Beloved Monster (10 page)

God almighty, he sounded like an imbecile. Perhaps he laid it on a bit too thick. How he wished to pepper her with questions, but Luke held back and tamped down his rampant and conflicting emotions. The silence between them was broken by the hissing kettle. Glenna jumped to her feet and prepared his tea. Watching her fuss about the room gave him a good deal of pleasure and inflamed his desire further. He reveled in her warm presence, enticing floral scent, and beautiful face and form.

While he watched, he allowed his gaze to scan over the curve of her ass as she bent to place the kettle away from the direct flame. How his fevered brain imagined her gripping the mantel as he stood behind her, raised her skirt, and entered her slick heat, pumping hard until both of them cried out with release. He closed his eyes briefly.
Control.
If he required any proof he was indeed alive--a living thing--his potent arousal and lustful thoughts verified the point.

Her lilac scent enveloped him as she held out a steaming mug. He took it with his right hand--still didn’t quite trust the left as yet--and took a sip. Again, Glenna gave him an eager look. When he did not react, her expression changed to clear disappointment.
What the hell?

* * * *

Not only did he
not
recognize Patrick’s name, he did not react to the tea, supposedly his favorite. Patrick gave her the tin of tea meant for Ravenswood after she complimented him on it.

This wasn’t going to work. Luke honestly had no recollection of his life as Ravenswood. She strode to the box and pulled out a shirt. With her back to him, she raised it to her nostrils. The faint scent of crisp linen and a whiff of his cologne filled her senses. She remembered it…well. But would he? How tempting to stand before him and bellow, “Here are your clothes, your favorite tea, and your silver shaving kit! Remember? You are Ravenswood. Heir to the Earl of Whitestone!”

Why did she want him to recollect all that came before? To leave him wandering in the dark did not seem right somehow. Reed brought him back by insane, scientific means. Correction. They both did. She was a culpable as her cousin. Taking a deep breath, then exhaling, she turned to face him. Luke quietly sipped his tea, watching her closely as he always did. On her way by, she snatched the tin from the mantel and held it out before him. “This is an Irish blend. The vicar kindly presented it to me. Do you like it?”

He gave her a curt nod. “Yyyesss.”

Sighing in disappointment, Glenna sat it on the table. “I can assist you in changing into this shirt. It is clean.”

“Nnnooo. Bath. Firsssst.”

Of course. Four days had passed since his awakening. He would wish to attend to his ablutions. How could they arrange it? “Tomorrow is Sunday. The cook and maid attend Sunday services, after which they have the rest of the afternoon off. They will not return until supper. Can you wait until then? The tub is upstairs you see, attached to pipes in the wall.” She sat on the chair. “I am sorry we are keeping you shut away, but there is no choice. How would we explain?”

Yes. Explain.
There would be many pointed questions. The village would be in an uproar.
“Sorry, folks. It turns out the viscount is not dead. In fact, he arose from the grave. Yes! Dug himself out. We gave him shelter until he recovered. Just ignore the scars and gray skin and the fact he does not remember a thing. All will be well.”
The story would not hold up. There were too many doctors involved who declared him dead, including her friend, Sam Twington. It fell on her and Reed to protect him. But how?

“Explain what?” Luke spoke with such clarity and purpose that Glenna was pulled from her worried musings. The stutter in his speech was gone, his accent cultured, his voice smooth and enticing.
Good heavens.

“Your presence. We live in a small village. People invariably talk and gossip. And we have no reasonable explanation for you.”

Luke sipped his tea. “Orrrr how I…look.”

She frowned. “No, we do not. Though it seems your stitches are healing rather quickly. I will ask Reed to examine them. How is your leg? Are you in much pain? I will bring you willow bark tea if you wish it.”

“Noooo pain.”

As he lifted the mug to drink, she noticed the burn on the top of his right hand was gone. How odd. Not only had the burn disappeared, but the numerous scrapes and cuts on his neck and face. “I have to go. We will bring the rest of the clothes down to you soon. And the slice of pie. I must go.” Glenna scurried from the study and fled up the stairs. Although she possessed no knowledge of recovery time from injuries, she knew such rapid improvement was not normal. She would discuss this with Reed.

