Page 98 of Monsters in Love

“Because you’re the fairest girl in the town, and until tonight your reputation has been beyond reproach.” He pulled her flat against his chest. “You’re the prize female, and I’ll have you.”

“Some prize,” she hissed, “when you have to threaten a family to claim it.”

“Threaten?” He laughed in her face. “No, darling. You’re confused. I’m the Captain of the Guard and the most eligible bachelor in Windhaven. Only a female who’s demon-touched would reject my offer. And if she’s been influenced, so too is her family. It’s only right to remove that danger.”

She was going to be sick all over the ballroom floor.

“So, Belle,” he said. “What will it be?”

Swallowing back the bile in her throat, she met his gaze. She had no choice—and the smug tilt to his lips and gleam in his eyes announced he knew it. He’d always planned to force her; it might even give him pleasure. There was nothing else she could do.

At least, not right now.

She carefully considered all the ways she could murder him in his sleep and said, “Very well, I will marry—”

“No!” Her sister’s small form barreled out from between a pair of skirts and threw herself between them. The force knocked them apart, and Isabelle tripped over her skirts and landed on her rear. Tangled in her dress, she struggled to get to her feet. It should have been easy, but it was as if fear had sucked any strength from her limbs.

Please. Please don’t let me lose Emmi.

“Begone, flea.” He swung at Emmi.

Smaller than Jaston and easily twice as fast, her sister dodged his attempts to grab her. She ducked under his arms and pummeled his chest with her fists. One strike swung upward and caught the corner of his jaw. “You’re a bloody monster! You leave my—”

“What is the meaning of this display?” The bishop’s voice sliced through the room, like a sharpened scythe through grain.

Jaston wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. “Nothing, Eminence. The girl is confused.”

“Many apologies.” Mama scurried forward. “Emmanuella. Stop this at once.”

“It’s my fault. I tripped.” Trembling with fear, Isabelle staggered it to her feet. “Please…”

“My bride-to-be was overcome with delight at my offer,” Jaston said, a vicious edge to his words. He watched Emmi like a mountain wolf did its prey. “This foolish child—”

“No!” Emmi pointed at Jaston. “He’s forcing Belle to marry him to protect us.”

“Hush, child.” Mama’s face was tight with displeasure. “You’re overwrought.”

“No,” Emmi said defiantly. “I’m not.”

Isabelle needed to say something, to do something. But her tongue was frozen and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. All she could do was study the ballroom. It thrilled her—terrified her—to see how the watching crowd was muttering. Anger shaped brows. Mouths flattened. And frustration with a year of hardship boiled to the surface.

A year without goods and now bacon and apple tarts were practically tumbling from the serving trays?

The bishop may have made a mistake.

Yet as much as she wished to leave, she had no desire to destroy the entire fabric of their town. Windhaven lived and breathed the ways of the Chastry, where would they be without it? She had to convince her sister to apologize. It was only a betrothal, they’d have until the spring tyne to escape.

“Emmi, stop.” Isabelle found her voice. “It will be okay. I promise.”

“No, Belle.” For a girl short of stature, her sister stood tall and fierce as any warrior. “I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself for me.” She looked around the room, her blue eyes daring the town to support her. “You all know Belle. She helps all of you. She’s always cooking or caring for young or tending your animals. And she’s still in love with Thomas Marr. Jaston is an evil bastard who bullies everyone in this town and gets power from fear—”

“Silence.” The bishop rose from his seat. “The child is demon-touched.”

“No!” Heart pounding, Isabelle threw herself in front of Emmi and faced the bishop, hands curled into fists at her sides. “She’s not touched, she’s scared. She thinks she’s protecting me. Leave her alone!”

“Lies,” Jaston countered. “She’s been listening to demons.”

The bishop tsked sadly. “It must be so.”

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