The darkness seemed to close in around them as they left the village behind. Dark clouds hid the moon and the stars. The night was eerily silent, as if the earth was holding its breath. Even their footsteps seemed muted.
Bryony shivered, suddenly afraid without knowing why. She risked a sideways glance at Stefan. His profile was clean and sharp, his jaw rigid. Dressed all in black, he seemed to be a part of the night itself.
The house was within sight when he stopped abruptly. She let out a harsh cry when he pulled her into his arms, crushing her body against his. His eyes blazed in the darknessas his fingers tangled in the hair at her nape while his mouth descended on hers, bruising her lips as he kissed her roughly again and again. His tongue ravaged her mouth. She cried out when he bit her lower lip, drawing blood. But he didn’t stop kissing her, only licked it away. And then, abruptly, he let her go. He stood there, panting softly, and then he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
Breathless, Bryony stared after him, frightened and confused, her whole body vibrating with a need she didn’t fully understand. She stood there until her heart stopped pounding and her breathing returned to normal.
With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around her waist and walked the short distance to the house. It wasn’t until she neared the front door that she realized she was free. Exhilaration filled her for a moment and as quickly left her. She had no idea how to get home. But maybe it didn’t matter. She could get on Daisy and ride back to the village. Maybe someone there knew the way to River North.
Hurrying around the house to the barn, Bryony found a bridle, slipped it over Daisy’s head, and led her out into the yard. Standing on a bale of straw, she climbed onto the mare’s back. Lifting the reins, she touched her heels to the horse’s sides. With luck, she would be home in a day or two. The thought made her smile. Until she remembered Lord Bloodworth. But even thinking of him couldn’t dim her eagerness to go home. To lie in her own bed. Never again would she take for granted the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Home. Her mouth watered at the thought of Cook’s blueberry tarts.
She hadn’t ridden far when a dark figure loomed out of the darkness. Daisy reared, forelegs pawing the air. Bryony let out a startled cry as she slid over the mare’s rump, only to land in Stefan’s arms instead of on the hard ground. Where had hecome from? How had he moved so fast? She looked at him, and felt herself drowning in the depths of his devil-dark eyes.
“Did you think to be rid of me so easily?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
“I…” Mouth dry, she licked her lips, unable to think clearly when he was looking at her like that, his eyes like twin flames in the darkness.
He placed her on Daisy’s back, swung up behind her, and reached around her to grab the reins.
Bryony stilled as his arm slid around her waist, holding her tight. Her breath caught in her throat when he leaned forward to nuzzle the side of her neck.
“Sweet,” he murmured. “So sweet.”
Stefan clucked softly and the mare moved out. All too soon, they reached the Stone House. He reined the mare to a halt at the front door. Dismounting, he lifted Bryony from the mare’s back, let her body slide intimately against his as he set her on her feet. Taking her hand, he led her to the front door.
Bryony tensed with anticipation when his hand cupped the back of her head and he bent down to kiss her again, a long, lingering exploration that left her breathless and aching for more. And then he opened the door and gave her a gentle push across the threshold.
Blinking back her tears, she ran up the stairs to her room and slammed the door, wondering if she would ever get another chance at freedom.
Chapter Six
Bryony couldn’t sleep that night. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Stefan materializing out of the darkness as if he were the darkness itself. How had he moved fast enough to catch her before she tumbled to the ground? Why hadn’t they gotten wet the evening it rained? Who had lit the candles and the fire in the hearth in the house that night? A shiver ran down her spine. So many questions without answers—except the obvious one. He had to be a witch or a warlock. Magic was the only logical explanation.
Was he really keeping her here because he was lonely? The memory of his kisses, of being in his arms, came quickly to mind. Surely a man as handsome as was he could have any woman he wanted. All she wanted was to go home.
Home. With Leonora gone, things would surely change and not for the better. She had never cooked in her life, but now she would either have to learn or starve. At home, there had been food in abundance and cooks to prepare it. She had never cleaned the house, made her bed, or done any kind of chores at all. Always, there had been servants at her beck and call, maids to draw her bath, brush her hair, light a fire in her room to turn away the chill of the night. A groom to saddle and curry Daisy. Now, she would have to do all the household chores herself. Not a pleasant prospect.
Her thoughts turned again to Stefan. Where was he? Where did he spend his days? Where did he spend the nights now that she slept in his bed? Where was he now?
And why did she care? she wondered, as sleep finally carried her away.
She woke to the sound of thunder. For a time, she lay there, listening to the patter of the rain on the roof. She had lost track of the days. How long had she been here? A week? Two? An eternity? She sighed when her stomach growled. For a moment, she wished Leanora was there to bring her a cup of cocoa and a biscuit while she lay abed.
With a huff, she threw back the covers, pulled on her robe, stepped into her slippers, and headed for the stairs, only to pause and tiptoe down the corridor, peeking into the empty rooms. But there was no sign of Stefan. She wondered yet again where he spent the night. Did he lodge somewhere in the city? Surely he didn’t sleep in the barn! With a shake of her head, she scuffed down the stairs to the kitchen to make breakfast.
She found a certain sense of satisfaction in looking after herself. Cooking wasn’t as easy as she’d thought, and she felt an odd sense of gratification as she sat down to eat, even though the eggs were overcooked and the bacon a little too crisp. Later, she knew a sense of pride when she went upstairs and made her bed and picked up her discarded clothing. By chance, she learned that sweeping and dusting were less odious if she hummed while she worked.
It rained all morning and into the afternoon. She was trying to decide if she wanted to paint or begin a new bookwhen someone rang the bell. Eager to see anyone, she hurried to open the door.
“Package for you, Miss,” a young man said, offering her a large box wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
“For me?”
“You are Miss Barrett?”
“Yes.”
He thrust the box into her hands. “Good day, Miss.”
