Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,80

brother for her father’s death and Hugh thinks that Isla Quinn is the devil for killing Ian. And I won’t lie to you—I thought the same.”

“She did kill the king.”

Rowena stares just beyond my right shoulder. “We’re all running from something, though, aren’t we? We run, in our dreams and in life, like that’ll save us from what we’ve done. Isla Quinn may have killed the king, but I don’t know the toll that it took on her soul. All I know is that I was blind—literally, figuratively—and it’s not you or your brothers who caused my friends such hurt . . . it’s me.”

My shoulders twitch like she’s struck me. “You can’t shoulder all the pain in the world, Rowena. Not even if you think that you deserve it.”

“I can’t, no. But I want to apologize to them—your brothers, I mean—and to Holyrood as a whole.”

Jesus.

Feeling unsteady, I push to my feet and stride away from the bed. I look to the wardrobe, where I held her last night, and feel ruined, down to what’s left of my soul. I came to Holly Village with selfish intentions spurred by seven months of hatred for her father. Meanwhile, Rowena has the wherewithal to accept her wrongs with humility and grace. She sits there, stripped of her sight, humbled by a nightmare overheard by everyone on this floor, and still seeks to make amends.

I want to shake her.

I want to press her flat on that bed, spread her legs wide, and thrust inside her until she feels as shattered, as tortured, as I do.

Mistaking my silence for rejection, Rowena lets out a small, uncomfortable laugh. “Apologies are given without any expectation of their being accepted, and I don’t expect forgiveness. But I’ll apologize anyway because it’s the right thing to do.”

“We aren’t innocent in this,” I tell her roughly. “Don’t humble yourself when we . . . when I’ve done so much worse than you could ever dream of.”

“You took an oath. Whatever you did—whatever you’ve done—I’m sure it had a purpose.”

Even now, I can feel the sweat in my palms from gripping the shovel as I dug and dug and dug. The dirt under my fingernails, the emptiness in my heart. Rowena would be horrified to learn the truth, and all the warmth she gave me last night would be extinguished, as easily as the flame of a candle blowing out in the wind.

Wishing I had a cigarette, I force my fingers to relax at my sides. Breathe, Godwin. Just fucking breathe. “And if it’s only purpose was hate?” I ask, my tone hard. “If you knew it was wrong, and you reveled in it anyway?”

Her brows knit together. Slowly she extends her bare legs over the side of the bed. “I’m not one to cast stones, Damien. I can’t be, not after everything.” When she stands, it’s only for me to realize that she isn’t wearing any pajama bottoms at all. Only a rumpled shirt that catches in the elastic waistband of the same knickers that I stripped from her in the chapel.

My cock hardens.

Rowena Carrigan is too good for me. I’ll burn her in a way that Buckingham Palace never could. Drag her so far deep into Hell that she’ll feel its embers stoked over the coals of her spine until she’s all but ash. And if she runs, I’ll chase her—because good has never had a place in my life and my first inclination is to destroy it.

Destroy her.

I nearly come out of my skin when she presses a hand flat to my chest. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Her tone is kind, empathetic. So damned gentle.

It snips at the already frayed thread of my control.

“No.”

Her throat visibly works with a swallow. “You can, if you want. Obviously, we got off on the wrong foot, but I thought, maybe—”

“No.” Against all better judgment, my palms find her upper arms. I sweep my thumbs over skin untouched by fire. Forgive me. The thought bleeds into my consciousness, just as I husk, “The only thing I want is you on your knees.”

25

Rowena

I don’t know when, exactly, I got a read on Damien, but as he orders me to my knees, I know that he’s banking on me telling him to sod off.

The truth lurks in his rigid posture, like he’s preparing himself for my rejection, and in his hard-edged tone that barely overshadows the raw vulnerability he’s clearly trying to hide. And when he barks, “Well?”