Page 32 of The Villain
She steeled herself for what was to come, prepared herself to be awakened by his wicked touch … to retreat with a mantle of shame draped over her shoulders and her logical mind doing battle with her undiscerning body.
Leaving the room, she set off to find him, wrestling with the right words in her mind. She could not simply approach him and demand answers; he would laugh in her face before doing something to remind her she was subject to his whims. She hadn’t wanted to play his games, but had been left with no other choice. She needed to know the entire truth—to put to bed the voices in her mind telling her she was sacrificing herself for nothing, that she would allow this monster to tear her apart and send her back to her family in tattered shreds.
Pausing outside of the door Niall had led her to her first night here, she raised her fist and knocked before she could change her mind. When no answer was forthcoming, she knocked again, pressing her ear to the heavy panel to listen for the deep, rumbling tones of his voice.
After a while, restlessness prompted her to reach for the knob. She pushed the door open just wide enough to peer through the crack, searching for his large, imposing frame in the dimly lit room. When she did not find him, she pushed the door open wider, quickly realizing he did not occupy the study. His presence seemed to fill any space he occupied—some elementalthingthat never failed to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
That feeling was distinctly absent; yet, she continued into the cavernous room, curiosity drawing her toward the massive desk resting on its other end. Both hearths had been lit, the crackling fires surrounding her in a comforting warmth. Despite the size of the study, it felt oddly intimate, a scent that was distinctly Adam’s permeating the space—cedar, spice, and musk—intertwined with leather and the lemon oil his desk and bookcases had been polished with. Drawing closer to the desk, she spied a crystal ashtray upon the surface, the stub of a cigar lying amid a pile of ashes. Its aroma lingered in the air, mingling with the other scents.
The strength of his fragrance and that of the cigar told her he had been here recently. Glancing over her shoulder to ensure he, or a servant, did not approach, she quickly rounded the desk. Curiosity drove her now, the need to learn something—anything—about Adam making her reckless. She did not allow herself to think of what he might do if he found her here. It could not possibly be any worse than the things he’d already done—or the things he’d promised he would.
Sitting in his chair, she sank into the worn, comfortable leather, the masculine scent even stronger here. The surface of his desk was immaculate, free of the sort of clutter and disarray she had expected. A large, leather-bound book rested in the center, turning out to be a financial ledger of some sort once she opened it. His handwriting proved even neater than hers, the pleasing lines and slopes of his letters and numbers coming as an odd surprise. Picturing him sitting at this desk, his long hair spilling down his back, face fixed into that expression of disdain, she found it difficult to imagine him executing such flawless penmanship—as opposed to stabbing at the pages while huffing smoke and snorting fire.
She chuckled at the image she had conjured and closed the book, observing the other contents of the desk. An inkwell and quill sat perpendicular to the book while an open, wooden box displayed several sticks of red wax and a large, ornate seal fob. Taking up the fob, she turned it over in her hands, noting that the warmth still clinging to its gilded surface meant he’d just used it. Its bottom had been etched to create the imprint of a castle upon the wax, the word ‘Dunnottar’ scrawled elegantly beneath it.
Replacing the fob, she sat back in the chair, reaching for the long, slender drawer built in just beneath the top of the desk. Inside rested several stacks of neatly placed stationary, several beautiful, filigreed quill pens, an extra inkwell, and a collection of other odds and ends. Among it all, a handful of square envelopes rested, stamped with the wax and seal she’d just inspected.
She furrowed her brow, retrieving one of the envelopes from the drawer and turning it over in her hands. Its shape and size left no question that she held an invitation in her hand. The other identical envelopes numbered few, leading her to believe they must be for a dinner party. Invitations would likely number in the hundreds for a ball hosted at a home the size of Dunnottar. No names had been scrawled on the front of them, so she could not know who he would be inviting to the keep. With a sigh, she placed the envelope carefully back in its place before closing the drawer.
In a typical household, invitations of this sort would be chosen by the lady, sent off with her seal. Bachelors might rely on a man of business or even their mothers to see the job done. Yet, in the absence of either, it seemed Adam took the task on himself. Who had he invited to Dunnottar, and for what purpose? Would they arrive while she resided here?
