Sara Curran-Ross's Blog, page 11

The Art Of Retaliation (Work In Progress)

Chapter Four


My illness was to grow worse before the night was out. I did not expect Lord Ramsay to stay or show me any more thought and consideration than he had already done. After all I was his captive and not his guest. Yet I woke in the early hours of the morning in a restless burning fever to find him covering my burning brow with a cold damp compress. There was another person with him sitting on the other side of the bed.

'I do not know why you take such care over our hostage? Let the maid see to her,' a female voice bemoaned.

Lord Ramsay sounded impatient and annoyed by the woman's company.

'Because it is my fault she is in such dangerously ill health.'

'Ah, so it is guilt that motivates you, brother. You should not worry yourself so much. If our sister dies in Lord Dashwood's care as we fear then Lady Dashwood's death will be an eye for an eye,' she spitefully remarked.

'Lucinda,' Lord Ramsay's voice was a deep reprimand. 'Take your malice and leave us, now.'

'No, I shall not. I only speak the truth.'

'No, you only speak of your jealousy for the affections of Lord Simon. If she was to die you believe he might take more than a passing interest in you and consider you a worthy bride.'

'Really, Peter,' she mocked. 'Do you believe me so callous and calculating?'

'Yes. I have no doubt of it Lucinda. But know this, as your brother and head of this family, if Lord Simon was to ever offer you a proposal of marriage I would forbid it.'

'Peter, how could you be so . . .' there was petulance in her voice. 'I should elope then. You would not stop me.'

'I would, Lucinda. I would do all in my power to stop you marrying such a rake.'

'How can you speak of your friend with such distaste?'

'He is no longer my friend.'

My eyes flickered open and closed as Lord Ramsay removed the compress from my forehead and dipped it into the cooling water beside him. I heard him drain the excess water from the cloth as his sister spoke once more.

'I thought your disagreement was healed.'

I felt the cool cloth descend upon my forehead once more.

'No. He is a cad. No woman should be bound to a man like him.'

'Not even, the beautiful Lady Dashwood here?' I could hear the sarcastic humour in her voice.

But Lord Ramsay was quick and forthright in his answer.

'No. He is unworthy of her.'

There was a small laugh of triumph from Lucinda. I moved restlessly in the bed and found myself tenderly hushed by Lord Ramsay as he moved the cold cloth around my burning countenance.

'I do believe you have fallen for your captive, Peter. How priceless! How are you going to be able to give her to Lord Simon? ' she cruelly teased.

'It won't come to that. Lord Dashwood will return Kate and the matter will be resolved,' he said firmly.

'I would not count so hard on your hopes of restitution. I have it on good authority that Lord Dashwood only cares for his sister's money. If he marries Kate he will have easier access to her wealth as her husband and will have no need of devising devious plots to obtain his sister's. You will have no choice but to carry out your threat for the sake of our family's honour and your promise to Lord Simon. If you do not give her to him when Lord Dashwood disappoints you, he will disgrace our family by revealing our plot to everyone in London society. I cannot bear the very idea. You dice with our lives.'

'Hush, Lucinda. I won't allow it to come to that.'

'Well, brother. You will have to tell Lord Simon that when he arrives tomorrow.'

'Lucinda, what have you done? I did not want him here.'

'Are you worried he will frighten your charge. It will do her good to know that we mean to carry out our threat. Perhaps it will assist her to convince her brother to have a heart and rescue her by returning Kate.'

'You are nothing but a spiteful child, Lucinda. On whose authority did you invite that man to our home? I will not be disobeyed as head of this family,' Lord Ramsay bellowed.

'May I remind you that you are only head of this family because my father, your stepfather is ill. I invited Lord Simon to the ball we are to hold. Remember? The ball we hold every year for Christmas? Lord Simon will be so pleased to see her. I've heard he has a surprise planned for their meeting and impending nuptials . . .'

Lord Ramsay gave an impatient sigh and rose to his feet and walked around the other side of the bed reaching to take hold of Lucinda's arm. She gave a frightened squeal as he pulled her up from the bed with his tight grip and marched her to the door to push her through it. I heard the key turn in the lock and then he was sitting back on the bed by my side.

I wanted to find a way to move, to free myself. I would not be bound to that monstrous man, Lord Simon for an eternity in a violent marriage. I would be no man's slave and that was all the wretch wanted from any woman. I tuned away from Lord Ramsay wanting to weep with rage at my unfortunate situation and Lucinda's cruel words. Lord Ramsay's cool, gentling fingers swept around my face and stroked gently over my cheek.

'Do not worry so. I will not allow Lord Simon to harm you. I know he has treated you most ill. Please be assured of my protection.'

'But I cannot. How can I trust a man who holds my freedom in his hands?'

Lord Ramsay was suitably silent as he removed the compress once more and soaked it again. He would not speak anymore on the subject. I wonder what more could be said. A terrible coughing fit overtook me and for a moment I found it difficult to catch my breath. I began to fear for my condition.

'I must get the doctor from Rosalind's room. I am worried for you, Lady Dashwood,' I heard him say.

'Yes,' I coughed sitting up with his help. 'You would not want your hostage to die.'

'You are unfair and unkind to me, Lady Dashwood.'

I watched him move quickly to the door and shout for the maid outside to fetch the doctor. I was to sit forward caught in a coughing fit.

'I fear your chill may have developed into pneumonia,' he informed me, returning to his loyal position by my side and rubbed my back in a soothing, comforting action.

I was unhappy to be touched by him or his kindness and flinched away but he was unrelenting.

'Please, Lady Dashwood I beg you not to spur my comfort. I mean you no harm and you are in need of assistance.'

'I do not need your help. Perhaps I will die tonight and escape you, sir,' I said feeling a rise of fear and pity for my situation. I did not feel well at all and considered I might die, just as my mother had done two years ago from the same illness.

'Do not talk of such things. I will not allow you to die. You must think of a better way to escape me, Lady Dashwood.'

He had made a concerted effort to punctuate his conversation with humour but fear for my life reigned uppermost in his tone. I was surprised. Maybe it was guilt or was it attraction as Lucinda had spoke of. I did not want to debate the idea in my aching mind any further that night. If I was to live then perhaps I could give my thoughts more consideration. Instead I tried to rally myself.

'Indeed, Lord Ramsay,' I answered breathlessly. 'I will work hard to find a way of escape from this castle. I am cunning and I never give up.'

'I have no doubt of it. You are a determined woman. That I gathered from the moment we first met in your carriage. I can do nothing else but admire you for it. But Rawnsley Castle is surrounded by a moat and the bridge will be guarded. I look forward to thwarting any brilliant scheme you devise to gain your freedom.'

The doctor entered the room and he moved away.

'I will succeed. I won't stop until I and Rosalind are free.'

He nodded.

'Then there will be no more talk of dying , Lady Dashwood. I look forward to our duel of sorts.'

The doctor was to confirm that I was indeed now suffering from pneumonia and I was in need of constant care. Lord Ramsay took on that care himself. Throughout the night he was to feed me water, soothe my hot brow with a compress and bestow me with comfort.

