Animal Lust. Lacy DanesЧитать онлайн книгу.
This man possessed no way of knowing that.
“I will do as you wish, sir.” She had no choice. Either she stepped into this house and escaped drowning in one of Cumberland’s deluges, or she would try to find her way back in the dark and probably die. She cringed. That was a bit too pessimistic, but she just couldn’t go another step this night.
He hesitated and then opened the door just enough to admit her. She slid into the darkened hall and glanced around. A grand staircase stood twisting up to the roof. Dim light shone through a window above the door and illuminated the entry and the paintings that covered the walls. Where did the stair lead? An eerie chill raced up her spine, and she stepped forward, eager to see what lay at their end.
“This way, miss.”
Startled, she spun around and followed the servant down a hall that went off to the left of the entry.
“I will put you in the east wing. You will lock your door. Every bolt. I will bring you warm water to wash. After, admit no one to your room.”
A bit protective for a servant, but then again, maybe his master was a real curmudgeon. The last thing she wanted was to end up back out in the rain now. “Very well, sir. I have no wish for you to lose your post. I can surely sleep in the kitchen.”
“No!” His voice was a sharp shrill.
Her brows drew together as her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the hall they trod down. Why was he so nervous?
“Until I tell Lord Tremarctos you are staying with us, you will stay out of sight.” The man swallowed hard. His hand moved upward as though to tweak his collar and then stopped midair as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
Odd! Surely she had nothing to fear. Besides, tiredness ruled her, and the events from the day shook her so terribly it would be no problem to stay locked behind a door in this house.
This house…. Her gaze darted around the hall, and she almost stopped and spun on the spot. What a beautiful house! The floors shone of a dark, polished marble. The doors stood floor to ceiling with massive iron hinges bigger than anything she had ever seen.
In the dim light she could tell that the house shone with delights she would never see again. Truly a pity. She wished she could see every detail. They turned a corner, and she followed the man up three flights of narrow servants’ stairs. At the top of the hall another male servant approached, and the man who let her in waved his hand, calling him to them.
“Bring me hot water, a pitcher, and have Jack send up tea with cheese and biscuits.”
“Sir.” The man inclined his head and stared at her as she passed.
Her attire was a mess! Nevertheless, politeness dictated that he shouldn’t stare. Her fingers picked at the mud that covered her dress, and her gaze settled on her dirt-splattered hands. She rolled her eyes. Just her luck! Finally she saw the inside of a fancy house, and she looked as if she’d spent the day gathering greens from the garden.
Halfway down the hall, they stopped and he pushed open a door. She stepped across the threshold and stopped. Her eyes widened, settling on the well-appointed room. “Oh, sir, a servant’s room will suffice.”
“No, ma’am. None of the servants’ rooms have doors. And…well, you promised to lock yourself in.”
She turned as he bent to light the fire in the grate. The sputtering flame cast more light into the dark room. Oh, how she wanted to get warm, wash the filth from her body, and curl up in that huge, heavenly bed. Her mouth dropped open. My goodness, the mattress was enormous; the posters were carved but with such dim light she couldn’t see the design.
The linens looked a scrumptious deep shade, too dark to discern in the glow from the fire. The image of her lying on deep scarlet silk, naked, flashed before her. Her hair spread across the pillows as a lover caressed her thighs, his head between her legs, licking the entrance to her womb. Her knees wobbled as tingles scorched through her sex. Oh, my! Her hand shot to her mouth in shock, and she shook herself, trying to erase the image from her mind.
Never in her life had such thoughts entered her head. When she imagined the act with Jonathan, loving never involved a bed, and never with his mouth there. Her hand smoothed down the front of her dress to the apex of her thighs. Would kissing there be pleasurable? Her cheeks flushed warm, and she snatched her hand away. Thank goodness no one could see her thoughts!
She was tired; that was all. The man who had passed them brought up water and filled a tub for her to wash in; he was followed by a gentleman with a tea tray. She waited until they left, bolted the door as requested, and then sat down on the chair by the fire. Tears trickled down her face; they were the last she would allow because of Jonathan. Tomorrow would be a new day, and she would find a way out of this mess. But tonight…she let herself cry once more.
A noise pierced her slumber. What was that?
The sound increased as her eyes fluttered open to darkness. The fire in the fireplace burned no more, and the rain outside fell in a deafening pour.
Crack.
Lightning lit the edges of the curtain as a scratching from the other side of the door grew louder. Her heart increased to a fast beat. What was that? A dog?
She pushed back the covers, scrambled to her feet, and crossed the icy room to the door.
She shivered as she stood before the white painted wood. Her gaze scanned the line of eight locks the servant had requested she bolt. She had felt silly when she listened to him, but his nervousness about letting a woman stay here made her wonder what lay beyond that door. Leaning toward the door she placed her ear to the crack.
Sniff, sniff. A low rumble of a growl came from the opposite side. “I can smell you.” Sniff. “The virgin’s blood, the semen, dripping from you.”
She jumped and scrambled back, an arm’s reach from the door in outrage. How…how could anyone know what she did today? She had washed…thoroughly. There was no possible way anyone could smell her folly. Was this a dream?
“Who…who is there?” Her voice wavered as she reached out and touched the bolts she had thrown that night.
“Let me in.” The growl, so low and throaty, made the hairs on her neck stand. “Let me taste what you have so freely given to another.”
She continued to stare at the door; shame and panic boiled through her body until her body shook. The scratching increased. The sniffs echoed as if the person outside her door stood beside her. “Let me in…. Let me in….” the raspy growl rang, and sweat slid down her back.
It would not give up. Somehow she sensed it.
The sound of something dragging widened her eyes, and with a bang, the door shook on its hinges. “Let me in, damn you!” It howled in outrage. “I will have you. There will be no denying me.”
“No…. Go. Leave me be!” She yelled into the blackness and stepped back from the door as the wood once again shook and creaked with the weight of the pounding.
This surely was a dream. Nothing like this could be real.
Her body shook, her gaze stuck on the door. Please let the locks hold firm.
A sharp cry of pain came from the other side of the door, and a breath tickled her neck. Her hand shot to that spot as she spun, expecting to see someone there. Nothing. The curtains blew, and the window snapped open with a crack.
Dash it all! She jumped and hurried for the window. The wind howled, blowing her hair back from her face in a gust. She grasped the sodden wood in her hands and tugged; she stared out at the night. Rain came down in sheets, and as the wood frame clicked shut, lightning lit up the gardens below.
A figure clung to the wall at the base of the building. Crimson eyes stared up at her. She gasped, bolted the window, and pushed away from the glass, the curtain falling back as—she swore—the eyes emerged above the edge of the sill.
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