The front door no sooner closed on the maid and cook’s heels, when Reed assisted Luke up the stairs and immediately ushered him into the master bathroom. Glenna paced back and forth in the parlor as Luke’s bathing seemed to take quite some time.

Reed at last strode into the room. “He will be out directly. Luke requested to speak to you--alone. I will stay if you wish.”

“No, I will be fine,” Glenna replied.

Reed tunneled his hand through his hair. “I assisted him in his ablutions, and while I was at it also examined him, and you are quite correct. The various burns are gone. The scrapes and cuts from the carriage accident? Completely healed. I took out his stitches. Here is the thing. It takes two weeks or more before stitches can be removed from such a severe laceration, and yet I could remove his today. The fracture in his leg is nearly mended. Mere days are an impossible recovery time. Tomorrow, I will begin blood tests. As you stated last night, something is not right.”

The parlor door opened and Luke walked through. At first, Glenna’s breath caught. He wore black trousers and a white shirt which lay open at the throat. His dark black hair was clean and brushed in such a way most of the uneven layers and the metal plate were not visible. The white striations from his scars were noticeable on his light gray skin, but it did not mar the beauty of him. Yes, he was a striking figure. The attraction flared afresh. Goodness, her heart fluttered madly and her mouth went dry. It was then she realized the boards had been removed from his leg. The well-cut trousers and form-fitting shirt hugged his muscular frame.

Reed leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I guess the limb is healed enough to put weight on it. I will leave you alone. Try and stay calm.” Reed shook his head as he left the room, closing the door with a soft snick.

Luke limped toward her, his gait slow but purposeful. When he spotted the piano, he stopped. He sat on the bench and tentatively touched the keys with his right hand. The left, still gloved, also fingered a few keys. Tilting his head back, the rays from the sun caressed his perfect profile in a warm glow. He seemed to glory in the heat, and why wouldn’t he, hidden in the cellar the past four days?

To Glenna’s utter shock, he began to play. A rich, resonant piece aching with emotion, causing tears to cluster at the corners of her eyes. The slender fingers of his right hand deftly guided the music, while using his gloved left sparingly. Luke closed his eyes and continued playing. He was not even looking at the keys. Then she recalled Patrick saying, “The lad was hopeless. No artistic talent whatsoever. I did try to teach him the piano. A disaster. All thumbs. And he did make an effort, I will give him that.”

Disaster?
There is no possible way he learned to play with this much confidence and skill without innate talent, ability, and a good deal of practice. A true proficient, he played from his heart and the depths of his soul. She’d never heard this piece of music before. Ever. To her astonishment, a single tear trickled down Luke’s scarred cheek. With one last feather touch across the keys, the music came to a resounding but gentle conclusion. Luke opened his eyes slowly and fixed his gaze on her.

“What is the piece called?” she asked, trying to keep the tremor of emotion from her voice. “It is stunningly beautiful.”

“I have no earthly idea. I simply sat and played. Perhaps I was a pianist in my former life. At any rate, I thank you for the compliment.”

Good heavens.
The shock at hearing him speak could not be described. His voice was steady, the words firm with nary a stutter. He possessed a pleasant, sensual pitch lying between a tenor and a baritone. Somehow, she remembered his voice being much deeper. Perhaps she thought that because he’d spoke to her in a tone bent on seduction. Back to the matter before them.
No, you were not a pianist in your former life. Not even close.

She sat next to him on the piano bench. “You have recovered your speech.”

“Yes. I have.”

“Why did you weep?” she asked softly.

“The music stirred me. It conveyed joy, rapture, but on another level, contempt and loneliness, everything I am feeling. To know music can convey all things must surely be some proof that in every man, there is the spark of the divine. I also feel sadness, for I believe I did not understand any of this, until now.” He absently brushed the tear from his cheek. “As you imagine, I have many questions. Hence the reason I wanted to speak to you alone.”

Still reeling from his emotional music and explanation of how it made him feel, Glenna realized he would be resolute in his hunt for answers.
Blast it all.
She despised lying. He took her hand and her breath caught in her throat from his electric touch. Luke threaded his fingers through hers as he rested his gloved one on his lap. “My skin is cold. Correct?”

