A Love So Dark (The Dark Regency Series Book 4) (11 page)

O
lympia felt the pull
, the fire that burned just beneath her skin, raging and roaring to life every time she was in his presence. Desire, if that was truly what she was experiencing, was not the pleasant thing she’d read about in scandalous and forbidden poems. It was much darker, stronger, pressing in on her and driving her to behave in ways that she didn’t understand. Even angry as she was, hurt and with her pitifully wounded pride, she still felt those stirrings of desire for him.

As she stepped over the threshold into his room, she knew that she was taking a step that was irrevocable and would alter
everything
in her life. She trembled slightly under the weight of that knowledge and of the questions about what was to come.

He didn’t step back from her immediately, but stayed near the door so that their bodies brushed as she moved past him. That simple touch created a hitch in her breath, raised gooseflesh on her skin and heightened her awareness of him to the point she could think of nothing else but the way he smelled, the way he had kissed her.

“You were correct when you said that I would not be well received in the village,” she said, ignoring the fact that her voice sounded thin and tremulous. “Even the vicar was somewhat less than cordial.”

He didn’t smile, but his mouth did turn up at the corners in a slight quirk, his expression an odd mix of amusement and sadness. “I warned you. And what did our lovely villagers have to say about myself and Darkwood Hall?”

“Very little. Vague hints, misdirection and all flavored with an overarching sense of disdain and disapproval,” she summarized. “Except for John Short. He and his wife were lovely. They also presented me with a packet letters. Swindon has written to you.”

“I will answer it later,” he replied. “I fear that this conversation may be more important.”

Turning to face him directly, she forced her gaze upward to his face and ignored the distracting vision of the planes and ridges of his bare chest. “I must know what happened here, Griffin. It is an unfair thing to expect of me… that I should live in this house, under the stain of whatever occurred while being completely ignorant of any details.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head as if in deep in thought. It afforded her an opportunity to study him at leisure, to take in every detail of his form. The liquid heat that suffused her, that pooled in her belly, prompted her to take a step back from him. It wasn’t him as much as it was the temptation he presented to her. She wanted him. While her knowledge of carnal matters was limited, it was sufficient to allow her to admit that. But it terrified her as much as it tempted her, because she understood the power of it.

Giving herself to him would be to give him a kind of power over her that she feared and craved. She wanted to know passion and desire. She wanted to know what it would be to lose herself entirely.

“My uncle was a violent man,” he finally said. “He was always a violent man, lashing out at anyone near him. And in the last years of his life, he went quite mad… And his violence grew worse. In a fit of rage prompted by something none of us understand, he murdered both his sons.”

Olympia gasped, her face going pale at the horror of what he disclosed. A small bench at the foot of his bed was the closest place to sit and she needed to. He’d called it a tragedy and it was, but it was also much worse than that. Sinking onto the bench, she clasped her hands in her lap so tightly that her knuckles went white. “When did this occur?”

“Less than a year ago,” he stated simply. “In the dining room.”

Horror blossomed inside her when she recalled their dinner the night before, sitting in a room that had witnessed such horrific violence from a father to his sons. “How can you bear to sit in that room?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “This house has seen many horrors over the years, Olympia. Were I to avoid every chamber or room that had witnessed violence I would have to sleep in the stables.”

“What?”

His gaze was dark, his eyes cold and distant. “We’re all mad, you see… Every man who has ever borne the title of Viscount Darke has gone quite mad. My uncle was not the first member of this family to commit atrocities against his relatives. But I mean to be certain he is the last… and that is why we will never have children, Olympia. That is why I mean to let the line die with me. There is something broken inside us that should not be passed on.”

“How can you know that?” she demanded.

“I told you of my sister Cassandra, but what I did not tell you is that… she is afflicted with the same violent tendencies as my uncle. But unlike him, she is never sensible and just driven to fits of temper. She is like a wounded animal, lashing out viciously at anyone who comes near her. I would not visit that fate on anyone. And I would deny you children before I would condemn you to see any son or daughter you bore suffer in such a way.”

“Madness can be caused by many things, Griffin! You cannot be certain that any children we might have would be afflicted so!” she retorted.

“Certain? No, I cannot be certain. But it would be selfish to risk it. I will not do that, Olympia. I will not bring another person into this world to suffer the way my sister has… and while I display no symptoms now, there is no guarantee that years from now, or even months from now, will not succumb! My own father was fine for years, until one day he simply wasn’t.”

She rose then, frustrated by his answers, frustrated by things she did not understand. That frustration prompted her to pace as she considered how best to respond. “There are treatments—.”

“And they are cruel and ineffective,” he snapped. “You cannot understand the reality of what I have endured until you see it first hand.”

