How to Tame a Beastly Lord (Happy Ever Regency Book 2) Read online

  The thought sent a shudder across her limbs, and Eugenie found herself striding forward with determined steps. The blackened walls engulfed her as though she was stepping down into hell, and her heart beat wildly—almost painfully—in her chest. Her eyes remained fixed on the darkness ahead, the end of the corridor, for Eugenie knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that was where she would find her husband.

  Far away from the rest of Ravengrove.

  As far away as possible.

  When she finally reached the end of the long corridor, Eugenie almost walked right into the scorched door, barely hanging on its hinges from the looks of it, for it looked as black as the night around her. Catching her breath, Eugenie lifted her candle, inspecting the heavy oak door. Then her hand went to the blackened handle and, after drawing in another deep breath, she pushed it down.

  Surprisingly, the hinges were well-oiled, and the door glided open without a sound. Cold air met Eugenie, and her eyes shifted to the three open windows in the back wall. Rain poured in, and the wind reached inside the room, its swirls grabbing a hold of her robe and nightgown and pulling on them.

  Another flash streaked across the sky, revealing a dim outline of the sparse chamber. A table and chair stood near the right window and an armoire sat in the back. The only other piece of furniture was a four-poster bed without curtains. It stood near the armoire at the back wall, alone and deserted, its sheets stark white in the dim light.

  And empty.

  Eugenie swallowed as her thoughts raced. If her husband wasn’t in bed, where was he? A shiver ran down her back as she glanced around herself, fearing he might, at any moment, pounce on her from the shadows surrounding her. After all, he had asked her to stay away, had he not? What would he do if he found her here?

  However, before Eugenie could dwell on that rather disconcerting thought, another moan ripped through the stormy night, putting even the rolling thunder to shame. Without thought, Eugenie stepped forward until her eyes came to rest on a pile of blankets upon the floor next to the bed. A frown creased her forehead, but then her eyes opened wide when she saw the blankets move.

  For the thousandth time that night, her heart slammed to a halt as she stared at the dark figure twisting and turning as though in pain. Had he fallen out of bed? Or had he slept on the floor?

  Eugenie knew she ought to leave. It would be better for her. But what about him? Strangely, his pain affected her, its tendrils slowly snaking their way into her heart until it ached most acutely. No, she could not leave him. Let him be furious with her for finding her in his chamber, but she could not abandon him to his nightmares.

  Swallowing her fear, Eugenie stepped closer.

  Chapter Nine

  A Rare Moment

  Adrian knew he was dreaming, and yet, it was more than a simple nightmare.

  It was also a memory.

  Something that had been real and true and happening at one point in his life. Not something his subconscious had brought forth in order to assist him in handling events of his past. No, this was his past.

  And Adrian was reliving it night after night.

  Then, too, he had been lost in slumber, snuggled into his bed after a long day with his family out in the woods. Every so often, they would go hunting in the forest bordering on Ravengrove, enjoying their time together. It had been his mother’s idea for she had always stressed the importance of her sons standing side by side, shoulder to shoulder as brothers.

  Adrian remembered well the feeling of being one with his brothers. As different as they were when it came to temperament and talent, in these moments when their parents set them a task to complete, they worked as one. As though they knew without a doubt what the others were thinking, feeling, contemplating.

  It was that feeling that Adrian had missed most in the past few years.

  It had been replaced by a feeling of loneliness.

  Exile.

  Thunder crashed in the distance, and Adrian felt his body jerk with terror. Still, despite his body’s reaction to the approaching storm, his dreams would not release him. They held him down, forcing his mind back to another night.

  Another storm.

  Then, he’d been too exhausted to pay any attention to the approaching threat. Then, he hadn’t thought it a threat at all. He had been lost in a deep, peaceful sleep.

  In that regard, his dreams differed from the reality of what had happened for, in his dreams, Adrian was never lost in a peaceful sleep. In his dreams, he always lay in bed wide awake, but unable to move.

