Escaping The Beast: A Darkhills Romance (The Darkhills Series Book 2) Page 3

  “OK, so, you see now, honey pie, Lord Nightingale here has given me the opportunity, a very good opportunity, to prove that I can earn him a neat profit.” Her father stepped forward, clasping his hands nervously.

  “So I am here because?” Katherine had a horrible sinking feeling about where this conversation was going. She held her nerve and the gaze of the devil with whom her father had gotten himself embroiled. She knew if she looked at her father’s lying, cowardly face her temper would rise and she might say or do something that she would regret. She couldn’t afford to show her hand. She had no doubt in her mind that the man in front of her would exploit any sign of weakness or vulnerability.

  “Ah, you see that brings me to the interesting part. Did you know that this place is actually a lot more comfortable than it looks,”

  “Enough.” Lord Nightingale, held up a hand and effectively silenced her father. “Miss. Daxton, your father owes me a great deal of money. Despite having ample opportunity, he has not been forthcoming in repaying his debt. He has refused my offer to accept repayment in the form of his employment within my household and has instead opted to secure the appropriate finances within a limited timescale. In order to provide good faith in his ability to secure said finances he has designated you to act as his guarantor.”

  Katherine’s blood was at boiling point. Of all the rotten, despicable things her father had done, this was a new low. He was using her as a safety deposit. She’d been made to wash dishes at restaurants before to pay his bill, she’d been forced to act as arm candy for more than one handsy old crook in her time, but never had she been effectively used as a bartering chip.

  Deep breaths. Keep your composure. She reminded herself.

  “I see.” She finally turned her face to look at her father. He visibly withered under her ice-cold glare.

  “Now, Kitty-Kat, I know what you’re thinking,” Her father began, “I’ve got a sure thing lined up. I’ll be back with the money within a week, I promise, baby doll. And this place really ain’t so bad. The food’s good and the room has the biggest bed you’ve ever seen,”

  Katherine turned her head back towards Lucian and blocked out her father’s conman shpeal. She would be damned if she was going to sit around and wait for him to get this man his money. Knowing her father he wouldn’t get the money within a week as he claimed. There was no point arguing with him about it, the power in the room lay with the devil himself.

  “State your terms, Lord Nightingale.” She lifted her chin and levelled a steady gaze at him.

  He shifted in his chair, leaning back in order to consider her.

  “They are simple, Miss. Daxton. You will remain here at Tumbricane for the duration of the extended contract. Your father believes he will be in a position to return with sufficient funds within seven days. I suspect you and I believe otherwise, therefore I am proposing that the arrangement be reviewed weekly, with a maximum contract period of three months. Should the debt remain at the end of that period, Mr. Daxton will return to take up a position within my household and your involvement will cease. You will be at liberty to leave.” The man, trawled out the terms of the contract matter of factly, his gaze shifting to where he inspected his fingernails.

  “I would like to negotiate on the length of the contract and state a number of conditions, if I may?” Katherine replied firmly.

  Lucian’s eyes returned to hers. She wished he had remained indifferent, there was something about the way he looked at her that made her pulse kick up a notch.

  “State your request, Miss. Daxton.”

  “The contract term will last no longer than two weeks. While I am staying here, I will not be subjected to servitude, degradation, manipulation, or ill-treatment at any time.” Katherine began, “You will ensure my wellbeing, health, and safety is ensured throughout. I will be permitted free movement and will continue to have contact with others outside of this estate, for example, my cell phone will not be confiscated.” Katherine took another breath and put a little more force behind her next statement, “I will be not be expected to perform any acts of a sexual nature and I will not be prevented from contacting the emergency services should I deem it necessary.”

  “Two weeks is not long enough.” Lucian shook his head.

  “Yes, sweetheart, I think that’s a little unreasonable. Lord Nightingale, is being very generous. I think we’d be stupid to become overconfident, not that I don’t think we won’t get the money in time.” Her father pitched in.

  Katherine refused to look at him, the less input her father had in the negotiation, the better.