Before Olympia could ask what he meant, he grabbed her by the arm and with his free hand, snagged a key that lay upon the mantle. She struggled to keep up with him as he stalked down the hallway toward the very door Mrs. Webster had barred he from entering. Once through it, he slowed somewhat, but the tension in him seemed to grow. Every muscle was taut and one ticked perceptibly in his jaw as he led her up a narrow flight of stairs.

The room was part of a turret or tower, the walls rounded and the windows heavily barred. But it was the girl in the center of the room that caught Olympia’s eye. She looked like Griffin with her dark hair and eyes, but at the sight of them she shrieked like a banshee. The sound reverberated off the stone walls, the sound so chilling that Olympia could not stop herself from taking a step back.

When she did, Griffin turned on her. “You wanted to see. You wanted to understand,” he reminded her in a fierce tone. “Well, now you have. This is my sister, Cassandra. We must keep her restrained to keep her from doing harm to others. At times, we must restrain her even further to keep her from doing harm to herself.”

Olympia said nothing. She recognized that there was naught for her to say. He wasn’t angry. Oh, his tone was sharp and his words could cut like a blade, but she’d seen it in his eyes when he looked at her. He was hurting. Griffin was in a kind of pain she couldn’t fathom because he could not save someone he loved.

“She has torn at her skin until it is bloodied. Ripped handfuls of hair from her own head. No servants attend her. The last time I allowed a maid into this room, Cassandra nearly killed her,” he said softly, turning away from her to take in the bloodied hands of his sister as she clawed at the floor.

Following his gaze, Olympia could see the bloodied, smeared fingerprints on the floor. “We could put down a rug for her. It might help.”

He smiled, but it was not an expression of amusement. There was a wealth of sadness in that expression. “We tried. And she nearly suffocated herself with it… and selfish as I am, sometimes I even wish I’d found her a few moments later. Then her suffering and mine would be at an end.”

O
lympia had
no response for that, but none was required. While the statement had been uttered with conviction, it had also held a world of regret. But as she surveyed the broken woman before her, Olympia did not judge him for such a thought. If she’d had the misfortune to be in his present situation, she couldn’t imagine that her own thoughts would be any different, or even as charitable.

“Oh Griffin, I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine how awful this has been for you… for both of you.”

“Mrs. Webster found my uncle and my cousins in the dining room,” he continued. “She and I concealed the nature of their deaths as well as possible, laying the blame on a mysterious drifter who broke into the house intent on robbery.”

“And people believed that? A drifter here in the middle of nowhere?”

He shook his head. “No. And that is why the people in the village are so reluctant to welcome you or anyone else from this house… they suspect that I am responsible. They believe that I killed my uncle and my cousins to gain the title. You are married to a man who could possibly go mad at any day and is already suspected of being a murderer.”

“I know the truth… and even if you hadn’t told me, I would never have believed that you were a murderer, Griffin,” Olympia said firmly. “I cannot fathom the suffering you have known, that you have both endured and witnessed. But I am sorry for it.”

At that moment, the girl began to shriek louder. She clawed at the restraints she wore, trying to reach them. Her teeth were bared and the violence of her actions was something that Olympia had never witnessed in her life. It was both terrifying and piteous. She was wounded and animalistic, broken inside in a way that can never be fixed.

“Our presence here distresses, her,” Olympia said.

“At times. And at times she howls and rails whether she is alone or if I am present,” he said. “But she may calm if we leave.”

“Does Lady Florence know of her presence here?” Olympia asked as they moved toward the stairs.

“She does,” Griffin replied, as he led her back to the main corridor. “But she cannot be bothered with Cassandra. She finds her presence here to be a nuisance when it disturbs her, but otherwise she never asks after her or even acknowledges her existence.”

“She would use her to hurt you,” Olympia stated firmly. “The woman is not to be trusted.”

“No,” he agreed. “She isn’t. But at the same time, Florence will do nothing to harm me so long as she continues to have a generous allowance and the freedom to behave as scandalously as she chooses.”

They left the tower room, heading down the stairs and back to his chamber. Olympia said nothing further until they were once again behind closed doors. Questions remained that had to be asked.

“Is she your lover?” she blurted out.

“What?” he demanded.

“Lady Florence… are you lovers?” she repeated.

“Where would you get such an idea?” His voice was heavy with suspicion.

Olympia noted that it was not an immediate denial but a misdirection. Pain stabbed at her and she recognized it for what it was.
Jealousy.

“She’s very beautiful. A woman such as her would be difficult to resist, I imagine,” she said softly.

“Not so difficult,” he said. “A lioness is beautiful, but I would not bed down with one. Florence is a beautiful facade hiding a rotting core. No, Olympia, she is not my lover.”