A fit of uncontrollable shivers overtook me and I suddenly found him taking the liberty of sitting behind me to hold my violently moving body back against his chest. His arms wound around me tight and eventually I calmed.

He pressed my head against his chest and leaned back against the pillows taking me with him, instructing me to sleep. Despite the impropriety of his hold and against my better judgement I found solace in his embrace and allowed sleep to overtake me, wondering if I would wake to the morning light.

The Art Of Retaliation (Work In Progress)

Chapter Three


I was rather apprehensive when the maid opened the door of the dressing room and quite rightly so. Lord Ramsay was a man true to his word. He sat idly lounging in a chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. I felt cross at his presence and yet confusingly I was also excited by it. I did indeed feel hot and feverish and was in no good mind to tolerate his unfortunate manner.

I was treated to a smile of amusement that quickly faded to be replaced by gentlemanly concern. He stood quickly and came to stand before me.

'I do not like your colour again, Lady Dashwood. You look fit to faint. Quickly take my arm for support.' He held out his arm.

I viewed his courtesy with suspicion and stood motionless.

'Come, Lady Dashwood I will not have you standing about when you are ill,' he commanded with impatience.

'I am sure I do not require your assistance and can manage adequately on my own, sir.'

I turned and made my way to the bed that had already been turned back. I wanted nothing better than to curl myself up in its inviting softness. I prayed that once in bed, Lord Ramsay would leave me to sleep and recover. Then I might regain my strength and bring an end to this preposterous need for kidnapping. Maybe I could devise a method of escape.

I climbed into the large four poster bed quickly and reached for the covers but Lord Ramsay was to have hold of them before me.

'Allow me, madam,' he mocked catching them up and pulling them across my body and tucking them around my middle.

He then occupied himself with the task of ensuring I had sufficient pillows behind my back and head. My eyes widened with surprise. Lord Ramsay seemed to be preoccupied with my comfort and care yet he had deprived me of my freedom. Perhaps it was guilt that motivated him. I decided that I should be awkward to his attentions and would refuse to capitulate to his wishes as far as the safety of my very life and Rosalind's would allow.

I sat stiffly refusing to rest back upon the lace pillows even though my weary aching head yearned to. Lord Ramsay gave me a frown and sat down on the bed forcing me to make room for him at my side. He addressed Louise, the maid.

'Louise, leave us. I want you to fetch some broth from cook and when the doctor is finished attending Rosalind bring him straight here. And don't dally, child.'

'Very good, sir.' She gave a small quick curtsey and left still appearing shocked and scandalized by the scene before her.

'Are you going to sit like that all night long? It must be tiresome and painful for your back.'

'Yes, I am. Will you please have the good manners to leave my room.'

'No, I will not. Haven't you learnt by now I am not a man of manners. I am not fit for polite society,' he laughed. 'I play by my own rules. Now please sit back and take comfort. I do not intend to cause you further distress,' he smiled a little too insincerely for my liking despite the hand he placed against his heart as a pledge.

'No.'

'Really, Lady Dashwood you are stubborn.'

To my fright he leaned over to me until there was almost no space between our faces. He studied me closely. His scrutiny was so intimate I felt my lips begin to tremble betraying my fear. He glanced down upon them watching them for a little while.

'Are you perhaps related to Countess Raine?' he asked gently continuing his study of my features in detail.

'She is my late mother's sister,' I informed him doing my best to control my fear.

'I believed it so,' he told me softly before sweeping his fingers gently around my jaw and lifting my chin up. 'Now there is a frightfully stubborn woman. I see you have her pretty chin. It seems wilfulness in the women of your family runs strong.' He gave a wistful sigh and amusement played lightly upon his lips.

'It is almost endearing although troublesome in a woman of quality and beauty such as yourself, Lady Dashwood. It is not a worthy trait for marriage. Most men require an obedient wife. I myself prefer a challenge from a woman with spirit. It will be all the more satisfying when I am able to bend her to my will.'

I did not know whether to take his observation as a hurtful rebuke or compliment. He was a strange fellow and not to be crossed. I decided on giving him no satisfaction as to how I had taken his words. To my relief there was a knock at the door and he sat back. Louise re-entered the room carrying a tray with a bowl of broth and some bread. This induced Lord Ramsay to rise and take the tray from her.

'That will be all, Louise.'

'The doctor will be along in a short while.'

I ventured to ask her about Rosalind's health.

'She is very ill your, ladyship, at death's door they say but I am sure the doctor will be able to put her to rights.'

'You frighten, Lady Dashwood. Be gone, Louise,' he ordered clearly in a temper with the serving girl's words.

Louise became tearful. She was only a child of fifteen by her appearance. She muttered an apology and hurriedly left. I could think of nothing else but Rosalind. I wanted to be with her without any further delay. I lifted the bedclothes and prepared to alight and go to her aid fully aware that Lord Ramsay still held the tray of broth and would be unable to prevent my escape. I made it as far as opening the door.

Lord Ramsay's hand rose above me and closed it with a bang.

'Where do you think you are going, Lady Dashwood?' he frowned as I looked up to him.

'To see Rosalind. She needs me. Do not be heartless, sir.'

'I have no intention of being heartless. I care only for your health. You can do nothing to help her at present. Back to bed before you faint.'

I gave my temper free reign.

'I am not a lady who faints, sir. I have a strong constitution . . .'

'Lady Dashwood, return to bed or I will put you there myself,' he instructed in a soft but firm voice that left no room for negotiation.

Vexed but knowing my protests would fall on deaf ears I turned back to the bed only to humiliate myself by stumbling with another dizzy spell. Lord Ramsay was quick to catch me and offer me the support of his arm around my waist.

He watched me intently from one of the two comfortable Queen Anne Chairs that my room was equipped with at the side of my bed as the doctor examined me. The physician's diagnosis was a severe chill like that I had just recovered from not two weeks ago. A condition that had affected most people of my acquaintance in this infernal cold weather. The rain we had endured on our journey had brought on a relapse and on this occasion my symptoms were stronger. He confined me to bed for the foreseeable future. Poor Rosalind 's fate was worse. She was suffering from pneumonia and I was forbidden from seeing her for fear it would make my own illness develop into the same dangerous condition.

When the doctor left I ate the broth even though it had grown somewhat cold and remained silent. I dared not refuse it for the belief Lord Ramsay might find some way of forcing me to eat it. I felt defeated and as helpless as a child in Lord Ramsay's power. It was not to sit well with my temper. My silence seemed to perturb Lord Ramsay. Like a true Englishman he appeared uncomfortable with it I acknowledged with some amusement. Perhaps I had found a weapon I could use against him.

'I have finished. Now may I be left alone to sleep?' I asked blandly.

He rose from his chair.

'You are very quiet, Lady Dashwood . . .'

I interrupted him unable to restrain my impatience.

'I am worried for my friend and I am tired.'

'Yes, I understand,' he told me quietly. 'You must sleep.'

My head began to ache more strongly. I put my hand to my temple and noticed that it was trembling.

