She watched him closely.
“But it is all done for those I care about. For those I love.” He turned, looking down at her. “Sacrifice is the burden of a man who leads. Yet I see now that I have been sacrificing you in that pursuit. That I have already failed you.”
Guilt and confusion twisted in her stomach, and she looked down at her hands in her lap.
“I don’t know how to behave in this role,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what is expected of me. How to spend my days. It feels as though I am merely existing.”
He came over to her, easing onto the seat beside her. “Would that be so terrible?” he asked. When she looked at him, he took her hand in his. “I would not wish you a life of labor or struggle. You have already known too much of that.”
Her gaze dropped to their joined hands.
“Would it be so wrong,” he went on, “to fill your time with things that you enjoy? To pursue that which brings you pleasure?” He reached out, cupping her cheek, and her heart thrummed.
Slowly, he leaned in. His lips brushed hers, sending a shiver through her. She melted into the sensation, feeling the fire of his passion as he pulled her into his embrace. Her doubts and fears vanished, and there was only him. His lips, his hands, the feel of his skin on hers.
She had been unbearably lonely since arriving at the castle, and his touch was a balm to ease the ache.
He eased her down onto the bearskin rug, and she abandoned all notion of anger and resentment. She surrendered to the moment, letting him claim her as his own.
CHAPTER 17
Sometime later, after the flames of passion had been sated, Mina and the Count lay on the rug before the hearth. They had been quiet for some time, listening only to the howling of the wind outside and the crackling of the fire within, when the Count sat up suddenly. His expression had turned grave, his gaze fixed on the doorway and the dark hall beyond, as though he heard something she could not.
“What is it?” Mina asked.
“Hush,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips.
For the first time since she had met him, the Count looked unsettled. He rose, pulling on his shirt, fastening it quickly before reaching out a hand to help her up. Mina smoothed her dress, her heart racing as they stood there for several tense moments.
Then she heard it.
She could not be sure what it was—a dull thud somewhere deep within the castle—but fear coiled in her gut, not because of the sound itself, but because of the expression on his face.
He took her hand and said, “Come with me.”
The Count led her down a shadowed passageway, and when Mina noticed that Sofia was nowhere in sight, a brief sense of relief washed over her before concern quickly replaced it. Something was very wrong. This was nothing like their earlier wanderings through the castle—this was urgent, dangerous. Though the corridor was steeped in darkness, his pace never faltered. His grip on her wrist tightened, firm enough to bruise.
She might have bristled at being handled so roughly, but before she could speak, a sudden crash echoed from somewhere below. Her mind leapt to the wolves she had heard howling in the mountains—creatures large enough to batter the iron gates.
As he pulled her into another corridor, she whispered, “What’s happening?”
A louder crash thundered through the castle, and fear surged through her, old warnings echoing in her mind—Only God can save you there.
Suddenly, his hand slipped from hers, and panic flared at the thought of being abandoned in the pitch black. But then came theclickof a lock, and he grasped her wrist again, pulling her through an open doorway.
Moonlight spilled in through the window, revealing the shape of furniture within—it was a bedroom much like her own, but smaller.
The Count caught her face in his hands. “You will stay here,” he said urgently. “You will hide and make no sound. You will not move until I return.”
Another crash rang out, followed by voices echoing through the stone halls.
“You’re leaving me?” Mina whispered.
“There are too many of them for me to protect you.” His voice hardened. “You must remain unseen. Do you understand?”
She wondered how he could know how many intruders there were without laying his eyes upon them, but then the voices grew louder, closer—multiplying.
“Wilhelmina,” he said sharply.
