“Ah, Tessa, do not fight me so.” He leaned against her,
smirking with a combination of evilness and victory. She felt his hands shift
as he locked her in place with fingers that curled tightly around her arms. She
felt the heat from his body seep into hers just as the weight of his
muscle-packed frame pinned her in place.
Again, she said words she knew she’d said before, but did
not recall them until she heard them leave her lips, “I will not marry you,
Dominic. As I said before present, I refuse your offer.” She tried digging the
hard bottom of her slipper into his shin attempting to motivate him to release
her, again to no avail.
“Your parents will demand we marry.”
“Nay! They will not—”
“Oh, but they will, my sweet Tessa. You will not be allowed
to refuse me this time.”
“What—?” Her words died on a gasp when he captured her jaw
with steel fingers, forced her head to the side, and dropped his face to her
neck. She felt his lips close over the skin at the curve at which her neck
meets her shoulder and a stinging, pulling, pinching sensation traumatized the
flesh there. Tessa struggled, kicking and pounding her fists against any part
of him she could reach. It was like punching stone.
She cried out. His fingers bit into her arm and then her
cheeks as his other hand slid from her jaw to her mouth to quiet her protests.
It became difficult to breathe as he smashed her torso to the stone more firmly
with his heavy chest. Her fingers clenched around a fistful of his embroidered
coat, she pulled and heard the sound of fabric rending.
As his palm pressed onto her lips, he chuckled and whispered
against her flesh, “Such a warm response,
sweeting
.” His tone dripped with thick sarcasm. “Are you
trying to disrobe me already?” Tessa felt moisture from his mouth as he
proceeded to further bruise her neck.
When he released her and stepped away, he laughed, the sound
came out as a pompous bellow.
Just as her fingers flew to her neck to soothe the hurt she
was forced to blink against the unexpected glow of light. Long shadows danced
across the richly furnished chamber. A woman gasped. And when Tessa saw her
face, it seemed she was attempting to hide a sneer. The
queen
was
pleased with this scenario? Tessa tossed that odd idea around within her mind
until the queen spoke, “Oh, Contessa, such a foolish maiden. We must demand you
wed now.”
Tessa did not know what to say to that, for she understood
quite clearly what they were all about. They meant to trap her, meant to force
the wedding her parents had tried so desperately to protect her from. She could
admit it was a cunning plan, yet she also knew her parents would continue to
support her choice if she refused, no matter what lies were told about her, or
how this situation could make it difficult for her to find a new groom.
Dominic reached toward her and tugged her hand away from his
handiwork. “Ah, ’tis a fine one, if I do not say so myself.”
His mother made no attempt to disguise her sneer now, and
his father, the king, who had also entered, was just like an older version of
Dominic. Both were handsome men, with a cruel sparkle flashing in their stare,
both had black hair and hazel eyes, distinguished features, tall builds and
broad shoulders. The only differences were the streaks of white hair growing
from the temples of the older man.
A winded maid lunged into the chamber followed by Tessa’s
parents. Bless dear Jenna for getting her mother and father and coming to her
aid, even if it was minutes too late. Jenna curtsied deeply. “Forgive me,” the
girl said, and dropped one palm over her stomach whilst trying to catch her
breath. She heaved for a moment and then turned to Tessa’s father. “I saw him
snatch her!” –she stabbed an accusing finger toward the prince— “She was gagged
and abducted—”
“Nonsense! No abduction has occurred. She stands before you
in your own dwelling.” He moved to slip an arm around her waist. “We but had a
little
tryst
is all.”
Tessa shoved and tried to twist away from him, but he would
not have it. “Tessa!” Dominic reprimanded, then softened his tone to a more
slippery one. “Precious, do not be shy. Show them that you’re mine. None can
stake such a claim as I can.”
She cringed in horror as he swept her hair out of the way,
and her mother paled at the sight of the marred flesh upon her neck.
“Prince Dominic!” snapped her father, “You must not address
my daughter so casually.” Then his frown deepened as he considered his next
words. “Annabelle, it seems we have no choice. We must do what must be done.”
