Unleash the Curse: An Imnada Brotherhood Novella by Alexa Egan Read Free Book Online

the book beneath her fingers. “You were carried away. I lost my head. I blame it on the late hour and the chaos of the situation and . . . and there was moonlight. You know what they say about the full moon.”
    “Is that all it was?”
    “Of course. If I had a pound for every man who pressed his attentions, I’d be able to buy myself a house as big as this and a title to match. Only last week Lord Randall vowed to join the priesthood if I didn’t run away with him to the West Indies.”
    By the time she finished speaking, the same foolish part of her that had answered his kiss last night was urging her to shut up and kiss him again. To hell with the proprieties and the prince.
    She barely heard the approaching voices over the roaring in her ears and the knocking of her knees.
    “ Mi amore ! There you are! The carriage awaits, my sweet.”
    Christophe blew into the room like a bracing dose of sanity. As always, his hair was artfully tousled and every inch of his wardrobe set off his sculpted body to perfection, but there was a tension to his features and a lack of sparkle to his dark eyes. He looked as if he were recovering from too much wine and too little sleep. She could definitely sympathize.
    “Lord Duncallan says these old earthen ruins are spectacular,” he continued. “But I come from Italy. It will take more than few crumbling stones and weathered ditches to impress me.”
    He laughed, though Sarah could not bring herself to join in. Not with Sebastian staring at her like a drowning man, hands clenched, body almost rigid with checked emotion.
    Christophe curved an arm protectively around her shoulder. She smelled the woodsy cinnamon and cloves scent of his cologne in the woolen folds of his jacket. “Are you well, my love? Is something amiss?” He focused on Sebastian, his voice low, almost a hiss. “Is His Lordship bothering you?”
    She offered him a gentle smile. “Don’t be absurd. I was merely recounting the story of Lord Randall and his less than honorable offer of a West Indian love nest.”
    Christophe’s eyes lost their menace, though his arm tightened. “A ridiculous little man with no more wit or intelligence than a dull child. He should know when he’s not wanted. Don’t you agree, Lord Deane?”
    Without waiting for an answer, Christophe guided Sarah out of the library and toward the waiting carriages. The prince’s secretary, Signore Ventrella, was there to assist them aboard, wincing as he latched the door handle, his hand heavily bandaged.
    “Have you hurt yourself, sir?” she asked.
    He drew the sleeve of his coat down over his hand. “A slight accident shaving, Miss Haye.”
    “Lord Deane seems smitten with you, my love,” the prince addressed Sarah.
    She turned to answer. “Jealous, Your Highness?” When she turned to glance once more out the window, Signore Ventrella was gone.
    Christophe laughed. “Hardly, but I see I’ll have to hold you close or someone might steal you away.” He leaned over to rest a hand briefly on her knee. “I defend what is mine, mia Sarah. His Lordship would do well to remember that.”
    “I’m not yours yet,” Sarah answered sternly.
    His hand moved from her lap to her cheek, his black eyes like pitch in a face women wept over. “But soon, mi amore . Very soon.”
    *   *   *
    Wind stirred the drapes at the window and curled along the dusty floor while somewhere a shutter banged and creaked, though it wasn’t enough to rouse their wounded guest. A brazier had been lit in the tower room, but the thick stone walls seemed to leach what little warmth it gave off. The February cold frosted Sebastian’s breath and chilled him to the bone, though it did little to cool Lucan’s raging fever. Sweat sheened his chest and damped his hair as he tossed and turned beneath the pile of woolen blankets.
    “Naxos . . . naxos katarth theorta . . .” he mumbled, pain and a hefty dose of laudanum slurring his words, “. . . must