Chapter Four
Secrets of the Estate
“This is ridiculous,” Desmond grumbled. “A party for a farce.”
“It is your wedding reception,” Isaac replied, unfazed by the outburst. “You should be planning your honeymoon, not complaining about the gathering of friends.”
“Friends?” Desmond echoed. “You must be joking! The only people in attendance will be those yearning for food and drink. This entire marriage is a sham!”
“Only because you choose it as such,” Isaac growled. “You have not spent one night with your bride since she has arrived.”
“And I will not!” Desmond spat back. “Why would I? There is no need!”
“You must consummate the marriage, Desmond. People will talk if you do not.”
“Let them talk. Did I not marry her for the same reason? To ease the chatter of the townsfolk? When does it end? How much more must I do to appease them?”
“I fail to see the issue,” Isaac said. “She is a comely lass, quiet and mindful.”
“She is a mortal!” Desmond hissed but he knew that was the least of his concerns with Isadora.
Ever since he had first laid eyes upon her, Desmond’s resolve to dislike the beautiful blonde had been chipped down until there was nothing remaining. It was true that Isadora made herself scarce, tending to household tasks with Bridget or reading in her room, but when they did chance upon one another in the estate, Desmond could not deny that his heart fluttered for her.
You must not permit her to become close to you. If you do, she will certainly learn things she should not know and the purpose of this marriage was to alleviate suspicion, not bring more upon Darkbrook.
Isadora had only been at the estate for three days and Desmond could only feel his attraction to her mounting, despite the distance she attempted to keep between them.
He was not looking forward to the party that evening, the sense that he was going to lose the battle of the wills which he faced overwhelming.
“You will keep her away from me,” he instructed Isaac. “I do not wish to interact with her any more than necessary.”
“And what will the people say of that?” Isaac scoffed. “I daresay there is little purpose in marrying someone if you do not show some affections toward her.”
“You will do as I say! I may not be alpha yet, Isaac, but mark my words, sir, the moment I do, I will see you banished for this insubordination. You may be under my father’s employ but while you are on my estate, you will oblige my requests!”
Isaac’s mouth became a line and his snout began to materialize as anger overtook his features.
“I have been sent here to ensure you do not reveal the secrets of our heritage,” he growled back. “So far, you have managed to bring nothing but furtive suspicion with your unwarranted hunts and reclusiveness.”
The men stared at one another balefully, each in a semi-shifted state.
He does not believe I will make good on my word, Desmond realized. He has no respect for my authority, but he will.
A knock at the door caused them both to retreat into their mortal shapes.
“Enter.”
Bridget appeared, her head lowered, and Desmond wondered if she had overheard their conversation. He would be naïve to think that the woman had not picked up on the odd behavior surrounding Darkbrook. She had been employed there for over thirty years, one of the only to remain of the original staff.
“Mr. Waters, the guests have arrived.”
“Where is Mrs. Waters?” Isaac asked, and Desmond sensed he asked deliberately to annoy him but he made no comment as he turned back to his reflection in the glass.
“She waits for Mr. Waters.”
Desmond cringed but Isaac laughed.
“You see? She knows her place is at your side. If only you would accept matters as they are.”
“Have her meet me at the staircase.”
“Yes, Mr. Waters.”
Bridget ducked out of the room and Isaac turned to him.
“You should see about hiring more staff. One maid for the household will not do with a wife. Isadora requires an abigail of her own.”
“You cannot sincerely suggest I bring on another outsider!” Desmond protested. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“I have a butler in mind for you. He is discreet and comes from the old world. You can trust him.”
“I can trust no one, it seems,” Desmond snapped but he had the sense that Isaac had already hired said butler.
“You do not wish to keep your wife waiting,” Isaac reminded him and Desmond waved a hand rudely.
“You entertain her if it troubles you so much.”
Isaac studied him pensively. “If I did not know better, Desmond, I would say you have taken a liking to Isadora.”
“And I would say you speak too much. Leave me in peace.”
To his relief, Isaac obeyed his request and exited Desmond’s chambers but not before shooting him a knowing smile.
This is all becoming too much, Desmond thought. How am I meant to keep matters under control with so much occurring?
He knew his protestations were falling on deaf ears. If he wanted action taken, it would have to be his father who enforced it. Desmond had already written his father, demanding an explanation, but he knew it would be weeks before he received any reply. George Waters was not in the habit of explaining himself to anyone.
