Page 30 of Her Dark Seduction
“Drink it all.”
I complied, not caring whether the cup contained poison, for if that hastened my death it would free me from this life. When I drained the cup, gentle hands pushed me back.
“Sleep now, sweetling.”
I heard the sound of flint being struck and saw a brief flare of light and a pair of eyes, full of kindness.
“Maman!” My voice weakened as the drug began to take effect. She had come to me when I needed her most and would guide me in death. Her eyes were bluer than I remembered but their expression was soft and loving.
“Maman, am I going to die?”
She did not answer, and I closed my eyes, embracing the heavy blackness which draped over me. I was able to whisper a few words before it fully engulfed me.
“I am coming, Maman. I love you.”
****
The next time I opened my eyes, my vision was blurry and my head felt heavy. The glare of the light hurt my head. A hand brushed my forehead.
“Maman?”
“No, dear lady. ’Tis I, Harwyn.”
“Harwyn. Are you dead also?”
I lifted my head. It was morning and judging by the pain in my head, I was very much alive.
“You must rest. You are ill.”
“I’ve been poisoned.” My voice was hoarse.
Harwyn tut-tutted as one would to a child with an active imagination.
“Nonsense, lady. You’re tired and overwrought after your ordeal. Perhaps you took some wine to help you sleep?”
Images flashed before my eyes—a blurred shape, Maman’s face and gentle fingers clasping my own as they lifted a cup to my lips. Yet, there was nothing in my room. The table beside my cot, where I usually kept a flagon of wine and a goblet, was empty. I must have imagined it, unless the ghost of my mother had visited me. Was I going mad?
“Lady?” Harwyn’s face and voice were full of concern. Though I longed to tell her of Maman’s visit, I was terrified she would think I was losing my sanity. I shook my head.
“’Twas only a dream.” I said. I swung my legs over the edge of the cot and stood, but I lost my balance and fell against Harwyn. She held me steady.
“Come, you must stay abed today. You are unwell.”
“Nay, Harwyn, I need fresh air.” And solitude. I longed for the wild garden. I wanted to be free from the fog of evil embedded within the walls of Mortlock Fort. I shook my head again, trying to expel the drowsiness, while Harwyn helped me dress.
The day was dull, the sun unable to penetrate through the leaden clouds. Thick, cold moisture hung in the air, penetrating my cloak despite its dense, woolen material. The building seemed to loom higher the further I walked from it. I could make out the silhouette of poor Percy’s head. One of my husband’s men had replaced it on the pike for all to see.
I drew my cloak around me, shivering not from the cold alone. I sat on the bench underneath my tree. Driving out all thoughts other than the soothing lull of the wind in the trees and the babbling of the stream, I was able to relax a little. I cherished the stolen moment of peace. A part of me hoped my unseen lover might come to me here and reveal himself. Perhaps he might even carry me away and protect me. But I knew that, unlike the legend of King Arthur’s knights, I did not live in a world of honor and chivalry. So I clung to the dream and imagined a different life, where I would be free—free to live and to love as I chose.
A wave of nausea overcame me, and I bent forward, retching. The memory of the cup at my lips grew stronger. Someone had drugged me, though I did not understand why. Had they meant to kill me? Perhaps the poison worked slowly, and I would sicken gradually. I took in a deep breath, and the nausea subsided as the fresh air filled and cleaned my lungs.
The nausea returned the next day but did not worsen. The poison had not done its job properly, unless the intent was to disable rather than kill me. Nonetheless, I was careful of what I ate, and I avoided wine. My husband did not seem to notice, but Sawford’s eyes stayed focused on me in the dining hall as I shared a trencher with my husband and pretended to sip at my wine.
After that terrible night in the solar, my husband did not touch me again. He resumed the previous routine of commanding me to strip and stand naked before him while he took his own pleasure. Then, Sawford would return me to my room and take me for himself. Though I tried desperately to keep my passions at bay, my body betrayed me. To my shame, I willingly opened myself to Sawford.
One night, after Sawford had taken me, I turned my back, expecting him to dress and leave as usual, but his hand touched the back of my neck. My skin tightened at his touch, sending a jolt of longing to my core, which still pulsed faintly from the pleasures he’d given me.
“Who is Tarvin?”
