Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 1) (22 page)

“That blasted housekeeper has cleaned the place out. There’s not even a jar of preserves. I bet her family’s supping like lords.”

On the journey, the coachman had procured a meat pie and ale, but that had been hours ago. Her stomach rumbled at the prospect of a whole day and night without food.

“I’ll send the coachman out,” he continued, “the man will surely be able to find us something to eat.” He sighed and pushed his hand through the mop of golden hair. “Come, there are things I must attend to, letters to write, plans for our departure.”

“Departure? But I thought we were staying here.”

Sutherby jerked his head back. “Only for this evening. If Hale comes looking for you, he’ll follow the road north. We’ll wait until tomorrow before setting out for Scotland.”

Evelyn gulped. The man truly was insane.

He lifted his bare hand to stroke her cheek, and she turned her head in disgust.

“I’ve decided this will be our family home,” he said, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. “We will consummate our alliance here this evening. You will have no option but to marry me then.” He lowered his hand and placed his palm over her stomach. “Surely you would not wish our child to be born out of wedlock?”

“Our child! Have you gone completely mad?”

Catching him off guard, Evelyn tugged at the slackened rope in his hand and made a dart for the door. Before she could catch her breath, Sutherby was behind her, and he swung her around, pulled her to his chest and kissed her roughly on the mouth.

“Do not mistake my kind overtures,” he said breaking contact. “I shall spill my seed inside you before the night is out. Whether you wish it so or not.”

Without giving so much as a frown, he pulled her up the stairs and into the master chamber. Looping the rope around the bedpost, he secured it tightly, giving her no option but to sit on the bed. Taking another piece of rope, he grabbed her wrist and tied her other hand to the opposite post.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” he said, offering a friendly smile full of warmth and kindness. “And then I shall make you mine.”

“I’m telling you we’ve come too far. We’re heading in the wrong direction.” Alexander folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the carriage door. The feel of the cool night breeze upon his face brought a welcome relief from its oppressive confines.

“It won’t hurt to check,” Elliot said, banging on the door of the coaching inn.

“We need to turn around.”

They’d only come as far as Barnet. With every stage of the twelve-mile journey, he’d felt his connection to Evelyn weaken. Now, the invisible threads were strained to the point he feared they might snap.

Alexander had not set foot inside a carriage for two years, let alone take a long journey in one. During the first few miles, he had struggled to breathe. The lack of air to his lungs made it too difficult to think. When the faint images of Stony Cross first penetrated his addled mind, interspersed with pictures of a brooding castle and the Devil’s disciple, he dismissed them. But the forest in Bavaria was soon overshadowed by the forest in Hampshire, the mouth of Satan soon replaced by the soft, sweet lips of an angel.

“No one fitting their description has passed through,” Elliot said, coming to stand before him. “I’d have known if he was lying.”

Alexander straightened. “We need to go to Hampshire.”

Elliot glanced up at the night sky. “But it’s a twelve-hour journey, not including the two hours we’ve wasted travelling here or time to rest the horses.”

“She’s in Hampshire. I sense it.”

“If we turn back, and they’re on their way to Scotland, you’ll never catch up with them.”

“I know. But something feels wrong. I need to go back.”

“You’re certain this is the course you wish to take?”

Alexander fell silent, mindful of the strange sensation in his chest whenever he thought of Evelyn. Somehow, their souls were connected. He had to trust in the power of whatever wonderful spell fate had woven. He had to trust his instincts.

“She’s in Hampshire. I know it.”

Elliot sighed. “Very well. Hampshire it is.” His expression darkened. “We’ll not get there until dusk. Sutherby’s been alone with her for —”

“You do not need to remind me,” he said through gritted teeth.

Elliot held his hands up. “I just think you need to be prepared. There’s no telling what situation we may find.”

Alexander stepped forward, his gaze hard and unforgiving. “If he’s harmed her in any way, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to drain every drop of blood from his pathetic little body until there’s nothing left but a limp, withered shell.”

“I understand your need for vengeance, my friend. But I won’t let you. I won’t let you become the monster you’ve spent so long trying to avoid. Why do you think I went back for provisions?”

“Perhaps it’s time I stopped hiding. Perhaps it’s time I accepted who I really am.”

“And what will you tell Miss Bromwell?”

“The truth.”

She deserved nothing less. He should never have left it so long.

Elliot gripped his shoulder. “Whatever has happened in the past, you’re a good man, Alexander. Always remember that.”

The apprehension in Elliot’s tone caused doubt to flare, but he brushed it aside. Elliot issued instructions to his coachman, and as they settled into their seats, he pulled the stopper from the bottle of blood and swigged the contents.

“What does it feel like?” Elliot said, his gaze curious as he lounged back against the plush squab. “What does it feel like to love another with all your heart?”

How could one define something so perfect, something so profound?

Alexander smiled. “It feels like heaven.”

Chapter 23

Evelyn was lying on the bed, her hands still tied to the posts, when Mr. Sutherby entered. She shot up and scrambled back, her feet slipping against the coverlet in her haste to reach the headboard.

“Here we are,” he said putting the tray down onto the end of the bed. “Thankfully, Briggs managed to find a few provisions down in the village, enough to tide us over until tomorrow. I’ll just nip and get the wine.”

She stared at the silver tray. The decorative plates contained a varied assortment: slices of salt beef, cheese, scotch eggs, and pickles. The cutlery was tarnished, and there were a few wilting tulips presented in a crystal bud vase.

Mr. Sutherby returned, minus his coat, with a pitcher of wine and two glasses and he placed them on the dressing table. It was only when he raised his hand to pour that she noticed the hunting knife, sheathed and tucked into the band of his breeches.

