Ivana stared at him, swallowed deeply but offered no form of encouragement, no hint that she would welcome a declaration. “Marriage is not for everyone. Some things are better left as they are.”
Her response sounded cold, detached. But then she was a woman ruled by her heart, and he had not mentioned love. Was it love he felt or merely an overwhelming need to sate the lust ravaging his mind and body? Did it have something to do with a desperate need to remember what they’d meant to each other before? Only time would tell. In the past, he had often found it difficult to distinguish between the swelling in his chest and that of his cock.
“I must go. Herr Bruhn will be worried.” Ivana climbed out of bed and scoured the floor, rummaged through the pile of discarded garments.
The branding mark on her hip drew his attention. Why hadn’t he noticed it before?
“The mark on your hip,” he said as she threw her chemise over her head and wiggled into it. “Is it the same as mine?”
Her face grew solemn, her complexion pale, ashen. “Yes. It is the same.”
He stared at the thorny cross in a circle of twine. “How did you come by it?” It suddenly occurred to him that someone must have bitten Ivana, too. She must have been human once; an innocent young woman lured by a devil.
“The same way you did.” She was being deliberately vague. “It is a symbol of the suffering we must endure.”
“Who turned you?” he asked bluntly.
She glanced at the floor. “It is a long story. Too long to begin when we have so many other things we must do this night.”
Curiosity burned away. “I have often wondered about its purpose.” When she returned from her visit to Herr Bruhn they would sit by the fire, and she would tell him everything.
Disdain flashed in her eyes. “It is to remind me I am cursed, to remind me my fangs are an instrument of death. Like the crown of thorns, they tear into flesh, inflict nothing but pain and misery. It is a sign of degradation and mockery. It heralds the fall of man.”
“And so you branded me for the same reason? To remind me of all that I am.”
She did not answer at first. “I branded Elliot and Alexander for the same reason.”
Why could she not speak plainly? Why was every question met with a cryptic response?
“And what of me, Ivana? Why did you brand me?”
“There is no time now. We will talk when I return.”
He sensed there were still many secrets buried beneath her charming countenance, perhaps harrowing experiences she struggled to reveal.
Ivana stepped into her dress, pulled it up and fastened the buttons, brushed the knots from her hair, washed her hands and face in the bowl of cold water. She never spoke a word, never glanced in his direction.
Well, he would give her something to contemplate during the carriage ride through the forest.
“I find I prefer to think of the mark in a different way,” he said, as he had ever been overly concerned with it and certainly did not see it in the same grotesque way she did. “To me, it is a symbol of hope. A sign that goodness can prevail even in the darkest times.”
Ivana gave a weak smile. She walked over to him, took his hand and kissed it gently, closed her eyes briefly as though searing the moment to her memory.
“Faith is a powerful thing, Leo. Let us hope you have enough for both of us. I have a feeling we will soon be in need of divine intervention. We are going to need all the help we can get.”
Chapter 11
“Do you think we should have told them everything we know?” Grace said as she stood at the bedchamber window staring up at the ominous building towering above the trees. The sight of the conical spires caused a deep sense of foreboding.
Evelyn came to stand at her shoulder. “The wench told us nothing other than Frau Lockwood visits a house in the village every evening. If anything, it was better we remained silent.”
Grace turned to face her. “How so?”
“Think about it. If Frau Lockwood leaves the castle to visit the elderly gentleman, then it will be easier for them to rescue Leo. With any luck, their paths will not even cross.”
“I do hope you’re right.” Grace could not hide the nervous edge to her tone. While Elliot had told her about the terrifying night in the mausoleum, she believed painful feelings of bitterness and resentment still lay buried deep within.
How would he fare when forced to confront the woman he blamed for stealing his humanity? What if the experience changed him? Grace wanted everything to be as perfect as it had been during the first few weeks they’d spent in Yorkshire.