  He heard the crash of thunder somewhere above.

  He felt the vibration of lightning striking the roof.

  He smelled the fire as it spread quickly.

  And then he saw the flames.

  Fire reached into his chamber from above, flames licking around the wooden beams as they stretched lower. The air grew hot, and smoke surged into his mouth and nose as though with the single-minded purpose of suffocating him. In lighting speed, the fire spread through the room and in mere moments, everything was ablaze.

  Adrian knew he would die.

  He was certain of it.

  And then, all of a sudden, he could move.

  His limbs once again complied when he urged them onward, out of the bed and toward the door. His breath still came in rasping coughs, and his limbs moved sluggishly as though they were weighed by something heavy. But at least they moved.

  Adrian remembered dropping to the floor, drawing in one careful breath after another, as he pulled himself closer to the door. The heat was unbearable, and buckets of sweat poured down his forehead, ran into his eyes and blurred his vision even further.

  Still, Adrian kept going, knowing he didn’t have a choice if he wished to live, if he wished to save his family. A part of him knew—remembered—that he could not save them. But in his dreams, hope still existed.

  Hope waiting to be crushed.

  With his last strength, he managed to open the door and all but fell out into the corridor. He tried his best to draw in air, but his thoughts turned toward his family and, before he knew it, he was back on his feet, staring down the corridor where flames licked the walls and ceiling.

  Panic gripped his chest as he staggered forward, his eyes fixed on the flames engulfing the doors leading to his family’s chambers.

  A scream pierced the blazing crackle of the fire, and the blood in Adrian’s veins turned to ice. His muscles tightened and he was about to lunge himself forward when a loud crack shattered the world around him and, a moment later, a part of the ceiling came crashing down.

  Instinctively, Adrian jumped back. Still, a large piece of wood landed on his legs, tripping him and sending him sprawling onto the ground. His nightshirt caught on fire, and he rolled from side to side, doing his best to extinguish the flames as his skin screamed in agony.

  Precious moments passed until Adrian finally managed to push himself back to his feet and stood facing the burning barricade cutting off all access to his family’s chambers.

  He could hear them screaming.

  Screaming his name.

  Screaming for help.

  Screaming in pain and terror and agony.

  And yet, to this day, Adrian wasn’t certain if he’d truly heard them or if it had merely been his imagination, torturing him with the helplessness he had felt in that moment.

  All his life, his parents and brothers had been there. Always close by. Always near. Always with him. They’d always stood together, and not once before had Adrian felt truly afraid because he had never been alone.

  No matter what happened, he wasn’t alone. He’d always known that. It had been the greatest comfort of his young life.

  But in that moment, when he sank to the ground and stared into the flames, tears running down his cheeks as the fire’s heat left blisters on his skin, Adrian could feel them slipping away one by one.

  All the fear and pain and despair he had never felt engulfed him in that moment.

  Alone.

  He was all alone.

  At this point, his dreams would usually drag him down into a black abyss, torturing him with what he had seen and felt, forcing him to imagine how his mother, his father, his brothers had died that night.

  Adrian could already feel it reaching out its talons for him.

  But then something changed.

  Although his skin still burned with the fire’s heat, he suddenly felt a soothing coolness spread over his left cheek. For a moment, it lingered there as though hesitant, but then it brushed over his forehead and across his other cheek. His head began to clear, and he could feel the blackness retreat as though it did not dare reach for him now.

  The breath caught in Adrian’s throat when he realized why.

  He was no longer alone.

  Someone was with him.

  Someone—

  His eyes flew open and, for a short moment, all he saw was darkness. But then he blinked, and the image cleared, revealing his wife’s gentle features hovering above him.

  Her eyes were wide with shock, and yet, he could see concern in those silver pools glowing like two moons in the night sky. Her hand still rested on his cheek, warm and alive against his clammy skin, and for a moment—a rare moment—Adrian simply wanted to sink into her arms and have her hold him.