“Not cold as such, but your skin is cool to the touch.”

He gripped her hand tighter. “I do not feel changes in temperature. I sit by the fire and receive little comfort or warmth from it. I barely felt the rays from the sun moments ago. Yet, when you touch me, it is as if I will combust from within. Even now, heat is traveling through my body. Can you explain this? Offer any insight at all?”

No, she couldn’t, for she experienced much the same reaction, exactly as he described. She dare not speak it aloud. “I cannot.”

“I should not be touching you in any way, but I cannot help myself. You soothe me. A savage beast. A reanimated corpse.”

Glenna tried to pull her hand away, but he would not allow it. The strength of his grip began to frighten her as did the growing danger of his tone.

“And I am a reanimated corpse, correct?” he asked, his jaw clenched, his voice nearing a growl. “Look at the tone of my skin. I suppose I should be thankful I am not in an advanced stage of decomposition. How did your clever cousin keep the rot at bay? Tell me.” He leaned in close. His multi-colored eyes glowed with an inner flame. They were no longer bloodshot. “Speak the truth to me or I will tear this cozy, neat parlor to shreds.”

“I…I… You were kept on ice,” Glenna stuttered, still in shock over his change in mood. She would not show her distress. Instead, she sat straighter to show her determination and steeled her spine.

“For how long?” He did not yell or elevate his voice, but continued to speak with a quiet menace, which disturbed her more than if he raised the roof.

“Close to three days.”

“So I was not in a coma and stimulated with electro-therapy to rouse me. Nor did I suddenly stop breathing, then was immediately shocked back into life. You lied to me. More than once. I was brought back from death. To. What. Purpose?” His grip tightened and she gasped, but be damned if she would show fear, though her insides trembled.

“Let go of me. You are hurting me,” she replied in a firm voice.

Luke immediately dropped her hand. “I am truly sorry; I do not wish to harm you. Answer me.”

His tone no longer held menace, but it nonetheless sounded determined. His intense gaze remained firmly on her, waiting for a reply. The anxiety she initially experienced receded at last. “To see if electric current could revive a corpse. It worked with a cat. It was not supposed to work with you. You were not supposed to…to…thrive.”

* * * *

A cat.
Luke wanted to laugh, cry, or rage. If he could do all three at once, he would. For
all
this was beyond his comprehension. He remembered the cousins both mentioned a cat right after he became conscious. How long did he lifelessly lie on a slab before they obtained him? Minutes? Hours? A day or more? Three days he lay on ice, like a side of beef.
Right. Resurrected from the dead. Permanent death. Hence the declaration, “He’s alive.”
It all made frightful sense now. Everything fell into place. This
was
a living nightmare.

The thought he caused Glenna harm made his guts churn in abhorrence. Luke reached for her hand and she flinched, but then laid it in his right one. “I apologize again for causing you any discomfort,” he said, keeping his tone hushed. “I literally do not know my own strength. I am not sure what to think about all this. Tell me, truthfully, do you know me? Anything about me?” He gently stroked the top of her hand with his thumb, and she reacted to his touch as a soft moan escaped her lovely lips.

Moisture gathered in Glenna’s eyes. “No. Reed brought you here. You had no identification. I do not know all the details,” she sniffled.
Damn. Tears are forming.
He did not want to cause her distress and yet he seemed to be doing exactly that. “I did not know in advance what Reed had planned. I came across…you and Reed…quite by accident. He asked for my assistance in his experiment. I owe him so much. It wasn’t supposed to work, you see….”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. The contact was searing. Glenna’s lips parted and a ragged sigh escaped them as one lone tear trickled down her cheek. He gently lifted the tear onto the tip of his finger and examined it. He rubbed the moisture on his own face. “Your tears are mine.”

“Oh, Luke,” she whispered, giving him an affectionate smile.

“I will not ask any more questions of you now. If only you could understand the frustration I feel. You cannot know what it is like to awaken into nothingness, to have no memory or remembrance of what came before. To have a vague knowing, but no means in which to recollect. I wonder if you would grant this monster one request…”