Blood Secret (16 page)
Blasted moors. Nighttime had brought a plunge in the temperature, and the pelting rain had turned into stinging, bouncing hail. Small ice pellets danced on the rocky ground and encased the matted grass in an icy coating.
Sinjin paced through the rear garden, alongside the high granite wall. He’d planned to smoke a cheroot, but instead, he hunched his shoulders and let the hail punish him as he prowled back and forth.
There was no way he was going to kill her. There was no question in his mind now, and his duty could go to hell. But how did he protect Lucy and her family from his bloody prince? For he suspected Lucy would never let him spare her but murder her brother and sisters.
That gave him a moment’s pause—not killing Lucy meant he also had to save her damned brother, and he wasn’t sure Jack Drake, the Earl of Wrenshire, deserved to be saved. There was a hell of a lot Lucy did not know about her brother.
But he couldn’t take her family and leave her alive. He would be consigning her to the same hell he had endured. It would be torture. It would be worse than killing her.
How many times, when he’d been young, had he wished he could have been taken along with his mother and father, his brother and sisters?
Sparing Lucy and her family meant putting James in mortal peril. How did he ensure his nephew was safe?
He could take James and run, but that would leave Lucy in London without his protection. If he fled somewhere like Africa, America, Tortola ... would Lucy come with him? Would she do it willingly? He would also bring her sisters, as they were younger, innocent, female, and therefore unable to protect themselves. Her damned brother could fend for himself.
The prince would try to hunt him down. The demon commanded disciples all over the world. Alone, Sinjin could survive. But encumbered with a five-year-old child and three women would he have any hope of evading capture? By taking them to “safety,” would he be condemning them all to death?
Kill Lucy and he guaranteed James’s safety.
Another child’s screams echoed in his head. Desperate wails of terror and pain. He knew what a dying child sounded like. He’d heard his younger brother die.
Could he do it? If he coaxed Lucy to convert to dragon form, he would just be killing a beast—
No. No, he couldn’t do it. He’d cut out his own heart first. He’d walk outdoors at noon and let the sun burn him to dust. In fact, he would do any of those things now if he did not have to protect James. His death would serve no purpose—if he destroyed himself rather than kill Lucy, the prince would send another slayer in his place.
The only way to keep Lucy alive was to make her run away with him. They would never have peace, they would never feel safe, but at least they would be alive—
Beneath the clatter of hail, the howl of the wind, Sinjin heard a new sound. The low rumble of human voices. Male voices, he guessed, from the husky, deep tones. He pressed his hand to the wall, and strained to hear beyond the angry sounds of the storm.
Footsteps, coming up on the path he had spotted before, one that wound down through the moors. Two men, both striding quickly through the pelting hail, and far enough away he could not make out the words, only the pauses when one would wait for the other to speak. He couldn’t hear the men distinctly with the wall between them, so Sinjin jumped to the top of the wall, and crouched there, listening.
He could see easily in the dark, but the reflective hail disoriented him for a few minutes. He trained his eyes hard on the empty expanse of the moors, the hills blurred by a veil of ice pellets and darkness. Finally, Sinjin distinguished the ribbon of the path. Then he spotted two figures on it.
Two greatcoats swung as the men strode up the hill. Beaver hats covered their heads, hid their faces. “What are you going to do?” one of them asked. “Take her to him?”
Her?
They had to be coming to the house—the path led to it and there was nothing else around. Who did the man mean? Lucy? They were not here for James, then.
They had to be coming to the house—the path led to it and there was nothing else around. Who did the man mean? Lucy? They were not here for James, then.
Sinjin tried to look into their minds, but there was a shield against his probing mind. Which meant they were not mortal. Dragons, most likely.
Hail hit his face, stinging like needles. Crouched on the top of the wall, Sinjin almost laughed—he had fought dragons, had almost had his limbs torn out, and he was, in truth, dead—but the prickling pellets of ice irritated him.
