She heard him snort. “Don’t claim that you will miss it there.”
“It’s where I live,” she tried again.
“Not any longer.”
“You can’t keep me here!” Cosette heard the edge of panic to her voice, as her worst fears were being realized.
He finally turned back to her, and she felt herself pale. While he appeared calm on the outside, his eyes glittered with determination, while his tone carried a dangerous undertone. “I must insist that you remain here. With me.”
Her heart began to pound. “Why?” she demanded.
He tilted his dark head to the side, and evaded her query. “I assure you, every comfort shall be provided. You shall not want for anything.”
She shook her head and tried again. “Why are you doing this?”
He replied with a devilish curve of his lips, “Because you are mine. And I protect what is mine. You should consider yourself fortunate, my dear, Cosette.”
Cosette felt like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. The man was clearly unhinged, for he was speaking as if he wanted to lay claim to her very existence.
She slowly backed out of the library and fled, but with every step she took she could feel Blackburn’s presence all around her—surrounding her. He was the floor beneath her feet, the air she breathed, her essence—everything that she was.
She stumbled toward the front door, tears blurring her vision. She reached for the handle, her breath coming in hard pants. She pulled on the knob, only to find that it held fast. Over and over she struggled, but to no avail. Once the fight had left her, she leaned her head against the hard oak and sobbed. She was effectively trapped—at the complete mercy of a mad duke.
“I can not allow you to leave.” His deep voice sounded almost regretful, but when she turned her tear stained face to him, where he now stood at the foot of the stairs, his expression had not changed.
She unleashed her wrath. “You have no right to do this! I am no man’s prisoner!” She slammed the palm of her hand against the door in frustration, while he just stood and observed her outburst. “You’re mad! I demand that you release me at once!”
He didn’t move.
She lifted her chin. If her pleas wouldn’t sway him, then perhaps a threat would. “If you don’t let me go, I promise that I will go straight to the authorities when I escape.”
Cosette instantly tensed at the predatory look in his eyes. “It would not be in your best interests to challenge me. All it would take is a simple whisper of doubt in the right ear and you could be tried for treason. Do you truly prefer death to what I could offer you, dear Cosette?”
She gave a sharp intake of breath. She knew that he could follow through on his threats, even if she failed. For years there had been antagonism between England and France, but it wasn’t until a few years ago that that tension had turned into an all out war for power, continental trade, and territory. So to be branded a spy, during such turbulent times, would be nothing short of a death sentence. “You would dare to send me to the executioner?”
“Not if you abide by my wishes,” he countered softly.
Cosette glared at him in seething hatred. If she managed to escape, she had no doubt that he would do as he claimed. Her mind raced for another option, but he had effectively backed her into a corner. Checkmate. “It appears you have given me little choice but to accept your gracious offer, Your Grace.”
Cosette brushed by him and stomped angrily up the stairs to her chamber.
