Beloved Monster (8 page)

Slowly, he looked away; revulsion gripped him at the thing reflected in the glass. In a split second of blinding rage, he threw the mirror across the study, and it smashed into shards against the wall. The agonized moans grew louder as he tried to stand. The only thought on his mind was to flee this living nightmare. Or perhaps he was in hell suffering torments for any supposed sins in his past life. The white hot anger turned to horrified frustration, burning tears ran down his cheeks as he flayed about.

Why didn’t Glenna run from the room? Isn’t that what people did when faced with a wretched creature? Suddenly, he found himself encircled in reassuring warmth as she laid his head against her shoulder. He could sob uncontrollably for what constituted his life or whatever his life was or would be, but he fought down the urge to wail and curse the heavens. Instead soft moans of despair left his throat. Glenna pulled him closer, stroking his hair, whispering, “hush” in a comforting tone. In no time at all, his moans quieted. Amazing how her touch calmed him and brought him peace. Perhaps Glenna felt pity for him and nothing else. How he wished there could be more between them. So much more.

Luke lay against her breasts, and his heartbeat increased in time with hers. To his absolute horror, arousal clutched him tight. Even though he’d been dead, the thing between his legs stirred to life with sudden force.
Desire.
Like the taste of food, he recognized the sensation. He rubbed his scarred cheek against her chest and her nipple hardened. Oh, yes. He remembered desire, and shockingly, she reacted to him. Perhaps all was not lost. How he longed to burrow in deeper between her generous breasts, turn his head slightly and fasten his mouth on the hard nub. Pull down her bodice and suck until she cried out, lay her beneath him, touching, caressing, until he thrust his…

“What in hell is going on here?”

* * * *

Glenna cried out at the sound of Reed’s angry voice and stepped away from Luke. “Reed I can explain….”

“Cousin, may I speak to you. In private, if you please,” Reed ground out, his expression clearly showing his simmering anger. He held out his arm to indicate she leave first.

Glenna walked away. Her body still trembled from the nearness of Luke and his vulnerable reaction to seeing himself in the mirror. Her breast tingled with awareness where his head rested, the nipple still hard and sensitive.

Reed slammed the door to the study and stalked into the laboratory. He spun around and clasped her arm, giving it a shake. “Just what do you think you are doing?” he whispered through his clenched teeth. “Were you acquainted with Ravenswood? Before all this? For you looked entirely too cozy. The both of you. Explain. You are biting your lower lip, which gives away your guilt.”

Glenna pulled her arm from Reed’s tight grip. “We spoke several times in the village. Polite, indifferent conversations.”

Reed arched an eyebrow. “And?”

Oh, blast it all.
“I met with him once. Alone.”

“For an assignation? My God, I never would have believed it of you. Were you intimate with him?” From the shocked and pained expression on his face, it was obvious Reed fought to keep his voice from rising.

“Not in the way you think. It does not matter. He wanted more, and I said no. He walked away and never spoke to me again.” Astounding how fresh the hurt stung after all this time. Regardless, she dismissed it immediately.

Reed clasped her arms; meeting her gaze, he held it. “Listen to me. The creature in there is not Ravenswood. Do not allow foolish, feminine, romantic ideals to cloud your judgment. I thought you smarter than most females. Is there any woman in the area who has not fallen for Ravenswood’s so-called considerable charms? My own cousin.” He stepped away, lips curled in disgust.

Embarrassment covered her. She
had
fallen for the viscount’s considerable charms. “I apologize for being human and flawed. And feminine romantic ideals are
not
foolish. At least women possess the courage to acknowledge deeper emotions. I am not an automaton like you.” Glenna was sorry for the words as soon as she said them, for a look of such agonized hurt crossed Reed’s face, she hugged him tight. Something they had not done before. “Forgive me, Reed. I did not mean it.”

Instead of pushing her away, he returned the comforting embrace. “I loved once, Glenna, when in my early twenties. The young lady threw me over for a title. My small fortune was not enough to lure her to my side. Since then, I have immersed myself in science. I know what is said about me: The mad man who lurks in his cellar involved in all sorts of unnatural things. It turns out the talk is accurate. I no longer care. This is my life and I accept it. But what I cannot accept is you harboring a
tendre
for Ravenswood in whatever incarnation. It is not to be borne.”