  “One month.” She haggled, keeping her eyes firmly on Lucian’s.

  “I have stated three.” He replied in a calm and patient tone.

  “And I have stated two weeks, but have already acquiesced and offered longer. One month, Lord Nightingale.”

  “Two months, Miss. Daxton and you agree to dine with me each night.”

  That threw her. Why on earth would he include such a ridiculous condition? He was likely just trying to rattle her.

  “The food here really is great, baby doll. Real haute cuisine.” Her father urged, clearly he just wanted her to accept the deal so he could high tail it out of there.

  “I’m not big on fine dining, Lord Nightingale. Two months and I eat my meals in peace.”

  The first hint of emotion showed on the man’s face. His lips twitching upwards in amusement for the briefest of moments before it was gone.

  “Two months, it is. I accept your other terms, Miss. Daxton with the addition that you are permitted to make further reasonable requests during your time here, which I shall give all due consideration.”

  He leaned forward and took her hand in a firm grasp and shook it briefly to confirm the deal. The same tingle of awareness sparked across her skin at the contact, but he released her hand before she could spend any longer thinking about it.

  “Mr. Daxton, leave us now. You have two months, see to it that you return within that time.”

  “Right you are, Lord Nightingale, I won’t let you down.” Her father practically bounced where he stood.

  “Miss. Daxton, do you wish to bid farewell to your father?”

  Her father bounded forward and pulled her in for a tight hug. One that she did not return. She remained stiff as a board, her eyes still fixed on Lord Nightingale who was watching them like a hawk.

  “Hey now, Kitty-Kat, no need to look so sour. You think this hasn’t been hard enough on your old man, already?”

  He released her from the uncomfortable embrace and stroked her hair back behind one of her ears. It took every ounce of her willpower not to slap his hand away. She chose to remain stoic and silent instead.

  “This is only temporary, OK. I’ll get the money. I promise, baby doll, I pinky promise.” He held up his little finger to her as he used to when she was a kid. She’d learned young, however, that his pinky promises meant jack shit.

  She ignored his offering, wanting him gone from her sight.

  “Lord Nightingale, would you be so kind as to show me to my room?”

  With a nod, he stood and stepped down from the dais to stand before her. He was tall. Taller than her in her skyscraper stilettos. She wasn’t sure why she noticed such an insignificant thing, but she had nonetheless. What’s more, she was pleased with it.

  Katherine took his firm arm when he offered it and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He led her slowly across the hall towards the main doors where she had entered.

  “Oh erm, just one other thing, baby doll.” Her father’s voice called out to her.

  Lord Nightingale paused, forcing her to listen to what her despicable father wanted.

  “Don’t suppose I could get the keys off you for the car? Mine was returned to the depot a while ago and I don’t know how long it’ll take me to walk to the nearest town in this weather and-”

  Katherine silently released herself from Lucian’s guiding arm to retrieve the set of ke
ys.

  “Oh thata girl, Kitty, you always have taken care of your old man.”

  She held out her hand and dropped the keys onto the floor, refusing to turn to look at him. Without another moment of hesitation, she took Lord Nightingale’s arm once more.

  “My room, if you please, Lord Nightingale.”

  “Of course.” He uttered quietly beside her.

  Katherine kept her eyes focused straight ahead of her, and allowed herself to be led away. If she hadn’t been keeping up appearances, she would have stormed out of the room. Instead, she walked calmly behind her host, or prison guard she supposed, following him up a tightly wound spiral staircase and out onto a long carpeted balustrade, where she took his offered arm once more. They passed several closed doors in silence, Katherine kept her eyes forward, resigning herself to her situation. The sound of the main doors to the mansion closing firmly shut, indicated that her father had gone. Her shoulders relaxed and she let out a small breath of relief. Her escort noticed and from the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his head to observe her.

  “You are my guest here, Miss. Daxton. Please do not be concerned. You will be completely safe, you have my word.” His words were softly spoken and the gentleness in them was enough to make tears well behind her eyes.

