Destroyed Destiny (Crowne Point #4) - Mary Catherine Gebhard Page 0,6
the end, the most dangerous item on the list was love.
“You will learn everything, Storybook,” she continued. “Everything required to be the perfect companion to Mr. du Lac.”
“So like a corrupt, fucked-up Emily Post training,” I muttered. “Cool.”
I closed my eyes, bracing for her stick. When it didn’t come, I slowly opened one eye.
The ruler she used was suspended midair, held in a vice grip—in West’s hand.
The wood looked ready to snap under his hand. Veins throbbed down the back of his hand and wrist, disappearing beneath the fabric of his suit.
The muscle in his clenched jaw pulsed. The shadow beneath his jaw dark and cut like glass. His warm brown eyes burned, focused on me.
I’d only ever seen West like this once, the night his father attacked me.
“Mr.—Mr. du Lac,” Madame stammered.
He yanked the stick out of her hand, breaking it over his knee in one motion. The wood cracked in half, a few stray splinters hitting me in the face.
The two girls gasped.
“I…” Madame gulped. “I wasn’t expecting you for another two weeks.”
“Get. Out.”
They didn’t ask twice, shuffling out of the room in seconds.
And then we were alone.
Three
STORY
West ran soft fingers along the welts on my knuckles, cursing low.
I didn’t trust him.
I was too aware that I was barely dressed, only in a silk robe.
“Two weeks isn’t enough time…” he said low, under breath.
All at once he stood up, leaving the room. I sucked in lungfuls of air. Hoping he was gone for good, but moments later, he came back with a first aid kit.
He tugged at the back collar of my silk robe; I held it tighter.
“What are you doing?” My voice pitched in fear, and I hated that.
“I need to see your back.”
“No.”
“You were hit—”
“I can do it myself,” I snapped. I yanked my robe away, but he held firm, refusing. “I don’t need you.”
“You do, Angel. You need me.” I could hear the mean smile in his voice. “Even if you don’t want me, you need me.”
Still, he let me go. He came around, setting down the ointment and bandages on the nightstand. That stupid, cocky trademark West smirk on his plush lips.
“Go ahead.” He waved a hand at the first aid. “Do it yourself, then.”
“I will…later.”
I stared at the ground, but his knuckles came to my chin, lifting so my glare collided with his mocking gaze.
His lips curved up. “You’re going to need more training. I can see your disdain for me clearly.” A moment later, he added, “You’re asking questions.”
My neck heated. Shit. “No, I’m not.”
He tilted his head. “Where am I sleeping? Why can’t we du Lacs come to Scotland?”
Those little snitches.
He grinned wide. “If you’re asking questions, you should ask me, Angel.”
“As if you’d answer my questions.”
He dragged my chin closer, lips heating mine. “Try me.”
My glare deepened. “Where are you sleeping?”
He flashed a crooked smile. “Do you want me in your bed?”
I ignored that. “Why can’t you go to Scotland?”
“Because this is Crowne territory.”
Crowne territory?
“Then why are you here?”
Something flickered in his eyes, but all he said was, “I already answered that, Angel. It’s the last place he’ll look for you. Any more questions?”
Why did you stop her from hitting me?
Why are you answering my questions?
Why are you nice sometimes?
“Shouldn’t you be with your fiancée?” I’d still yet to see her or hear any mention of her.
The humor in his eyes died. He blinked, and dropped me, standing to his feet. I watched him, curious, as he walked around my room, touching the bare accoutrements. He stopped at the window, fogged from the morning’s light rain.
“When will I meet her?” I prodded lightly.
He dragged his finger down the ancient glass, creating a clear line in the condensation to reveal dewy green.
“Do I know her?”
West laughed lightly. “It won’t work.”
“What won’t work?”
He turned, back to the glass, eyes narrowed on me. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the grounds? You told me this was where your uncle wanted you to be—” My brow furrowed. I did. “Maybe getting out of this room will show you why.”
I glared. It didn’t sound like an act of kindness, it sounded calculated. West wanted something, I just didn’t know what.
He shrugged. “I’m not going to force you, I just thought you might want to. There are many poems here. I know you shared your poetry with him.”
The first poem I ever shared with my uncle, was the first I ever wrote.