'I cannot sleep. I am too fearful for Rosalind's life. She is my oldest and dearest friend if I should lose her . . .' I covered my mouth to stifle a sob and lowered my eyes unable to meet his own through embarrassment at my display of emotion. I was usually a strong girl but Rosalind's illness brought back memories of the night my mother died.

I felt the bed dip next to me and Lord Ramsay was sitting upon it once more. His cool fingers lifted my hand from my mouth and held it tight. To my surprise he lifted it to his lips and bestowed a gentle kiss upon it. His breath brushed against my knuckles as he spoke, his words a gentle caress of reassurance to my nerves.

'I will do all I can to make sure Rosalind has the best care. I have every faith that your brother will contact me by letter in the next few days and this matter can be resolved without further course. Believe me, I do not approve of my actions but there was no other way,' he paused and l lifted my eyes to meet his own. 'You must take heart, Lady Dashwood, and believe all I say.'

'I will try to.'

'You sound unconvinced. Maybe in time you will change your mind.'

He lowered my hand back on to the bed.

'I am loathe to leave you alone in your present state,' he informed me. 'Your skin is clammy. Lie back.'

I felt heat well inside my face and did not fight his assistance in aiding me to lie back on the pillows. He lifted the covers higher around me and rested the back of his hand first against my brow and then my cheek with tenderness.

'You are burning up. I fear your chill is getting worse. We must make sure it does not turn to pneumonia. Try to sleep. I will be here should you need me.'

He lifted the candle from the side of my bed and moved it to the small trestle beside his chair and blew out all of the others. The darkness enveloped me and I found that my eyes would close more readily for sleep. I heard him settle down in the chair and felt strangely comforted by his presence.

The Art Of Retaliation (Work In Progress)

Chapter Two


Our journey was long and uncomfortable because of the stiff composure I maintained in Lord Ramsay's hold. It seemed to stretch on into the night as we emerged from the forest and rode across an abundance of green fields. I confess I thought our travels would never come to an end and to make matters worse the weather was against us.

A sudden down pour of cold rain descended upon us and lightening illuminated the clouded dark sky above us. I rubbed at my arms in the hope of providing myself with a little warmth but there was none to be had. The rain soaked through to my skin and drove against my face in the biting wind that accompanied it's assault upon us. I began to shiver in my damp clothes and wished that I had not left my bonnet in the carriage.

'Lady Dashwood, please lean against me so I might afford you some protection from the weather,' Lord Ramsay insisted with concern. But I was to refuse him.

'I will not, sir. I do not need your protection, ' I told him heartily doing my best to still my shivers and my childish fear of the loud thunder that made me jump as it rumbled over head.

He gave an impatient sigh and tightened the grip on my waist he had allowed to slacken on our journey. I found myself sliding along the saddle to nestle in the enclosure of his arms. I was most perturbed and attempted to remedy my situation moving to separate us once more. But he was not to allow my freedom.

'You will catch a chill and I do not wish to see you ill, madam. Whatever you think of my actions. You will remain still and lean back against me,' He smiled down at me with nothing short of cruel mischief at my blushing features when with gentle but firm fingers he guided the side of my face towards his chest and held me there.

'Contrary to popular belief, Lady Dashwood, I do not bite. Rest assure you are quite safe against me. I promise your virtue will stay intact,' he mocked.

Had I not shivered so much I would have offered him a retort but my eyes in the glance I gave up towards him were to display my annoyance to my satisfaction. To my dismay he was to laugh at me before making his horse go faster across the field and I was forced to hang on to him for fear of falling.

A large castle loomed dark and foreboding against the back drop of lightening. I found that I had been lulled into sleep by the horse's movement. Still not quite awake I jumped in Lord Ramsay's arms when I set my eyes upon the fearsome sight believing I was lost in one of Mrs Radcliffe's literary gothic masterpieces. Suitably embarrassed I attempted to raise myself to an upright position but was stopped with the gentle push of Lord Ramsay's hand against my brow.

'Shhh, Lady Dashwood, do not stir yourself,' he whispered softly to me. 'We have nearly arrived at my home.' His cool hand pressed against my brow as he glanced down at me. He frowned. 'I fear you are a little feverish. You must have caught a chill . . .'

'No really I am fine. I have been recovering from a short bout of illness recently. I had been staying at Rosalind's home when I took ill. I had considered myself fit for travel home when you found me. It will pass. It is merely a small flare up.'

'Nevertheless, Lady Dashwood, I will not take any chances with your health. I will send for the doctor immediately.'

'It is nothing, sir, just a cold.'

'I will let Doctor Briggs be the judge of that. You are wet through it is no wonder you are ill. I am sorry for it. The storm came upon us unexpectedly.'

I said no more and there was silence between us until we came upon the castle and the large moat that surrounded it. A long narrow wooden bridge connected the castle to the mainland. We raced across it followed quickly by the others and under a covered archway into the central gravel courtyard.

'Welcome to my home, Lady Dashwood. I hope you will be comfortable here for your stay. Although I pray it will be a short one and not too much to your inconvenience.'

Lord Ramsay brought his horse to a halt just outside a large portico. He dismounted and I could see that he was also soaked through but his immediate concern appeared to be myself. He reached up and I held on to his arms as he gently lifted my tired body to the ground. He led me inside and viewed me critically.

'No, lady Dashwood, you do not look well. I will have the servants run you a hot bath and then it is too bed to await the doctor's arrival.'

'No please, I assure you I am fine . . .'

But my sentence was not to be finished. The fair headed man who had carried Rosalind on his horse appeared from behind me carrying her in his arms. Her countenance bore a deathly pale colour that quite alarmed both myself and Lord Ramsay.

'I fear she is gravely ill with a chill or perhaps worse, Peter. We must send for the doctor without further delay,' he told Lord Ramsay as he passed.

The servants flustered around the man, ushering him through the portico and into the castle to sweep up a large grand staircase as a footman ran to the stables to charge a stable boy with fetching the doctor. I lifted the bottom of my dress to climb the stairs and quite forgot where I was and what I was doing, too afraid and concerned for my close friend's health. She had not been feeling too well just this morning but had insisted on accompanying me home and staying for Christmas. She did not like to think of me alone in the vast draughty country house my family called home when the festivities began. I confess I was to be glad of her company.

Lord Ramsay was quick to follow me and I was thankful he did not reproach me for my hasty presumption. My own legs felt week as I broached the top of the stairs and a wave of heat brushed across my skin making me falter. I continued to follow the group to one of the rooms and prepared to enter when the enclosed hallway began to spin and sway before my eyes. Taken aback my step wavered and I found myself stumbling.

Lord Ramsay's arm was once again around my waist and his free hand came to steady my balance with his hold upon my arm.

'Thank you, sir, now please, I must go to Rosalind.'

'No, Lady Dashwood, you are ill and must take rest in bed. You are soaked through. You may go to her tomorrow. My servants and family will take good care of your friend, I assure you,' his voice was gentle and coaxing, mindful of the distress his instruction was to cause.