“What time is it?” she asked, glancing at the window. The sky’s orange-brown glow heralded the onset of dusk. Had Alexander heard her plea? As the daylight faded, so did all hope.

“It’s almost eight.” Mr. Sutherby walked over to the bed and untied one hand, rubbing the grazed skin at her wrist before bringing her a glass of wine, to which she turned up her nose. “Drink it. It will make the evening much more pleasant, make you feel more congenial.”

Congenial to what? She’d need a hundred barrels to ease her anxiety. Perhaps if she showed willing, he might untie the other rope, and so she took the wine whilst offering a feigned smile.

Mr. Sutherby proceeded to light a few candles before drawing the drapes. “Forgive me,” he said coming to join her on the bed, and her racing heart settled when he began distributing the food between two plates. “I’ve left you alone for far too long, but I wanted to give you time to rest. I wanted to give you time to become accustomed to the idea of a lifelong partnership.”

“A gentleman would have been more attentive,” she said, trying to keep her tone even when all she wanted to do was rant and curse. “A gentleman would not hurt a lady in such a vile and despicable manner.”

He glanced at the rope and looked genuinely sorry. “When we are wed, I shall make amends. When you’re mine, I shall devote my life to your happiness. And you will soon see this as a necessary step to secure our future.”

She took the plate he offered with an eager hand, her grumbling stomach feeling no prejudice. Having spent the whole day alone in the room, she’d been so ravenous she’d have eaten the bed sheets. And so she grabbed a piece of beef and tore at it like a fox would a rabbit.

Mr. Sutherby stared at her, and she froze mid-mouthful.

“You see,” he said offering a smile. “You feel more comfortable with me already. You’ll be pleased to hear that I have had a rather productive day. I have written to your aunt—”

“My aunt?” Poor Aunt Bea would be worried beyond measure. “What have you said to her?”

“I’ve explained our need to elope and ask she wait for our return before announcing the wonderful news.”

What in blazes was wrong with him? Either he was too simple to appreciate the gravity of his actions or was too cunning to care.

“And what need forces us to take such drastic action?” she said, her anger rising to the surface.

“As your aunt heartily approves of our match, there is only one reason why a couple would elope.” Mr. Sutherby placed his plate back on the tray. “Don’t get upset. I’ll be as gentle as I can. When you’re used to it, it can be a very pleasurable experience.” His beady gaze drifted up the length of her leg and he moistened his lips. “Perhaps we should dispense with all of this and just get on with—”

“You’ll leave me the hell alone.”

“I had hoped the meal and conversation would settle your nerves, but I can sense your apprehension and fear.” He stood and moved the tray to the floor. “It is to be expected. The process will be easier if you relax a little.”

Relax! Evelyn felt nauseous at the thought of him touching her. She’d fight him until her last breath, which proved to be futile. Picking up the piece of rope still attached to the post, he grabbed her wrist, holding it between both hands before securing it tightly.

“Leave me the hell alone,” she cried, the tugging action only causing the rope to burn into the raw skin.

Mr. Sutherby stood back with his hands on his hips as he surveyed her clothing. “It would be easier if you were undressed as I detest the fumbling about. But I’ve waited long enough. Besides, it will appease your need for modesty and I shall just have to use my imagination.”

Evelyn watched him place the knife on the dressing table. She kicked him as he crawled up onto the bed and he grabbed her ankles and sat on them while he unbuttoned the fall of his breeches.

“It will be over quite quickly, I fear.”

“Get off me! I’ll never marry you.” She writhed back and forth but felt his cold hands slide up her thighs, the icy chill freezing her blood. “Get your damn hands off me.”

“Once I breach your maidenhead,” he panted, pressing down on top of her until she could hardly breathe, “we will be eternally joined.”

“You’re too late,” she cried, the words accompanied by a sinister chuckle. “I have already given myself to another.”

Mr. Sutherby froze but then snorted. “Your lies don’t fool me. Nothing you can say will stop me taking you tonight.”

“No,” a deep masculine voice roared, “but I bloody well will.”

Suddenly the room appeared brighter, and she could breathe again. When she looked up, the first thing she saw was Mr. Sutherby’s feet dangling in the air, his legs jerking back and forth like a
marionette
and then she heard the loud thud as Alexander threw him to the floor.

Alexander.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, relief causing her to sigh.

Oblivious to Mr. Sutherby’s cries of protest, she stared as Alexander delivered a heavy blow to the man’s stomach. For good measure, he punched Sutherby on the nose, the blood spurting almost instantly.

“Alexander. You came.”

Leaving Mr. Sutherby in a crumpled heap, he rushed to her side and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Has he hurt you?” he said, cupping her face and kissing her softly on the mouth.

Evelyn shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” She stared into his silver-blue eyes, the rush of love and longing taking her breath away. “You came,” she repeated softly. “You came just in time.”

“I’d have been here sooner but—”

“I know, the wind has caused no end of trouble on the roads.”

With deft fingers, he untied the ropes binding her to the bed. When he saw the pinky-red welts branded into her skin, he cursed. “I may yet kill him for what he’s done to you.”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll heal. All that matters is you’re here.”

She could feel the anger emanating from him, the vibration wild and erratic.

“It took every ounce of strength I possess not to rip his throat out,” he said bringing her wrist to his lips and raining featherlight kisses along the grooved sores.

“It would only serve to cause an even greater scandal.”

His expression grew dark. “About Sutherby. He … he thinks you’re an heiress.”

“An heiress? Why would he think that?”

“There was some confusion at the solicitor’s office. He was told you’d inherit five thousand pounds upon marriage.” Alexander shook his head. “I’m sorry.”