The Devil in Her Bed (Devil You Know #3) - Kerrigan Byrne Page 0,58
scoffed, again trying to seem unaffected, doing her utmost not to be alarmed to notice that the stags in white robes had lurked closer.
“I wonder.” Kenway moved behind her, causing her breath to catch in her throat. “I wonder if you are worthy of the name you claim.”
“I will prove to you, before this is over, that I will take exactly what I deserve.” From him, she’d take everything. She swore it.
“You’ve already taken so much, Countess. You’ve quite the craven reputation…”
She thought of Chandler then. Of the fact that he shamed her for her lovers. A pang of sadness sliced through the fear. What a disappointment they were to each other.
Kenway leaned down to whisper in her ear as he gestured widely to the council. “Desire drives you, Francesca, just as it does all of us.”
“You have no idea what drives me,” she retorted.
“Oh, I have some idea.” He beckoned the men in white robes even closer. “I invited temptation here for you tonight. To show you what life might be like. Even as a wife of mine, you would be allowed all kinds of freedoms.”
“Allowed?” she echoed archly.
“Encouraged,” he amended. “You’ll be encouraged to take what you want, to indulge, to share it with me. You’ll be part of a movement. Of a shift in society so extraordinary, the world will never be the same.”
Christ, he wasn’t just evil, he was a lunatic. They all were.
“I am not inclined to … indulge … publicly.”
“And so you shan’t,” he cajoled. “After this one display of devotion.”
She swallowed. Hard. “Display? What sort of display?”
“Consider, Countess, how animals live. You are quite the equestrian, I’m told. You know horses?”
“Some,” she hedged.
“Does a stallion care about pedigree when he mounts a mare? Does he ask her permission? Do they care who is watching as they rut?”
A horror utter and complete rose within her as Francesca mutely considered her options.
“Do most creatures care about modesty, physical or social? Do they care about the feelings of their prey? Does an eagle feel guilt for the adorable squirrel who is his meal? Does the lion not drive away his offspring to make certain his kingdom is never questioned?”
She fought to remain calm. To not bolt. “S-some would argue we as higher-minded individuals have evolved beyond such base instincts.”
“Some would.” The men in white robes broke from the crowd and approached the dais. A herd of stags. “And others would say that we are merely the apex predators. That we are capable of such feats. Such unsurpassable godlike feats if we were not tethered by the mythos of the past and those who would keep us on our knees.”
“The monarchy, you mean?”
He inclined his head. “The monarchy. Or republics. The church. Every prophet, warlord, and prostitute who demanded someone bow down before them. To kneel.”
He moved back into her line of vision, the stags making a half circle around her. “When is the last time you knelt to anyone?”
Never was when, and she wasn’t about to start now.
He traced some flare of art on her mask with his fingertip, a tender lion courting a fox.
“Did you know this place has never had a woman in our Triad of leaders? Perhaps it is time that changes.”
“Why select me to lead when I’ve never followed?” she asked. “I’m no devotee of yours.”
“Perhaps that’s exactly why I’m considering you.” He reached out and adjusted her hood, his fingers sliding through her hair.
It took every bit of her will not to shrink from his touch.
“You are bold and worldly enough to lead, but young enough to abide. This council grows stagnant with old men and, to be honest, I’m in need of a physical heir to my earldom, as mine are no longer viable.”
At this, Francesca couldn’t contain an audible gasp. How could he speak of his dead children like that?
“You have a decision to make tonight, Francesca. You could take the first step toward becoming the most powerful countess in the world. Or … the Mont Claire tragedy could be complete.”
Simple enough. Take his offer or die.
Evil men called choices like that freedom, and idiots fell for it.
“What must I do?” she asked.
“You must only watch. And then you must decide.”
Watch who? Decide what?
He turned from her then and motioned to the stags, two of whom parted from their compatriots to open a cavernous set of doors to a dark hallway. An expectant hush fell over the crowd, and Francesca felt certain the entire ballroom could hear the pounding