“What the hell?” Addison lifted his head.
The roaring was not in her ears. It was coming from overhead. And there were other earthly, very real crashing sounds mixed with it.
Something was horribly, horribly wrong. At the same time snapping wood shook the room, Addison rolled both of them onto the floor and under the frame of the metal cot.
Her head slammed against the cold hard floor, and she burrowed herself against Addison’s body as dust and stones and wood that surely must be the entire house came crashing down.
The physical world, it seemed, would take its revenge for the two of them daring to step outside of it.
Crumbling, raining, a few more snaps and then…
Silence.
Trapped Again
She was safe.
Addison had not even begun to recover from what had been the most exquisite experience of his life when he’d heard the first piece of wood splinter and give way.
“Collette, sweetheart, are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so. Mostly,” she answered, her voice a little shaky. “I always wondered what it would be like, but I never expected it to be earth shattering.”
Addison chuckled, relieved, and then inhaled. The scent of dust and debris nearly overpowered the scent of her, and of their lovemaking. But not quite.
She had been a revelation. But he couldn’t dwell on that now. He needed to assess their situation.
And he very much intended to do just that—if only he could bring himself to move. Or open his eyes. Or do anything.
But they were trapped beneath this cot—trapped in this very small space. His chest was beginning to tighten as terror slithered up his spine.
“Collette.” He hated the fear in his voice as he fought this brewing panic.
“What kind of man are you? A weakling? A sniveling girl?”
It was his father’s voice.
The old duke loomed over him, angry from catching him running to Rowan’s room, upset from a nightmare.
“I dream about the bog,” he explained and then watched as disgust twisted his father’s expression.
“Not that again. I’ll teach you to be a man, by God.”
He felt himself being lifted over the window seat used for storage in his father’s study. Sensing his fate, knowing the world was about to swallow him whole, Addison began fighting, kicking, and screaming.
And begging.
“Whip me instead, Father.” He cried. “Please, I’ll never do it again. I promise.”
“Not the box! You know he hates it.” Their father pushed Rowan back. “Punish me instead.”
Not even the favored son could cut through their father’s stubbornness once his temper took over.
“You’ll get over this foolishness one way or another.” His father pushed him down mercilessly, tucking Addison inside.
The sounds of the lid closing, and then the lock—
“Addison.” Collette’s voice cut through his memory. “Addison. I’m here.”
