Chapter 17
“The West Tower?” The Dowager Duchess set down her fork with the particular care of someone buying herself a moment. “You have not ventured into it?”
“No… Not yet,” Juliana said carefully.
It was the fourth evening since the morning in the meadow, and Anabelle had arrived that afternoon with the energy of a woman determined to observe everything and comment on most of it.
The formal dining room had been lit for the occasion, the good china brought out, and candles casting warm light across the three of them.
“Well, it is a drafty old thing,” Anabelle said, waving a hand.
“We had moved the nurseries to the East Wing because of it. That was long before Cassian’s time, of course.
” Her eyes took on that quality Juliana had come to recognize; the look of someone whose gaze had traveled beyond the dining room.
“Oh, what was Cassian like as a child? Did he often drift off to the West Tower?” she asked, hoping she was asking the right questions. Yet she was already feeling caution drift away, her curiosity taking over as usual. Cassian’s jaw looked like marble.
“Cassian always did have a penchant for cold places as a boy. He liked to sit up there. Used to say the cold cleared his head.” She smiled faintly. “But now…”
The Dowager glanced at Cassian, who cleared his throat, and the silence that followed seemed to have breathed a life of its own.
Juliana’s heart sank. They were all thinking the same thing.
The Duke of Stonevale no longer liked the cold these days.
It had become a predator that gnawed on his nerves, leaving him in unimaginable pain, which he refused to talk about.
“I have grown better fond of the warmth as of late,” Cassian confirmed with a growl. His eyes remained on the beef on his plate, his grip on his fork tightening.
His grandmother accepted it with the grace of long practice.
“His sister, Marta, loved it even more, of course,” Anabelle said in the absent, reminiscing way of the elderly, as if the words had simply slipped out before she could catch them.
Juliana kept her expression perfectly composed and said nothing. She did not dare look at Cassian.
His sister?
She was very puzzled. It was intriguing that there were no portraits of Marta in Stonevale and that nobody mentioned her in conversation.
She also wondered why she had never met Marta.
However, she was too afraid to ask where Marta was.
What if Marta were dead? She did not want to reopen old wounds.
Then again, it was the old lady who had mentioned her.
Still, she decided to investigate quietly, her heart already racing with possibilities.
“More wine, Grandmama?” Cassian said quietly.
Shortly after, Juliana told them she was unwell and excused herself. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and images: the West Tower, the scream, the Dowager Duchess’s face as she realized she had mentioned Marta in front of Juliana, and the absence of Cassian’s sister.
Why all these secrets? What if I am being haunted by Marta’s spirit?
A couple of hours later, the house had settled into silence, and the Dowager Duchess had also returned to the Dower House, only half an hour away from Stonevale.
Cassian was somewhere else in the house, and the servants had retreated to their rooms. Even though Juliana was afraid of being haunted or of what she might find, her curiosity won.
She told herself she was simply going to look.
It seemed the tower smelled different from the rest of Stonevale.
It carried the scent of foreboding and regret.
Juliana walked the halls toward the forbidden tower.
She climbed, her lungs straining as the air grew colder.
It was also getting colder, but she at least had a thick robe around her.
Her candle threw restless shadows on the curved walls as she climbed, her heartbeat rather louder than she would have liked.
She had almost reached the top when footsteps sounded behind her.
“Where do you think you are going?”
She spun so quickly that the candle flame lurched to the side. Cassian stood on the stairs below her, his shirt half undone, his hair disheveled, as though he had been on the verge of retiring and had been seized by a premonition of precisely this.
“I wanted to see the West Tower for myself,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “I believe you are hiding something there. I heard a scream that day, Cassian. I am not imagining things, and I am not a child to be managed with half-explanations.”
The more she heard about Marta, the more she believed what she had heard was a woman’s scream.
“You were told to stay away from the west tower.”
“You told me a great many things,” she said.
