Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,33

wink.

Jesus.

“Now, I could make ye guess or I could quit playing coy and just say—”

“Get on with it.”

Unfazed, Hamish gestures at the door with his tumbler. “He’s inside.”

There’s no need to ask him to elaborate.

We both know there’s only one he who would be interested in talking to Rowena—who even knows that she’s here, save for me and Matthews.

I don’t waste another second with the Scot.

Wrenching the door open, I step inside, my gaze moving swiftly past the floor-to-ceiling tapestries detailing William the Conqueror at the Battle of Hastings to the diamond-paned window that I cornered Rowena against yesterday morning. Her fractured breathing had fogged the ancient window while her ass ground against me in a dance that’s only rhythm was blatant defiance. She’d made me hard and she’d made me crave, and even then, with her body weak and defenseless, I knew that giving in would mean letting her sink her claws into my hide.

A she-wolf out to make me her prey.

“Come for another visit, brother?” comes Guy’s dark drawl.

Palm flat against the wood, I shut the door slowly and allow myself a second to breathe in the irritation, and let it run free, before turning around to find my brother seated in the alcove that was used for prayer centuries ago. Intricate artwork details the plasterwork with blooming flowers and winding vines, as if to sit within means entering the Garden of Eden.

The irony. Guy Godwin doesn’t do temptation.

“We were just discussing how you’ve acted rather . . .” Guy turns to Rowena, who sits opposite him at a table that wasn’t here yesterday. Another commandeered piece from the library, by the looks of it. “What’s the word you used for Damien again, Miss Carrigan?”

Rowena doesn’t even hesitate: “A bastard.”

The wry grin he offers doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, my mistake. Two words.” With his long legs sprawled out before him and his hands clasped over his stomach, he meets my stare straight-on as though he expects me to drop to my knees and beg forgiveness. “You’ve been bad, brother.”

My expression stays neutral. My breathing never alters.

But inside . . . my emotions are in riot.

The irritation flares and it devours and it fucking drowns me whole.

Bad. Such a mild word for an entire lifetime of doing very evil things to achieve extraordinary ends. I felt the prick of guilt, once. A long time ago when I returned to Paris and the cemetery where we buried Mum. It took twelve years for her body to decompose and only three hours in the dead of night to dig up her remains. Fragile bones. Dirt caked between skeletal joints. And a precious silver chain that I snatched from her neck and buried in my pocket.

You’ve been very, very bad, Damien.

Anger skates a ravaged finger down the length of my spine, reminding me that I’m a man with war in my blood and hate in my heart, and I never had much hope of being good. But to hear my brother repeat the same words that have haunted me for years . . . I feel the dirt from my mother’s coffin like mud in my veins.

Poison.

Desperation.

Soiled, down to the roots of my battered soul.

Smothering the turmoil, before it crests the surface, I hold my brother’s gaze. “Do you have a point?”

“I couldn’t find you last night,” he replies, his tone deceptively pleasant, “so imagine my surprise when I learned from Paul that he saw you leaving the Palace.” Propping one forearm on the table, he inclines his head toward Rowena. “He isn’t supposed to do that, you know.”

Her violet eyes remain fixed on the wall. “You mentioned.”

“So I did,” Guy murmurs, never once looking away from my face. “It wasn’t nice of you to leave Miss Carrigan wondering what side of the war we’re on.” His blue stare sparks fire, and I know, even though he won’t say so out loud, that he’s furious with me. Furious enough to air out all of our dirty laundry, audience be damned. “You locked her up, brother. You put her in handcuffs. And then, like that wasn’t enough, you made her think that we might actually kill—”

“Get up.”

At my brusque order, his brows snap together. “What did you say?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, brother.” Prowling forward, I reach into the back pocket of my trousers for the slip of paper that I nabbed from the Jewel Tower. “Rowena and I are going to have a little talk.” The smile I give him stretches