“I… well, I… uh… I…”
Even in the low light of the candles, the dusky blue sky outside the windows offering no additional illumination, Cyrus saw the color of her cheeks change. The usual, pretty pink deepened to a feverish red, her throat bobbing, her mouth opening and closing though no words managed to make it out.
The Captain is always mischievous in his charm. Who knew it could work so well?He did not pause to question why he wastryingto charm her, when that was the very last thing he wanted.
“Of course, Belinda must have informed you,” he said, sparing her.
“Yes!” Teresa gasped. “Yes, that is how I know. I used to ask why you never joined me for breakfast, and she told me you are a particularly early riser. I, however, am more of a reasonable-hour sort of lady.”
He gave a snort of amusement and returned his attention to his fish. “You must have been raised more leniently than I.”
The thick silence at the end of the table became so loud that he could not ignore it, peering up as he popped a forkful of cod into his mouth. The creamy sauce and hint of parsley coated his tongue, cloying in his throat as he swallowed.
Teresa was staring at him strangely, with something in her expression that he did not care for: pity. He narrowed his eyes at the sight, uncertain of why she was looking at him that way.
“The flowers in the hallway are pleasant,” he said curtly, eager to see her expression change.
The pity faded with her nod, a tight smile curving her mouth. “I quite agree. The addition of color in those gray hallways was so very necessary.” She cleared her throat. “I do wish you had more tapestries, though. Who knew there was so much bare stone in a castle?”
“I have never noticed,” he replied.
They sank back into a mutual quiet, disturbed only by the scrape and scratch of cutlery and the clink of their glasses. And though it was not as uncomfortable as it had once been, there was an undercurrent to the silence that unsettled him. It thrummed of things unspoken, as if there were ghosts in the room, whispering.
And if there was one thing that Darnley Castle did not need, it was more ghosts.
“Apologies, Teresa, but I find myself without an appetite. I think I shall retire for the night,” he said abruptly, pushing back his chair.
She chewed her lower lip, as if she had something on her mind, but all that came out of her mouth was a quiet, “Very well. Goodnight, Cyrus.”
“Yes. Goodnight.” He went to the door, adding, “I shall see you at breakfast,” before he headed out of the dining room, in search of some peace from the ghosts that vibrated in the air.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Smoke slithered down Cyrus’ throat, so thick and acrid it felt liquid, choking him. His eyes streamed, blurred by the heat and the smoke, his arms reaching out hopelessly for something solid, something familiar to guide his path to freedom.
“Is anyone there?”a voice cried out.
It took Cyrus a second to realize that the voice had come from his own throat, rasping out in desperation, praying for salvation from the flames.
“You deserve to burn,”a monster’s growl echoed back, distorted by the hellfire all around him.“All devils, all sinners, must burn.”
There were hands on him then, snaking through the smoke to ensnare him, wrapping tight around his arms and legs, pinning him where he stood. All the while, the fire grew hotter, theflames rising higher, the smoke thickening until everything was black and there was no way out.
He had been here a thousand times before, the outcome always the same.
As an unseen hand closed over his mouth, blocking what little chance he had of drawing air into his lungs, he gave the last of his breath to an almighty, hopeless scream.
Teresa sat bolt upright in her bed. She had not yet managed to fall asleep, having just finished her chapter, her mind staying awake to imagine every possibility for her favorite fictional pair, but the castle had been silent until a second ago.
The scream came again, sending a splintering rush of nerves up her spine. Darnley Castle could be eerie enough without the addition of unknown screams.
But it is close by… Very close, in truth.
Every instinct told her to stay in bed and pull the covers over her head, certain that the sound would go away on its own, but one soft, nagging voice made it through the wave of fear:What if someone needs your help?
A quieter, mournful cry shivered through the hallways to her door—such a pitiful noise that no one with a heart could have ignored it.
Against her body’s wishes, Teresa threw back the coverlets and shuffled out of bed, not bothering to don her slippers or housecoat as she crept to the door. The sound echoed again, even sadder than before.
