9. Chapter 9
Willow
Indulging in vampire aristocracy gossip was becoming addictive.
Theodora was an open well of rumours and vampire knowledge.
She’d worked in many noble households here in Mortdale since the age of fourteen.
Fifty years later, she was armed up to her toque blanche with hearsay that could crumble countless counties and bring many lords to their knees.
And my husband had absolutely no idea what a weapon he had right under his nose.
“When Lady Cassandra got pregnant,” she went on, and I couldn’t even remember how we’d exactly gotten to this point.
Only a faint memory of me asking about Cassandra’s relationship with my husband lingered.
“Everyone was terribly worried. That poor girl was in a proper state. Doctors had her on all sorts of medication. More sedated than a horse with a broken hip.” Her whole body moved with the rolling pin as she flattened a layer of dough into a thin sheet.
“Lady Cassandra was a bright, young, and talented woman. Full of energy and passion for music and dancing and all the arts. And it all just turned in a blink of an eye. One day she was happy, and the next she could barely look at herself in the mirror without screaming in terror.”
I slowly chewed on a strip of carrot. “Why?”
“Worms,” the old woman plainly said, flipping the thin sheet of dough to the other side.
“That’s all she’d say. There were worms coming out of her eyes.
Her ears, her nose. She’d stopped eating the last few weeks before her passing.
And she’d make herself retch, saying she could feel insects crawling out of her throat.
Her skin was always scratched and bleeding because she kept saying she could feel maggots crawling over her.
If Heath, Logan’s second brother, had not stopped her, she would have clawed her way into her chest to get them out of her.
It only got worse after Piper was born. She was convinced she’d birthed her dead.
Piper had to feed from nursemaids because her mother refused to feed a corpse.
She was begging Heath for days to let her bury her properly.
” The old woman shivered at her own words.
“We thought things got better when her husband finally returned from the Eastern Continent. But only a day after, she passed. And then not long after, he went, too. Grief, I say.” She worked the rolling pin into the side of the thin dough circle. “Wretched that is.”
I threw a look out of the kitchen windows to where Piper was laying on the ground along with Thomas, giggling and smiling ear to ear as she played with my familiar.
I’d had this terrible, nauseating feeling brewing in my stomach since that day when I’d read her mother’s letters.
If Cassandra had been a witch, like I’d deduced, her death was maybe more complex than they thought.
What were the chances they were all related—Cassandra’s death and the rest of the red maidens?
Staring away, I grabbed a sliced cucumber off the chopping board. “Where’s Rupert and Edwin? I haven’t had them invade my privacy all day.”
I had to get back into Logan's study. I needed to read the rest of those letters. And Rupert and Edwin had become like a fart trapped in knickers.
“They’ve been sent home to pack up.”
I hopped on the counter and stole a carrot, as always pretending not to notice how she angled the knife away from me and shifted her whole body to cover the chopping board. “Where are they going?”
“Oh, they’re comin’ with you, darling.”
“With me where?”
Theodora stopped chopping, throwing the knife in the sink. “Nobody’s told you yet?”
“Told me what?”
I’d sat there in the dark foyer for a good few hours, stomping back and forth to the sound of the thunder outside.
When the front doors finally drew open, it was almost midnight.
He was soaked head to toe from the rain.
White mist left his parted lips when he noticed me standing there, his chest rising fast as if he was choking on the humid air.
My words echoed across the empty foyer. “Why am I being sent away?”
His wet blond hair had matted to his forehead, dripping down his face. He shook off his wet jacket, heading in the direction of his study. “I expect you to apologise to Rupert for your rat biting his face, or I will let him cook your little rat on a stick.”
Shit. “It was just a little love bite. He needs to be a big boy about it.”
“You also took my favourite tie when you snuck in my study. That’s called stealing. And it’s also a crime.”
Shit. Shit.
Reaching into my corset, I slapped a bill on his chest.
I could feel his chest raising faster and faster under my palm as his eyes dropped between us. “It costs more than that.”
“Put the rest on my husband’s tab. He’s a loaded toff.”
My feet stumbled a small step back when he got closer to me.
The wet sterling bill slipped to the ground, but for some reason my hand remained steadily fastened against his stomach.
