Heart of Thorns Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 Nicolette Andrews

  Cover Art by Nadica Borshivka

  Cover Design by Imogenary Design

  Edited by Katrina Crane

  All rights reserved.

  ***

  I must first tip my hat to my husband for his support and love. I thank my readers for their feedback and encouragement. I also must thank Nadica for her beautiful cover. This is one of my favorites. And last but not least thank you, Pauline for your insight and knowledge. I have a fabulous team and I would be lost without them.

  Prologue

  It was not advisable to be out at this time of night. Any respectable woman would be tucked away in bed. She just could not stand going back there and let Miss Brown humiliate her. I never thought country folk could be so cruel, she thought as she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her auburn braid swung back and forth as she hurried down the road. The night pressed in around her. It was darker here in the country and too quiet. Each step on the gravel crunched and echoed through the night. The air was thick with moisture. As the dark grew deeper, she wondered if she should turn around and face the music. She'll be waiting for me in our room with that smug look on her face, knowing I was too afraid to do it.

  Something scuffled up ahead on the road and gave her pause. She stopped, heart hammering in her chest. Maybe being too afraid is better than dying at the hand of some monster.

  "Who's there?" A shiver ran up her spine. Silence followed her question, and she began to wonder if she had been hearing things. I'm letting her get into my head; it's all just village superstition.

  In the distance she heard the howl of some dog, but it was much too feral and wild sounding to be a real dog. Don't be ridiculous. There haven't been wolves in these parts in centuries. You're letting the night scare you. You're better than this, Evelyn, she chided herself.

  She continued on her way, a warm cider at the inn and pub, The Fairy Bride, was sounding better all the time. I'll have a drink and sit by the fire and let Miss Brown worry about explaining my absence to Mrs. Morgan. Just the thought of Miss Brown sputtering a flimsy excuse when the housekeeper came around to do her nightly check brought a smile to Evelyn's face. She kept her shawl clutched close and rubbed her arms with the flat of her hands. There was a definite chill in the air. The night was silent after that mournful howl. Gravel clattered together, signaling footsteps behind her. Evelyn quickened her pace. She could see the distant light of The Fairy Bride just past the grouping of trees at the end of the road. Yellow light spilled from behind opaque diamond-shaped glass. The door swung open, and local patrons tumbled out, the sound of laughter drifting on the air. I am nearly safe, she thought. A hand fell hard on her shoulder. She screamed. She tried to fight against her assailant, but he spun her around, grabbing her by both shoulders, forcing her to face him.

  "Please let me go. I never did no harm to no one," she sobbed. Her chin wobbled as she shook all over.

  He laughed. A mocking sort of sound that brought her back from her terror quicker than anything else could. She looked up through her tear-clustered lashes into a handsome face.

  "Miss Smith, it's a bit late for you to be out and about," he said with a crooked smile that made her heart skip a few beats.

  She exhaled with relief. "Mr. Thorn, I thought you were one of those terrible creatures, the one the villagers are always talking about."

  He grinned and patted her on the top of her head. It was an oddly familiar gesture that set her heart to pounding for a different reason entirely. She had noticed Mr. Thorn before; how could she not? He was tall with wide shoulders and long wavy hair that bordered on obscene. He was almost pretty with neat angular features and full lips. His hands were large with long tapered fingers. He had almond eyes and olive skin. He was exotic enough that she wondered if he was English at all. She'd heard a story passed around that his mother had been a Spanish dancer who had fallen in love with an Englishman. He had the skin for it, and his hair was a glistening chestnut.

  Evelyn had worked in many a household in her twenty-one years and she had never seen a gentleman half as beautiful as Mr. Thorn, and he was only a gardener. It seemed ludicrous that someone this gorgeous spent his days toiling in the earth. He was the reason she had snuck out, at Miss Brown's insistence; it was not just Evelyn's eye Mr. Thorn had caught, but every able-bodied woman who worked and lived at Thornwood Abbey. Miss Brown had pressured Evelyn into sneaking out to have a drink with the gardener. Had Evelyn refused, Miss Brown would have told Mrs. Morgan who had stolen the silver. In truth it was Miss Brown who was the thief, but Evelyn had no way of proving it. Evelyn was new. She had only been on the job two weeks, and Miss Brown's family had worked for the manor for generations. Mrs. Morgan was not likely to believe Evelyn over Miss Brown. So here she was, out past curfew, caught on the roadside by a dangerously handsome man. Not that she thought anything would come of this rendezvous. Mr. Thorn was beyond what she could hope for even in her wildest dreams.

  "There's no need to fear. It is only me," he said, bringing her back to the here and now. "Since we have happened to meet, perhaps you would like to go with me to The Fairy Bride for a drink?"

  She was too shocked to even voice her assent. She pressed her hands to her lips to stifle her surprised 'oh' that was threatening to spill out. She had no real intention of actually asking Mr. Thorn to get a drink with her. She was just going to pretend. Her heart beat faster; this was too perfect for words.