'Really, sir, I must go to her. She will need me.'

'My brother Patrick will make sure she is well taken care of. It is my duty to see that you are. Now I will hear no more of your protestations. Come let me help you to your room.'

I was beginning to learn that Lord Ramsay was not accustomed to being questioned or for that matter disobeyed and I was given no choice but to allow him to lead me to my room, two doors away from Rosalind's.

Two servants bustled ahead of us to prepare a hot bath.

'I will not be kept from Rosalind. Please allow me to go to her,' I insisted hearing a sudden cry of distress emanate from her room.

'No. Must I repeat the reason for my action. I am concerned for your health and I will not be deterred,' he ordered.

I struggled but the room was to sway before my eyes again. I put my hand to my head, disturbed by my vision and found myself lifted into the air and carried into my room. I was put down on the side of the bed without ceremony.

'Now that you are safe in your room, Lady Dashwood, please allow me to take my leave of you and make sure that the doctor has been sent for. Lord Ramsay waited for my permission to give him leave. I nodded and he gave a bow to excuse himself. He left the room and to my fright locked the door behind him.

My wet clothes were removed from my body by a maid and I was made to get into the bath. I sank my body beneath the water and allowed my chilled bones to warm through. I tried to put my worrying thoughts for Rosalind to the side hoping my trust in Lord Ramsay was not unworthy when I heard the door to my dressing room being opened.

I expected the maid to enter but it was Lord Ramsay himself. I sank further under the water as he appeared in the doorway casually leaning against the door frame as though he had entered the dressing room of many a female acquaintance before. He had changed his clothing but his dark hair was wet and flat against his head. I had to acknowledge that it only served to make his appearance more handsome. But I was angry that I had care to note it when his manners regarding my privacy was so flaunted by his conduct.

'I trust you are a little warmer in your bath, Lady Dashwood.'

'Yes I am, sir, but what is the meaning of this scandalous intrusion?' I asked with affront.

I gave a gasp of indignation as he laughed and moved from the doorway to come and kneel at my side. The man was not fit for polite society despite his birth and title.

Lord Ramsay sat back and leaned his arm on one bent knee. He viewed me with interest. I made every attempt to hide my nakedness under the water but I wondered if my attempt had been as successful as I hoped when I watched his gaze drift momentarily downwards not once, or twice but thrice. Insufferable man.

'I only came in because the maid was needed to attend your friend Rosalind. You are unwell and close to fainting.' I was treated to the devilish but handsome wickedness of his smile. 'I would not forgive myself if anything were to happen to you whilst alone. For instance . . .' he paused to reach his fingers into the water. I gave an involuntary squeal and did all I could to curl and cover my body away from his hand in the water. He made no move to pay my nervousness any attention but surprised me by looking upon me with seriousness. 'What if you were to faint in the bath, Lady Dashwood? Only to sink under the water and drown. I would not forgive myself.'

'I want to get out now, sir,' I informed him nervously hoping this would entreat him to leave.

He glanced into the water and then turned back to me. He studied me. I turned away unable to bear his scrutiny.

'I have heard of your beauty. It is famous amongst London society but there is a softness and paleness to your countenance that I have not seen on any other woman. I have never seen eyes the colour of golden honey. They compliment your flaxen hair. You are indeed a very beautiful woman, Lady Dashwood. It is only a pity that your soul and conduct do not hold the same bearing?'

I felt the sting of his verbal cut and my eyes filled with hurtful tears that I would not allow to spill and give him the satisfaction of his cruelty.

'You do me an injustice, sir,' I told him with angry defiance.

He would not comment.

'You are looking feverish again. I believe it is time you were in bed. Now I wonder where Louise keeps the linen bath towels?' he teased knowing it would cause me further embarrassment.

I closed my eyes with impatience.

'Please, sir, leave me in peace and I will attend to myself.'

He turned back to me, a towel now in his hand, amusement playing upon his lips.

'Nonsense, I will not have you left alone.'

'Sir, have you no manners?' I pleaded with cross indignation.

He raised a dark eyebrow. 'Come don't be shy, Lady Dashwood. You will not betray anything I have not seen upon a woman many times before.'

'Then I shall remain in the bath until you leave,' I vowed and sat in silence hoping he would retreat with boredom after a while.

'Come now, you cannot stay in the bath forever. You will come out wrinkled. I am sure you would not like that,' he laughed.

'I will not move until you leave. I am resigned upon it, sir.'

He gave a sigh.

'Then I shall have to remove you myself before you catch more cold.' He walked towards me.

'No.'

The door opened and to my relief Louise the maid entered the room. She looked at Lord Ramsay with shock but he was to ignore it as appeared to be his custom when anyone disapproved of his actions. He handed her the towel and addressed me once more.

'I will leave you in peace to dress for bed but I will wait outside the door. I am not leaving until I have made sure you are in bed and awaiting the doctor's arrival.'

The Art Of Retaliation (Work In Progress)

Here is chapter one of a historical romance I am working on.  I would love your comments.  Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter One


North of London, December, 1812

Our pursuers were gaining on us. I feared for our lives when our carriage swayed from side to side as the coachman did his best to out run them. I held on to the side and prayed that we would be delivered from the danger of the highway robbers. I did not hold much hope for their civility with two women travelling alone in the evening. My companion Rosalind was on the verge of tears. She clutched at me burying her head against my shoulder. I put my arm around her and held her tight as much for my own comfort as for hers.

But we were not to escape. I strained to look out of the carriage window as I heard the gallop of a horse. I was astounded to see a young gentleman of birth ride past the window. I gave him a look of reproof but he was to smile wickedly at me. I sat back in the carriage, my temper beginning to overwhelm my fear and with good cause I may add.

I heard the sound of other horses and the carriage slowed down. There was shouting and we seemed to be brought to an abrupt stop. Rosalind let out a sob. I urged her to be quiet and sat pressed back in my seat setting my mind upon an escape should I be able to find the means. Perhaps the ruffians would steal our belongings and have nothing to do with us. But I was being foolish. I would just have to face the thieves with courage.

I heard the coachman and the boy who travelled on top with him do their best to protect us and dissuade the men from entering the coach but they would not be deterred. Rosalind began to sob loudly and none of my robust entreaties for her to stop her snivelling bore any success. I heard one of the men dismount his horse. I wanted to look out of the window of the stationary carriage but Rosalind pleaded with me to stay still when I made movement towards it. I did not wish to distress her any further for fear that she would be the cause of injury to herself with the ruffians. My heart began to pound and ache when I heard footsteps approach the carriage door.

'Lady Pamela Dashwood, I presume,' a handsome face appeared in the window to command my attention. It was the young man who had smiled at me as he passed the carriage earlier. I was surprised and concerned that he already knew of my name and title. It made me suspicious that this was more than highway robbery and I was to be singled out for some crime. I had heard of young men capturing heiresses such like myself and forcing them into marriage for their wealth. I was determined I would not allow it.

'And who asks for me, sir?' I said haughtily.

