It was only when I looked back at him that I realised my mistake.
As much as there was a fire burning in me, one ignited in him. Maybe it was because I’d laughed at him or because I’d forgotten him. Maybe it was that last part when I’d dismissed him.
Whatever the reason, a vein in his temple throbbed and his eyes bulged as he started forward.
He didn’t go for the door.
Pulse racing, I darted to one side, but I was too slow, and his grip closed around my wrist.
My head snapped back as he yanked me close. The sickly sweet scent of sherry rolled off him. How hadn’t I noticed it before?
“Get off me.” I pushed at his chest, but he caught my other arm.
“No, Katherine. I won’t get off you. You’re my wife and it’s about time you acted like one.” He shoved and I stumbled back, my heel hitting something.
For a horrible instant there was nothing under me, just air and the world tilting, tilting, tilting.
Then the breath whooshed out of me as I crashed into the coffee table. Glasses and jars smashed, unleashing a cacophony of scent. I tried to inhale, but my lungs spasmed, and I could only manage little squeaking gasps.
Just winded. I’d get my breath back in a second.
“I had to turn back from my trip, because no one would give me credit.” Robin closed in. “I bet that was you, wasn’t it? Whispering lies into people’s ears like the poisonous little bitch you are.”
Shaking my head, I clutched my stomach, not able to form any words.
“That’s why I had to come here. I practically begged your uncle to help me.” He bared his teeth as he towered over me, crowding my feet so I couldn’t place them on the floor and stand. “Do you have any idea how humiliating it is for a Viscount to beg someone for help, Katherine? Do you?” Spit flecked his lips as he shouted that last part. “Almost as humiliating as being called to Lunden by your wife’s uncle because she’s whoring herself around.”
He was humiliated? After I’d dirtied my hands in a dozen ways to pay off his debts? After I’d presented myself to a queen in rags? After I’d let unCavendish paw at me and set me to work to seduce a man I didn’t know?
What version of reality did he live in?
I managed to drag in one breath and another. “I’ve spent a decade clearing up your mess.” My voice came out hiccupy and fractured. “This one is entirely of your own making, and this time I’m not fixing it.”
He took half a step back, and I scrambled to my feet in the small space he left.
“You’re clutching your stomach.” His gaze crawled down me.
“I’m winded.” I edged to one side, trying to get from between him and the table.
“No.” He caught my wrist, fingers digging in. “No. You’re fatter too. That fae… you’re pregnant, aren’t you? You’ve been fucking him and now you’re carrying his child! After all these years of denying me an heir.”
“What?” I laughed.
It was the worst thing I could’ve done.
The backhanded strike sent me spinning. I almost caught myself on the table, but slipped off the side and landed hand-first on the floor.
Cold shock rolled through me. Something wrong.
My eyelids fluttered as I rolled to a sitting position, brain rattling, room spinning.
Then the pain erupted. A hot flush in my arm followed by an icy wave. I tried to move it and a fresh eruption rocked through me. When I looked down, bile lurched up my throat.
That angle wasn’t right.
Not right at all. In fact… there wasn’t meant to be an angle there in the middle of my forearm.
I blinked at it. “You’ve broken my arm.”
His shadow fell over me. “You needed a reminder of who I am. I think you need something more permanent, though.” He smiled.
He smiled.
And above that, his eyes glittered with pure malice.
That was when I knew.
He was going to kill me.
It wasn’t a question or even a thought but a certainty, like the earth beneath my feet.
I grabbed the iron ring on my finger. If I could get it off and land a touch or let out my misting poison…
At the same instant, his foot slammed into my stomach.
Blinding pain burned through me. The next thing I knew, I was on my back, blinking at the ceiling.
Fight back. Fight.
I shook off the daze.
Go for the soft bits—that’s what Faolán had told me.
I lashed out with one foot, aiming for his balls.
His roar was a reward, momentarily outshining the agony of my arm. He bent over, clutching himself.
Good. I hope it fucking hurt.
Joints—they were easy to break.
A kick to the knee felled him, and I huffed my relief as I dragged myself away.
Then he was on me, snarling with inhuman rage.
I tried again to wrench off the ring, but it was already a tight fit and my fingers must’ve swollen from the break. Pain bloomed in my face, pale against the sharp agony of my arm.
He was going to kill me.
One-handed, I managed to block some of his strikes, but my brain rattled and I couldn’t remember Faolán’s training. Wasn’t sure I remembered my own name.
“You always thought you were better than me,” Robin spat as the blows stopped. “We’ll see how great you are when I put you in the ground.”
His fingers closed around my throat.
75
Kat
I froze.
Every moment of terror I’d ever known slammed into me with horrible clarity.
Papa shouting and smashing plates. Avice locked in a cupboard as I snuck her food.
Uncle Rufus snapping Fant?me’s neck. Dangling above the grave she shared with Dia with his grip around my neck in a reenactment of her death.
My wedding night. The nights after.
The highwayman pointing a pistol at my head. Later, being the one with the pistol, heart hammering as the Wicked Lady stopped her first victim.
The moments stretched on and on, each one clamping me in ice.
But then as I wheezed, my mind reached for something else.
Riding Vespera. Her fur tickling my face as I hugged her.
Ella’s laugh as she teased me about my name at our first meeting. The brightness of her smile, and its fragility after unCavendish hurt her.
Dancing with Bastian. Being found by him in the maze and in the library, and all the many encounters after.
And now.
Sharing these rooms with him. Choosing him to share my body and my heart.
Grey hazed around the edges of my vision and the world grew dimmer, but it was like I’d woken up.
Because this was a life—or at least the early buds of one. A life—not just survival.
I wriggled and tried pushing him away, but it would’ve been a challenge with two hands. With only one, I stood no chance.
Black blotches crept in as Robin bent closer, this look of fascination on his face.
He was enjoying this. He wanted this.
My heart thundered against my ribs as the rest of the world faded further and further away.
No. This was not it. I had too much to lose.
My hand groped across the floor.
Robin squeezed.
Thicker and darker blackness closed in, pulsing with every laboured beat of my heart.
I wanted to live. My life was worth saving. And this arsehole wasn’t about to take it from me.
My grip closed on something.