Why would Lady Florence claim such a thing if there were no truth to it? Olympia understood that she saw her as a threat, as an obstacle to what she wanted which was to remain in a position of power at Darkwood Hall. But such a thing could be easily verified or denied. Whether Griffin recognized it or not, Lady Florence was a force to be reckoned with. But then she examined his words carefully.

“Has she ever been your lover?” she asked.

His gaze grew shuttered, his expression hardening. “Olympia…,” he paused then, sighed heavily. His head dropped to his chest and the offered up the dreaded words. “Yes. She was my lover.”

“You engaged in an affair with your uncle’s wife?”

He shook his head. “No. I brought my lover—my betrothed—here to meet my family before our wedding. And she became my uncle’s lover and his wife instead of my own. Florence was my lover, but it was years ago… before she and my uncle married, before the depths of his illness became evident and long before I realized what fate likely lay in store for me.”

She needed to sit, she realized. Her knees, already trembling, were about to fail her entirely. Relief, intense and overwhelming, assailed her. “I see,” she finally managed. “I am sorry to have pressed you.”

He paced the room, walking to the fireplace and back to the basin. Anger emanated from him and yet she did not feel threatened.

“I had warned Florence not to say anything to you of this… I did not wish it known because I wanted to avoid any additional unpleasantness in this house. We’ve enough to contend with already!”

“I’m glad she said it… and I’m glad, though it pained you, that I asked you,” Olympia confessed breathlessly. “If we are to be together, if this is to be a true marriage as you said, I would not have this secret between us.”

“And what of your secrets, Olympia?” he asked. “What are you so very afraid of?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” she lied.

Griffin approached her, kneeling before her where she sat. They were still not eye to eye, as he towered over her. She was forced to look up to meet his gaze, but they were so close she could see the tiny flecks of gold in the dark depths of his eyes and the faint glint of the few silver strands that shot through his black hair. His nearness made her heart race. It raised goose bumps on her flesh and caused a rush of liquid heat to pool between her thighs. Olympia blushed fiercely.

“You fear something. I can sense it in you. Is it me? Darkwood Hall? What do you fear, Olympia?

“Nothing. I fear nothing, my lord—Griffin. It’s simply that much has changed in my life and I am still growing accustomed to it all.” It was a paltry excuse and she knew it.

He looked away from her, his expression pained. “If you wish to return to London—.”

“No!” she said quickly, forcefully. There was nothing for her to go back to except pain and ruin. And while she’d only known him for a matter of days, she couldn’t fathom letting go of the connection she felt with him. For the first time, in a very long time, she wanted something. It wasn’t about survival or getting by or avoiding another’s plans for her. She wanted him, whether it was for a night or forever.

“I want to be here with you,” she said softly. “I want to be with you, Griffin.” She wanted to say more, to explain in the plain words that he seemed to prefer that she wanted to be his wife in every way. But she lacked the courage to voice it. So instead, she leaned forward, so close that he could not mistake her invitation, and placed her hand on his cheek. The rasp of his whiskers against her palm made her shiver.

He clasped his hand over hers and brought it down, pressing it to his bare chest until she could feel his heartbeat thumping heavily beneath firm muscle and heated skin. Touching him so intimately, when she knew even greater intimacies were to come, had her swaying on her feet, unsteady and drunk with anticipation.

“There’s no going back, Olympia. I need you to be very, very sure,” he warned softly, his voice pitched so low that it rumbled over her skin. “Once you’re mine, it’s forever.”

With a boldness that stunned them both, Olympia met his gaze and uttered the words that would alter everything in their relationship. “Then make me yours. Because it’s all I can think about and I don’t ever want to be anyone else’s.”

***

Griffin stared down at her upturned face and allowed the reality of the moment to sink in, to fully grasp the fact that he wasn’t simply entertaining an elaborate fantasy. When she didn’t draw away from him or shrink back, he clasped his arms about her and tugged her against him. Feeling the weight of her crushed against him, he reveled in it.

It was a dream, surely. Nothing so perfect had occurred in his life in such a long time that he feared it wasn’t real. Was it madness? Had it finally taken him and this sweet vision before him was just a cruel twist of his own mind? Ultimately, it was of no matter. She felt real in his arms, and when he bent his head to take her lips, they tasted sweet beneath his own. If it wasn’t reality, but some mad and fevered fantasy, he no longer cared.

He kissed her intently, desperately—plying her lips with his. Each contour and curve was mapped beneath his lips, tested by his tongue. He nipped at her lips and felt her shiver in his arms. It was glorious.