'Lord Peter Ramsay, at your service, Lady Dashwood.' I widened my eyes as he tilted his head in a mock salute and then opened the carriage door without further haste. He offered me his hand. 'Now please be so good as to allow me to help you from the carriage, madam.'

'No I will not, sir. What is the meaning of this? Why have you run down my carriage and frightened my companion? What do you want?' I was dismayed that my voice rose both with my sudden trembling and anger. I held Rosalind even tighter as her sobbing increased.

Lord Ramsay gave an impatient sigh.

'So many questions, Lady Dashwood. I will answer them all when you remove yourself from the carriage. Now please take my hand and let me help you and your companion to alight.'

'No, ' I made sure my tone was forceful although I had to admit that it probably served me no good in the situation. Still I am a stubborn girl and I would not show him any fear.

'Madam,' Lord Ramsay's voice rose an octave but still he maintained the effort to be civil in his threat, 'If you do not alight, I will remove you myself. Am I understood?'

'Really, I do protest . . .'

'I rather you didn't or I will be forced to act.'

He leaned into the carriage to reach for me. Rosalind squealed. I put up my hand and he stopped. I let go of Rosalind.

'I will do as you ask. There is no need for violence. Come Rosalind. I won't allow anything to happen to you. I promise.'

Lord Ramsay offered me his hand once more and with misgivings I decided to placate him and take it. I stepped out into the chilly November evening air and found that our carriage was surrounded by five men including Lord Ramsay, three of whom were still on horseback and aiming pistols at the coachman.

An attractive young fair headed man who bore a family resemblance to Lord Ramsay took hold of Rosalind the moment she was handed from the carriage. She began to squeal as he lifted her up around the waist and deposited her to sitting on top of his horse. He quickly mounted and pulled her struggling form towards his chest. So we were to be kidnapped.

I turned to Lord Ramsay making no attempt to hide my displeasure.

'I demand you answer my questions now, sir. I will not be kept waiting any longer. When my brother hears of your treatment of me . . .'

Lord Ramsay frowned.

'It is Lord Dashwood who causes your ill treatment.'

He moved closer to me a sudden fiery anger clouding his eyes. I fought my fear to stand my ground as he leaned towards me. He had such a handsome face with short black hair and dark brown eyes swirling tempestuously with his emotion that seemed to roam between anger and discomfort at his own actions. He towered in height above me making me feel my small stature as a disadvantage but I would not be deterred.

'Your brother has taken my young sister for a fool, Lady Dashwood. He has filled her head with false flattery and induced her to elope with him. She is of a fragile mind and he plans to ill use her, taking her fortune to pay his gambling debts when he marries her. I have it on good authority that he plans to confine her in an asylum once he has taken all he can from her.'

'But this can't be true. You speak ill of my brother, yet I have only ever known kindness and love from him.'

Those dark brown eyes narrowed with menace.

'You have been sorely deceived. Did you not know that he has squandered your family's wealth in his pursuit of leisure, vice and women?'

'No, you lie. I will not believe, you, sir. Harry has always been a high spirited man but he would never do such a thing,' I folded my arms and glanced at Rosalind who still sobbed. Her captor held her tight against him but to my surprise did all he could to soothe her fear with whispers of reassurance that she would come to no harm and hushed her distress with a gentle kiss upon the crown of her hair.

'You must, Lady Dashwood,' Lord Ramsay continued. ' He is on the verge of bankruptcy. He has designs on your own fortune that you are to receive from your late uncle that is held in trust. I believe Harry will use violence upon you until it is his own. There is no end to his villainy, I can assure you. He gives me no choice but to repay his act in kind and hold you to ransom for the safe return of my sister,' Lord Ramsay ended his passionate speech with a raised voice that made me jump.

Tears sprang into my eyes as I recoiled at hearing Harry be defiled in such an angry manner. I stepped away from him and glanced out behind me into the dark forest wondering if I should run away to raise the alarm but Lord Ramsay was to grab my arm and pull my reluctant body towards him.

'There is no escape, Lady Dashwood. You would not last ten minutes in this forest unaccompanied. It is full of thieves and knaves who will want more than your wealth.' He began to pull me towards his horse. 'Whilst under my care you will be afforded my protection and I will not allow you to be careless with your safety.'

I was left speechless when he suddenly took me by surprise dipping his tall frame to position his arm under my legs and lift me with ease into his arms. He carried me the rest of the way to his horse and just like Rosalind he sat me sideways upon the saddle and quickly mounted behind me. He picked up the reins and swept his hand around my waist to steady me upon it before moving off into the forest and instructing the others to follow.

I stiffly tried to maintain a distance between myself and his body despite my capture and mercifully he was to allow it. I turned to face him in the saddle.

'Am I to be given no choice in this matter? If my brother has done all that you say. Why am I and Rosalind to be held accountable for his crime?'

Lord Ramsay met my eyes with intense curiosity. I blushed. He gave me a mischievous smile of triumph at my reaction. It seemed he not only held my body captive but also my senses. I felt ashamed.

'I do not believe I have ever encountered a woman with spirit such as yourself. It is a shame that we have not met under better circumstances. I believe I should have liked you for my wife,' he told me with flippant amusement.

I narrowed my eyes with displeasure.

'Then it is a blessing we have not. I should not like you for a husband, sir.'

He laughed.

'I am sorry that I must cause you some discomfort but there is no other way.' He widened his eyes and sighed. 'Your brother does not respond very well to diplomacy. Only threats make him listen to sense. At least that is what I am told. Let us hope for your sake he does.'

'What do you intend to do with me if he does not bring your sister home?'

'Then, my fair, beautiful, Lady Dashwood . . . ,' he mocked. 'I will have to sell you as a bride. I am sure there will be many bidders for your hand. Or I will give your hand in marriage to that rake Lord Simon who so desperately wants you for a wife and your wealthy inheritance to manage.'

'No. I won't allow it,' I shouted angrily.

'You will not have a say in the matter,' he laughed. 'Lord Simon is a brute of a man and you have done your best to avoid his proposal for marriage yet it would vex your brother if you married for he would no longer be able to find a way to take your inheritance for himself. Lord Simon was tired of waiting for you to accept his proposal. He has been planning to kidnap you and force you into marriage. He will be mad that I beat him to the task.'

My temper flowed freely. I wanted to jump from the horse. I could not bear to sit in Lord Ramsay's arms any longer and listen to his gleeful conversation. I felt foolish and began struggling from his grip but he was to pull me tightly to him. I was forced to halt my movement. I sat breathless in his arms.

'Remember what I said about the forest, Lady Dashwood. I would not want anything to happen to you, after all you must be safe in one piece for your brother or he is unlikely to return my sister.'

'You are not a gentleman, sir. You are cruel to involve me in your argument with Harry.'

'But I believe you are involved, Lady Dashwood. You must have known of your brother and his gambling and his courting of my sister. I am told you are close and share everything.'

'You are misinformed. I knew nothing. Harry no longer talks to me. I rarely see him . . .'

'I wish I could believe you, Lady Dashwood, but it is not what I am told. You have had many meetings lately.'

