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.A true Alpha-mate.Mate.The punch in his gut answered his unspoken question.He’d had wives but never a mate andwas surprised he’d not fully recognized Isabel’s hold on him before.A wife could be had as easily as the coin for the certificate, but a mate was a once in a lifetime bond, permanent and unbreakable.He’d told her true, the demon would not have her.He turned to the dressing room, the red door at his back mocking him.***www.samhainpublishing.comElla DrakeIsabel deflated against the wall.The slammed door still reverberated in her ears.The plan to stalk with angry righteousness to her room, thwarted.She did not want to relocate to the chambers for the LadyHayle.Busy house servants freshened chambers, changed linens, and completed their chores with briskefficiency.Rather than return to the marriage bed, Isabel borrowed a small, wizened maid tending theempty room across the hall to keep her company in the lady’s boudoir.The woman smiled knowingly at her.“We must get you dressed, m’lady.Wouldn’t want the guests tosee the lady without her finery.”She scoffed at the idea, until a petty thought snuck through her fear and anger.She wouldn’t want hermother to see her like this.Lord Hayle’s confession may have shown his disregard for her very soul, butIsabel could not show her weakness to her lone parent.Despite her fear, she was still his wife.Lady of this manor, though evilness lurked here.She woulddress herself, suitably impress her mother with her new station, and then rid the world of one incubus,named Bluebeard.She needed to think.She needed a course of action.The maid guided her into the room next to her husband’s.The cream colors helped the room to be thebrightest in the house, but it did not lift her spirits.Used to dressing without the full attention of a lady’s maid—her sisters had always garnered more than their share of attention—she was mildly shocked to seethe two women prepared to wait upon her.Assurances that the lord would soon fill her closet with thefinest gowns showed the good will of the lady’s maids, but rather served to underline her unusual situation.Did she belong here?In little time, she was dressed, albeit in one of her usual well-worn gowns, and down the stairs to anempty dining room.She turned to the server who manned the buffet and raised her brows.He answered her unspoken question.“I believe that the invited guests departed this morn.The Haylefamily remain, but they have yet to venture down.” He bowed and tacked on “m’lady.”Pretending that her pride didn’t sting at her mother’s departure, she told herself she could do withoutthe pouting and false tears of a goodbye.But she mourned the loss of the familiar as well as her previous dreams of a quiet marriage and a mild husband.Lord Hayle was anything but mild.Why had the guests left? The house party was due to end on the weekend.Had her husband askedeveryone to leave?And, why?She ate in uneasy silence, unused to dining alone, even with the servants to wait upon her.Decadent,savory, and a divine smell, the food tempted the palate, but the enjoyment of it was lost to her anger and loneliness.The room was dark, her reflection on the polished oak table was dim, but showed her frown.www.samhainpublishing.comElla DrakeThe Forbidden ChamberSmoothing her face, she hurried through the meal before she strode from the room and out into the grand,wide hall.The door to the library rested partly ajar.Not wanting to see her husband, she was still drawn to the room, as if she couldn’t resist his presence.Before she entered, she smelled his scent, woodsy brandy and sage.Lured into her lord’s domain, shemoved inside.The capacious room was at first too dark.When her eyes adjusted to the dim light from thewindow, she saw movement before the low burning fire.The man in the library was not her husband, but his nephew.The man Lord Hayle had threatened tomarry her to with his game of wine lottery.Though elegant in dress, the younger Hayle wore more subdued clothing than when she’d dancedwith him ages ago.Was it scarcely two days past? Today he sported muted browns and a crookedly tiedcravat.He was not as tall as her husband, and his expressions not as fierce.The smile he gave her waspleasant.It was not wicked, with the power to make her heart flutter.“Congratulations on your marriage, Lady Hayle.” Christopher kept a sincere expression.His eyesnever left hers as he bowed.“Thank you, Lord Hayle.”“No, please.” He grinned at her.“I am not Lord Hayle.Call me Christopher.”“You must call me Isabel,” she replied and relaxed with the ease in conversation.“That would never do.I see a lady when I look upon you.” He bowed again, lower, and his lipsslanted when he straightened.Was there sadness there?“Christopher, show me the library, if you please.I do enjoy reading a gruesome novel.”She’d surprised him.His eyes grew wide, and he opened his mouth, no sound pouring forth.Morelighthearted by the second, she continued, “Perhaps there is something by Walpole, or Radcliffe.MaryShelly?”Still frozen in place, a startled look on his face, Christopher’s eyes followed her as she walked aroundhim to the shelves.The titles varied.Religious tomes in Latin.Greek plays and histories.And choices in newer works from Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Blake.“I thought ladies read something more, shall we say proper?” Christopher said after he’d found histongue.“Gruesome novels do not teach an elegant lady deportment.”“Oh, I learn much from these novels.Mainly that when trapped in a frightful manor with a ghost ordemon, a lady must leave at once and not wait for the house to burn down around her.”With friendly laughter, Christopher moved beside Isabel, perusing the modern section with her.Theyspotted a copy of The Castle of Otranto, a horrid tale by Horace Walpole.Both reaching for the copy, their arms collided.Surprised into a stumble, Isabel grabbed at thebookcase for support.The wood shelf came out of the case with the force of her weight.She slipped to the ground.Two rows of books rained down.www.samhainpublishing.comElla Drake“Botheration,” she exclaimed.After the clatter of the falling books, and the stunned shock of pain bybeing pummeled by scores of volumes, Isabel remained an inelegant heap, legs splayed.Her dress barelycovered her modesty.“I am sorry, Isabel.Are you injured?” Christopher’s worried expression was solicitous as he reachedto help her to her feet.She brushed his hands away.“I am fine, thank you.We should clean up this mess.”“Let the servants take care of that,” he replied and tried to take her arm.She swatted his hand again and grabbed the book on her lap.The title snagged her attention and heldit.The Malleus Maleficarum.Why did the Hayles have a guide for the inquisition, for witch hunters? The title translated to the Hammer of the Witches, a clear indication of its malevolence.What was this doing here?She turned the volume in her hands.It seemed worn but with the outside skin well oiled.A bookmarkheld its position for the last reader [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]