Page 39 of The Villain
“No!” the woman cried out, attacking Daphne as if her life depended upon it. “No, I will not let you take her from me!”
Raising her hands to defend herself, she twisted and bucked beneath the woman, but madness seemed to lend her strength. A cry for help burned in her throat, lodged there by panic and held there by fear. The woman went on screaming and clawing at her, spittle flying from her mouth, her nightgown falling off one shoulder, hair surrounding them both in a tangled haze of blackness.
Then, as suddenly as she’d fallen onto Daphne, she was gone, a pair of strong hands hauling her up.
Struggling to catch her breath, Daphne crawled swiftly backward, her heart thundering in her chest as she watched Adam wrestle with the enraged woman.
“It’s all right, Livvie,” he murmured, his voice firm but gentle as he took hold of her arms and gave her a little shake. “I am here. It’s me … it’s Hart.”
The woman stilled in his arms, stiffening, then deflating, her tiny body wilting like a flower in the absence of sunlight. “Hart?”
Daphne’s lower lip trembled. There was awe and love in her voice as she uttered the shortened version of his title as if she cherished it … cherishedhim.
“Aye, butterfly,” he whispered, his voice cracking on the affectionate nickname. “Hart … I am here. I’m always here.”
Nodding, the woman—Livvie, or butterfly, as Adam had called her—fell into another bout of sobs, lowering her head and curtaining her face with her hair again.
“Where were you?” she cried, her tiny voice hoarse and raspy from screaming. “Where were you, Hart?”
He sank to one knee when she collapsed, keeping his arms tight around her as she curled into herself and nestled against him, sobs wracking her body.
“I’m sorry, butterfly,” he replied, his voice a low, gruff whisper, as tortured as her scream-roughened tone. “I’m here now … always.”
Another large shadow appeared from the darkness, and Daphne gazed up to find Niall descending upon them, his face white as a sheet, the harsh lines made more prominent by the worry creasing his brow.
Kneeling beside Adam, he ignored her, offering his Master a clear bottle corked with a wooden stopper. The sickeningly sweet aroma of laudanum emitted from the open bottle as it was held to the woman’s lips. Her cries subsided as she latched onto the bottle like a babe suckling from its mother, low whimpers sounding in the back of her throat as she gulped the drug that was said to cure all ailments.
Daphne’s jaw dropped as the girl consumed an amount that seemed far too much for a person of her size. Yet, once she had finished and Adam removed the bottle from her lips, she closed her eyes and sighed with relief, the tension in her limbs melting away. A soft smile curved her mouth, and her eyes grew glassy and unfocused, peace stilling her.
Studying her features no longer obscured by her hair, Daphne experienced a strong sense of déjà vu. She knew this woman … or, at least, had been introduced to her in the past. Before she could determine when and where, Adam was on his feet, the woman cradled in his arms like a babe. Handing her, and the laudanum, off to Niall, he scowled.
“Take her to her chamber,” he said, the usual sternness in his voice replaced by a weariness that caused Daphne’s heart to plummet into her gut. “Stay with her … she responds more readily to you.”
The butler gazed down at the woman in his arms and nodded, a lone tear tracking down his craggy cheek. He glanced up to find her staring and frowned, murder gleaming in his eyes. Daphne swallowed past the lump in her throat, frozen in his fiery stare.
“Niall!” Adam snapped, breaking whatever thrall the butler had fallen under. “Now!”
The man clenched his jaw, but nodded, returning his attention to the woman, murmuring something to her as he turned away and continued down the corridor, eventually falling out of sight.
For a long moment, Adam simply stood there, gazing at her much the same way Niall had—as if wanting to destroy her, tear her apart and leave her lying in pieces on the carpet. But he said nothing, and eventually turned to walk away, taking the opposite direction as the butler.
Scrambling to her feet, Daphne turned to watch him go, her stomach twisting, her heart squeezing painfully.
“Adam,” she called out, stumbling after him, her dressing gown tangling with her legs as she struggled to keep pace with him. “Adam, wait!”
His shoulders tensed beneath the wrinkled white linen of his shirt, but he kept walking, refusing to turn back. He continued toward his study, hands balled into fists, his back hard and unrelenting.
Maeve appeared, seemingly from thin air, rushing toward them with wide eyes, her skirts clutched in her hands.
“Master!” she called out. “I came as soon as I heard. Niall … is he—”
“Tend Lady Daphne,” he snapped, swiveling toward the door of his study and throwing it open.
Daphne skidded to a stop before she could bump into him, gasping as he turned to look at her, allowing her an unobstructed view of his face for a swift second. Then, he was gone, swallowed into the cavernous room, slamming the door so hard, it trembled in the frame.
She stood there for a moment in shocked silence, her lips parted and her breath rushing in short pants. Her mind reeled from what she’d just witnessed, still not certain she understood what it meant.
The mysterious woman who had clearly lost her grip upon reality, the tender way both Adam and Niall had handled her, the clear affection between them.