'Only because I have required his assistance in rejecting Lord Simon's persistent and offensive advances. I would not allow my brother to commit such a crime against your sister. It is not only your family that is to be shamed. Let me speak to him and resolve the matter to your convenience.'

'No. You will remain my prisoner,' Lord Ramsay insisted tightening his grip upon me once more so that I was forced to lean against his chest. 'Now hush, we have a long journey a head of us.'

So Where Do Writers Get Their Ideas From?

I have been waiting to get my hot little hands on the DVD for Inception (see trailer above) since I went to see it at the cinema in July for the second time. Luckily I won't have to wait much longer because it is available on the 6th December and I can't wait because it is a stonking good movie. So what am I waffling on about it for? What has it got to do with writers and where they get their ideas from?

Well, the plot of Inception centres around a group of people led by Leonardo DiCaprio's character Cobb who steal corporate secrets from people's dreams. The consensus being that your dreams are created from your subconscious and its secrets. However, this time they have been asked to implant an idea in someone's mind. Without giving too much away, they attempt this feat by going deep into the mark's dreams and getting him to access his subconscious issues with his father's rejection that are symbolically contained within a large bank safe. They then manipulate whatever Fischer finds in there to implant the idea. Needless to say it is in essence a heist movie. The group have to fight their way past an army of men created in the dream by the mark's subconscious to protect his secrets to be able to break open the safe. Confused? Watch the trailer above. It will help, trust me.

The plot made me wonder about writing and how writers' ideas are generated. Writer's courses, workshops and how to books will tell you that prospective authors should read newspapers and pay attention to the world around them to get story ideas. These are worthy instructions but are they enough to cause inception? Do we really wait for an idea to be planted into our minds from a scandalous piece of news or might we not view this external stimulus as a trigger to engage and germinate the idea already within?

Perhaps when we write we are accessing our safe of hidden truths, secrets, desires and fears that define us as human beings just as Fischer does in the movie and our ideas are born from them. I always think of writing as a waking dream that can become so vivid and real that you are almost consumed by its power of reality as you struggle to get it down on the page.

Whilst writing a scene from my latest novel and listening to music at the same time I found myself lost in a world where my character was riding hard along a beach. I could see the tide coming in , hear the horse galloping on the sand and hear his breath as they headed towards some dark looming rocks and impending danger. It was so real I felt as though I could reach out and touch it all. I believe we are the own architects of our own dreamlike stories in which we spill our hidden truths and secrets for all the world to see when they read it.

Our characters may well be undiscovered aspects of ourselves that we wish to view and interact with in our dream world to learn more about our own inner landscape and the anatomy of our lives. Even our plots and the world in which we set our story will erect symbols and meanings to help us decipher this inner landscape and how this shapes our method of interacting with the external world around us. Might our own stories serve as a trigger to help others engage with their own internal worlds and ideas of self.

Ok, I'm getting a bit deep but hopefully you get the idea??? Maybe we should all have some of that subconscious security training they talk about in the film in case someone decides to break into our dreams, wakeful or otherwise and steal our ideas.

Next time you are stuck for a plot look within for inception and in the words of Eames's character in the film, 'You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.'

So Why Is A Bad Boy Vampire So Loveable?

So what makes a bad boy vampire so loveable? Is there such a thing as a good or bad vampire? Is that not a contradiction in terms??? Nobody likes a goodie goodie. They aren't interesting enough. Nowadays there appears to be a demand for characters in literature and film that are in touch more with their shadow side than their good one. Gone are the days where you were able to identify the goodie by the white hat he wore and the baddie by his black hat. Now characters are wearing a dark shade of grey and causing a certain amount of confusion in their attraction. And this is really noticeable in vampire romances.


Ask any woman who her favourite vampire character is and she is likely to tell you either, Edward Cullen from Twilight, Erik from True Blood or Damon Salvatore from The Vampire Diaries. Ok, so Edward is a nice boy I hear you shout. But he does possess some dangerous qualities. For a start he stalks Bella Swan, stops her seeing her friend and stands over her while she sleeps. Yet millions of women love him. Don't get me wrong I adored the first book and the movie but the whole brooding thing started to wear thin. And I am not sure I wanted my ten year old daughter reading about meek and mild Bella Swan allowing Edward Cullen to do those things to her.

If you watch True Blood you will know exactly who I am talking about when I mention the rather delectable tall Scandinavian blonde, Erik. He would kill you in an instant if he could be bothered. Yet he is far more exciting on the screen than nice Bill Compton or as he is affectionately known in the series, Vampire Bill, Sookie's boyfriend. Even Compton's name is a turn off.

And then there is Damon Salvatore who when he first appeared on The Vampire Diaries was killing for the pure hell of it and frightening the heroine, Elena out of her wits but we all sat there hypnotised by his gorgeous black eyes and wicked smile. Even whilst reading the book you can tell that the author, L.J. Smith enjoyed writing about Damon and his, 'dark fathomless eyes,' more than his respectable brother who only fed off animals. You can sense her impatience to bring Damon back on the page at every turn and you were hanging on in there with her, desperately waiting for him to reappear.

Even as an avid fan of Buffy The Vampire Slayer I must confess a frisson of excitement when Angel turned into his bad alter ego, Angelis. I also noticed that when I made my own vampire character, Nathan Valancourt turn to his demon side and threaten the heroine with a horsewhip when she wouldn't do what she was told in Ace of Swords, I had more people interested in reading the chapters on my blog!

So what is it that makes us forget our senses and play with fire? Well apart from the eyes, the super human strength that could defend you at a moment's notice and come to your rescue as many of these confusing bad vampire characters do, every dangerous vampire hunk has to have the essential trait of vulnerability. It is that which endears or deceives us into believing that they are really a nice boy underneath and they just want to be loved. Awww! Hmmm!

Let's look at that then. I suppose Edward is consumed with love for Bella. Erik has fallen for Sookie who ignores his advances and Damon has been rejected by Katherine and has been carrying his pain and anger around for nearly two centuries. Oh and he loves his brother's girlfriend, Elena who refuses to acknowledge him despite all his efforts. Ok, so there's an argument for vulnerability but there is also another important quality to these stories that enables us to walk on the wild side and live to tell the tale and that is the heroine herself.

She knows how to put the naughty gorgeous vampire back in his place when he gets out of hand. Sookie does it eloquently with her no nonsense talk, principles and fearless attitude and Elena stubbornly refuses to be afraid of Damon and capitulate to his frightening advances to make her his. Then there is the mistress of a vampire put down, Buffy. She well and truly knew how to put Angelis in his place. But I am still trying to see what Bella Swan does to keep Edward reined in. Maybe she needs a few lessons from Buffy. The video from Youtube above this post may give her some pointers!

So before you start sharpening those stakes perhaps we should consider that it is safe to indulge in liking a bad boy vampire as long as you keep your wits about you. After all he's just a nice boy trying to get out from under all that baggage that makes him so angry. Or is he? Maybe he has just compelled you to think that way!

Ian Somerhalder as Damon Salvatore in The Vampire Diaries, ITV2, Tues, 9pm

Characters Or Angels?