Glenna stepped back. “I feel compassion for Luke. And from what little I have observed, he is nothing like Ravenswood. Nothing. They are two separate beings.” Reed shook his head in disbelief, weariness plain on his face. “Listen to me, Luke figured out he died; he just doesn’t know for how long. He shed a few tears, Reed. Is that not proof enough he
feels
?”

“It very well could be, and that is all fine and good, but what will we do with him? I hardly slept last night for the worry. He cannot take up his old life. My God, look at him. Can you stand there and tell me you could harbor feelings for…that? Him, the way he is?”

Glenna’s head began to ache. A slow rolling wave of pain settled behind her eyes. For she also did not receive any sleep the previous night for much the same reasons as Reed. The future lay before them with a decided uncertainty. And her attraction to Luke grew in intensity while every encounter made her heart ache with yearning. How to explain it? She couldn’t. If she was sure of one thing, she was long over Ravenswood and the heartbreak he caused. The unfortunate episode lay firmly in her past.

Regardless what Reed thought or claimed, she knew her own mind. Nor was she trying to recreate her infatuation with Ravenswood through Luke. In fact, her feelings for Luke were different and certainly based more in reality unlike her previous dreamy fantasies for the viscount. “It is true, he is not quite as handsome as he once was, but what does that matter? Considering you told me earlier he used the privy in the back of the laboratory shows he has bodily functions. He eats and is regaining his strength with each passing hour. His speech is improving. And he is experiencing real emotions. What additional proof do you require that he is alive?”

Reed took two steps forward until he was mere inches from her face. “Since he is experiencing all you mentioned, it means he will also feel base lust, extreme rage, and I am beginning to suspect, tremendous strength and healing abilities.” Reed’s raspy whisper sounded tense. “We are not sure he will be able to control those impulses. He may be a danger to himself and others. To
us.”

Glenna clutched her throat.
In danger?
No.
“Then we will teach him to be in command of his actions and reactions.”

Reed walked away, his breath blowing out in exasperation. Glenna believed with all her heart everything she said, but a nagging doubt picked at her. Could they be at risk? Luke, most of all?

Discovery and censure were immediate threats and Glenna tossed and turned all night with horrible nightmares of the villagers pulling her, Reed, and Luke from the house and executing them on the spot. A bit extreme, but her imagination would not stay silent or calm. However, the servants had been back for two days, and luckily Glenna and Reed managed to keep Luke’s presence secret. How long they could manage it was another question.

Mrs. Grampton stood at the counter and rolled out dough for a pie crust. Glancing up, she gave Glenna a brief but brittle smile. Not the warmest of women, but she was efficient and a good cook and housekeeper. Glenna returned the smile with an overly false, bright one, as she often did when she was hiding something. “I trust you had a good visit with your sister. What is the talk in the village?” Glenna perched on the nearby stool and reached for an oatmeal biscuit.

The cook gave a slight shrug and continued with her chore, sprinkling water and flour on the crust. “The late viscount continues to be the main topic. I ’eard ’er ladyship ’as taken to ’er room and won’t come downstairs, not even for meals. The earl stays to ’is study. ’e ordered Ravenswood’s belongings be removed right away if you can imagine.” Mrs. Grampton lifted the crust and laid it at the bottom of the pie plate. “The vicar ’as been tasked with sellin’ the clothes and such and can keep the money for the parish. I’ll be sayin’ this. The earl is generous, even in ’is grief. If the man even feels grief a’tall.”

Clothes.
The viscount’s clothes. The wheel in Glenna’s mind spun at a rapid and plotting speed. She had a fair bit of money laid aside. Pin money Reed had given her the last couple of years. No reason she should not drop by the vicarage and purchase some of the garments for Luke. The story she could use is that the purchases were for Reed. Popping the last of the biscuit in her mouth, she rose to her feet. “I will be going out for a while. The professor is downstairs and does not wish to be disturbed. I will return in plenty of time for tea.”

“Aye, Miss Glenna.”

Glenna scurried off to find her cloak. Will the clothing jog Luke’s memory? She was becoming surer of the fact he should be told about his former life. How cruel to leave him in the dark with no knowledge of his past. While agreeing with Reed he should remember on his own, anything Glenna could do to assist Luke in his recollection, she would do. And procuring part of his former wardrobe may be the catalyst needed.

