8. Such a small blade
SUCH A SMALL BLADE
T he house was quiet. I stared at the canopy of my bed, imagining endless scenes playing out before me.
Every time I closed my eyes, it became worse.
Hendridge’s execution repeated itself in my mind, on a loop, over and over, until his face was replaced with mine.
Until the crowd was jeering at me. It was so vivid I was sure I was going to be sick.
I was trapped.
Azriel had seen me murder his father, and now he held all the cards. How could I have been so stupid? Tears burned my eyes as I imagined the horror of that sack being put over my face, the trap door giving way below me, to -
No.
I fought the hopelessness that washed through me, and stumbled for the dressing table.
I would not be trapped by this bastard. I’d endured three years in a loveless marriage.
I’d risked everything for my freedom, to finally have a life away from this cursed family and this cursed house. I wouldn’t have it taken from me now.
I pulled open the drawer of the dressing table, and snatched up the fine ivory pocket knife that lay within. It wasn’t especially sharp, enough to slice an apple on a picnic perhaps, or cut an errant thread from a bonnet.
And it would be enough to slash Azriel’s throat.
Wind howled as I put my hand on the door handle, and I crept out into the hallway. It was very late, all the servants tucked away in bed. The carpets muffled my footsteps, and I made my way down the hall. The windows rattled in the gale, and rain began to patter against the glass.
Azriel’s room lay on the western side of the house, up another set of stairs.
They creaked softly underfoot, but no one was here to hear me. Only Azriel himself, who would by now be drunk and sleeping peacefully, I was sure. He’d refused George’s offer to be his valet, and now the servant’s quarters lay empty.
Azriel was all alone, and totally at my mercy.
I paused at his door, listening to the mournful wail of the wind, perhaps Acton’s ghost begging me not to do to his son what I had done to him.
I considered for a moment how I was going to conceal what I had done this time. Azriel was not an old man, and a slit throat was hardly a natural death for a healthy man of twenty-six. No, I would have to be much cleverer this time.
And what better way to conceal my crime than with fire?
The servants would simply think he’d gone to sleep drunk, leaving an errant candle burning by the curtains.
I would tell them how much I had seen him drink that evening, and they had all observed his half-crazed mood.
It would surprise no one that Azriel Caine had gotten himself so drunk that he’d set himself on fire.
His room was positively cavernous, illuminated only by the light of a single candle by the window. So very close to the curtains, just as I had intended .
The imposing four poster bed in the middle of the room was hung with drapes that looked almost black in the dim light. The bed of the devil himself.
Azriel’s shallow breathing was barely audible over the sound of the rain and the wind. I moved closer to the bed, the knife clutched in my hand. There he lay, sprawled out in his nightshirt. His legs were bare, his head tipped back slightly. Totally at ease.
No idea what was about to happen.
My heart was pounding as I crawled onto the bed, holding out the knife, ready to strike if he woke. His breathing remained even. My nightgown rode up my thighs as I straddled him, not allowing my weight to rest on him.
My hand trembled slightly as I lifted the knife, pointing it at his throat.
I was a murderess. I was a monster, perhaps no better than he.
But I would be free of him this night.
“Didn’t think you had it in you.” The deep voice made my heart explode against my rib cage.
I almost screamed, jerking the knife away, but Azriel caught my wrist in one hand and my thigh with the other. I lost my balance, and landed on him with my full weight.
He chuckled in the darkness, shifting underneath me in such a way that I felt things I had no desire to feel.
“I’d dreamed of this moment, but I must say, the knife is a rather creative choice.” He grinned at me in the dim light, guiding my hand to press the blade of the knife harder to his throat. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“I want to be free of you!” I hissed. “I want to be out of this house, and away from your wretched family.”
“I see.” He was so calm, gripping my naked thigh with his hand. “And you didn’t think it would look strange that both the son and the father had been dispatched in such short succession?”
I laughed through my gritted teeth, and leaned into his face, enjoying the power of having a blade pressed to his throat far too much. “You’re a womaniser, and a gambler. You have enemies all over the world. No one would be surprised that Azriel Caine had been ended by a disgruntled husband.”
His brow furrowed as he considered this for a moment. “You make a valid point.”
The gasp was torn from my throat as his arms suddenly locked around my waist, and he flipped us over.
He now lay on top of me, his full weight pressed between my thighs, and barely our night clothes separating us.
The knife was still against his throat, and blood beaded at the very tip of it from where it had nicked him.
But it did not seem to bother him at all. He simply leered down at me, resting on his forearm, his other hand still on my waist.
“What are you doing?” My breath stuttered out of my lungs, and I bit back a cry as he ground himself against me. “Azriel, stop!”
“I rather think you’re not in a position to ask me of anything, don’t you agree?” His hand on my waist traveled down over my hip, to the bare thigh that was hitched up by his weight.
“Don’t touch me!” I writhed against him, then quickly stopped, my chest tightening as my lungs emptied of air. I could feel his arousal. A hard length pressed against my inner thigh. The more I moved, the more I’d feel it. “Get off me.”
“Why?”
“Because I command it!” I went stock still with shock, staring into his devilish eyes as his hand strayed between my thighs. “Stop! ”
“No.” He grinned, stroking a finger straight down my centre. “Fucking glorious. I told you, you like this more than you care to admit, Evie.” He lifted his finger to his mouth, and sucked. “Delightful.”
“You monster.” I cried out, my back arching off the bed as he plunged his finger deep inside me.
