Captured by the Dark Lord (6 page)

She couldn’t help the wicked
imp that took hold as she looked at him.  “Sulking?” she asked, smiling.

He looked up at her, a
thundercloud on his brow, and the door shut in her face with a resounding thud.

Bianca was taken aback, and
then annoyed by his rudeness.  How dare he?  That was something a ... a child
would do, not a grown man!

“Damian!”  Bianca tried the
handle, but the door wouldn’t budge.  She slapped her palms against the door. 
“’Twas but a jest!  Can you not take a tease?  Please, open the door.”

She stopped, listening for
movement inside, or a response.  Either he was performing his silence trick
from the night before, he couldn’t hear her, or he didn’t want to.  She’d not
give up now that she’d found him.  “You’re behaving like a child.”  She stopped
and giggled at the incongruity of the situation--she felt like her father
dealing with one of her sisters’ tantrums.  “I’ve come to make amends.  You
cannot continue to avoid me ... unless you’d rather set me free.”

The latch clicked, and the
door swung slowly open.  She held her hand out, in case it was some trick, then
moved through the doorway.  He was standing, facing her with his arms across
his chest.  His expression remained dark.

“I’m not a child.  I have
seen centuries of existence--”  He stopped his tirade as she clutched her
stomach and laughed.  He frowned at her.  “What do you find so humorous?”

Bianca wiped tears away and
grinned at him.  “My apologies,” she sputtered at his fierce expression and
clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle another round of giggles.  He looked
nothing so much like a man whose pride had been pricked.

Damian smiled as if it
suddenly dawned on him what she’d found so funny.  It was a true smile that
reached his eyes, warming them with life, and it wiped all thought of humor
from her mind.  Seeing those beguiling lips turned up sparked a reaction low in
her belly, and her heart fluttered as he moved forward and met her in the
center of the library.  He looked intent on some purpose.

She looked up at him,
breathless all of a sudden to find him so near.  She opened her mouth to speak,
but he raised a hand to silence her.  “Hush.  Hold a moment.”  Damian circled
her.  “This is not how this gown is meant to be worn.”

She startled when his hands
touched her back, and she realized he’d removed his gauntlets.  His cool
fingers slipped through the weight of her hair to touch her back gently, and
her skin tingled at the slight contact, prickling with gooseflesh.  Her neck
felt ripe for the taking, eager for the feel of his lips.  Never before had she
felt so exposed, and it was strange that he evoked such vulnerability within
her.  She should not feel anything, least of all this odd weakness.

With care, he tightened her
lacings until the gown clung tightly to her waist, and her breasts swelled
above the neckline.  She felt the slight brush of his hands on the small of her
back, but knew she must imagine him lingering so near her buttocks.

He moved around her with an
appraising eye, examining her body from foot to head.  She swallowed tightly as
his gaze locked with her own, and pleasure glimmered in the blue depths of his
eyes.  The light mood of before seemed to have changed to something darker,
more seductive, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was all in her
imagination.

“The indigo suits you, Lady
Bianca,” he said with a husky drawl that tightened the expectancy of her
nerves.

Bianca resisted the impulse
to shiver.  “Thank you, my lord.”

“Damian,” he corrected.

“Damian.  I ... I’ve come
here to strike a deal.”

He arched a brow, looked down
the bare sweep of her throat and breasts.  “But we’ve already made one, unless
you’ve thought of something more ... pleasurable to us both.”

She swallowed again, trying
to moisten her suddenly dry throat.  He’d told her he had no such interests,
and she’d almost believed him.  Could immortal beings share the appetites of
men?  No, she must remain focused.  It made no difference to her if he felt
desire.  “I believe I could not heal you before because my powers are not
strong enough.”

His eyes hardened at the
reminder of her failure.  “Go on.”

“To increase my strength, I
must gather certain things to give me aid.  But I must be allowed to walk about
freely in order to do so.”

He gave no answer but turned
and strode to the window, looking out on the day.  Sunlight limned his bold
profile, casting a shadow across the side of his face exposed to her sight. 
“If I agree to your ... proposal, do I have your word you will not attempt to
leave?”

She was taken aback at the
directness of his question, though she should not have been surprised.  She was
unused to lying, and it did not set well with her, but he would not listen to
reason and would not believe that she truly couldn’t help him.  If lying was
the only way out of her predicament, she would do it and pray for her sins once
she had escaped.  “Yes,” she whispered.

He faced her, but with the
light behind him, she could not see his eyes or the expression on his face. 
She could not see if he believed her sincerity or not, or if he turned scornful
eyes upon her.  His stance remained wary as it was always, giving no indication
of his thoughts.

Finally, after a minute
passed, he said, “The meekness of your voice belies you, and you do not sound
so certain.  Do you promise me you’ll not try to leave?”

“Yes,” she said with more
force.  “I ... swear it.”

“Very well then.  I give fair
warning: if you break my trust, prepare to suffer the consequences of your
actions.”

“I understand,” she said, not
believing for a moment that he would harm her.  For all his bluster and rage,
she relied on her initial impression that his was a soul in conflict, not of
evil, and that he would not dare hurt her for fear of losing his one chance at
life and the redemption of his spirit.  Regret stabbed her heart at her
deception, but she couldn’t dwell on that, not now.

