Page 29 of Unseen

I sat up and curled my legs against me, still shaking from his assault. “Where is it? Where is the letter?”

He leaned back on his hands, his manhood tenting his nightshirt obscenely. “With my lawyer. In a safe box that is to be opened in the event of my death.” He wrapped a hand around himself, through his shirt, and pumped himself, groaning. “Oh fuck, do you see what you’ve done to me? Surely you cannot leave me like this.”

“You are vile and disgusting!” I scrambled off the bed, stumbling across the room and snatching up the knife from the floor. I spun as he advanced on me, his eyes lit with foul desire in the candlelight. “Do not touch me!”

“Oh, but I will touch you, beloved.” He reached and grabbed my throat, pressing his chest into the tip of the knife without a hint of fear. “Now, listen to me very carefully, my little viper. I have business in the south tomorrow, and I will be gone til the next day. Upon my return, you will have an answer for me, do you understand? You will tell me whether you shall be my wife, or be the next woman to dangle from the gallows at Newgate.”

I spat in his face, and he barely flinched. “I hate you!”

“Then hate me. I can live with that. But you will be mine, in hate, if it must be.” He smiled widely, running a finger down my cheek. “You enjoyed it, admit it.”

“I did not.”

“Liar.” He pressed a finger to my lips, before releasing me and stepping back. “You have two days, Evie. Choose wisely.”

I fled for the door as wind howled through the rafters of the house.

“And Evie?”

I paused, looking over my shoulder at him.

“Don’t think of running away.” Lightning flashed behind him, his eyes almost appearing white in the sudden light. A demon. Straight from Hell.

I ran back to my room, disgust and shame seething through every vein in my body. A bath was not possible, but I was desperate to wash him off. I tore off my nightgown, and uncapped a bottle of rose water, pouring it into my hand and rubbing it furiously all over my skin. I wanted him gone. Erased.

He had the letter. The letter I could never have written, had Acton’s death been a natural one. The letter I should have destroyed immediately.

I was such a fool.

And now he had me.

In two days, I’d either be a dead woman, or a trapped woman. I had to decide which was worse.

9

A THRIVING WEED

For some foolish reason, I acted as though I was making a choice. Struggling through my conscience, trying to decide what to do, which way I should turn. I had no choice. I knew that. I certainly did not wish to die. Accepting Azriel’s proposal was truly the only option that assured my survival.

What kind of survival that would be, well, that was certainly debatable. The violent death on the gallows, or the violent affections of my stepson - what a choice indeed. Azriel now owned me, and my future, and no amount of tossing and turning through a sleepless night would change that.

He had wholly ensnared me, and worse than that, he had shamed me, touching me in a way no one else had. It was worse than his father taking my maidenhead, and yet I could not explain why. Neither had been with my consent, both men had equally forced themselves on me.

But what had happened the previous night recalled all the sordid tales of warning the nuns at school had threatened us with. Told in hushed voices, eyes wide underneath theirhabits, cautioning us young ladies from ever touching ourselves “down there”, or indeed letting anyone else do so. That way lay madness. Brain fever. Sin. All manner of ailments. It was something only whores did. It was something ladies of good standing would never seek.

Therefore, it had not been a surprise when marital coupling with Acton had not been pleasurable, for I had never expected it should be. And despite all my misgivings and the unrelenting nausea each encounter left in its wake, it had been decent. Proper. What the nuns had said it should have been. Acton had done his duty, and left.

He had not pinned me down and forced my body into a state no decent woman should find herself in.

My cheeks flushed as I thought of how Azriel had touched me. How he had threatened me. To drive me to such a peak while holding complete power over me - I had thought I hated him as much as I could. I was now discovering I could hate him even more.

But I could not decide whether he had done it for his own pleasure, or if he intended to drive me mad. Could he ravish me to the point of insanity, as the nuns had insisted? Would I lose control of my mind as I had of my body?

“You’re awfully quiet today, madam,” Mary said, running a brush through my hair. “All day, you’ve barely said a word.”

“My mind has been rather occupied today.” I chewed on my lip. “I think I should like to go out tomorrow.”

“Out?” Mary regarded me in the mirror with alarm. “Oh madam, people were already talking when you were seen on Newgate Street with Mr Caine, I don’t think that would be wise.”

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