Page 25 of Redemption

Remaining in this bathroom won’t get me closer to freedom. If we truly are alone and isolated on his estate, I need to explore my cage. I won’t try to run again unless I’m certain that I have a chance of evading him. For now, I’ll remain complaint. He can compel my actions, but he can’t rule my heart.

The sooner he accepts the fact that I will never love him—that I feel nothing but revulsion for him—the sooner he’ll tire of me and release me.

He doesn’t reach for me again, and I huff out a small, relieved breath. I keep my eyes averted from his powerful body as I follow him through the bedroom. My gaze catches on the shattered remnants of the colorful, stained-glass lampshade that litter the rug, and for an insane moment, I consider snatching up one of the jagged shards to wield it as a weapon.

I grit my teeth and force my reluctant feet to carry me away from temptation. I can’t afford to attack him and lose.

We make our way down the long corridor, heading toward the staircase I never quite reached during my mad escape attempt. I focus on the layout of my surroundings, noting three closed doors that interrupt the lines of portraits on either side of me.

Dane notices my swinging gaze and explains, “There are four bedrooms in this wing. My brother, James, and I have rooms here. My parents occupy the east wing, although there are a further six guest rooms that remain empty. Not including the additional accommodations in the carriage house.”

My heart sinks at the sprawling description of the manor. I’ll have to rely on Dane to navigate the space.

We descend the wide staircase and cross a cavernous foyer. Natural light pours through large windows on either side of what I assume is the front door, making the wood paneled walls glow like they’re burnished.

Dane leads me through a maze of rooms, and I commit the grand spaces to memory. There’s a robin’s egg blue sitting room with intricate crown molding. A dining room with a table long enough to host a feast like something out of a period drama. A library with thousands of books lining every wall on intricately carved shelves.

“I’ll show you the billiards room and the indoor pool later,” he says, making genial conversation. “There’s a fully equipped gym, too, but we can exercise outdoors if you prefer. The Yorkshire Dales are too beautiful to waste time on a treadmill.”

We enter a massive kitchen with modern appliances that have been tastefully chosen to complement the historic character of the space. Dark wood beams accent the cream ceiling overhead, and the massive stone fireplace beside a large, oval dining table is swept clean for summer. Across from the marble-topped island, the kitchen opens up into a glass-walled conservatory.

My breath catches when I get my first look at the stunning countryside. Verdant, grassy hills roll to the horizon, and a narrow river is a shining blue ribbon that meanders between them. It spills into a huge lake that must be several miles away. I don’t see any other houses; only dry-stone walls crisscrossing the hills, which are dotted with distant white sheep.

We truly are isolated in this gorgeous landscape.

My fingers itch for my paintbrush even as my stomach turns. The urge to capture the way the sunlight dapples the green hills is an ever-present, irrepressible artistic calling.

But the rural setting fills my heart with dread.

There’s no one here to help me. No neighbors to hear me if I scream.

“I’ll make us a proper fry-up,” Dane says, calling my attention away from the terribly beautiful countryside. “It might take me a moment to get my bearings. Cooking in this kitchen is a novelty. All of my meals were prepared for me when I was a boy. In the years since I moved to America, I’ve learned to take care of myself.”

His lopsided smile is so perfectly charming that I marvel at his ability to mask his monstrous nature.

“I can make a decent meal for you.” He says it like a reassurance. “I doubt my brother could manage it. He’s never worked at anything a day in his life.”

“You brother still lives here? With your parents?” I try to keep my tone casual, politely interested.

He sees right through me. “Like I said, they’re summering abroad. And no, my brother has his faults, but he has no desire to remain close to our parents. I believe he prefers to spend his time in the Wensleydale lodge. It’s only about a half hour’s drive from here, but it permits him some distance from our mother.”

“You said you left your family behind when you moved to America for college,” I say carefully. “Won’t they want to see you now that you’re back home?”

He scoffs. “If they knew I was here, they’d try to find a way to lock me down and prevent me from leaving. But don’t worry. I paid the staff to keep quiet. They were happy to take an extended holiday.”

“So, you’re not planning to stay.”

I have to get a sense of his plans for me. Does he intend to return to Charleston at some point? It certainly sounds as though he doesn’t want to stay here for long.

He frowns and turns his attention to the fridge. He doesn’t look at me when he replies, “You and I need to come to an understanding before we go back to the States. Meadows is pissed that I fucked off to England without notice, but he’ll have to manage the practice without me for a while. I told him my grandmother had passed away. I just didn’t specify when.”

He keeps his focus on finding the pans he needs rather than looking at me.

“You think I’ll turn you in for what you did to me,” I surmise quietly.

In profile, I note the downward twist of his sensual lips, as though he’s bitten into something sour.

“I don’t intend to go to prison.” His voice is smooth and cultured as ever, entirely unruffled except for his frown. “You need some time to process what you saw. I understand that. It’s regrettable that I had to bring you here, but it was the best option.”

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