Page 114 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

With a gasp, Claire awoke to the sound of a pained shriek. At first, she wondered if there was some sort of animal in pain, but then she realized that the sound was human.

Lord Darville.

Ignoring the cold of the hard wood beneath her feet, Claire opened the door of her chamber and peeked out into the dark interior of the house.

All was silent except for another anguished shout.

She was torn about whether to ignore it or return to bed and pretend she hadn’t heard anything, but with her desire to ease what discomfort she could for others, she found her feet moving forward toward the sound.

She discovered the source at the opposite end of the mezzanine.

It was almost unnerving to realize that the earl slept such a short distance away, but she was glad for it.

Otherwise, she might not have heard his cries for help.

He would likely strongly disagree that was what they were, but she knew the opposite was true.

She knocked lightly on the heavy wood door that was similar to her own. When there was no reply, she took a deep breath and dared to try the handle. Expecting it to be locked, she was surprised when it opened freely.

Pausing to see if her eyes would adjust to the dim light, Claire heard the sound of struggling on the massive bed combined with more hoarse mutters.

She prayed she wasn’t interrupting something unsavory, but as she drew closer and saw that the earl was alone, the sheets twisted about his midsection, his face contorted with pain and a sheen of perspiration coating his body, she knew she’d been right to come here.

His fists clenched at his sides as his teeth gritted.

His eyes didn’t appear to open, so she didn’t know if he was stuck within the horrors of a nightmare or something else, but she tentatively drew closer to the bed and tried not to appreciate the sight of the chiseled form as the hard lines of his body became clearer.

Her throat became suspiciously dry, but she told herself it was merely the intrusion on the earl’s privacy that was causing her strange reaction.

He tossed in the bed and gave another cry and she forgot everything but trying to ease the situation.

As his right leg became exposed from beneath the covers, her heart clenched in her chest. The long, jagged scar was puckered and dark pink.

It ran from his upper thigh all the way to his knee.

It was no wonder he was in such discomfort.

It had been some time since she’d seen such a debilitating injury. Perhaps never.

Taking a deep breath, Claire dared to speak softly to the earl. “My lord, I am here to help you. I hope through whatever delirium that has captured you that you can hear me.”

She laid her hands on his leg and gently began to massage the tight muscles beneath. Keeping her focus on her task with a few glances toward her patient, she was glad to see that the tautness beneath her fingertips slowly began to cease as did the earl’s jerky movements.

She had just breathed a sigh of relief when she found herself spun around and pinned to the mattress, a sharp blade pressed against the side of her neck.

She gasped, realizing too late that he had been under the spell of sleep and the beast within him had awakened before the man. His eyes were wild, almost crazed, his breathing harsh and heavy as his upper lip curled back from his teeth.

“My lord! It’s Miss Meyer! Please. Wake up and see me.”

Claire held her breath as the earl wavered and then suddenly blinked. As the glaze left his focus, he seemed to start remembering where he was. He looked at the blade in his grasp and slowly removed it from her neck. However, if she was expecting an apology from him, she would be sorely mistaken.

Sitting back, he growled, “What the hell are you doing in my chamber? It was idiotic of you to come here, and your presence is unwanted. Get out.”

Claire would have moved, but the aftermath of almost getting murdered had caused her to start trembling to the point where she wasn’t sure if her limbs would obey the command to move.

Gathering all her strength, she struggled to a sitting position, but she hesitated as her head began to spin.

“Forgive me. I heard you shouting and I—”

She broke off as her lips became numb and the sounds of the room began to erupt into a fiery roar. Dear God, surely she wasn’t going to faint? Claire had never been the sort of female who allowed the sight of blood to disconcert her, but one knife at her throat and her nerves were rattled.

She scrambled to her feet and would have crawled to the door if she’d had a chance to do so, but she was yanked back toward the bed.

The momentum threw her off balance, and it took a moment for her head to stop spinning to realize that there was a handsome, but furious male face in her line of vision.

“You thought I was shouting for you, my sweet?” The endearment was nothing of the sort, but a snide, mocking comment that sent a frisson of fear shooting up her spine.

And something else she dared not try to interpret.

“No. I—”

He put a hand at her throat, but instead of acting in a threatening manner, his movements were entirely roguish. He trailed his hand lightly over her exposed collarbone and came perilously close to brushing over her breasts.

This time, Claire’s head was whirling for another reason entirely.

“Your body is telling me something different,” he whispered harshly, almost cruelly. “Are you sure you didn’t come here to shag the ‘Dark Earl’?”

