Page 6

At nineteen, he had thought himself worldly enough to judge his father’s actions. He’d believed the duke was sufficiently chastened not to touch Marina ever again. She had moved into the north wing, and Gareth had threatened to kill his father if he set foot there during the week remaining until the wedding. He’d meant it.

But when he came home to marry his bride on the fourth weekend, Gareth learned the duke was undeterred from his atrocious behavior. Marina had tried to fight him off and lost the pregnancy in the process.

Even that hadn’t been enough to persuade the duke to leave his ward alone. He had gone to her bedroom in the north wing.

The coroner had been sure that his father had been killed before the fire started due to the lack of soot and ash in his lungs. If the duke had been breathing, he would have inhaled the smoke.

Gareth had arrived in time to see Marina silhouetted against the flames. He’d run in, been overcome by the smoke, and crushed by a falling grandfather clock.

He’d spent months recovering from his injuries in a hospital in London. Gareth had been lucky to keep his eye and full mobility. There was nothing to be done about the scars, however.

He hardly cared.

Gareth had regretted leaving her behind every minute of every day for the past ten years.

They would never know for certain whether Marina had set the fire intentionally or if the flames had resulted from a lamp being knocked over in the scuffle. He never had a chance to tell her how proud he was that she’d fought back. Marina had already been punished enough during her short life, and in the end, she had paid with it by standing resolutely until the fire consumed the house, and her with it.

In the aftermath, all the servants left save the Cogswells. They took posts elsewhere. Or found new trades. Anything to escape the taint of the bitter Lucan legacy.

He should have taken her with him.

He should have saved his bride-to-be.

He had been too trusting of a gentleman’s word. When a man swore to do or not do something, it was supposed to mean something. His father had given his word—reluctantly and under pressure, but he had sworn it nonetheless—not to bother Marina ever again, but he had lied straight to his son’s face.

Gareth’s entire concept of who he was and how he was meant to exist in society had been shattered that day.

Every morning he saw the reminder of his failures in the mirror.

“I pray you are at rest,” he said softly, and gently stroked the cold marble lamb as if to comfort the bones of the young woman who had endured such a short and tragic life.

He deserved to be haunted.

But for now, he had a basket and a book to return to a different young woman.

Then, he needed to finish his inventory and get the hell away from this cursed place.

Chapter 4

Evaine

Evaine raised her arms high and brought the axe down with all her strength. Her shoulders screamed. Her back protested. Her palms were sticky beneath the gloves she had donned in a failed attempt to prevent her blisters from breaking open again.

“Ahhh!” she shouted as the steel bit into the wood. A crack formed, but the log didn’t split, so she raised it high again. “Break, damn you!”

“I believe you may have lost this earlier.”

Evaine stumbled. The axe handle slipped in her aching hands. She managed not to drop it onto her own head by twirling awkwardly out of the way. It fell to the ground with a dull thud. Her heart thundered in her chest.

Across the yard was the man she had struck with a chestnut and knocked off his horse not an hour ago. Standing upright, the stranger was even taller than he’d appeared while sprawled on the ground. His scars were almost more shocking to behold with his crystalline-blue eyes boring into her.

Breathing hard, she widened her stance and eyed the fallen axe. Could she snatch it up in time, if she needed a weapon?

“You frightened me,” she panted. Sweat rolled down her spine and collected itchily beneath her arms.

“I tend to have that effect on people. Women especially,” he said dryly. Despite herself, Evaine had to bite back a smile. Perhaps she was being overly cautious.

“I don’t mean…” She trailed off and gestured to her face. “I only meant that my grandmother and I just arrived a few days ago. The only other people at Wolfhaven are Mr. and Mrs. Cogswell, the groundskeeper and his wife. Encountering a strange man in the forest surprised me. I thought we were alone.”