“It’s the only choice I have,” the other man answered.
“He’ll destroy her.”
At those words, Sinjin’s heart thudded faster.
“He won’t. He promised me that he won’t. He wants her. He’ll keep her alive, keep her for himself. She won’t be harmed. And it’s either give her to him, where she’ll be kept safe, or die.” The second man’s voice was softer. It was hoarse and pleading, weak and desperate.
It was also a voice Sinjin knew. It was the voice of Lucy’s brother.
Who in Hades was the “he” that the earl was talking about? And was the “her” actually Lucy, or one of her sisters? Lucy had told him that her younger sister intended to marry a lecherous old rake to save the family fortunes. Was it that union that her brother was talking about?
His instincts told him it wasn’t, that Wrenshire was talking about Lucy. It explained why her brother was coming to this house—he had been told Lucy was here. The men were silent now—Sinjin couldn’t hear anything else. Perched on the wall, with his hand resting on it for balance, he thought over the conversation he’d heard.
Wrenshire’s companion had warned Lucy could be destroyed. Her brother had assured the man she wouldn’t. Hell, the brother had racked up a debt of thirty thousand pounds to him. Sinjin suspected the brother would sell any one of his sisters’ souls for his own purposes. He believed Lucy’s brother was lying. Gut instinct warned that Lucy was in danger. He had no idea from what or from whom, but instinct had kept him alive when he battled dragons, and his senses were screaming at him now.
That damned brother would betray her.
He wasn’t going to lose her.
James was in the house, potentially an innocent victim. Fear made his fangs explode out of his mouth. Coat swirling around him, Sinjin jumped down from the wall and ran back to the house.
Lucy stood at the window of her bedroom, her nose pressed to the cool glass pane.
Despite the sated exhaustion that came after orgasms, she had not been able to sleep. She had tried, tossing and turning in her bed. She had tried every position possible in which to sleep, even on top of the covers, with her head at the bottom of the bed.
Nothing had worked.
Finally she had gotten up. She had changed into her nightdress, had plaited her hair. She fiddled with the end of the braid as she looked out of the window. An hour earlier, she had watched Sinjin stride past. At first, she’d felt fear: Was he planning to go to the village? Was he still hungry? Then she had run down the corridor to an unused bedroom. She had plastered herself to the glass of the big window. There was almost no light, but she had spotted the reflection of his eyes as he had looked back to the house. She had barely followed that gleam as it moved alongside the garden wall—dragons did have superior eyesight. It took a while to understand he was pacing, up and down along the high stone wall, in the freezing hail.
Why?
What was tormenting him so?
She had returned to her room. Her dress and shoes waited for her—it had been so tempting to get dressed, then go to hunt Sinjin down and force him to talk. But she suspected he would refuse to tell her anything. Likely he would walk away from her again.
So she had stayed at the window, unsure what to do—she who had been forced to take charge in her family after her mother’s death. She hadn’t been able to allow herself to be uncertain. But she was doing so now.
She had been watching for him to come in, and now she saw him. Long legs ate up the stretch of paths that ran through the garden. His hat was gone, and ice had frosted his hair. Sinjin looked up at her window, and she recoiled at the fierce look on his face. It was a look of agony. Of fear.
Lucy pulled on her robe and rushed out of her room. She was halfway down the steps to the foyer when Sinjin ran in from the servants’ door. Ice coated his shoulders and arms, crackling as he moved. His hair glinted with it, as though diamonds were sprinkled on his head. He charged to the door, and checked the bolt, giving it an extra, incredibly strong shove to ensure it was drawn tight.
“What is it?”
Lucy hurried down one more step, but she was so focused on him, she felt her foot stumble on a lump. Her skirt snagged tight and she lost her balance. She’d stepped on her nightgown hem. She slipped, the lace snagged on her foot like a noose, and she gasped, falling forward—
Sinjin grasped her in his embrace. He had leapt up half a staircase, and landed on the step in front of her, snatching her up in his arms to save her. “Careful, love, I’m not losing you now.”
