Beloved Monster (4 page)

Reed chuckled. “I have been keeping the cadaver well chilled. There are ice blocks in the back. At this point, the body should be about thawed out.” Reed poked Ravenswood’s arm, and the skin acted pliable under his touch. “I had him dug up within hours of his burial and set him on ice immediately, so none of the early stages of putrefaction set in. You see, gases build up and…”

Glenna shuddered.
“Please, no details.”

Reed shrugged indifferently. “Actually, skin turns green when the gases build up in the body. Why he is such a light shade of gray, I cannot say.” Reed chuckled once again. “Though I suppose light gray is preferable over green, eh, Cousin?” He absently stroked the viscount’s arm as he spoke, causing Glenna’s stomach to tumble. “No bloating at all, the corpse kept his fine shape, which is perfect for my experiment.”

Dear heaven.
Slowly, her gaze roved over the viscount’s body. She almost lamented for the complete waste of an obviously virile male. And in life he had been, though his personality and morals had been sadly lacking. The proof of his blatant masculinity lay before her in his sculpted form, muscular arms and… “His hand!” Glenna cried out.

“Ah. Well, the left one was quite mangled, barely attached to his arm except by a small flap of skin. I left it in the coffin. I attached another.” Reed stepped away from the corpse and turned his attention to his notes.

“From whom? I thought you said Ravenswood was the only recent death?” she demanded.

Reed looked shamefaced. “I confess there was one other. But the corpse would not have been a good candidate for my experiment. Far too corpulent and not of sound health, and I would hazard to guess, low intellect. Ravenswood is by far the better specimen, physically and intelligently speaking, though the intellect could be in question due to the head injury. At any rate, I took the other fellow’s hand.”

This became worse by the moment. “You
are
Frankenstein! Stitching parts together? Look at it; it’s nearly twice the size of his other.” Truly, it looked hideous, especially in contrast with the perfection of his…his body. The viscount’s right hand showed the smooth, slender fingers of an aristocrat who had lived a soft, rich life. The left? It was large, scarred, and with the calloused fingertips of a laborer. “Why would you even go to the trouble of doing this if you are convinced he will not live more than mere minutes?” Glenna cried.

“To see if it could be done. Isn’t that the point of experiments?” he replied in a huffy voice.

Her stomach lurched again. Perhaps all this was a nightmare. But the most disconcerting thing? The viscount’s eyes were open, staring at nothing. They were still the same sky-blue, but glassy and dead like a doll’s eyes. Glenna covered her mouth to hold back the bile.

The world had gone mad.

* * * *

No idea if the sun set or not, but by the wall clock ticking away one dreadful minute after another, Glenna ascertained the time was near seven in the evening. The cellar laboratory had one window, barely twelve inches wide. Not sufficient to see the sky above, but large enough for Reed to fashion the lightning rod on the outer sill. There were numerous wires attached to the viscount, and they connected not only to the steel rod, but also to the generator on the table nearby. Reed busied himself about the room humming what sounded like Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” while making preparations for his big scientific moment.

Possessing a fertile imagination did not help her in this situation as all manner of scenarios flickered through her racing mind. What would be her reaction to seeing Ravenswood’s corpse twitching on the table? Would he move a finger? Arch an eyebrow? Sit up and demand a drink? If she were the praying type, she would ask God above to allow absolutely nothing to happen, and therefore Ravenswood would be returned to his resting place and Glenna would be able to retire to bed for a day or three to recover from this nightmarish lunacy.

Casting a glance at the table, she had to agree with Reed. The viscount was a fine physical specimen, but she’d known that.
Intimately
. Well, briefly and decorously intimate, at the beginning. What did it say about her to make such an observation about his remains?

Thinking back, Glenna first laid eyes on the viscount two years past at the booksellers. Ravenswood strode into the shop with the potent, masculine energy of a man who had everything going for him. Dressed entirely in black, the color emphasized his beautiful blue eyes to advantage. He resembled what she imagined a fallen angel would look like. As she casually perused the books, she also kept an eye on his every movement as did all the females in the shop. Ravenswood’s gaze met hers and held. His lazy, sensual smile caused molten heat to cover her body from bonnet to boots. Not used to such a raw, visceral reaction to a man, but how could she help it when he stood there, the absolute epitome of a perfect male animal? Young, vital, and handsome beyond all description. She even remembered the book she clutched tightly in her gloved hands.
Paradise Lost
by John Milton.