  “Y-You’re a-all right now,” she whispered, her voice kind, but trembling as her hand left his cheek and her fingers gently brushed a strand from his forehead. “It w-was only a dream.”

  For a wonderful moment, her words soothed the painful ache in Adrian’s heart and he wanted nothing more than to thank her for her kindness. Then, however, his mind reminded him where he was, where they were, what she had just witnessed.

  Ashamed by the hold his dreams still had on him after all these years, Adrian surged to his feet, his jaw clenched tightly as he forced the storm of emotions now rushing to the surface back down. “I told you not to come here!” he snarled as she stumbled backward.

  “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered, her eyes wide and fearful, as she retreated from him.

  Rubbing a hand over his face to chase away the last shreds of his dreams that still clung to his waking mind, Adrian stalked toward her. “Never come here! Never!” Blindly, he reached for her, felt his hands close around her upper arms before he pulled her against him, his eyes burning into hers. “Did you hear what I said? Never come here! Never!”

  Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as she stared up at him, her eyes wide. Still, it was not simply fear of him Adrian saw there. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice no longer trembling. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t mean to…” Heavy with sadness, her silver-gray eyes didn’t veer from his. “I’m sorry.”

  Deep down, Adrian knew she was not apologizing for entering his chamber, for ignoring his request to stay away. No, she’d seen the horror that lived in his dreams. Even now, her eyes seemed to look past the scar on his face and the anger etched into every fiber of his being. They were looking deeper, seeing something no one had ever seen before.

  Something he’d never let anyone see before.

  Breathing hard, Adrian stared at her, for once torn about what to do. He could feel her body warm and alive in his arms. He could feel her presence push away the emptiness in his heart. He could feel her compassion and her desire to help.

  He sighed. She truly was Emery’s sister.

  But like Emery, she saw too much, and Adrian could feel his insides twist and turn under her gaze. In response, every muscle in his body hardened as he tried his best to ignore the overwhelming unease of having another look at him thus. “Get out!”

  At his snarl, his wife flinched and drew in a sharp breath. “Please, release me,” she whispered, trying to step back, but unable to do so as his hands still held her to him.

  Adrian blinked and then withdrew his hands as though they’d been burned. “Get out!” he snarled once more and sent her fleeing the room.

  Fleeing him.

  Standing in the middle of his chamber as the cold wind swirled around him, raising goose bumps on his skin, Adrian listened to her receding footsteps as they echoed down the corridor. His chest was heaving with rapid breaths, and his body cooled, her warmth now absent. Again, the memory of his dreams sneaked in closer, no longer afraid to attack him, sensing that he was once again vulnerable.

  The smell of smoke still lingered as it always did when he awoke from such a nightmare, and he wondered if he’d ever breathe fresh air again. Weakened, he stumbled toward the windows and closed them one by one, his feet stepping into the ice-cold puddles left on the floor by the rain. His eyes remained on the dark sky when, suddenly, lightning flashed once more.

  Adrian cringed and quickly turned away before stumbling a few steps toward the back wall. Sinking down, he drew up his legs, his arms wrapping around his knees. His head felt heavy, and he could no longer keep it from falling forward until it came to rest on his bent knees.

  Then thunder crashed in the distance, and Adrian’s arms tightened around his knees. His jaw tensed and he pinched his eyes shut as his family’s screams once more echo in his ears. Would this ever stop?

  At least his wife would be safe now.

  Even despite the compassion she shared with her late brother, after what she’d witnessed tonight, after the way he had snarled into her face, Adrian was certain she would not return. She had seen the Beast of Ravengrove and it had no doubt sent terror through her heart. No, she would never again enter the west wing.

  Adrian was certain of it.

  A part of him felt regret for the way he had frightened her, and yet, he knew it had been necessary. She ought not have come in the first place, and it was his responsibility to ensure that she would never do so again. The sooner she knew the truth the better.

  It would keep her away.

  It would keep her safe.

