left Miranda. Someone must’ve closed the door trapping the two dogs in.

  Mac quickly opened the door; he needed all the help he could get. His men rushed toward him.

  “Sir, what’s the matter?” Mathew asked, his voice pitched with concern. Thomas trailed after him heaving. “Sir,” Thomas panted, his brow furrowed.

  “You have your guns?”

  “No, I only carry arms when we visit the village,” Mathew declared.

  “Bob and Jack took Miranda to the old house; they’re going to harm her,” Mac said. “If they have guns, we have to be careful, no matter what. Her safety comes first, do I make myself clear?” The dogs darted excitedly around his ankles, anxiety in every move. Snatching Miranda in the daylight confirmed Jack and Bob’s stupidity; he wondered why he’d kept them in his employ all these years. At the thought of them touching Miranda, his rage elevated.

  “Mathew, as safely as you can, get the doctor to my uncle’s room, I don’t want to take a chance. He may need medical attention. Then follow us to the old burned house, and hurry!”