I should be grateful he did not simply order me home, Desmond thought, shaking his head. He stared at his handsome face in the mirror and slapped on his most debonair smile.
It is time to charm the masses, he thought bitterly but before he moved, there was another rap at the door.
“Bridget, your impatience is causing me ire,” he barked but when the door opened, he saw his wife standing at the threshold. She was a vision in a silk dress, not unlike the one he had seen her in on that first night. Her hair spilled in becoming curls along the folds of her bosom and hung delicately along her small waist, pinched tight by a corset which only accentuated her stunning figure.
Was she always so tiny? She seemed so small in the doorway, perhaps because his chambers were so large.
“Isadora?”
“Forgive the intrusion, Desmond. May I enter?”
He nodded, surprised that she had been so bold as to approach. “Of course. Come in.”
He stood in place as she sauntered in, her steps small and delicate.
“Is something the matter?” he asked when she did not speak. “Are you unwell?”
She shook her head, the pearl combs on her hair catching the candlelight. “I am as well as can be expected,” she replied softly. “I only wished to speak with you before the party…”
She inhaled deeply as if collecting her thoughts before opening her sweet pink mouth again.
“Desmond, I realize that this marriage was not one that you wanted,” she said quietly. “And I do not know how to make you love me, but I do hope that one day you will.”
He was taken aback by the brazenness of her statement. A peculiar feeling touched the back of his neck.
“Why?” he heard himself ask and she blinked at him in confusion.
“Why?” she repeated. “Why what?”
“Why would you wish for me to love you? You have not come here by choice either, that much I glean. Why must I love you?”
“You must not but I… I hope you will learn to…” She faltered slightly, her cheeks blushing a deep pink. “And I hope to provide you with many sons as heirs.”
Desmond’s teeth bared. “Why can you not leave well enough alone?” he shouted. “Leave my chambers at once!”
She gaped at him in shock.
“W-what have I said?” she squeaked, her face paling instantly. “Please, Desmond, forgive me—”
“I want you to stay out of my sight until I can figure out how to rid myself of you for good.”
Terror colored her dark eyes and Desmond realized how sinister his words sounded to her ears but he did not bother to clarify his intentions.
“You are my wife in name only, do you understand?” he hissed, sauntering toward her. “There will be no love between us, no offspring. Wait by the stairs for me and do not ever return to my rooms unless you are explicitly invited!”
With that, he grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the door, ignoring the feeling of sick which arose in his stomach. As his hand contacted the bare skin of her arm, he felt it, the shock of energy between them.
Oh…
“Please, sir,” she murmured, tears in her voice. “I meant you no—”
He spun her toward him then, knowing that he had reached the point of no return with this woman, mortal or not.
His lips crushed to hers and she cried out, reeling backward. Before she could spin away, he captured her, his arm snaking about her waist, drawing her in. Their mouths met, the connection unmistakable, but when he pressed his body to hers, Desmond felt the resistance in hers.
Unhand her!
He dropped her instantly, his face twisted in confusion. Never had he acted so boldly with a woman, but never had a woman instilled such emotions inside him. Desmond gaped at her, his breaths escaping in short, uneven rasps.
“I…” he stuttered, but before he could finish, she threw herself back into his arms, her lips locking to his once more. Desmond pushed her away. It did not feel right, not when he could clearly sense her reluctance.
“I am your wife,” she pleaded with him, her brown eyes wide. “Please do not refuse me.”
Yet he could not submit, not when there was something in her face which told him all was not what it seemed.
“Wait for me by the stairs,” he told her again, his voice barely a growl. She stared at him plaintively and for a moment, Desmond thought she might burst into tears, but his highly evolved instinct told him he was doing right by her.
“Please…” she murmured again. “Let me be your wife.”
“Get. Out.”
He turned away from her, feeling his pulse racing to the point of shifting once more.
“Do not make me tell you again, Isadora.”
She released a sound which resembled a strangled cry before running from the room.
She is not your wife. You must get her out of this house before something happens that you cannot recant.
Inhaling sharply, he forced his composure back into place. Attraction or not, Isadora had no place in his life and he would ensure she did not find one.
One way or another, I will rid myself of the temptation, Desmond vowed. He did not think about how he might have to do such a thing for the obvious answer troubled him more than he cared to admit.
But what was killing one mortal when he had already claimed so many?