The Unchaste

Wolfbridge Castle

The compact insides of the coach he had coaxed her into though gave Delilah liberation from the concert of bone-chilling, bone-biting breeze outside but it didn’t make the warmth anymore breathable in that immediacy of His Grace’s closeness.

She was ferociously staring ahead of her, although the blank, polished wood didn’t offer much distraction.  Her bleeding wrist was now sore as well; aching in a dull, scratchy way, making her want to rip the red handkerchief away from the gaping wound.

Half of her also cogitated that she might as well be dead today.

If he could be abusive, he could be violent too. And violent men are deadly.

Why hadn’t she killed him yet?

Yes, why? The thought would keep rolling in her mind. End him and ends the whole quandary! As much as the idea appealed her, she just couldn’t.

Little learning is treacherous thing.

Delilah knew nothing about him. Too little. She had failed, with this man. And in more ways of word than one. Killing him would be nothing but apocalyptic. And it was not about her own person alone this time. Her whole family was on gamble. Killing him wasn’t even going to be that easy. He was too sly.

The coach lurched to an abrupt stop and so did Delilah’s thoughts.

She warily looked towards the door, which Lord Richard pushed open and stepped out, instructing her to follow him with one meaningful look.

When Delilah stepped out and stood collecting her skirt against the wrecking wind, she realized she knew the place. It was the foothills of the height upon which Windsor House stood. Her home!

She shot him a confused scowl.

“Make a decision, Miss Eves.” Richard deadpanned. “Your house isn’t far. Either you leave right here or you come with me to wherever I am taking you. No obligations and no hidden threats; you are free at this juncture.”

“Then you do not even need to ask.” Delilah spat and started to turn towards the narrow clearing along the windswept sea-grasses. “I would reject the heaven if I were to travel there with you.”

“What a laudable little thing to say!” He remarked lazily, eyeing the damaged wrist she cradled with her other hand. “However, where I am going is nowhere near to heaven, or even the world you belong. I’ll be very honest with you for once, it’s a peril. I need to save someone from a fate worse than death and you, Miss Eves, are the only person I can ask for help to.”

“I have better things to believe than you.”

“Better things?” He stared at her coldly. “Like what else would you believe? Fairies dancing on the mushrooms and singing frogs? Elves under the moon?”

“Yes.” Delilah laughed callously and challenged. “I would rather believe those, your Grace, than your story! Do you think that after all that you did, I will_”

“It’s a girl.” He interrupted and Delilah allowed the interruption, letting his words sink in. “And I require a feminine counsel at hand.”

“What girl?” Delilah asked gravely.

“Ah.” The duke’s eyes turned insolent. “But that, you see, is not and should not be your concern. Why are you still here? Run away to your hutch, won’t you?”

Delilah was seething at his utter conceitedness but her curiosity held a tighter hold on her.

“You said you need a feminine counsel because_”