“If that’s so, then why did it let me poison her?” Deirdre asked.
“Free will is free will, and you willed that girl to suffer.” He shrugged. “Your father tried to warn you to come with intention. The grimoire merely bowed to your urges.”
“If I show it to MissMunro, then, it will look as it does now?”
“Yes. That prickly schoolmarm will never know it’s more than a rustic country cookbook. But that’s only half of your problem solved,my dear, because your rival is still dying.” Gentry walked to her and offered his hand, helping her to her feet. His earlier effusiveness had fled. A sober look shone in his gimlet eyes. “Do you know what regret feels like, Deirdre? True regret? Because I do. I let someone die once, when I might have saved them. You will regret it if she dies. It will haunt you all of your days.”
“It’s too late for me to do anything about Phoebe. There’s no antidote. What’s done is done.”
“But it’s not too late formeto save her ... if you’ll make me a promise and bind it with your blood.”
“What kind of promise?”
Gentry circled her. “What I desire most, little rabbit. Give it willingly, only once, and I will trouble you no more, until I return in half a century to reap what I have sown. Fifty years is a long time, Deirdre. You’ll grow old and live out the simple country life you’ve always wanted.”
“You want me to barter my soul. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Gentry laughed. “No. I do not want your soul. I want something much simpler. Something much sweeter.” He trailed his fingers over the mark on her back, where her ballgown dipped low, then wrapped his arms around her possessively, his breath hot on her neck as his hands roamed up her bosom to her throat. “Think of the noose, Deirdre.”
Deirdre nearly swooned, her knees weak with sudden, shameful desire and fear. What would it hurt? To give in to his seductions, only once. Then she’d be free to live out the rest of her days, unblemished by the stain of murder.
“Yes. Yes. I’ll do it.” Deirdre turned in his arms, trembling. “I’ll lie with you. And I’ll do so willingly.”
Gentry smiled. “Good.”
And then he kissed her.
All Deirdre’s rationale, all her tenuous morality, crumbled completely in the wake of that kiss. He claimed her mouth with a hungerthat sent fire through her body, made her arch her back and whimper. She curled against him, her every nerve alight. More. She wanted more. What had come over her? Only the day before she’d feared him—been disgusted by his presence. And now, she ached for him with a fervor that frightened her.
He laughed. “I knew you wanted me just as much as I want you.” He placed a finger on her fevered mouth and pulled away. Deirdre sighed in disappointment. “I promise, I will make true on my word. But now is not the time. Now, we must save that poor girl you’ve poisoned, and for that, I need your blood, my darling. Only a little.”
“Yes, of course,” Deirdre said. As if in a trance, she went to the desk she shared with Esme. Esme’s pearl-handled letter opener lay atop the blotter. Deirdre took it up, its slender blade gleaming in the wan lamplight. “What should I do?” she asked drowsily.
“Just close your palm over it and draw it through. Your tender flesh will yield.”
Deirdre did as he asked, wincing at the bite of the blade. He was by her side in a flash of movement, eyes aglimmer with their queer silver light. Blood filled Deirdre’s hand and dripped to the floor.
“Promise me,” he urged.
“I ... I promise.”
“Yes,” he hissed, and hungrily brought her palm to his mouth. A heady rush of lust swam through her at the feel of his tongue lapping against her skin. When she pulled her hand away, the mark had already healed, though it still burned beneath the newly formed scar that stood in a red crescent on her palm.
“I’ll look forward to our reunion, MissWerner. I’ll come to you again when the time is right.” He gave her a wicked smile, full of carnal promise ... then stepped into the shadows. He was gone.
Deirdre clasped the grimoire to her chest and hurried downstairs.
“There you are!” MissMunro stood to greet her, a look of irritation etched on her face. “I was about to come looking for you. A lay pastorarrived from St.Michael’s. I had to show him to MissDarrow’s room. He’s praying with her now.”
“I’m sorry. I had to go to the washroom.” Deirdre offered the grimoire to MissMunro and stepped back, her arms crossed over her waist. The headmistress opened the book, turning the pages faster and faster. When she got to the end, she scowled as she read. For a moment, Deirdre worried the book had betrayed her. But when MissMunro closed it with a decisive thwack, then returned it to Deirdre, she smiled warmly.
“Just as you said, MissWerner. Only recipes. And a rather good one for gingerbread I might ask to borrow for the holidays.”
A wash of relief went over Deirdre, and she beamed, dropping a perfect curtsy. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“You may return to the dance, if you wish.”
“I ... I couldn’t do that.” She had to make sure that Gentry would make good on his word. “Not with Phoebe in such a state.”
