Chapter 20
As Cosette sat on Charlotte’s abandoned cot, with only the dim light of a sputtering candle, she wondered how Charlotte and Davien were getting along. Both of them had a tendency to be entirely too stubborn, so she imagined sparks might fly before they finally settled down into a companionable acquaintance.
At least, she hoped that would be the case. She didn’t want two of her closest friends, her only allies, to be at odds with one another.
Not when there was so much to lose if they didn’t find a way to work together.
Her freedom, for example.
She sighed. She had no idea how long she might be down here, for she wasn’t even sure when this spring ritual would even take place. At least she didn’t have to worry about the voice returning and making her do something she would regret. Locked in this room, at least she could be confident that her secrets would remain her own.
As if summoned by her thoughts, she heard a noise outside of her door, right before it opened to reveal the Abbot. She tensed, for without Davien here to remind the other Brothers that she was currently spoken for, she wasn’t sure what to expect.
“I thought you might like to know that Miss Kingsbury and Blackburn left a short time ago.”
She gave a brief nod of her head. “Thank you.”
“You might wish to save your gratitude, for when the initiates are brought before the Order, as the Abbot, I am granted first choice.” She could feel that oily grin caressing her skin. “I intend to select you.”
Cosette froze. The thought of this man doing to her what she’d allowed from Davien was enough to make her nauseous.
“I can tell you are resistant to the idea,” he continued evenly, matter-of-fact. “That suits me, as I don’t care for biddable bedmates. It will be my pleasure to bend you to my will.”
She glared at him. “If you just came here to bait me, you’re wasting your time. I don’t bow down to threats.”
“Oh, rest assured, it isn’t a threat, but a promise.”
With one last parting grin, he shut the door, leaving her imprisoned once more.
~ ~ ~
Davien had hoped that he might be free of Charlotte’s incessant meddling, but the moment they walked in the door of Shadowlawn and she took one glance around, she turned to him and asked boldly, “Canna ye no’ afford any servants?”
“I prefer my privacy.”
“Then who takes care o’ th’ manor?” she persisted.
He ignored her, but then glanced up at the sound of a shuffling footstep on the staircase landing. He narrowed his eyes on Quinn, who was standing and clinging to the banister rail. “You shouldn’t be up yet.”
As he went to meet Quinn, he could sense Charlotte behind him. “Who is this?”
“My coachman.”
“So ye do employ servants.”
Davien grit his teeth. “Only Quinn.”
Charlotte finally turned her attention to his coachman, and noticed the bandage around his neck. “Whot happened t’ him?”
“He had an accident,” Davien replied shortly. He looped Quinn’s arm around his shoulders.
“Canna the man speak fer himself?”
“No. He’s mute.” He cast a dark glance at Charlotte, as he helped Quinn back to the guest room. “But you seem to do enough talking to make up for his misfortune.”
She pinched her mouth together in annoyance, but he didn’t care. As soon as he had Quinn settled and Charlotte sent on her way, he was going back to the Abbey.
The moment Quinn was in his bed, Davien turned to leave.