Confusion left her head reeling. His hands wrapped around her upper arms, holding her tight. She frowned into his glittering silver-green eyes. “Two hours ago, you voluntarily stalked out, determined to stay away from me. Now you are telling me you don’t want to let me go. What do you want, Sinjin?”
“Apparently the impossible,” he muttered. Then he began to run. He did not bother to set her on her feet. Instead he whisked her so quickly up the stairs, she felt as if she’d flown up them. He kept her cradled against his chest, and for the first time, she heard his heartbeat—fast and hard and exactly like a human heartbeat. “Your heart—”
They were racing down the corridor, toward James’s room.
“We are in danger, love. All of us: you, James, and I. We have to escape.”
Faintly, Lucy heard the pounding at the door. Her heart stuttered. “Who is it?”
“Get some boots on, love, and get your cloak. We have to get out—there won’t be time to take a carriage. We’ll go out on the moors, and wait for our chance to come back and get horses. Or we’ll get to the village—”
“Stop!” She struggled in his arms. She trusted him, but she would not be carried around the house by a terrified man with no explanation. “Put me down! Who is it? We cannot go out on the moors in the night, in a hailstorm.”
The soft scurry of boots over the foyer tiles made Sinjin curse. “Damn servants. Of course they will open the door.”
“They won’t. I will stop—”
“Open up! Damnation, come and open this door. This is the Earl of Wrenshire.” Jack’s enraged shout came through the door—Lucy could hear it from so far away because of her dragon’s blood.
Sinjin had stopped, but he had not let her go. “You can put me down,” she said firmly. “It is my brother. There is nothing to worry about. I will not allow him to keep James. I know how to handle my brother.”
“Not this time, you don’t, Lucy. I overheard him talking outside, as he walked up to the house. He has come to fetch you, love, for someone who might destroy you.”
That stunned her. It was hard to find her voice. So when it came, it exploded from her lips. “
Who?
What are you
talking
about?”
Who?
What are you
talking
about?”
A grating sound echoed up from below. One of the footmen had pulled back the bolt. Then the door creaked open, and footsteps thudded hard on tile.
“I’ve come to see my sister. Is she still here?” The fierce, commanding shout had come from Jack.
“Yes, my lord.”
Sinjin was listening, distracted, and Lucy took advantage to slide out of his grip. But as she took a step toward the stairs, his arm snaked around her waist. Gripping her tight, he hauled her against his body. Her back slammed against his rock-hard, muscular chest. “Don’t go to him. He is going to betray you.”
She tried to push against his arm, but she would have had more luck toppling the granite wall that surrounded the house. His arm didn’t move. “He has already betrayed me,” she snapped in a whisper. “He built a mountain of debt, then ran off to live in a brothel. I’m accustomed to his betrayals. There is nothing he can do to surprise me.”
“There is, love. Believe me. He told his friend that he had come to bring you to someone—someone who promised your brother not to destroy you. What would he be willing to do to escape debt or to get money to pay his way out of it? Would he be willing to give you up to a dragon slayer? Or to something worse?”
“I—” She wanted to shout that Jack wouldn’t do such a thing. But he’d been willing to marry Helena to an old lecherous pig. He’d deserted them rather than face his debts and problems like a gentleman. There was the dragon-slayer coin.
“Come with me, Lucy. I have to take James away now since I don’t know what your brother would do to him. If you are with me, I can protect you.”
She had hesitated too long—her brother’s footsteps were racing over the floor. He would be coming to the stairs. She slumped back against the hard wall of Sinjin’s body. In her heart, she wanted to keep him with her—she needed him for his strength, needed him as she had not allowed herself to need anyone since her fiancé’s attack. But she had to be strong: a five-year-old boy depended on them both. “Take James and get him safely away, Sinjin. I can stall my brother, so you and James can escape.”
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