With great effort she broke the visual connection and tried to dismiss him from her mind, but to no avail. Before she could move to another row of books, warm breath feathered her cheek as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Heavy going for such a lovely young lady.
Paradise Lost
? ‘Did I request thee, maker, from my clay to mould me man, did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me?’ A woman with an intelligent and inquiring mind can be most--stimulating.”

Glenna had been charmed not only by his flirtatious statement, but the deep, resonant richness of his husky voice. Speaking and whispering honeyed words like a man bent on seduction, or so she imagined. Now that she thought of it here in this cellar laboratory, how ironic he spoke that exact quotation as it was used in Mary Shelley’s
Frankenstein
, a book she’d read more than once through the years. How apt concerning the doings tonight. Glenna shook her head and let her thoughts drift to the past once again.

In their brief conversation, Ravenswood showed he possessed a scholarly and inquisitive mind, which appealed to her greatly. Men quoting books or talking astutely about them always managed to catch her attention. Mix that with his breath-robbing good looks and tall, imposing form and she’d been smitten on the spot. Never had such intense emotions been stirred up in her before and nor had any man caused her body to warm and tingle at his nearness. They exchanged names, more polite conversation, and with a kiss of her gloved hand, he left her to wander about the shop. Glenna bought the book, even though she had no real interest in the topic of God, Adam, and Satan. If Ravenswood found her supposed intelligence stimulating, then let him observe her purchasing the tome, even though she merely grasped it to reach for another. With a pleasant smile and a touch of his forelock, he departed, leaving a gaggle of sighing females in his wake, of which she was one. In a brief span of no more than fifteen minutes, she became completely besotted.

That same night Glenna did not sleep well. Instead, she relived their brief encounter over and over again. Though she’d worn gloves when he kissed her hand, the scorching softness of his luscious lips could be felt through the cloth. The man could have walked out of one of her Jane Austen novels. Like the handsome Captain Wentworth of
Persuasion
. Yes, the viscount would fill out a naval uniform very well indeed. No one would pressure her to reject any overture from her hero. Besides, she was a grown woman of twenty-three years of age, well aware of her mind and her heart. But caution would be wise, and she had decided to keep their recent acquaintance to herself.

What would it be like to kiss him, she’d wondered? To be held next to his tall and well-formed masculinity? Her body reacted with anticipation. Heat had prickled her skin; her nipples hardened. Could this be desire? Or perhaps lust? Maybe they were a mixture of both, since they were separate emotions. Or were they? How wondrous. The rest of the night was filled with imaginings of their upcoming romance, both sweet and erotic.

They’d met in the village four times during the next ten days. Though the meetings were public and coincidental, Ravenswood managed to touch her more than once with fleeting, feather-like brushes of fingers against her skin that inflamed and fueled her dreams further, both during the day and night. Did he lay in wait for her to appear in the village? How thrilling such a man acted interested in her enough to make an effort. He obviously wanted to know her better, how exciting!

At long last, he made an invitation for her to meet him in private with the smooth explanation they could talk more freely without interruption and escape the watchful eyes of the villagers, particularly the old tabbies who lived for gossip. Like a silly, infatuated school girl with stars in her eyes, she agreed to the plan. The anticipation of being alone with him caused her to lose yet another proper night’s sleep. Though a practical and sensible young woman, Glenna nevertheless allowed the silly daydreams to cloud her mind and diminish her common sense. How she longed for a whirlwind romance, a runaway passion. A handsome hero who fulfilled all her idealistic images of the man she would eventually fall in love with and marry. And he was a viscount, heir to an earl. The stuff of fairy tales. It could happen, surely. Could it not?

Glenna told no one of her conversations with Ravenswood. How deliciously wicked to hold such a secret close to her rapidly beating heart. Not that she knew many people to confide in as she’d recently moved to the area. Granted, she did hear vague whispers regarding his roguish ways, but somehow that merely enhanced his obvious appeal. In no time at all, she had herself believing she could be the one woman to tame him, capture his heart and soul, and in return he would proclaim his undying devotion, love, and bestow upon her his promise of unwavering fidelity along with a life of happiness and yes,--endless passion.