“What do you think will happen if you’re caught snooping around places you shouldn’t be?
Asking questions you shouldn’t be asking?
Being a lord’s wife means you have more eyes on you than you think you could possibly have.
Who do you think they report back to that my wife is presenting dangerous, concerning behaviour?
What do you think happens then, when the parliament and the king come to the conclusion that you’re too dangerous of a threat to be let loose? ”
“Well, I’m sure I will not be missed.”
He started backing me farther and farther into his study until his desk cut against my hip. “You should know, I’ve killed someone for less.”
My tongue, the tips of my fingers, my scalp, the inside of my elbows and the back of my knees—everything itched in anticipation, my lungs swelling uncontrollably from a strange thrill bubbling in my throat. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
He towered over me, wet and furious. “I hope it does. It doesn’t happen very often, but I have no desire to kill you.
And I think you know that. I hate that you know that.
But—” He moved a strand of pale grey hair covering my eye, “—I will do it if I have to. The duty to my people will always come before you. As will Piper’s safety.
Which your actions might as well have threatened.
If anyone had known you were in my study that night, reading through documents only I have permission to see, you would not be here.
You’d be dead for high treason. You’re here by your rat’s rather graceful help. ”
His wet shirt was all scrunched up in my fist. “It was for a brief moment.”
A groan rattled across his ribs that were pressed to mine. “I could smell you all over my things, Willow. Was there anything you didn’t get your fingers on?” His chest rose fast. “And so could Rupert, by the way.”
“And?”
“And he’s a spy. A spy who would love nothing more than to report something that could have my wife killed.”
“Why are you letting him in here if you know this?”
“Because the parliament wants reassurance that it can control me. And I can choose to feed them whatever news I want them to know.”
Oh.
He took one small step back, giving me some space to breathe freely. “Who did you write to? I was also missing a piece of paper.”
“I think you have a problem.”
“I do,” he said, lifting me to sit on his table as he braced his hands against it to cage me in between his arms. “I’m looking at it.”
A breath got stuck in my throat when he pulled his shirt off and dragged my dress skirts all the way up my thighs, parting them to stand closer to me.
It was a struggle to concentrate on his wet, cold hand still on my thigh when I had the most perfect view of his chiseled, muscled torso covered in scars.
Heavy steps dragged my attention over his shoulder before I could even question what in the Hell he was doing. Rupert and Edwin stopped at the study door, staring at us wide-eyed.
“Yes?” my husband asked, throwing them a look over his broad naked shoulder.
They didn’t know where to look first. Shock had both left them open mouthed and wordless. It was Rupert who managed to pipe up after some time, “We have to leave. They’ve signalled another outbreak again. Close to the city this time. It looks bad.”
Logan’s cold hand moved up and down on my thigh as he reached to undo his belt with the other. “Give me ten minutes.”
I nearly choked. What?
Oh.
Oh.
I shook the shawl off my shoulders, and batted my lashes at them.
Both of the guards sent each other a smirking look as they drew the doors shut.
The moment they were out of sight, he pulled my skirts down my legs and wrapped the shawl around my shoulders again. But he didn’t move back to give me any breathing space.
“You could have warned me,” I told him.
“Knowing all the rules to the game makes it less fun, no?” He lit a cigarette, blowing smoke overhead. “Who did you write to?”
“My friend, Ethel.”
He slowly sat up straight and finally took a small step back, letting my thighs fall back together again as he did his belt up. “And what did you write to her about?”
“The recipe to Theodora’s bread pudding and the codes to your infernal machines,” I spat, wrapping my shawl tighter around my shoulders, feeling exposed all of a sudden.
I could still feel his hand on my thigh, and shivers had travelled up almost to my throat.
My body had been a reserved crime scene.
I’d not let anyone close enough to see, let alone touch me.
His thumb was pressed against his lips. “And you finished that with: I’m alive and barely kicking. I love you. Do not mourn me.”
I shot up to my feet. “How—”
“I could read the pen marks five pages under. You need to work on your breaking-in skills. Because I have this irritable feeling you will do it again.”
“Maybe it’s just scabies. Are you itching between your fingers and toes?”
“How were you planning on getting this letter to her?”