  He offered her his crooked arm, and she took it delicately. She pressed the barest tips of her fingers to his arm and felt the soft velvet of his coat. It was dark out still, but she hardly noticed now that she was with Mr. Thorn. It was as if he were a beacon in the night, lighting their way.

  Together they went into the pub, where he ordered her a drink. They sat at a table by the fire, and the night went by in a happy blur. She felt many a jealous eye on her from the women patrons. She had no doubt that Miss Brown would hear about this, and she could only imagine the nasty things she would say, but for once, Evelyn did not care. When it got late, Mr. Thorn got up to settle the check.

  When he was at the bar speaking with Mr. Humphry, the owner of The Fairy Bride, settling their tab, she felt the weight of the villagers' stares upon her. She squirmed for a moment before she could take it no longer. She slid out the front door, intent on waiting for Mr. Thorn outside. She caught his eye on the way out. He inclined his head and smiled to her. Her heart filled with that warm glow all over again. Even the cold outside did little to staunch her good cheer.

  She rocked on the balls of her feet back and forth for a few minutes as she waited. Mr. Thorn is taking quite a whil
e. She looked back at the door, wondering if she should go in and check. She hesitated. It was no secret that the residents of Thornwood were not welcoming to outsiders. Many of their families had built Thornwood hundreds of years ago. The family of Lord Thornton, her employer, had established the village, if local legend could be believed. It was said the village came into existence sometime during the reign of the legendary King Arthur.

  A song drifted on the night air. It wrapped around Evelyn, and she snapped her head up. It seemed to be coming from the woods across from the inn. The Fairy Bride was set along the main road that led to the village proper. Like much of the village, the woods crept in to press against the buildings and other manmade structures. Though Evelyn did not miss the smoke and gray of London, she did find the ominous dark forests frightening, especially at night. They were full of unfamiliar noises, the occasional hoot of an owl or the crunch of leaves as a deer took flight through the underbrush.

  The song dominated all those other sounds; it pulled at Evelyn, calling her forward. Come to us, it seemed to be saying. Dance, my child. Let your fears go. She stood in the light coming from the few remaining lit windows in the inn. Mr. Thorn would want to walk back with her, she shouldn't stray or he might think she headed back on her own, but she could not deny the pull of the song. She moved, her feet hesitant at first, then more assured.

  She stumbled over a few rocks and fell to her knees. The pain that shot up her leg brought her back to the present. The song died away, and in its wake the darkness was more complete. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of night, with nothing but the stars and a sliver of the moon to guide her. Why have the lights in the inn gone out? She did not have much time to puzzle the reason because a figure approached. The stars outlined his figure in a thin string of light. His features were left in shadow.

  "Mr. Thorn, I am so embarrassed. I thought I heard something in the woods, and then I fell. Please don't laugh. My mother used to say I would trip over my own breath if I could." She tried to stand, but before she could regain her feet, he slammed her back against the ground. He pinned her body by the shoulders against the hard cold ground, and her hips were straddled by his powerful thighs. "Mr. Thorn, what are you doing?" She struggled to break free, kicking her legs and wriggling her torso, to no avail.

  "Hush," he said, his voice was husky, his breath warm against her face.

  I am a fool! What else will a man think of a woman sneaking out after dark? I have done this to myself. This is why Miss Brown forced me to go. I knew she wanted the lady's maid position. How could I have been so stupid? They must have planned this together. I'll be ruined!

  She tried to scream for help, but he covered her mouth with his hand. He ripped her bodice with ease; the ripping sound echoed back at her, compounding her shame. She sobbed as she felt the cool knife brush her skin as her petticoat was cut as well. Her flesh pimpled as it was exposed to the evening's chill.

  He leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Don't worry, my pet, I don't want your body. I'm only after your heart."

  She screamed as the knife he had used to tear her clothes was thrust hilt deep into her chest.

  Chapter One

  Catherine sat before her vanity, and her pale reflection stared back at her. The maid shuffled about the room, stoking the fire and carrying away a bucket of ashes. Rain pattered on the window outside, and Catherine sighed. I hate this place. I wish I could return home to Momma and Poppa. She shook her head. With thoughts like that, you do sound selfish. You are very fortunate and should be happy with your lot.

  The truth was Catherine could not shake the eerie feeling her new home gave her. Thornwood Abbey was a dark and brooding place. The stone façades were gray and limed with white from age and the elements. The high turrets looked reminiscent of something out of the dark ages, and if Mrs. Morgan, the housekeeper, was to be believed, this house had at one time been a castle. Catherine was inclined to believe her. The halls were narrow in places and covered in dark wood. The ancient portraits she had surveyed with the housekeeper the previous day had felt as if they were staring at Catherine, assessing her and finding her wanting. If only I could see Edward; perhaps seeing his smiling face would put me at ease. It had been most peculiar; she had seen little of her husband since their arrival at her new home.