“Fuck, you’re a sight, beloved. Beautiful.” He withdrew his finger, then began to slowly stroke my bud. That sensitive bundle of nerves I’d never touched before. That I’d been told was a sin to touch.
A shuddering moan left my lips, and I fought everything within me. I found no pleasure in this, none at all, and I would not let him see anything but my hatred, and my rage.
“Now, you don’t really think everyone would believe your little story, do you?” He chuckled as my eyes met his again. “The daughter of the penniless duke? The one who married old man Caine for his money?”
“And what reason would they have to believe you?” I bit my lip, pricking his skin with the tip of the blade as my nipples hardened.
“Everyone knows you hated your father. They’d know - Oh god.
” I tried to breathe, to regain control of my body even as he tried to tear that away from me.
A strange pressure began to grow low in my belly, a crack threatening to split me open.
“You think this pretty face would save you?” He ground himself against my thigh, his wet fingers circling me harder now. “You think one look into these eyes, and everyone would fall at your feet?”
My head was swimming. I could not think. My whole body was hot, and shaking.
“Please stop,” I whimpered.
“If you’re going to kill me, at least indulge my one last fantasy.” He groaned softly, his hips jerking. “Fucking hell, you’ve no idea how long I dreamed of this. ”
“Stop!” I gripped his shoulder with my other hand, my back bowing and pressing me against him. “My god, what are you doing to me?”
“You never experienced this with my father, of that I am sure.” He laughed softly. “Don’t fight it, Evie. Fighting it just makes it so much stronger.”
“I want… I want to kill you,” I stammered, before moaning loudly. “No one… Oh… No one would believe you!”
“They don’t have to believe me.”
My fingers clawed into the back of his neck, and I tried not to scream as something exploded within me.
Azriel pressed his length against me as I shuddered and writhed, rubbing me to my completion.
I was a sweating, heated mess beneath him.
And I was horrified. He was so close to violating me, to penetrating me, and I’d just done… that , all over him.
“Usually I’ve kissed a woman before I’ve had her cunt weeping all over my cock, but in your case I rather welcome the exception.” He was panting lightly, still hard and aroused. “How easily I could take you right now.”
I raised myself as far as I could, pressing the knife into the flesh of his neck, so hard I was sure I could draw blood. “Try it, and you shall die.”
“My little viper,” he said with a snigger. “And now my little whore.”
“I am not your whore. I will never be yours. Ever. This is the last time you ever lay a hand on me.” I steeled myself, ready to tear his throat open.
“And what about the letter?”
My brain scrambled to make sense of what he had just said. I’d misunderstood him. Surely. He hadn’t just said the letter . It was hidden in my desk, not yet burned, but hidden. When had he been in my room?
The tip of the knife bounced against his unrelenting flesh as my hand trembled violently. My grip was loose enough that Azriel simply plucked it from my hand, casting it across the room and along the hardwood floor with a clatter and a thud.
“ Dearest Azriel ,” he said, tracing a finger down my cheek. “ I am so sorry to bear you such ill tidings, but your father is dead. He went to take his place in Heaven, with your dear mother, in the late hours of the night just past. ”
I flailed against him, trying to push him off me. “You bastard!” My fists pounded into his chest. “You utter ratbag bastard!”
“Now, now, Evie, the servants will hear you.” He laughed, lifting himself off me.
I sat up and curled my legs against me, still shaking from his assault. “Where is it? Where is the letter?”
He leaned back on his hands, his manhood tenting his nightshirt obscenely.
“With my lawyer. In a safe box that is to be opened in the event of my death.” He wrapped a hand around himself, through his shirt, and pumped himself, groaning.
“Oh fuck, do you see what you’ve done to me? Surely you cannot leave me like this.”
“You are vile and disgusting!” I scrambled off the bed, stumbling across the room and snatching up the knife from the floor. I spun as he advanced on me, his eyes lit with foul desire in the candlelight. “Do not touch me!”
“Oh, but I will touch you, beloved.” He reached and grabbed my throat, pressing his chest into the tip of the knife without a hint of fear.
“Now, listen to me very carefully, my little viper. I have business in the south tomorrow, and I will be gone til the next day. Upon my return, you will have an answer for me, do you understand? You will tell me whether you shall be my wife, or be the next woman to dangle from the gallows at Newgate.”
I spat in his face, and he barely flinched. “I hate you! ”
“Then hate me. I can live with that. But you will be mine, in hate, if it must be.” He smiled widely, running a finger down my cheek. “You enjoyed it, admit it.”
“I did not.”
“Liar.” He pressed a finger to my lips, before releasing me and stepping back. “You have two days, Evie. Choose wisely.”
I fled for the door as wind howled through the rafters of the house.
“And Evie?”
I paused, looking over my shoulder at him.
“Don’t think of running away.” Lightning flashed behind him, his eyes almost appearing white in the sudden light. A demon. Straight from Hell.
I ran back to my room, disgust and shame seething through every vein in my body. A bath was not possible, but I was desperate to wash him off. I tore off my nightgown, and uncapped a bottle of rose water, pouring it into my hand and rubbing it furiously all over my skin. I wanted him gone. Erased.
He had the letter. The letter I could never have written, had Acton’s death been a natural one. The letter I should have destroyed immediately.
I was such a fool.
And now he had me.
In two days, I’d either be a dead woman, or a trapped woman. I had to decide which was worse.