“No, James, you cannot!” shrieked her mother, who looked as
if she may faint. Her father took hold of her mother’s elbow, as though he had
the same concern.
“Darling, trust me. We have no other choice but to do what
is best for her. We cannot fail her.”
Her father conveyed deep love and devotion with the way he
looked at his wife and stroked the back of her fingers with his thumb. At the
touch, her mother calmed considerably, glanced nervously her way, and then
dropped her eyes to her and her husband’s twined fingers.
“Yes, James, I see it must be so,” she responded softly.
Dominic’s mother choked or laughed, she could not be sure,
and his father puffed up like a great boasting peacock. “’Tis about time you
saw reason in this. Wedding plans shall begin promptly.”
Tessa felt as though the air had been sucked from the room,
and she was fairly certain Dominic was responsible. He had a way of making her
feel smothered. Without another word, she punched the selfish prince in the
stomach, and then stewed over the fact that he did not have the decency to even
grunt as she pushed away from him and dashed from the chamber.
That is when she awoke from the nightmare, safe, it seemed,
within her enchanted bedchamber. Even if she were dead….
Tessa jerked upright from the bed. She knew her name! Her
hand rose to the side of her neck. And she knew how she’d gotten that mark. It
was distressing, but not as bad as she’d feared—just a spoiled prince trying to
get his way. However, somehow things had become much worse. The full mystery was
not yet solved; she did not know who had killed her. And another puzzle, she
had no clue as to why it was done before the wedding had been completed. Why
would the prince be so hasty to murder her if he wanted to wed her so badly he
would stoop to such trickery?
And, she worried, with her heart sinking, had her parents
betrayed her? Somehow she doubted that was possible. Moaning with frustration,
she could not call up any more memories and knew her questions would remain
unanswered.
She also knew the hour was late, and that Christian was most
likely sleeping, but she had to tell him. Now.
Chapter
10
The
Struggling Earl of Krestly Castle
Christian sucked in a breath and shuddered. An odd, warm
breeze had just moved along his cheek. And only his cheek. How had it not
touched his hair or the rest of his face? Had he left the window open? No, it
can’t be that, it’s too chilly outside.
“Christian?”
He rolled toward the sound. “Hmm?”
“Wake up, please.”
Again the warming air touched him. It slid along his temple,
along his cheek, and then continued the length of his jaw only to jump suddenly
to his mouth.
His eyes snapped open. “What?” he muttered in a
sleep-drenched voice.
Slowly, she came into focus then. The ghost…. “I’m sorry to
wake you,” she whispered in that musical voice of hers.
Christian cleared his throat, but his words still came out
scratchy. “Is something the matter?”
“I had a dream.”
“Did you see your parents again?”
She nodded. “But there is more this time.”
He pushed up onto his elbows and continued the motion until
he was fully upright. “Sit. Tell me,” Christian whispered gently, and then
moved over and motioned for her to join him.
The apparition hesitated for half a beat and then settled
over the mattress.
“You had a dream?” he prompted when she did not speak.
Silently, she nodded again.
“Princess, please tell me.”
After heaving one big sigh, she began, “I know my name, and
I know how I gained this bruise.” Her fingers moved over the place in question.
“Who—?”
“It was the groom. He meant to force the wedding even after
I had refused him.”
Christian drew up his left knee and looped one arm around
it. “I meant who are you?”
“Oh,” she met his gaze, “Contessa. My name is Contessa.”
“You’re a countess?”
She frowned at that. “No, c-o-n-t-e-s-s-a. Not c
oun
tess.
I was called Tessa for short.”
“Tessa,” he repeated, testing it on his tongue. “And your
surname?”
“I do not know that.”
Calling her by her first name was as good as a marriage
proposal…but if it was all he knew…. “Tessa,” he repeated. “I like it. It fits
you.” He wanted to smile because it felt right to speak her name even if it
wasn’t completely proper to do so—however, not all of her news was good news.
And she was obviously weighted with the same tension,
because he knew she would have blushed and smiled bashfully as she frequently
did when he said things like that, but this time her mouth didn’t even twitch.
