Page 4

Hugh

As tradition demanded, Madison moved into my chamber for our wedding night.

The ancient doors groaned closed behind us, their brass hinges protesting with centuries-old complaints.

The sound reverberated through stone walls that had witnessed countless first nights, countless unions both passionate and passionless. I wondered which category ours would fall into.

Madison trailed her fingers along the crimson velvet curtains that hung from the four posts of my bed.

Her touch lingered on the rich fabric.

Candlelight transformed her hair into liquid copper, and even through the layers of her wedding gown, every graceful line of her body was outlined in the golden light from the fire.

“Would you help with my buttons?”

She pulled her hair over one shoulder, exposing the delicate nape of her neck.

I moved closer, breathing in the intoxicating scent of lavender that engulfed me.

The perfume made my head swim while I fought the urge to press my lips against the pale column of her throat, to taste the pulse that fluttered beneath skin as soft as silk.

I found the first button.

The pearl was warm from her skin and slippery beneath my touch.

As I worked it free, the fabric parted to reveal a triangle of olive skin that glowed in the candlelight. I moved to the next button, then the next. When the last button surrendered to my fingers, I could no longer resist. I grazed my fingertips along the curve of her spine, and marvelled at the smoothness of her skin… at the way she shuddered and leaned back into my touch.

Heat coursed through my veins.

The shadows stirred, reaching toward us, drawn by the intensity of my arousal in ways I had never experienced.

I brushed one hand across the small of her back while the other trailed up to her shoulder.

Her dress slipped down her arm at my touch, pooling around her waist.

I bent my head. My lips hovered hot and close to her shoulder for a moment before I pressed a kiss to her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath them.

The shadows stretched across the floor like living smoke.

They had never responded to passion before, only to anger or fear.

This was uncharted territory, and the lack of control terrified me even as desire threatened to overwhelm every rational thought.

“Hugh.”

She turned to face me with a need that mirrored my own.

Our faces were only an inch apart, her lips parted… I wanted to feel them against my own, to taste them.

She was perfection itself. Intelligent, compassionate, everything I had ever dared hope for. And those cupid’s bow lips… She was everything I could have ever dreamed of. I needed to claim her, to make her fully mine… to hear her cry out my name as I buried myself deep inside her.

She reached for me, her hands fisting in the fabric of my shirt while her body pressed against mine.

Before I could claim her mouth, the shadows surged forward.

They moved with predatory hunger, reaching for Madison with tendrils of darkness that responded to my basest instincts. The sight shocked me back to awareness.

I stepped back so quickly I nearly stumbled, creating distance between us while struggling to rein in the power that had slipped its leash.

“You should rest,”

I said, my voice heavy with restraint.

Madison faced me with flushed skin and quickened breathing, holding the front of her dress to her chest.

Confusion replaced desire in her green eyes, followed quickly by hurt that she tried to mask with composure.

“Hugh, what—”

“You should rest,”

I said more firmly, though my voice cracked with the strain of denial.

The shadows continued their restless movement, and I clenched my fists, forcing them back to their proper places in the corners.

I could not risk losing control again.

The darkness hungered for her almost as much as I did.

It took everything I had not to cross the room and take her in my arms, to see that dress tumble to the floor and…

I growled, a low and guttural sound.

Madison searched my face for answers I could not give.

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths while disappointment flickered across her features.

I thought she might press the issue, that she might demand the explanation I owed her.

Instead, ever composed, she raised her chin and nodded.

“Of course,”

she said.

“It has been a long day.”

Her voice was neutral, but I caught the tremor beneath her composure.

Her hands shook as she clutched her dress tighter.

The sight made my stomach churn with guilt and self-loathing.

She deserved better than a husband who feared his own desires, who pushed her away when she offered herself freely.

I poured myself a generous measure of brandy while she moved behind the dressing screen.

The amber liquid burned, but not enough to numb the sound of heavy satin hitting the floor, not enough to stop me imagining her stepping out of the pooled wedding gown with nothing but candlelight caressing her skin.

I drained my tumbler and forced myself to look away when she emerged in her nightgown.

The thin cotton did little to preserve modesty.

Even as I downed a second glass, the alcohol did nothing to ease the churning in my stomach or the hunger that clawed at my restraint.

Madison climbed into bed without another word.

I listened to her breathing gradually slow and deepen, watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest in the moonlight streaming through the windows.

She was beautiful beyond measure, and I had rejected her like a frightened boy afraid of his own shadow.

Which was precisely what I was.

I flexed my hand and looked at the ring on my finger.

It felt heavier than I remembered, and colder.

A wave of guilt washed over me.

I’d never loved Eleanor, although she’d loved me, and I’d never viewed her as an object of desire even before the madness overtook her.

But with Madison…

She's not what she seems.

I glanced around the room.

The words had been so clear and distinct that I expected to find someone standing in the shadows.

But Madison slept peacefully, her hair spread across the pillow like spilled wine, and we were alone.

I glanced out the window, peering through glass clouded with age.

The manor creaked and settled around me, timbers groaned with centuries of memory.

Outside, mist rose from the grounds like ghostly fingers, carrying with it the damp scent of earth and rotting leaves.

Somewhere in the distance, an owl called.

Its haunting cry echoed above the forest.

It was nights like these where it was clear how Mistfall Abbey got its name.

A movement in the fog caught my attention, and a dark shape rushed towards me as if with purpose through the white veil before a raven landed on the windowsill with a soft thud.

Its feathers gleamed like polished obsidian, as its talons scraped against stone, sounding like fingernails against slate.

Its eyes held an intelligence that made my skin crawl.

For a long moment, we regarded each other through the glass.

She will destroy everything you've built.

The voice came again, clearer now, and an image flashed unbidden through my mind.

Madison stood in my study, her hands moving through my private papers.

She held up a document, and her lips curved in a smile that held no warmth, no trace of the woman who had offered herself to me tonight.

The vision vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving me shaken and uncertain.

The shadows in the room shifted as my emotions got the better of me and my magic took on a life of its own.

Steadying my breathing, I moved to the washstand and splashed cold water against my skin.

It was exhaustion, nothing more.

The stress of the wedding, the strain of maintaining control.

I glanced at Madison again.

She looked so peaceful in sleep, so innocent.

The woman in my vision bore no resemblance to the bride who had offered herself with such vulnerable trust.

Yet the whispered warnings echoed in my mind, growing stronger with each passing moment.

I wanted to wake her, to feel her skin against mine, to lose myself in her embrace.

I wanted her to make sense of what was happening.

But I feared… I didn’t know what I feared.

I shook my head.

That was another lie.

I feared the madness that took Eleanor was coming for me.

Even with this weight hanging over me, there had been times through our wedding reception that she’d brought a smile to my face, and others when I’d wanted to abandon all propriety, press her up against the wall, and feel the touch of her soft skin against my own.

The memory of her skin beneath my fingers, the sound of my name on her lips… I growled at the growing need to bury myself deep inside her, to see the look on her face as I made her scream in pleasure.

Knowing that I couldn’t hide from sleep forever, I moved to the bed and carefully lifted the covers, sliding in place next to Madison.

Her warmth enveloped me.

In sleep, she turned to face me, making the thin fabric of her nightgown slip from her shoulder.

I held myself still as her hand came to rest against my chest, and then stared at her face, watching again the soft parting of her lips and the rise and fall of her chest.

But even as I savoured the moment, the whispered warnings grew stronger, more insistent.

The shadows stirred restlessly in the corners, responding to my inner turmoil.

I closed my eyes and tried to find sleep, but the voice followed me into the darkness.

She sees too much.

Feels too much.

She will be your undoing.