  There was an explanation for his absence. A memory that was tugging at the back of her mind came to the forefront. She stared into the mirror. Her reflection melted into a dark night. A flash of light drew her eyes, and she watched a lumbering figure move through the mist. The gait of it was humanoid, but it hunched forward, its hands almost dragging upon the ground. The thick arms were covered in fur, and the torso was bare. The head was wolflike with a large muzzle dripping with cords of saliva. Its red eyes gleamed as it looked out at Catherine from the mirror, its jaw opened in a cruel parody of a smile. The clouds moved in front of the moon, blocking out the light, and the creature was plunged into darkness once more. Not before it let out a guttural howl.

  Catherine screamed and jumped up, knocking over the vanity chair in the process. She scrambled backwards and pressed herself against the far wall. She shut her eyes to close off the terrifying image, the monstrous creature of nightmares.

  "Lady Thornton?" The maid shook Catherine by the shoulders.

  Please go away. Leave me alone. She would not voice these commands but continued to tremble. It was not real; none of it is real. Open your eyes or she'll think you're mad.

  Catherine took a deep shuddering breath. "I apologize, Miss...?" Mrs. Morgan, the housekeeper, had introduced her to the staff the day prior, and Catherine had been determined to remember all their names, but she could not recall the maid's name. Catherine opened her eyes. The maid was looking up at Catherine and had large brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Catherine saw a few strands of auburn hair poking out from beneath her white cap.

  "It is Miss Smith, my lady." The maid took a step back and bowed.

  Catherine smiled, but it felt forced. She hoped Miss Smith did not notice. She desperately wanted the people of her husband's household to like her. She had been very close with Miss Hudson, her parents' housemaid and sometimes lady's maid. She took a tentative look into the mirror; no image remained but her own reflection. Oh no, I am seeing things again. Catherine forced her smile wider so her distress would not show on her face. "Thank you for your concern, Miss Smith. I thought I saw a mouse."

  Miss Smith frowned as if she found that hard to believe. It was a flimsy excuse; in a house as grand as this, it seemed unlikely they would be plagued by something as pedestrian as mice. Catherine turned away. Her shame was burning on her cheeks.

  "I think I will head down to breakfast," Catherine said to change the subject.

  "Before you go, there's something I need to say to you," Miss Smith said.

  Catherine hesitated and turned around to face the maid, afraid she would threaten to tell someone about her episode. "What is it you wish to tell me?"

  The maid fixed her with her gaze, holding Catherine with anticipation. "You see, I know I should not have, but I overheard some of the men talking when they carried you in last night and, well..."

  What is she talking about? I arrived the night before last and in perfect health. I spent the entire day yesterday touring the manor with Mrs. Morgan. She did not want to speak out against Miss Smith. The words caught in her throat; she hated to be contrary--even if she knew she was right. She felt compelled to correct the miscommunication in this instance, since there seemed to be some confusion. "You mean when we arrived the other night," Catherine said.

  Miss Smith glanced around as if expecting interruption. "No, my lady, last night when you and his lordship arrived, you were carried in. You were both unconscious."

  Catherine shook her head, trying to disengage the thought. She's lying. I remember our arrival clearly. It was raining, and Mr. Hobbs brought out an umbrella and ushered us inside. There were no prob
lems whatsoever with our journey. It suddenly felt difficult to breathe, as if her corset was too tight.

  Miss Smith seemed unaware of her mistress' distress because she continued. "I know what you saw; I have seen it too. Folks around here try to pretend it doesn't exist, but I refuse to ignore it." She pressed her hand against her chest just over her heart.

  Catherine spun around, her rigid back turned to Miss Smith. "I do not know what you're talking about, and I wish you would stop. I am of delicate health..." She clamped a hand over her mouth, wishing she could recall those last simple words. She had planned to keep her health a secret. I know how servants like to gossip. Catherine turned back around and prepared to beg Miss Smith to keep her silence.

  A sharp knock at the door drew both of their attentions. Miss Smith's eyes were large as saucers.

  "Come in," Catherine said in a strangled voice.

  The door creaked open, and Mrs. Morgan strode in. She was a tall woman, taller by a head than Catherine, and plump. She wore a black gown with a ring of keys at her hip. She had curly black hair that she wore in a bun at the top of her head. A few strands had been curled and framed her face. She had lined features with deep creases around her mouth.

  "My lady, I came to bring you down to the breakfast room," Mrs. Morgan said with a hand placed on her hip.

  She thinks I cannot find my own way, so she has come to fetch me. Though Thornwood Abbey was enormous, Catherine felt capable enough of finding her own way about. She could not begrudge the housekeeper, however, because her arrival had interrupted her conversation with Miss Smith.

  Catherine glanced over to the maid but found she had slipped out of the room when she was not looking. It is for the best, I suppose, she told herself.

  "I see you are dressed. Shall we?" Mrs. Morgan pointed a thick arm out into the hall, motioning for Catherine to exit.

  Catherine nodded mutely and followed her out of her room and down the stairs.