Regardless, she didn’t plan
on getting caught.  If what she suspected was true, that he controlled his land
and this castle, it followed that if she moved beyond the outer wall, she would
be free of his reach.  She refused to believe differently, for that would only
lead to despair.

* * * *

Damian remained in the
library as she walked out.  True to his word, the doors at the main entrance were
unlocked and opened easily for her.  She still could not believe he trusted her
so implicitly, and so wandered around the drive in front of the house to test
her limits.

She walked along the smooth
drive, occasionally stooping to retrieve some bit of lawn while surreptitiously
looking back at the door.  He wasn’t there, and the tower she had left him in
didn’t face the drive, so he could not see her from there if he still remained
inside.

She continued that way,
acting as if she was gathering small weeds, until the gentle swell of the land
obscured her view, and she could no longer see the door from the distance. 
Certain it was now or never, Bianca gathered her long skirts in her hands and
dashed down the road.  It seemed much longer traversing it on her own legs
rather than on Beast, but she ran through the stitch in her side until she
reached the webbed gates.

She had no plan for once
she’d made it out of the grounds but knew something would come to her.  She
felt certain that her father would have sent men to take her by now.  If she
could find them, they could see her safely home.  If she remained inside,
they’d likely not make it through the gates with the debilitation of their own
fears.  In any case, she couldn’t completely rely on them, which was why she
had dared Damian’s wrath in attempting her haphazard plan.

The gates seemed higher than
she remembered, more barbed, and the webbing thicker with barely a space to
reach her hand through.  She most certainly couldn’t squeeze through the small
spaces between the wrought iron bars.  Nor would the latch release and open the
gates--no matter how hard she fought to pull it open.  She should have known
he’d not leave the most likely exit unlocked.  He was no fool, even if he did
seem to trust her.

Thwarted with an easy escape,
Bianca desisted, staring in frustration at the gates while she caught her
breath, surveying her options.  She couldn’t open the gate, for she had no
tools to break the lock, and she couldn’t scale it with her dress on.  Then it
dawned on her--she could remove her gown and climb the gate in her shift, then
pull the dress through from the other side once she was over.

It was a perfect plan.

She pulled the lacing loose
at her back waist, but those at the top, between her shoulder blades, gave her
trouble.  After struggling for what seemed an eternity to reach one of the
short strands, she finally managed to pinch the end of one with her
fingertips.  Panting and sweating from exertion, she carefully pulled it,
fearing she’d lose her grip, and finally loosened the knot enough she could
pull the gown over her head.

Bianca breathed a sigh of
relief to finally be free and laid the gown against the edge of the gate.  She
knotted the hem of her shift up high on her thighs to allow her legs easy
movement, then looked down to survey her disreputable state.  Should anyone
come along, she would be quite a sight, nearly naked with a scandalous expanse
of her leg showing.  There was no sense in worrying over such a ridiculous
fear, however.  No one would come to see her.

Chuckling at her own
absurdity, Bianca edged the tip of one foot in a section of webbing and braced
herself.  She caught two handholds on the bars above her head and hoisted
herself off the ground.  She laughed, thinking she must look like some half
dead creature caught in a spider’s web.

Bianca had just lifted her
left foot to the next section when a familiar voice sounded behind her,
shattering her plans.

“Pray tell, my lady, what are
you doing?”

* * * *

It took every ounce of his
control not to strip his armor and take her there against the gate.  She had
not healed him, but neither was he the same as he had been.  She’d awakened a
primeval need inside him that grew with each passing hour, desire unleashed
with the force of a river slamming through floodgates.

Her thighs were exposed to
his view, the flesh smooth, taut.  She had one leg hitched at a high angle on
the gate for her climb, and he could see the tempting curve of one cheek of her
buttocks.  His shaft ached with the need to touch her womanly flesh, feel the
hot, moist satin between her legs.

He clenched his hands,
regaining control as she dropped to the ground and faced him.  He’d given her
her head, and she’d betrayed him.  He must remember she could not be trusted.

She pulled uncomfortably at
the neckline of her shift, looking anywhere but directly into his eyes.  “I was
just--”

“There is no need for
explanation, Bianca.”  He moved and righted the abandoned stool near the gate
and sat, feet spread apart and braced.  “Come here to me.”  He slowly removed
his gauntlets and let them drop to the ground as she watched.

She eyed his bare hands
nervously.  “No,” she said and squared her shoulders, thrusting her breasts
forward unintentionally.  Her nipples were hard, the rosy flesh visible through
the near transparent shift, as was the dark thatch at the apex of her thighs.

“Now,” he said, leaving no
room for argument.

Reluctant, she dragged
herself to where he sat, stopping just out of reach.

“Get down on your knees,
Bianca.”

Seconds passed, and the air
grew pregnant with tension.  She clenched her hands into fists, wanting to deny
him, but finally complied.  She dropped down to the soft loam, her hands
digging into her shift as she viewed him warily.

“Come forward and lie across
my lap.”  He watched her steadily, the emotions running across her
face---anxiety, expectancy.  He sensed the increase in her pulse, the rapid
beat of her heart and the quickening of her shallow breath.  “Do not make me
repeat myself,” he warned, his voice low with menace.