Shaking her head, she decided it had no bearing upon her quest for the truth. Unless her father or Bertram were among his guests—a highly improbable possibility—it was none of her concern.
She made quick work of exploring the rest of the desk, opening two larger drawers to the left of his chair to reveal a humidor filled with cigars and a cedar chest holding a pair of revolvers.
Having now grown bored with the desk and study, she stood and made a hasty exit, pausing at the door to peer into the corridor and ensure no servants happened past. Slipping out into the hallway, she continued on her way, uncertain where to go now. Adam had not divulged which rooms in the castle might be his favorites, nor had she seen him anywhere except this study, the drawing room where they had taken breakfast, and the music room.
The gallery, she recalled suddenly, spinning on her heel and heading in the opposite direction.
Her steps quickened as she neared the great hall and the corridor stretching toward the other wing of the ground floor. The fencing equipment she’d seen in the gallery meant he must spend time there practicing. That he had left his study when the day had hardly begun told her be must be restless. She found a bout of fencing to be just the thing when her mind became disquieted and wondered if he could be of a similar mind.
Sure enough, the sound of metal striking metal reached out to her as she neared the gallery, the shuffle of footsteps mingling with panting breaths. As she turned into the long, wide space, she spied two men in fencing attire, masks obscuring their faces. Despite being of large stature, they both moved with fluid dexterity, displaying impressive skill with the épées they wielded.
The first man was, undoubtedly, Adam, his large body moving with all the grace of a big cat, his long hair spilling from beneath his headwear and hanging down his back. The other must surely be Niall—the only other man in the castle as large and imposing as Adam.
Leaning against a nearby wall, she watched them go at each other, duly impressed with the way they seemed to know each other, moving back and forth as if in a dance instead of a fight.
Within minutes, Adam had bested his butler, striking the winning point and bringing an end to their bout. Niall removed his mask first, slipping it up to rest on top of his head. Unlike the other times she’d laid eyes upon him, he smiled, easing the harsh lines of his face into an almost handsome visage. Adam followed suit, pulling his mask away completely and shaking his head, causing his hair to undulate, the wavy strands kissed by the sunlight streaming through the large gallery windows.
The two spoke, but she heard nothing more than the low rumble of voices, her distance from them too far for her to discern words. Suddenly, Niall lifted his head and glanced in her direction. She felt it the moment his gaze fell upon her, all the warmth fading from his expression. A chill raced down her spine, followed by a tremor when the butler murmured something to Adam, prompting him to turn and glance at her over his shoulder.
Her throat constricted when he crooked his finger at her, demanding her to come to him without speaking. She’d wanted this, hadn’t she? To find him, speak to him, figure out a way to uncover the things he hid from her.
But as she forced her legs into motion and began the long walk down the gallery toward them, fear lanced through her, turning her stomach. The two men had turned to face her, watching her approach, and the memory of the last time she’d been caught between them opened a pit of anxiety in her gut.
Choking down bitter bile, she fixed her face into an expression of indifference as she came near, the mingled scents of both males and the tang of their sweat making her stomach lurch, heat blossoming in her middle. Adam studied her with unguarded interest, his gaze raking her from head to toe. Conversely, Niall watched her with clear derision in his eyes, as if he would rip her to shreds with his bare hands should he be given half a chance.
“Well,” Adam drawled when she stood before them, hands clasped demurely before them. “When Maeve told me you’d refused lunch, I did not think to see you again until dinner. What brings you here, little dove?”
His downright jovial manner took her aback, a complete departure from the man who had confronted her in the meadow, demanding she open her eyes and face the hideous truth.
“I … I have a proposition for you,” she stammered, her face heating when Niall chuckled in reaction to her statement.
Adam raised an eyebrow and traded amused glances with his butler. “A proposition, eh? Niall, you’d better make yourself scarce … the lady wishes topropositionme.”
Pursing his lips, the butler leveled an annoyed glare at her, but swiftly removed his headgear and fencing attire he’d donned over his breeches, shirt, and waistcoat. Hanging them on a nearby rack, he retrieved his tailcoat, swiftly slipping it on before executing a stiff bow.
“As you wish, Master,” he murmured, casting her another malevolent glare before leaving them.
