Page 87 of Twisting Beauty

She’s making you weak. My father’s voice moved through me without warning, the particular tone he used when he was not yet disappointed, merely observing.

The shame rose, hot and choking. I shoved it down. It didn’t go.

The truth burned just as vicious. Saving her hadn’t freed me. It had shackled me tighter to her.

A cold rage cracked through me as I turned to Aoife.

She had the good sense to step back, but not enough sense to stop talking. “It was just a joke.”

I looked at her for a long moment, then vowed, “I will make it so that not a single Ravenwood male ever so much as looks at you again.”

Her face blanched. “It was a joke,” she said again, quieter.

“So is your entire personality.” I turned to her cowering friends. “Get her the fuck out of my sight.”

They dragged Aoife away.

I gathered her into my arms like a bride, fury and fear pounding my veins as I strode along the water’s edge back toward the manor rather than going back through that goddamn maze.

I broke through the partygoers circled around the bonfire, my focus locked on the looming manor beyond.

“Party’s over.” My voice echoed through the gardens, over the crackle of the fire and the music. “Get the fuck out of my house!”

At the edge of my awareness, Breezy and Rafe exchanged grim looks, then jumped in, ushering the drunk stragglers away. “You heard him. Fuck off, lads.”

The bonfire hissed and spluttered behind me as someone doused it with water.

I carried her inside, up a side staircase, and down the hallway.

“Doctor. Now,” I snapped at Mervyn who disappeared at once.

I went straight past Rua’s room. Instead, I stormed into my own bedroom and laid her across the couch, her soaked hair bleeding water into the cushions.

Her sodden dress clung to her, her skin trembling and goose pimpled. I had to get her dry and warm.

I stripped the ruined dress away, hands moving fast and mechanical, keeping my eyes on the work instead of her naked body laid out for me.

It didn’t help. My body registered every inch, every enticing curve, regardless, and the shame of it coiled hot in my gut.

I dried her and wrapped her in blankets, moving faster than I needed to. It didn’t help. Even after I’d covered her, all I seemed to see was the sight of her naked.

When she was warm and dry, no longer a drowned ghost, I laid her in my bed.

Mervyn returned with the family doctor who blinked at me, expecting me to be the patient.

“Not me,” I snapped. “Her.”

Mervyn wordlessly began to light my fireplace.

The doctor took his time, his hands trembling as he examined her, each breathless second stretching unbearably long. It felt like forever, each moment winding my bones into tight coils.

I snapped at Mervyn as he handed me a thick robe, only then realizing I was still in my wet clothes. I changed right there, not caring that I wasn’t alone.

I was not leaving this room. I was not leaving her.

Finally, the doctor straightened, “She’ll be fine. She just needs rest and fluids.”

When he turned to leave, I grabbed his arm, my voice low and sharp. “Not a word.”