  Damn it, hold it together.

  She couldn’t trust herself to say a word in return.

  He stopped by a set of deep mahogany doors and stepped inside, quickly flicking a switch and illuminating the elegant room within. It really was the most luxurious room that she had ever set foot in.

  The room was decorated in light creams and golds, a huge four-poster bed stood proudly against one wall. Opposite was a beautifully ornate fireplace with a gilded mirror placed above it. A chaise lounge was sprawled in front of the gently glowing fire, practically beckoning her to lie down upon it. To the side was a small console table with a vase filled with the most beautiful white roses in full bloom, their heady scent filling the air. Either side of the fireplace were two sets of open doors. One set led to a floor-to-wall tiled ensuite bathroom and the other looked as though it were some kind of walk-in closet.

  Katherine stepped further inside the room and stood beneath the sparkling chandelier. A pair of French doors that stretched from floor to ceiling, leading out onto a small balcony beyond, hosting a little bistro table and chairs. Heavy golden drapes hung from the ceiling, their velvety appearance offering the promise of warmth and protection from the outside world. An elegant but far too small writing desk stood to one side of the doors, Katherine doubted the little thing would be able to comfortably host a laptop let alone anything more. Then again, it looked like an antique and she doubted many ladies writing desks needed to host a vast array of equipment or papers back in the 1800s or whenever it was made.

  Her eyes strayed back to the large bed and she had to admit she was drawn to the promisingly soft and inviting cream sheets and heavy gold, velvet blanket that lay folded expertly at the base of the bed. Everything about the bed whispered the sweet promise of the best night’s sleep of her life, and she could at least be appreciative to Lord Nightingale for that. She wanted to bury her face in the plush-looking pillows and pretend that this was all some kind of bad dream. In reality, she knew she would most likely be screaming her anger into those pillows just as soon as her host left her in peace.

  Katherine turned around and faced Lord Nightingale once more. He stood quietly beside the entrance to the room, watching her as she took in her new quarters for the next two months. Once again, she found his expression unreadable. So she let her eyes wander over him, to glean what she could from him. She’d clocked the tailored suit the moment she had walked in. It was most likely designer but it was understated enough to not be too flashy. His tall, lean physique stood proudly, his arms relaxed by his side. He didn’t fidget or have his hands buried in his pockets, or folded against his chest. He was a man who was incredibly comfortable in his own skin. His shoulders were broad, his crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the slightest hint of his muscular neck.

  She finally took in his face, letting herself truly see him for the first time. He was clean shaved and had a jaw that could cut ice, his lips were surprisingly soft-looking, they were almost warm and inviting. His hair was black and cut short at the sides, Katherine wondered what he’d look like if he wore it a little longer. His nose was straight and his cheekbones high, above them rested a pair of eyes that did something to her.

  They were dark and watched her with interest. They weren’t intimidating, nor encouraging, they simply held her firmly in their gaze. There was something incredibly enticing and dangerous about those eyes. Katherine found she didn’t particularly want to look away, eager to catch a glimpse of some kind of reaction from him.

  She stepped forwards slowly until she stood before him, his eyes watching her every move.

  “Thank you, Lord Nightingale, if you don’t mind I would like to turn in for the night.”

  She lifted her chin in a silent challenge, testing him to see if he would be as good as his word and not expect anything from her. Just because she had asked him to take her to her room, it didn’t mean she wanted anything else from him.

  His eyes dropped to her lips for the briefest of moments, before he nodded and stepped around her.

  “As you wish, Miss. Daxton. If you require anything else please ask, or if you cannot find me, please inform my manservant, Mr. Jones.” He said softly as he exited to stand outside her room.

  “There is one more thing I would like.” Katherine said, taking hold of the door.

  She leaned towards him ever so slightly and purposefully lowered her voice to a soft husky tone. She had a theory about her adversary but needed to be sure.

