Excerpt from – Book 3
(Seasons of Fortitude Series)
“Lord Ravenscar will see you now,” he announced as if she’d requested an audience with the beast. The guard slapped his hand against her back, propelling her forward into the room. Then Nelek stepped back out into the corridor and shut the door, leaving her alone in the dark lair of the Beast of Ravenscar.
She stood there silently, listening to the loud drumming of her heart reverberating in her ears. It took her eyes a moment to get accustomed to the nearly pitch black room. The only light came from the glowing embers of the fire at the hearth. Or were those the glowing eyes of the beast?
“Who are you?” came a deep growl from somewhere in the dark. “Come closer to the hearth so I can see your face.”
“I – I’m Lady Autumn of Mablethorpe,” she told him. Her body shivered from the cold, wet cloak clinging to her skin, but she was reluctant to remove it. After all, she was standing in a darkened room with one of the most infamous men in all of England. She remembered Lester telling her that Ravenscar liked to take young virgins to his bed. Nay, she would not make it easier for him to take advantage of her by discarding her outer garment no matter how wet and cold it felt against her body.
“Come to my bedside,” he murmured, making her palms sweat although her teeth chattered, threatening to shake right out of her mouth. She took a step forward, but then anger filled her being and she stopped in her tracks. She wouldn’t let this happen.
“Nay,” she said, not willing to be naught but a puppet of this horrible man. “I’ll not be another of your toys for you to take to your bed.”
She heard what sounded like a rumble from his throat. Her eyes finally adjusted to the dark to reveal the silhouette of the beast lying on the bed. Long curtains hung down on three sides of the bed, pulled back to provide one opening only.
“I said . . . come here!” His words were forced, almost as if he were holding back great anger - or perhaps holding back pain.
“Are you ill?” she asked, taking a step closer. “Or mayhap injured?” The caring side of her outshone her fear and she moved slowly toward the bed. “Is that why your man asked if I was a healer?” She cocked her head as she took one step toward the bed, trying to see the features of his shadowed face.
“Well, are you a healer or not?” he asked, his voice trailing off as he said it.
She took a second to swallow before she answered, wondering if it was better to lie or tell the truth in this situation. “I am,” she answered bravely.
“Then heal me,” he commanded.
“Pardon me?” That took her by surprise, relieving her that she’d been brought here for a purpose and not just to be his next folly. “I don’t even know what is ailing you, my lord, and neither do I have my bag of healing herbs and balms with me.” She continued to make her way closer to the bed.
“I’ve got the plague,” he answered directly.
She stopped in her tracks. The plague? Had she heard him correctly? God, she hoped not.
“The plague,” she repeated aloud. She had treated many wounded men in the past two years but had not seen nor heard of another outbreak of the plague in England at this time. “Are you sure?”
“God’s teeth, woman, stop asking questions and start healing me now.” The man was rude and domineering.
“How do you expect me heal you if I cannot even see you?” she retorted, tired of this game of hide-and-seek. She turned and made her way to the fire, picking up the iron poker and stabbing at the embers until they glowed brighter.
“Nay! Put that down,” he warned, but she didn’t listen.
“What are you afraid of, my lord?” she asked, finding it interesting that a moment ago she was the one afraid of him and now the tables seemed to have turned.
“I don’t want a fire.”
“Well, I do. Thanks to the men you sent to kidnap me, my cloak is soaking wet from the rain and I am chilled.” She reached down and picked up a log and placed it atop the flames. Then she repeated her action, poking at the embers and waving her hand until a flame caught and lit up the room. The warmth of the heat felt good and she contemplated removing her wet cloak. “That’s better,” she said, turning around with the poker still in her hand.
She jerked backward and about jumped out of her skin to find Ravenscar standing right behind her.
“I said not to do that!” Ravenscar towered over her with shoulder-length black hair and dark, sunken eyes that looked tired and weary. He had a strong jawline and thin lips. And across his right cheek, he had a scar that ran from his ear all the way to his chin.
“I – I didn’t mean to upset you,” she stuttered, taking a step backward until the heels of her shoes touched the hearth. “I was just trying to get warm.” Fear flowed back through her body as she looked at the reflection of the flames behind her flickering in the dark depths of his black eyes.
His chest was broad and firm and also bare. He wore only a pair of braies, stretched tightly across his nether region. His long legs and feet were bare as well. If she hadn’t been so frightened of the horrible stories she’d heard of him, she would have taken a moment to drink in his manly beauty. Instead, she remained guarded, already plotting in her head a way to escape. He raised his hand to reach for her. In return she raised the hot poker to protect herself, using it as a sword.
“Don’t touch me or I’ll scald you with this hot iron, I swear I will,” she warned, hoping he couldn’t decipher the fear in her voice.
“You haven’t had it in the fire long enough for it to get hot,” he answered nonchalantly.
“Yes. Yes, I have. It’ll burn you,” she threatened, holding it out and, at the same time, trying to back away. She felt the hot flames warming her backside. If she retreated further, she’d be in the fire.
“I don’t have time for games,” he spat. Reaching out with one hand, his fist closed around the poker. He pulled it hard and she stumbled forward, landing with her open palms splayed against his bare chest.
She could feel his muscles under his skin and they were as hard as a rock. But that’s not all she felt. His skin was searing hot under her palms. She pushed away and when she did, the poker fell from his hand to the ground with a loud clanking noise.
“You are burning up with fever!” she gasped.
“I told you. I’m . . . dying.” His hooded eyes made him look as if he were going to pass out.