Page 48 of Brutal Serpent

I squeezed my legs together obediently.

For the next few days, I barely saw Lord Sheringham and Mr. Westruther. The Viscount hurried them to and from hunting, giving me dark, searing glances as he rushed them by me.

I was more confused than ever.

During this time, Mrs. Elton came to visit and I liked her very much.

“This is such a big, beautiful room,” she said with awe as she followed me into the big sitting room that looked out over the gardens of Rosewood Manor.

“Why, I guess it is!” I said in some surprise.

“Don’t you like it?” she asked.

“Oh, I do,” I said, trying to cover up. “I-I’m more of a seaside person maybe.”

She only looked curiously at me, and I was a bit surprised myself. I had never admitted that out loud before. But we sat down and sewed peacefully together, talking about the village and the best way to grow roses, and patterns we wanted to sew next.

Since the weather was so perfect, we made arrangements to go on a picnic to sketch some of the beautiful meadows and streams at Rosewood Manor, and parted amicably with plans to meet the next day.

The next afternoon, after a fresh bath, I was tying my sun bonnet around my head and getting ready to leave. But St. Erth came down the stairs behind me, light and predatorial despite his big body.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Just out with Mr. and Mrs. Elton,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, even though my spine had turned to ice, the presence of my husband always making my body buzz with fear and unease. And something else I didn’t want to admit to myself.

“To do what?” he asked, walking toward me with that long, lean, arrogant stride.

“Just a little p-picnic,” I said. “We plan to do some drawing in the meadow by the stream and maybe pick some strawberries. If that’s all right with you,” I added belatedly.

He came up in front of me, his eyes flicking up and down my light sprigged muslin.

“It’s not all right with me,” he said coldly.

“W-why?” I asked. “You said I could go anywhere I wanted at Rosewood.”

He eyes bore into mine. “I said you could go on my grounds properly chaperoned, with a maid or groom with you. That way I can easily find you when I want you.”

I felt my stomach plummeting, a reminder of his power over me.

“I think I’ll go with you,” he said, reaching a hand out to caress my cheek.

“Unless, my wife, you don’t want me to come strawberry picking with you?” he asked, and his fingers tightened the barest amount on my cheek.

I knew what his caresses meant.

I didn’t have a choice.

He was only pretending I did to mock me.

And I knew what those fingers could do,haddone to me.

I dropped my eyes. I didn’t want to look into his, brilliant blue and cruel and endless.

Before I could say anything, at this inauspicious moment the Eltons knocked on the door.

“Ah, you’re coming with us, St. Erth?” Mr. Elton asked.

I felt my husband still beside me.

---