His thoughts shifted to the other, more distressing,
revelation. “The groom attacked you?”
“Yes, he forced the mark upon me. I tried to fight him…he
was too strong. He pinned me against the wall whilst he marred my neck with his
mouth. It was not pleasant gaining a love bite, as you called it.” Her voice
trembled.
And there was a haunted look in her eyes, which worried him.
His insides twisted, and his concern for her spiked. Was this as bad as he’d
feared? Had she been ravished before being murdered? He said the only thing he
could think of to soothe her, “It’s not your fault.”
Tessa was weeping now. He could see the tears tumbling down
her cheeks even in the dim lighting of his bedchamber. He swore under his
breath.
The angry sound drew her glistening gaze back to his. That
pink bottom lip of hers was wobbling, and he wanted to kiss the hurt away.
Christian reached for her. She shuddered as his hand moved the length of her
arm.
“He took advantage of you.” He shook his head, his brain
searching for a motive. “So the scoundrel was below your station and the only
way for him to gain a bride such as you was to force your hand?” he speculated.
He’d seen many attempt this, even in his day. Women plotting, sneaking to trap
a man alone, and men, they usually took it further, stealing innocence….
The soft sobs continued, and she covered her face with
delicate, trembling hands, those slight shoulders of hers jerking with gasping
whimpers. “He was a prince,” she finally muttered.
“A what?”
“Prince Dominic Renard. And his parents, the king and queen,
helped him.”
Christian coughed when another oath lodged in his windpipe,
and it was a particularly crude one.
Sweet Tessa turned her head and stared at him with huge eyes
that looked steel-blue within the darkened room.
“Did he do more? Did he—?”
“Nay!” she shrieked. “It was only the bruise.”
There was no way it had been that simple, she was dead! “And
your parents forced you to wed because you’d been compromised.”
Again, she shook her head adamantly.
“I don’t understand. What happened next?”
“I know not.”
“But—”
“I awoke.”
He scratched his arm. “I see.”
Tessa rose from the bed. “I should let you go back to sleep.”
“Stay,” he found himself saying.
“I-I could not.... It would not be proper.”
“Rubbish!” She flinched at that. He lowered his tone,
reached for her hand, and watched as his fingers slid through hers. “We cannot
touch. Nothing inappropriate can happen between us.”
Her head tilted to the side. “Are you certain?”
Then she dropped her gaze from his, but he’d already seen
enough. The true wish of her heart could not be hidden in her eyes. She didn’t
want to be alone. “Tessa.” Her troubled gaze lifted, more tears glistened.
“Tessa, darling, stay with me. We’ll both sleep better.”
Christian guessed she was debating with herself as her eyes
skated from him, to the bed, to the door and back. With a look of resolve, she
drifted back onto the mattress beside him and reclined.
He tucked himself back in under the covers and rolled to his
side so he was facing her.
I’ll kill him. I’ll dig up his rotting corpse and break his
bones, he wanted to say. “Are you all right?” he said instead.
She didn’t look all right, tears continued to course down
her pale face as she mumbled in the wispy voice of a spirit, “I’m fine.”
As he watched her tongue slip along her trembling lips, his
thoughts shifted back to the kiss he’d given her in her bedchamber. And he
wanted to do it again, wanted to wipe away the tears and distress written upon
her vexed little face.
And so he did. Shifting up on one elbow, Christian moved
close to her and brushed his mouth over the rivulets of moisture, removing them
from her translucent skin. He came away with wet lips. Christian knew it would
happen that way, still he marveled at how her tears were tangible while she was
not.
Contessa continued to weep, soaking his pillow. Catching one
of those tears before it fell to the bed, he met her weary gaze as he rubbed
the moisture into his skin. “I’ll find record of you now. I swear it. And I
will exact justice.”
She laughed, though there was no humor in it. “It was
hundreds of years ago, Christian. I appreciate your aid, but it is too late, it
is the past.” Her lashes fluttered down onto her dampened cheeks. “I-I cannot
get my life back.”