Anyone seen the humourous children's film, Nim's Island? Jodie Foster plays a successful author who is in her words, borderline agoraphobic. She is contacted from a remote island in the Pacific by a little girl who lives there with her marine biologist father. When he goes missing at sea in a storm Nim asks Foster to travel across the world to help her.

So why am I waffling on about this movie?  Apart from the fact that my family think I am very much like Foster's neurotic writer down to the hand washing obsession, Foster's male character, Alex Rover, appears to her as a real person she loves and talks to. It is he who convinces her to overcome her fears and leave the house and journey to the child. I have heard many writers talk of how they see, hear and feel their characters around them and for the first time since writing Knight Of Swords and the subsequent books I can say that I have joined their ranks.

My character, Nathan Valancourt suddenly appeared at a school function I had to attend in the summer on my daughter's behalf and came and sat next to me. Since that day he has made several appearances and I have often felt him standing behind me when I work or move around the house. And boy is he tall. Feeling as though those many days spent stuck in the house writing and suffering from vertigo were finally making my sanity crack I told my husband.

He thought it was great and a positive sign that I was getting to know my character. Besides many a writer had that experience and he referred me to Nim's Island again. I have now relaxed with Nathan's frequent appearances but I sometimes wonder if there is more to it than character development.

His visitations now often coincide with moments when I feel distressed, worried, afraid or in pain and not just when I am working. And I have to say my spirits lift. Recently he has drawn my attention to a ring on his finger. It isn't a wedding ring but a silver man's ring. I have no idea what he is trying to communicate but it doesn't seem to have any place in the story. I sometimes feel that it is a message meant for me that I can't decipher.

Is this wishful thinking? Is he my higher self? My animus? My guardian angel? Spirit guide? Ghost? Or just a vision of my character? Before you cast your judgement upon me and call for the men in white coats, think about how you see your own characters. Are they parts of you or a ghostly presence spurring you on to write their story?

News

I will be posting a new chapter of The Hanged Man next week but in the meantime I have written a piece on the legend of Talus within the Swords series.  If you fancy getting to grips with my created historical background to the story, have a read at http:wwwknightofswords.blogspot.com.

The Hanged Man (Work In Progress)

Chapter Three


Our battle was endless. We were well matched opponents in our abilities, cunning and execution of our fighting skill. I feared I would never win and would spend the rest of eternity locked in this prison fighting for my life. We fought like street dogs. My right fist made heavy contact with the demon's jaw and my left punched his stomach hard. He flew up and backwards to land on his back in the snow. He was jumping to his feet before I could follow him and running relentlessly towards me with murderous intent in his eyes. We locked horns once more.

'Nathan,' the angry female voice cracked through the air like a whip.

Startled, we ceased our struggling. The demon stared at me for a moment mimicking my own confusion in his features and then his eyes widened with joy. It was the first time I had witnessed the vulnerability of his feeling. I felt Juliet's presence wrap around and warm my body in the cold air. I briefly closed my eyes savouring the delicious moment as our minds touched and the pain of absence ceased.

The demon let go of his tight grip on my arms and I followed suit. We turned to face our Queen to see her standing a small distance away from us on top of a bridge. The bridge straddled a narrow frozen over river. Her small hourglass figure was taut and indignant with annoyance at our conduct.

'We must not let her leave,' the demon urged in a low voice. 'We must postpone our fight until we have secured our connection to her mind once again. I cannot bear this pain of loss any longer. And we must know of the danger that surrounds her on the ship,' he instructed.

I glared at him.

'I will not let you hurt her.' I turned back to gaze upon Juliet as I spoke. 'But I agree to your plan,' I informed him. I began to walk towards the bridge shaking the snow from my hair and clothes. He agreed and separated from me to walk upon the ice to gain access to the other side of the bridge.

Juliet's eyes widened as she watched us approach her from both sides. I fancied I saw alarm in them as the demon and I worked together to trap her where she stood. I was glad of it. It was time our Queen learnt that she could not escape me.

I slowed my pace after mounting the crumbling stone structure the same time as the demon behind her. Juliet moved her head back and forth from the demon to myself to gauge our progress towards her.

'Nathan, stop this. You will not keep me here. I only came to bring you to your senses. You make me fear for your safety. I cannot believe this is the way you have chosen to face . . .' She turned to look towards my other half as he came up behind her a deadly smile curling his lips that heightened the dark brooding menace in his eyes. 'Your demon,' she finished with regal haughtiness.

She raised her chin defiantly at me despite the coldness of fear entering her eyes. I found my own eyes narrowing darkly dismayed by her continued resistance to my possession. How long would she continue to taunt me with her absence? Did she not have a heart for my feelings?

I stopped as she turned back to face me full on. No doubt deciding it was better to reason with my human half. That was her first mistake. The human and demon within my soul were united in our endeavour to keep her by our side. I watched with approval as the demon wound his arm around her small waist trapping her arms by her sides and pulled her backwards towards him making her his prisoner. I stood firm.

'Nathan, are you going to allow this?' she demanded in a fragile voice as the demon's seductively trailed his fingertips over the delicate paleness of her throat and lightly over the embroidered lace and pearls that adorned the top of the sky blue damask gown just before it moulded perfectly over her young pert breasts concealed within her bodice. Her chest heaved with agitation from the tempest of desire and fear that consumed her within.

The demon pressed his face against the rich silky texture of her hair piled elegantly on top of her head and richly entwined with small pearls, inhaling her intoxicating scent. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again as though swooning with the simple action.

'You will not leave us, Juliet. You are trapped here with us now,' he whispered brushing his lips against the skin of her neck. I walked forward and cupped her face in my hand lifting it to me as she struggled against it. I caught her lips against mine silencing her protests whilst the demon cast his lips over her neck and stroked the tip of her breast as we assisted each other in our pleasurable assault upon her.

'I won't have you like this, Nathan. It's madness. If you desire to possess me as you say then you will make yourself whole. . .'

Her whispered sentence against my lips was interrupted by the calling of a male voice. It was one I recognised. My eyes narrowed at her and I heard her cry out as the demon savagely tightened his grip upon her waist and breast.

Angered, I caught her slender throat in my hand and squeezed.

'You would betray me, with him? A lycan?' I snapped demanding an answer. My jealousy burned hotly as I glanced over the bridge to see the lycan, Richard making his way towards us across the field calling to Juliet.

'You mean just as you betrayed me with the witch?' her tone was as sharp as a blade cutting through sinew.

I glared at her.

'I have not betrayed you, Nathan. That has never been my desire.'

'Then why is he here in your mind?' I demanded squeezing a little harder and forcing her to strain her head upwards.

'I don't know. Let go, you are hurting me. Perhaps Marcus, has sent him. Ever since I brushed his mind he has used his connection to keep a protective watchful eye over me. I assure you I would never betray your love for me. Let me go, sir, or you shall never have me.'

I leaned in close and hissed, 'Mark my words, Juliet, if you even think of betraying me with this lycan . . .'