She blinked. “What?”

It was getting difficult to think properly when he was so close, his masculine scent surrounding her, almost suffocating in its intensity.

She couldn’t believe that a man who was so crass and unfeeling on the outside could smell so wonderfully delicious, like all of her favorite spices and the scent of pine.

And yet, there was a certain maliciousness that permeated from him.

While it was likely borne of pain and misery and a bit of personal shame for his altered circumstances, that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous in spite of it.

“You know that was not my intention,” she returned evenly, telling herself that she wasn’t affected by the man himself, merely the situation.

She had never had a steady suitor, determined to put all of her focus on her work instead.

She would not succumb to this man, regardless of his anger toward the world and everyone around him, including himself.

“Wasn’t it?” He bent down and his warm breath caressed the nape of her neck. Her entire body tensed in anticipation of… something, either dark or delicious, she wasn’t sure which. “I think that is exactly what you want. I know it’s what I want.”

Claire blinked. That was unexpected. “Sir, I must ask you to release me.”

“Why?” He touched the side of her nightdress, moving his hand until his thumb just grazed the underside of her breast.

She gave a sharp intake of breath.

“It was just getting interesting.”

She set her chin. “I should warn you that my father taught me how to defend myself. I would not wish to cause you further discomfort, but I will not be hesitant to do so if you don’t let me go.”

His movements stilled and he moved away from her. She felt the chill of the room once she had been denied his heat, but she would not dare to call it back. She was here for Lady Mimbley and to help the earl. Nothing more.

She got to her feet and forced her unsteady legs to carry her to the chamber door. She turned her head slightly but couldn’t quite meet the earl’s eyes when she said, “Goodnight, my lord.”

After the door shut on Miss Meyer’s departure, Ethan flopped back on the bed and threw an arm up behind his head.

Blast it all. He hadn’t felt the sting of remorse in years, no matter how much he shouted at his servants or ignored his family.

But feeling as though he’d actually injured the chit’s sympathies did something to him that he didn’t like.

At all. He was once again reminded of his humanity when he had tried to put that behind him.

He didn’t want to be reminded that he’d once been a gentleman because then he would think of the duties that he had shunned over the years.

He didn’t want to be reminded of soft, gently bred females that were innocents because then he would be forced to take things slowly and offer a courtship he didn’t think he was capable of offering to anyone ever again.

He frowned into the darkness, because he had to admit that there was something compelling about Miss Meyer.

He couldn’t decide what it was just yet, whether it was the lingering scent of citrus that still clung in the air after she was gone, or the soft way she spoke that made him want to hear her speak.

He ground his jaw together and considered punching his pillow in his frustration.

He had to get rid of her at first light.

There would be no other option if he were to have a hope of continuing to live the rest of his life in peace.

He wanted to concentrate on keeping the estate afloat until he died and the next poor soul could inherit this monstrosity of a life and hopefully, do a better job of being the Earl of Darville.

He wasn’t ignorant of the fact most called him ‘Darkville.’ He knew his reputation had warranted it.

He snapped at everyone like a wounded bear but he had never allowed his pride to accept the fact he was not the man he’d once been.

That Ethan had been an unstoppable force.

He had excelled at everything he’d tried to do.

This one could hardly sleep through the night without waking in pure anguish from the pain.

And now, his cock was the one straining under the pressure—

He blinked and looked at his leg.

And stared in disbelief.

Strange that he’d been thinking of how he’d been denied sexual favors when normally his only thoughts had been focused solely on how he wished to die for the brutality he suffered each day when his leg would tighten.

There were times he considered taking a blade to the miserable appendage and removing it himself just for some relief.

It didn’t ache at all.

How peculiar…

He thought of what might have happened to cause this brief reprieve and then recalled that when he’d awoken fully from his night terror, Claire had been massaging his useless leg.

He didn’t want to acknowledge the flicker of hope that tried to alight in the middle of his chest. He quickly snuffed it out, wanting nothing to do with the sensation, because whenever he did that in the past, his outlook had been effectively ground beneath the bootheel of every doctor that paraded before him with their “cures.” He was serious when he’d said he’d have no more of it.

And yet…

This was the only time he was thinking of something other than his injury.

He slowly relaxed the rest of his body and told himself to go back to sleep. While it wasn’t pleasant in dreamland, because that is where the horrors of the war descended on him with a vengeance, it was the one place where he could be free of a pair of deep blue eyes and coal black hair.