He rose, pulling her up with him, his lips never leaving hers. Testing their pillowy softness between his teeth, he nipped at them slightly less than gently. A part of him was appalled, reminding himself that she was a virgin and completely untutored in such things. But she didn’t appear frightened.

A soft sigh escaped her parted lips and he could feel the hardened peaks of her breasts pressed against him through the layers of her clothing. He wanted to strip away every one of them, to reveal the lush curves and soft skin beneath.

With that thought, that temptation, spurring his actions, he reached for the laces of her gown and began to tug them free. When the fabric had loosened enough, he pushed it down her arms, to her waist, baring the chemise and stays beneath. If he’d been capable of thought, he might have taken note of how worn her garments were, but his sole preoccupation was with what lay beneath. The mounds of her breasts were pushed up by her stays and he wanted nothing more than to taste that tender flesh.

Lacing the fingers of one hand into the simple bun that she always seemed to wear, he titled her head back. Her neck arched gracefully and it was as necessary to him as breathing to kiss her there, to trace that pale column with his tongue and tease it with the sharp sting of his teeth. Her soft gasp ended on a sharper moan as he bent her back further and pressed a kiss between her breasts. A shiver followed and he smiled against her skin.

Griffin realized that he would never have to wonder with Olympia. Every thing she felt was written clearly upon her face, and very little of what was going on in her mind was hidden from him. She had her secrets, she’d said, but he couldn’t imagine anything in her past as dark as what he’d shared. Even if it were so, he couldn’t imagine that it would alter his feelings for her at all.

It was that which gave him pause. He did have feelings for Olympia. A strange mix of desire and protectiveness, but also an eager curiosity about her, to know what was in her mind, what her thoughts and opinions were. It would be easier if it were simply lust but even the fear sparked by the realization that his emotions were far more engaged than he wanted them to be was not enough to make him back away from her. There was no power on earth or possibly beyond that would make him give her up at that moment.

Unable to resist the lure of the plump mounds of her breasts for a moment longer, he tugged at her stays. The fabric shifted, freeing first one lush, rounded globe and then the other. The perfection of her pale, milky skin was only rivaled by the sweet temptation of her pert, rose colored nipples. So he didn’t resist. He allowed his lips to coast over her skin, down, trailing hot kisses that left her shuddering in his arms. But when his mouth closed over one taut peak, she let out a sharp cry and clutched at him desperately.

Savoring the taste of her skin, the velvety feel of it beneath his tongue, he wanted to drive her wild—to feel her coming apart for him. Griffin lifted her into his arms and crossed the room quickly. Laying her back on the bed, he tugged at her gown and her petticoat until they slipped over her hips. Her boots came next, tossed aside with her gown. Only then did he pause to drink in the sight of her.

Pale, creamy skin barely covered beneath the threadbare muslin of her chemise and her worn stays. He circled her ankle with one hand, lifting her foot to his chest, he trailed his hands along her calf, her knee and then over the silken skin of her thigh. As he reached her garter, he untied it and then rolled the stocking down her leg. He repeated the process until her legs were completely bared.

“I had intended a slow seduction… to set all your doubts and fears to rest first,” he said, even as he skimmed her chemise higher on her hips.

She didn’t reply immediately, just watched him, her gaze tracking the movements of his hands on her thighs. Their gazes met and then she simply reached up and tugged at the laces of her stays. It loosened, then parted entirely. He helped her to remove it completely and then her chemise as well.

His breath hitched in his lungs and his whole body burned with need—to claim, to conquer, to possess her entirely. Griffin moved over her, resting his weight on his elbows as he cupped her breasts in his hands. He moved his thumbs over the crests, teasing them until she cried out. She was restless beneath him, seeking an unknown relief.

One hand slid from her breast, over her ribs and down to the soft mound of her stomach. He moved lower and she instinctively clenched her thighs together.

Griffin kissed her again, his lips coasting from her lips, along her jaw line to the soft shell of her ear. He whispered, “Let me in, Olympia. Open for me, sweet.”

***

Olympia couldn’t breathe. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire. Deep within her, it raged, and every touch stoked it to new heights. It should have been shocking, to lie there naked in his embrace but she reveled in it. And at his whispered command, she fought against every instinct and parted her thighs for him.

As his hand delved between them, his fingers parted her slick flesh and stroked her in such a way that she could do nothing but cry out and cling to him. It robbed her of sense, of any reason and it sparked a new kind of desperation inside her. The need was insistent, driving, all consuming.

“Griffin, I can’t think. I don’t know what to do!”

He smiled against her skin, pressed soft kisses to her neck, her collar bone, as his fingers moved over her with a skill that melted everything inside her. “You don’t have to do anything, Olympia. And you don’t have to think… you only have to feel.”