Page 52 of The Villain
“Can Daphne come?” the girl asked, oblivious to the tension tightening her uncle’s jaw and darkening his eyes. “She has red hair, just like me!”
“Aye. That, she does,” Adam said, his tone becoming harsh and biting as he swiveled his gaze in her direction. “But Lady Daphne will be going now. Her visit at Dunnottar has now come to an end. You will not be seeing her again.”
Serena looked as if she wanted to protest, but Olivia stepped in, taking the child’s hand.
“Come along,” she urged her daughter. “I shall try to talk Niall into bringing us a pot of chocolate from the kitchen. Would that not be lovely?”
The girl forgot Daphne at the news of hot chocolate and skipped from the room beside her mother.
She watched them go, desperation making her heart pound. It lay on the tip of her tongue to call out to them, to beg them not to leave her alone in the room with Adam. But her tongue had turned into some unwieldy, useless thing taking up space inside her mouth. Words failed her. She could only sit there, locked in Adam’s gaze and shaking like a tree battered by a raging storm.
His face hardened once they were alone, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing with green and gold tongues of fire. His hair had been pulled back, but a few strands hung around his travel-weary face. Dust clung to his boots, his clothes wrinkled. He must have just arrived home, coming straight to the nursery to greet his niece.
Her chin trembled, the realization of what would happen next slamming into her with all the force of a battering ram.
“Adam,” she squeaked, managing to find her voice. “I can explain …”
“Get up,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at her.
Her limbs moved on their own accord, as if responding to his command. She shot to her feet, her legs tingling as blood rushed back into them, her head spinning from the sudden movement.
His arm shot out through the space between them, his hand clenching around her upper arm in a bruising grip. Without a word, he was hauling her toward the door, not bothering to shorten his long strides for her. She stumbled along, forced to practically run to keep up due to his bruising grip on her arm. The limb throbbed, her fingers tingling and going numb from lack of blood. Turning down a bend in the hallway, they now traversed the one leading to the front of the palace … the one holding her guest chamber.
The concealed nursery had sat in the corridor Adam had forbidden her to go into. Her heart dropped into the pit of her gut and remained there, his intent clear as he continued dragging her, blowing past the open door of her chamber.
“Adam, wait,” she pleaded, digging her heels into the floor to try to impede their progress. “Please …”
He merely tightened his grip and kept walking, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of servants who ventured past them, some pausing in their tasks to look on with slack jaws. Maeve appeared, trotting toward them with horror written on her features.
“Master—”
“Gather the clothing Lady Daphne arrived with,” he barked without so much as a glance in her direction. “She is leaving.”
Tears sprung to Daphne’s eyes as she tore at the hand wrapped around her arm, desperate to explain, to free herself from his hold.
“Please, I beg you,” she tried again. “It was an accident, Adam. I did not mean—”
Her words broke off on a cry when he abruptly stopped, swinging her around to face him. The wrath contorting his features frightened her to her core, the bite of his fingers around her arm nothing compared to the heat of his searing glare.
“I warned you,” he ground out, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. “I believe I was quite clear about what would happen if you disobeyed my directive.”
“Then you never intended to tell me about her? A child born of my family … my own blood?” she accused.
Taking her other arm in his free hand, he shook her as if she weighed no more than a rag doll. “Serena might look like a Fairchild, but she is a Callahan. You have no claim to her, and now that you are leaving, will never have contact with her again.”
“Do you think you need to protect her fromme?” she sobbed, hot tears splashing her face. “She is my niece … I would never—”
“No,” he spat, his upper lip curling in disgust. “You willnever… because you are leaving this instant. Our agreement became null and void the second you stepped foot inside the nursery.”
The sound of footsteps drew Daphne’s gaze to Maeve, who had come dashing down the corridor, a rough burlap sack slung over her shoulder. She handed the sack reluctantly to Adam, who released one of Daphne’s arms to take it.
“Master, perhaps you should—”
“Finish that sentence, and I will throw you out beside her,” he roared, leveling a heated glare at the maid.
She shrank away from them, casting an apologetic glance at Daphne before turning to walk away.
“Do not do this,” she begged, turning her tear-filled eyes to Adam. “I will be good … I will do whatever you want … Let you do whatever you want to me. I cannot return to London with nothing.”
