Page 30 of Brutal Serpent

I could try to make it to my room and then slam and bar the door against my husband.

If I could make it there.

If only I thought St. Erth was the kind of man who would be too gentlemanly to try to break his wife’s door down in the middle of the night!

But I knew he wasnota gentleman.

With a little spark of fear, I realized I had no other option than to obey him.

My heart had begun to pound, but I gripped the candlestick tightly in my hand and resolutely opened the door.

The hallway outside the sitting room was almost pitch-black, barely lit by a few candles that flickered with a thin light. They seemed to be placed at lengthy intervals, and I had to grip the side of the wall, running painfully into a table with my shin.

“St. Erth?” I whispered hesitantly as I moved along the hallway.

Surely the staircase was this way?

I suddenly felt uneasy trickles of fear down my spine. Rosewood Manor, which had looked so cozy and inviting during the day, had transformed in the night, the flickering shadows making shapes loom large and fearful in the hallway.

I moved cautiously out the door, my bare feet moving quietly across the fine soft carpets of Rosewood Manor. There were a variety of ornamental wall sconces lit along the hall, to make sure that those walking Rosewood Manor’s halls at night would be able to safely traverse the long dark passageways.

But I wasn’t safe in the light. I wasn’t safe anywhere my husband could find me.

In the deafening silence of the house, I heard a noise like scraping, clawing.

“Who’s there?” I cried, feeling the panic rush up my spine. “St. Erth? What’s that noise?”

It stopped for a moment, then I heard it again. A long, deep scrape and then a noise like claws drawn down a wall.

I whirled around again, trying to see past the flickering light of my candle.

Nothing.

As I turned back around, heading for the staircase, I heard a sharp, softschickand the feel of a blade on my back as my dress gave way under it, falling in a pool of silk and satin around my ankles.

My heart in my throat, I rushed up the staircase as fast as I could, past the second floor where my room was, and onto the next one that would take me to the upper floors. I had no idea what would be there. I only knew I had to escape.

The upper hallway was not lit at all, and I fought the panic that threatened to engulf me.

If I could just get to an empty room, I could hide and put out the candle. Then maybe I could escape detection.

But I heard his voice again. Cool, silky, menacing.

“You were supposed to go directly to bed, little Viscountess.”

“I’m going to kill you!” I cried, afraid to run and afraid to stop running.

Even though it was summer, I shivered in my undergarments, feeling my nipples tighten and the goosebumps on my skin.

“Ambitious,” came my husband’s dry, cold voice. “Let’s see if you can, Catherine.”

Then suddenly he was upon me, and I swung the candlestick, miraculously managing to connect squarely with his face and split his lip open.

I gasped to see the blood spring to his lips, but St. Erth only smiled, his gleaming white teeth stained with blood in the flickering light of my candle.

“Lovely aim for a vicious little kitten, but you’d have to kill me to stop me.”

Then he yanked me onto his lap in a hallway chair and held my hand with the candlestick high.

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