Beauty in Spring (Beauty #1)(6)

I can’t respond to that. Only sit up and scoot back to the center of the bed, my body still aching with need and my heart now trembling with fear.

Dried blood covers his hands. And his jaw and throat and chest. He’s naked, and almost every inch of his tall, powerful form is filthy—his tanned skin not just covered in blood but in dirt.

And his penis is erect.

Hugely erect.

I can hardly take my eyes off that long, thick cock. There’s blood all over him, and I’m immobilized by uncertainty and terror, yet lust still has me its merciless grip. My pussy clenches with desperate yearning as I stare at the blatant evidence of Gideon’s desire for me.

A sardonic smile twists his firm lips. “And now there is the scent of your fear. It is also sweet to the beast.” A cold, steely edge scrapes away the rough growl in his voice. “But not to me. Why did you come, Cora?”

“Mr. Singh. Your parents’ solicitor.” I struggle to pull coherent answers from the riot of emotions and thoughts crowding my mind. “He contacted me on their behalf.”

“My parents were killed nine years ago.” Over my gasp of disbelief and dismay, he asks, “Where is your father? He was supposed to protect you and keep you away from this place.”

“He died this past fall.” Raw grief aches in my throat. My father. His parents. “He had a stroke several years ago that left him bedridden. Then…he slowly faded.”

A muscle working in his jaw, Gideon averts his face before saying gruffly, “I am sorry. He was a good man.”

He was. But also a man who practically locked me away for years, away from everything and everyone I loved.

“I am sorry to hear about your parents, as well,” I tell him softly. “They were always very kind to me.”

“Kind to you?” A hard, short laugh barks from him. “Not at the end, if they gave Singh directions to bring you here. They must have left instructions to do it after your father passed.”

“I don’t know anything about that. Singh said there was a debt owed. I wasn’t sure what it was—perhaps unpaid wages? But I came because I wanted to see Blackwood Manor again.”

And to see Gideon again. But the man standing before me is not the same boy I knew. Not just because he’s bigger, taller, stronger. Gideon had once been so kind and even tempered. Never had he shown the cold, cruel edge that Gideon has now, and never had he seemed so…feral.

Or so ravenous.

Nervously my gaze drops to his thick erection again—then rises to his broad chest, where blood has dried in smears and drips. Drips, as if he were a messy eater. And that deer had been torn apart. Yet how could a man do that?

I don’t know how it’s possible. But I also don’t think I’m dreaming anymore.

“You came to see the estate?” A mocking smile appears on his lips. “And what do you think of Blackwood Manor today?”

My gaze snaps to his. “I think you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Something pained flickers in the depths of those green eyes. “So I should be.” Yet it is not contrition but arrogance that draws his angular features into hard, imposing lines. “The debt owed was not to your father. It was a debt your father owed to me.”

Gideon had only been seventeen when we’d left. What could my father owe a boy? “What are you talking about?”

“He took something of mine.”

“You’re saying my father stole something?” Firmly I shake my head. “He would never do that.”

“I did not say he stole. I said he took what was mine.” With a predator’s fluid stride, he stalks silently to the edge of the bed, where he leans over and braces his hands on the mattress, his eyes on level with mine. Each word succinct, Gideon says, “He…took…my…bride.”

His bride.

Hardly daring to breathe, I whisper, “Me?”

“Did you not agree to be mine?” Gaze holding mine, he winds the gold chain around his fist. “Did I not give you this necklace as I vowed to make you my wife? Did you not accept it?”

“I… I…” Of course I did. But bewilderment and fear prevent that admission. Because I don’t understand any of this. “Why did he take me?”

“So that this would not happen. I told him to hide you away.” He tugs gently on the chain, drawing me nearer, until my face is a breath away from his. Softly he says, “But I have the key to release you, Cora.”

“Then release me.”

“Perhaps I will.” Tormented gaze locked with mine, he skims the backs of his knuckles down the side of my face. The growl deepens his voice as he adds, “But not yet.”

Dropping the chain, he backs away again, abandoning me in the center of the bed, my heart wracked by hurt and confusion, my body alight with yearning and need.

Eyes hard, his gaze sweeps my length. “You are fortunate you did not arrive last night. You’d have received a much different reception.”

How different? “Does that mean it would be better or worse?”

“Better for you or for me?” His eyes gleam with a hot and feral light. “Had I come upon you last night, I would have fucked you and made you mine—and I would have not cared whether you wanted me in return.”

Not cared. I cringe away from those words. Away from this Gideon, who would not have cared for my feelings.