'I have no intention of betraying you Nathan,' she interrupted quickly. 'The lycans are my friends. They seek only to make my life a little more bearable after recent events . . .'

'Taking refuge with the lycans puts your life at risk. They are not adequate in providing you with protection from the knights and our enemies. They do not possess our gifts and psychic abilities. They are not fit to guard the Queen,' I argued forcefully as she shrank away from me and the firm grip I maintained upon her tender throat.

'I will no longer tolerate the wilful neglectful way you disregard your safety. If anything should happen to you I would tear this world apart,' I told her harshly.

The ferocity of my anger at such a happening shook my body and I found myself struggling to master it's energy. I looked down into Juliet's eyes and saw her fear of me. It brought me back to my senses and I fought to contain my temper and dampen the fire, softening my tone before I was lost in the blaze.

'I do not seek to rule your mind or your thoughts, Juliet, I only desire to keep you safe and if my methods are sometimes cruel then so be it. It is my role to protect you and I will not be deterred from it. I will not let you down again or disappoint our people with the death of the Queen they have waited so long for. I have seen what you plan for the unification of our people and the way you will tackle the problem of the slavers. You have much work ahead of you. I will not allow you take anymore risks. I will master your will with both my human and demon side until you capitulate.'

I pulled her by the throat towards me and shouted loudly, 'Do I make myself clear?'

She furiously nodded and then stared at me, a sudden curious relief in her eyes and something I did not expect to see after my cruel vicious treatment of her, love. Satisfied that she would no longer test my patience with her defiance I let her go. I pushed the remorse I now felt to the back of my mind. She had given me little option but to press my point and she would learn of my dominance as her mate and protector.

Juliet put a shaking hand to her throat and smoothed her fingertips down it. I wondered at how she could now move her hands when the demon had held her prisoner so tightly against him. She smiled as my eyes widened in disbelief. The demon was gone, vanished.

'I do confess, Nathan, it is such a relief to me that you are now whole again. It was becoming somewhat tiresome to have two of you quarrelling with me.'

I raised an eyebrow at her and smiled feeling the pleasure of my own relief as I stretched out my arms and looked down at myself wondering how and when the transformation had occurred.

'You have learned to incorporate both sides of your nature and use them to good effect, Lord Valancourt,' she said with humour. 'Although . . .' Her fingers briefly touched her throat again and rubbed at the gentle mark of red I had left upon it. 'I do wish you would learn to curb your enthusiasm for it a little more.'

I gave her a dark smile,' Then do not provoke it so hotly by flaunting your disregard for your safety with wilful disobedience, your majesty.'

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. 'Perhaps, I should question Richard on his take upon the matter.'

I turned quickly ready to take the lycan, Richard to task for daring to penetrate the mind of my mate without invitation. He stood at a small distance on the bridge poised for attack and then suddenly vanished. I heard Juliet giggle.

'You didn't really believe I would allow him into my mind, Nathan? Shame on you for doubting my loyalty to you. I do not trust the man,' Juliet informed me.

I swung back to her. 'This was all you, wasn't it?' I caught her face between my hands and laughed. 'You devised this. You knew the demon and I would act together and bind as one to keep you here. You are a beautiful, clever Queen and I love you.'

I lowered my lips and kissed her passionately feeling my joy rise high as she reciprocated with longing.

'Nathan, you must let me go. I cannot stay any longer.'

She lifted my hands from her face and held them brushing their backs with a kiss. She looked up and viewed me nervously.

'You must let me have the peace I crave . . . do not follow me to Italy. I will return to you . . .'

'No,' I told her firmly. 'Have you not listened to all that I have said? Do you continue to . . .'

'Please, Nathan, hush' she requested putting a finger to my lips to cease my speech.

'I have disregarded nothing that you have said to me. I understand the pain and distress I have caused you and I no longer question your command as my protector but I must have my time. I want peace to think and I am safe with Marcus.'

I caught her arm and pulled her to me. I spoke firmly.

'No. I am coming for you. Do not try to evade me because I will hunt you down and you will be lucky if I do not confine you to your room for an eternity, like a child when I catch up with you.'

'You will do no such thing. I have much to think about and plan for as Queen of Talus and I wish to deliberate alone for a while.'

'No, Juliet, and that is my final word. Do not raise the discussion again. I will not talk of it. I have seen your vision of the future that you hide from me. I will take no more chances.'

Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with water.

'You were not meant to see that.'

'I won't let it happen.'

'And I won't let you use something that may or may not happen to curtail my freedom and make me live in fear,' she challenged with a desperate voice.

I felt her frustration well inside me. I shook my head.

'I do not wish to curtail your freedom but we must be mindful of the threat. It is a cruel world that we live in. You must realise how dangerous life is for you, villainy seeks you at every corner because of your gender and your position in our race. You must accept that I cannot grant you the freedom you crave so much. I would be failing in my duty and in my love for you. It is just the way things are. I wish that it was not. Besides if you love me as you say you do you would not wish to be apart from me.'

'Do not use emotional bribery to twist me to your way of thinking. I just wish some time to myself. I believe it would be no hardship for you to respect my wishes and not treat me as a child.'

'It is out of the question. A knight from the elders pursues you and there is talk of Queen Victoria taking action against you.'

'Really?' she sounded disappointed.

'She does not wish for there to be two Queens in her realm. She will have to be made to understand that any action she takes against you will be met with force,' I dictated.

Juliet pulled her arm away from me and I stood quietly composed and unrelenting. She turned and began to march away from me in a flounce betraying the characteristic folly of her young age of eighteen. I could not help but smile even though I quietly sympathised with her unhappiness and wish for independence in her life. I was dismayed it was I that was charged with forbidding it.

'I will be on the next ship to Italy. Be careful and stay close to Marcus until I reach Venice. There is something coming, Juliet,' I called after her but she did not care to hear me.

I started after her as she began to walk towards the darkness that had suddenly appeared at the end of the bridge. But just before she stepped into it a black cloaked and hooded figure appeared unseen by Juliet and began to follow her. I picked up my pace disturbed by the figure calling out to Juliet in warning.

The dark stranger turned and revealed a face mostly stripped of flesh exposing bone and red and bloody muscle clinging to its human skeleton. Strips of melting skin hung in remnants from his features here and there and smoke effused from his monstrous face and permeated his cloak from inside out. It was as though the figure had been burnt in the fires of hell and it still raged inside him.

'Xavier,' I questioned with disbelief knowing that his burnt body was still locked in the dungeon of Marcus's castle. Could it be? Surely, it was not possible. Yet I felt the stranger had a connection to him. I inhaled the smell of burning flesh and sensed the ancient dark evil that surrounded the cloaked figure before issuing him with a challenge to show himself and state his intent. I was to be ignored and he turned to follow Juliet into the darkness. There was nothing I could do to help her as she coldly shut down her mind again to keep me out.

Update

Hi Everyone,

Just to let you know that I will be posting chapter three of The Hanged Man on thursday.

If anyone is following the story I would be grateful for a review or any comments you may have on how it is progressing.

See you on thursday.


Sara