  “Name it.” His eyes dropped to her ruby lips once more, before he seemed to gather himself, returning his gaze to hers.

  Katherine celebrated internally. His poker face had slipped. He had shown her one of his cards, giving her an advantage. He was attracted to her. Her mother had told her at far too young an age that men only looked at a woman’s lips if they were interested in her. She didn’t like to use her feminine wiles as a weapon, but considering she was being held prisoner by the Devil himself, she needed every tool in her arsenal.

  “I need a lock on the inside of this door.”

  She enjoyed the brief flash of surprise that registered in his dark eyes, right before she closed the door on him.

  Chapter Four

  Katherine

  Katherine awoke the next day to a buzzing by her head. She slapped around and rummaged beneath the pile of pillows until she found her cell phone and swiped the screen. She rolled over and lifted the screen to her face. It was seven in the morning, which meant she’d gotten approximately four hours of sleep. Usually, she’d bounce out of bed and start tackling her daily to-do list. But this morning, with everything considered, she just wanted to bury her head in the pillows and go back to sleep. Even if her dreams had been filled with elusive glimmers of dark eyes that she could never quite chase down.

  Slipping down under the thick, downy duvet once more, Katherine decided she’d hide from the world for a little while longer. She had to admit, the mattress was like a soft, heavenly cocoon. Maybe she could spend the next two months hiding in bed. There was absolutely zero chance that her father would return, with whatever amount of money he owed Lord Nightingale, before then. She wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up back at Tumbricane working for the man until his last breath. Or until he hatched another plan to somehow escape his fate.

  Katherine had spent a good part of her night cursing her father for her predicament until she had run out of descriptive expletives and had reached the point where the blame was landing squarely on her shoulders. She should’ve known better than to think that he simply wanted her to help him with some negotiations. It was foolish to think he had begun to see her for the promising law student that she was. He had never taken an interest in her
academic achievements or pursuits, or work ethic, and there was no evidence to suggest that he would make a start any time soon. But like an idiot, she had jumped at an opportunity to prove that she was more than his pretty, blond, reliable daughter. If she had ignored his call and washed her hands of him, like she had told herself she was going to after the last fiasco she had gotten involved in, she wouldn’t be waking up as some strange and handsome man’s prisoner.

  Guest. She corrected herself.

  Lord Nightingale had assured her that she was his guest. Katherine was tired of being everyone’s fool. She might be lying in a fluffy cloud of luxurious comfort but the fact remained that the well-appointed room was her prison cell. As if on cue, she heard a steady rap on the door.

  “Hello?” Katherine called out, lifting her head out from under the duvet.

  “Your breakfast, Miss. Daxton.” The voice of the butler, Mr. Jones replied, before she heard his feet shuffling away down the corridor.

  That’d be the first of her three square meals a day. Katherine, flung the covers off and padded across the room to the door, wondering if it would be served in a little separator tray and contain some grey-looking stodge and a plastic carton of orange juice.

  She opened the door and looked down to find a tray with a silver domed cloche covering a plate, a crystal tumbler filled with freshly squeezed orange juice, silverware neatly placed within a silk napkin, and a small vase containing a single lavender rose. Propped up against the gleaming, silver cloche was a wax-sealed envelope.

  Katherine raised a curious brow. What exactly was her jailer playing at? She gathered the tray up and placed it upon the bedside table. She paced to the French doors and drew back the heavy gold drapes allowing the grey overcast morning to filter in, casting the room in dull light. She looked out onto the balcony at the rain mottled bistro table and chairs and decided she would eat her breakfast inside.

  She climbed back into bed, wrapping the warm blanket around herself once more. Gingerly, she picked up the envelope and examined the wax seal. She’d never seen one in real life, she thought they were the sort of thing saved for historical dramas. The imprint in the wax was an icon of some kind. Katherine squinted at it, it was small but it looked as though there was a flower or perhaps a rose depicted on a shield. She wondered if it held any particular meaning. Sliding the silver knife along the edge of the paper she broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Letter was an overstatement.