After the sun had set, Glenna met him at an abandoned hunters hut deep in the woods on the outskirts of the village. A secretive place, she surmised later, he’d used many times before. She barely had time to lower the hood of her cloak when she was swept up into a crushing embrace. Ravenswood was solid muscle and well put together, just as her dreams predicted. As he lowered his head to capture her lips, his forceful and rigid arousal pressed against her stomach. He pulled her closer and kissed her hard with a savage possessiveness that caused her heart to flutter madly.

Caught up in unknown emotions, one did rule Glenna’s swirling, confused thoughts.
Desire.
He nibbled her lower lip, murmuring seductive words of encouragement to open and let him in. When she did, he swept his tongue into her mouth, tasting and overwhelming her. The dark room spun at a breakneck pace. The seduction sprinted forward at far too fast a tempo for her comfort. Ravenswood’s kiss grew more desperate and insistent, and she clung to him for support in an effort to regain control of her feelings and thoughts. With deliberate intent, he trailed his hand up her side and cupped her breast, his thumb brushing past her already erect nipple. She hadn’t noticed he backed her to the wall until cold stone hit her rear.

Glenna suddenly became lost in the moment and roved her hands across his broad shoulders down to his waistcoat. With a breathless impatience, she fumbled with the buttons to it and his shirt until she was able to tunnel her hand past his clothes to the warm skin beneath. Ravenswood moaned at her touch. He was hot, alive, and Glenna teased the ridges of muscle beneath her fingers. “Yes. Touch me,” he rasped. With another ragged groan, he thrust his hips against her, and the hardness of him pressed insistently at her feminine core. “Feel how hard my cock is. I want to be inside you, Glenna. I
need
to be inside you.”

Oh.
His erotic and naughty words had an immediate effect on her. Bolts of heat traveled through her body, settling between her legs. Her insides dipped precariously, her heart beating at a tattoo speed. The viscount rucked up her skirts and skimmed his hand up her leg. The out-of-control fever within her broke and dissipated. Glenna knew where this would lead, and she had no intention of losing her virtue in a dank, muddy hut regardless of how much she longed for it. At last, she regained control of her wayward emotions and tore her lips from his. “No.”

Ravenswood did not stop. Lost in lust, his exploring fingers found the slit in her drawers and the dampness between her legs. He moaned again. “Wet, so wet…so ready.”

The erotic words no longer held her in thrall. Glenna, for her part, felt mortified. This must end immediately. She shoved at him, but he would have none of it. Ravenswood clasped her hand and thrust it between his legs. Somehow--at some time--he had managed to free his… What did he call it?
Cock.
The hot, silky, and hard feel of him caused her breath to hitch in her throat. Quickly, she snatched her hand away as if she’d been scorched from living flame and pushed him again, harder this time. Blinking, he stumbled back, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Stop this, right now. Enough,” she whispered fiercely.

“I see.” Ravenswood hurriedly set his clothes to rights, his mouth curled in anger. “Your loss, Miss Parker.” His voice, chilly and severe, lacked the seductive warmth he used for effect moments earlier. His face, flushed from arousal, turned to stone.

“Perhaps we can meet for tea. You can come by and meet my cousin, and we can all become better acquainted,” she offered hopefully, giving him a shaky smile.

Ravenswood laughed sharply. “I think not. I want one thing from you, and tea and conversation with your strange cousin is not it. Tell me. Will you allow me to fuck you, here and now? Or at a time in the near future?”

Glenna’s heart froze at the crass and coldly spoken words. Her smile disappeared along with her hopes and dreams. “No. Of course not.”

“Then our association is at an end. Good evening, Miss Parker.” Giving her a haughty salute, Viscount Ravenswood turned on his heel and disappeared into the night, leaving her shaken.

It was quite some time before she could manage to find her way home. Luckily, she reentered the house with little trouble or discovery. Once alone in her room, she let the tears come and sobbed miserably into her pillow. Another night’s sleep lost thanks to Ravenswood. It was not hopeful romantic dreams that caused her insomnia but rather stark, disconsolate heartbreak.