  That, at least, he could do for her.

  Chapter Ten

  Over a Cup of Tea

  Feeling her heart thundering in her chest, Eugenie fled the west wing.

  Even now, she could see the monstrous look in her husband’s eyes, feel his hands like iron shackles wrapped around her arms and hear the harshness of his tone as he’d commanded her from his presence.

  Fear had been in the room with them, but not only hers. His as well. Eugenie had felt it almost like a separate being. As monstrous as her husband had seemed, she had sensed something else in the way he had looked at her, the way he had held on to her.

  As though a part of him hadn’t wanted her to leave.

  Stumbling about blindly, her thoughts racing as she tried her best to slow her breathing, Eugenie let out a small shriek when someone suddenly stepped into her path.

  “My lady!” Mrs. Perry exclaimed, one hand to her chest and the other raised, holding on to her wooden spoon. “What on earth are you doing up and about at this hour?”

  Shocked, Eugenie stared at the stout housekeeper, unable to form a coherent thought.

  Mrs. Perry’s features softened when she saw Eugenie’s state of unrest and the spoon quickly disappeared, tucked back into her night robe’s string. “Come with me,” she said gently, taking Eugenie’s cold hand into hers. “What you need is a hot cup of tea.”

  Mumbling something rather incoherent under her breath, Eugenie followed the older woman all the way down into Ravengrove’s large kitchen, grateful to have someone else take over and grant her a moment of rest.

  The kitchen, clean and orderly, lay in silence this close to midnight, and a part of Eugenie felt like an intruder. Still, she allowed Mrs. Perry to push her onto a chair before the housekeeper busied herself boiling some water and setting out a cup on a saucer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, my lady, if you don’t mind my saying so?”

  Eugenie felt a brief smile dance across her face at the memory of her earlier thoughts that night.

  Not a ghost.

  Not even a beast.

  But a tortured man.

  As they waited for the water to boil, Mrs. Perry walked over and sat down across from Eugenie, her watchful eyes gliding over her mistress. “Are you all right?”

  Eugenie held the older woman’s gaze. “I don’t know. I…” Her thoughts ran rampant, and she knew not up from down.

  “The beginning is generally a good place to start,” Mrs. Perry said into the silence, the hint of a smirk on her kind face.

  Smiling at the housekeeper, Eugenie nodded, then licked her lips and began her tale. For a reason she could not name, Eugenie had no doubt that Mrs. Perry was aware of her master’s torments. “He asked me not to set foot into the west wing.”

  Mrs. Perry nodded. “No one is allowed in there.” A slight curl came to the right corner of her mouth, and Eugenie wondered if Mrs. Perry had ever trespassed into the west wing. Somehow, she could not see the stout, spoon-wielding housekeeper to be restrained by anything.

  “I didn’t mean to disobey him,” Eugenie assured the older woman. “I couldn’t sleep and thought to fetch myself another book from the library.” She swallowed. “That’s when I heard it.”

  Again, Mrs. Perry nodded knowingly.

  “I couldn’t walk away,” Eugenie said into the silence, more to herself than to anyone else. What had happened was still so vivid in her mind that she felt she needed time to process it all. “Perhaps I ought to have heeded his request, but he sounded so tortured I…I couldn’t stop myself and leave him.”

  Mrs. Perry smiled at her, and Eugenie knew the other woman approved. “What did he say to you?”

  Sighing, Eugenie shook her head. “He didn’t say anything. He merely snapped at me to leave. I…I’ve never seen anyone so angry, and yet…” Again, she drew in a deep breath, not knowing how to put into words what her heart had sensed when her husband had grabbed hold of her.

  As though he had been afraid to drown.

  As though he’d needed a lifeline.

  As though he had not wanted her to leave…despite his words to the contrary.

  “He barks,” Mrs. Perry said, her eyes watchful as they looked at Eugenie, “but he doesn’t bite. He isn’t the beast he’s rumored to be.”