“The wind, you said. Old timbers, you said. And yet your grandmother mentions a sister nobody has spoken of since I arrived, whose portrait hangs nowhere in this house, and whose name makes you look as though someone has put a blade between your ribs.” She held his gaze.
“I am your wife. Not a guest to be kept at a comfortable distance from the unpleasant rooms.”
Something moved behind his eyes. Something that looked less like anger than it did like a man standing at the edge of something he was not yet certain he could say aloud.
“I have warned you against disobeying me,” Cassian replied. “Did you think you could defy me once more and suffer no consequence? You seem to think that my patience is infinite. Have you not asked about me at all, wife?”
Cassian did not look like a man who would kiss her senseless, as he had in the meadow. No, this Cassian was trembling with repressed anger, and everything was bubbling just beneath the surface.
“What will you do, then, husband? Punish me?” she asked, knowing she should not be doing this. She knew there was danger in his voice and punishment in store for her. A part of her wanted to be punished, though. She was desperate to be touched again.
“Oh, you do want to know, do you not?” he asked, as he caught her by the waist and hauled her over his shoulders.
“What… Cassian, put me down!” She hammered his back with her fists, but this did nothing to slow him down.
Juliana understood the futility of fighting him. She saw that he was carrying her toward his chambers. He pushed the door open and set her on the bed. She shivered. Part of her was thrilled, while another part was embarrassed to feel a pulse between her legs, urgent and needy.
“This is unacceptable, this is…”
Cassian began to unlace his breeches, his eyes on her. She did not try to escape. Instead, she watched him with lust and trepidation as she knelt on the bed.
“Tonight, you defied me for the umpteenth time. And for that, you will be punished,” he growled, arousing desire in her instead of fear. “Get on all fours and hold onto the headboard.”
His order made her wonder if he would be taking her now. Would he do it in anger?
“Cassian. Please.”
Juliana had never been so confused. She was not certain what she was pleading for. For him to let her go? For him to do all that he had promised? Both? She bit her lower lip before she could say anything more.
“Do it.”
Juliana’s hands trembled as she gripped the mahogany post, even as her palms wandered over the intricate carvings. She felt the bed sink from his weight behind her. Felt how he rustled her skirts up. To her horror, she was hot and wet. She was a little too eager for this.
Then came the strike of his palm on her bare buttocks.
She yelped in surprise at the contact. Then, he struck her again, this time with the tip of something else.
Pain and pleasure made her moan, and she felt her buttocks thrust against him.
She knew that he was in control; the sting could have been worse.
Instead, it was just right, enough to make her squirm even more.
“Do you think you can get away with far too many things, Juliana?” he asked, his hand soothing the sting on her buttocks.
The other hand reached around for her damp heat.
She already knew that he could make her feel better.
She thrust against his hand, and he gave in, rubbing her nub until she was writhing on the bed with her face pressed against the pillows.
Then he stopped. She trembled with frustration and desire, turning to see him pull his breeches down. He was large, rigid, and beautiful. She could not imagine ever deigning to describe something that bordered on terrifying as such. And yet, her mouth watered.
“You were curious about me, wanting to touch me. Well, here I am,” he said, his voice cracking as he gripped himself, stroking up and down. She had not seen any others like it to compare, but he seemed large, hard, and eager. “Do you see what you do to me?”
“What… what am I supposed to do?”
Cassian reached for her, his fingers gently tugging her head to guide her toward him. Juliana panicked for a heartbeat. She thought he was going to put his cock inside her quim, but he had other plans.
“Open your mouth, Juliana,” he commanded even as his voice sounded less in control as he gripped himself. His plea was disguised as an order. “You wanted to pleasure me, too, and now I present the opportunity. Take my cock in your mouth like a good girl.”
His hard length settled as an unfamiliar weight on her tongue.
She didn’t know what to expect. He tasted salty, alien, and intoxicating, and her pulse thrummed with desire and curiosity.
Cassian’s fingers threaded through her hair, loosening the strands further.
He was not gentle, but his grip was an anchor for both of them.