* * * *

With close to thirty pounds tucked away in her reticule, Glenna hitched the horse to the small wagon and made her way to the vicarage. Reed hired a young boy from the village to chop firewood, keep the coal scuttles filled, tend the yard, and also tend to Faraday. The gentle gelding of advancing years was named after a physicist that discovered electro-magnetic induction. Leave it to Reed to come up with such a name. Glenna became quite adept of hitching the horse, and it came in handy today as the lad was not about.

The horse ambled at a slow gait, and for his age, Faraday held his head high. He was more than able to pull her and the wagon. When they returned from her errand, she would make sure he had a special treat and rub down.

The vicarage and chapel came into her line of vision. They were small and non-descript; the village did not need one larger. Both were built of stone and in good repair. Smoke curled up from the chimney, indicating the vicar must be home. Glenna did not know the man well as she and Reed only attended services at Easter and Christmas.

What she did know was that Mr. Dornan was Irish and had lived in the area for close to twenty-five years. As she pulled on the reins to halt Faraday the vicar stepped outside, his hands clasped behind his back. He made no movement to assist her with the horse or her descent from the wagon. Nevertheless, she managed to scramble down with her dignity intact and looped the reins around the hitching post. “Miss Parker? I see you so seldom I could not be sure it was you approaching.”

Glenna tamped down a scowl and a discourteous retort. Of course, the vicar had to let it be known she did not attend services on a weekly basis. His voice had a slight musical lilt and the tone covered in a frost of disdain.

She flashed him one of her brilliant, counterfeit smiles. “Yes. It is I. I have heard from my cook, Mrs. Grampton, you have been given the task of disposing of the late Viscount Ravenswood’s belongings. I thought I would come by and acquire a few articles for my cousin.”

The vicar frowned. “I’ve no plans to sell anything to the villagers. Instead I found a consignment shop in London who is interested in purchasing the entire lot.”

Glenna smoothed her wool skirt. “Did you give them an itemized list?”

Mr. Dornan cocked an eyebrow. “Not as yet.”

“Excellent, then you can sell a few bits and bobs to me. Reed does not get out much, the poor dear. Anything I can do to increase his wardrobe, I shall.”

Mr. Dornan glanced at the vicarage and seemed to be contemplating her suggestion. “Well, I suppose it would not do any harm. I merely wished to spare the earl and her ladyship the heartbreak of seeing any of the locals traipsing about in their late son’s garments.”

The words were spoken with deep feeling, and Glenna warmed a little toward the vicar. She nodded. “I understand, Mr. Dornan. As you know, my cousin keeps his own counsel, nor do Reed and the earl move in the same social circles. I will ensure he does not flaunt the clothes about in public.”

“Aye, and I understand about keeping one’s own counsel. Very well. Come in, I have many of the items laid out as I was about to begin the task of itemizing it all.”

Glenna stepped across the threshold, removed her gloves, and placed them in her reticule. The interior of the vicarage was cozy, a roaring fire blazed in the hearth. A sofa and two chairs rested before the fire, and a large braided rug covered most of the wood floor. Mr. Dornan took her cloak. “May I offer you a cup of tea?” he asked politely.

She glanced up at the tall, slim, older man. He’d warmed considerably in his look and tone since she first arrived. Dressed entirely in black, save for the white collar at his neck, he possessed the countenance of a stern scholar with his salt and pepper hair and thin mouth, but in taking a closer look, Glenna observed a playful twinkle in his blue eyes. “I would love one. And Mr. Dornan, allow me to assist you with your inventory.”

“Most kind of you. I accept your offer. Please, inspect the items at your leisure while I put the kettle on.”

Glenna laid her reticule aside and gasped at the sight before her. Piles of fashionable attire lay on nearly every surface. Hanging on a nail were many fine evening clothes of expensive quality. Luke would no longer have use for those, she thought sadly. Books, and many of them, sat in piles on the floor. Ravenswood had been a reader. No wonder he’d quoted
Paradise Lost
to her in the bookstore. On the table lay a leather shaving kit. She traced the initials on the silver handle of the razor. LWM.
Lucas William Madden.
Surely such a personal item could clear the fog from Luke’s memory. Next to it sat a bottle of New Mown Hay Cologne. They really did clear out everything as if to obliterate his existence. However, everyone grieved in their own way. Some found comfort in the dearly departed’s belongings, yet for others the memory became entirely too painful to endure. A smaller group wanted to be rid of any reminder because they were glad the deceased had shuffled off this mortal coil. She wondered which group the earl fell in.