"Of course, Mrs. Blackwood," Benedict said, motioning sharply at Alice.
"Come, sit," Mrs. Blackwood murmured, her cool, elegant hand curling around Seraphina's arm. "Let me take a look at that cut."
Seraphina allowed herself to be guided to a high stool by the counter.
"Mrs. Blackwood, I just want to go home," she whispered, hugging her arms to her chest. Her body trembled from the strange electricity that had been following her since she'd met Eric.
"You will, dear," Mrs. Blackwood said softly. "Just until my son calms down. He's under a… lot of pressure."
Mrs. Blackwood turned back to the counter. She opened a small cabinet and retrieved a bottle of spirit, cotton wool, and a tray. "Hold still," she said, pressing the cotton gently to Seraphina's wound. The sting made her wince.
When she finished cleaning the wound, she tilted Seraphina's chin upward.
"You'll rest upstairs, darling," Mrs. Blackwood said.
The Blackwood staircase curled upward. The same staircase she had been shoved down hours ago. Now, the memory of that fall echoed with every cautious step she took behind Mrs. Blackwood.
Her legs ached, and her pulse was a small, frantic drumbeat under her skin.
"Could you do me a favor, dear?" Claudia asked. "Could you lie on the bed and prop a pillow beneath your legs?"
"Of course," she murmured, managing a polite smile. "But… why?"
Mrs. Blackwood's lips curved faintly. "To help with the dizziness, darling. You lost a bit of blood."
Seraphina could only nod. Before she could ask more, the door opposite Eric's door opened, and Benedict stepped out.
"Go on in, sweetie," she said.
Seraphina obeyed.
The room was warm. A storm wind pressed at the window. She could still hear the murmurs outside — Benedict's low voice blending with Mrs. Blackwood's tones.
She sat on the bed, doing as instructed. The mattress yielded beneath her. Her eyes fluttered closed. She told herself she'd rest just for a moment, until she could figure out her escape plan.
The darkness that claimed her was not merciful.
It began as heat. Pain licked through her chest, spreading outward. Her ribs ached. Her skin tingled. She tried to move, but her limbs wouldn't obey. Her body felt trapped inside itself, pinned by invisible hands.
Her heart galloped. The world behind her eyelids bled into colors — silver, red, white — spinning so fast she thought she might be dying. And then came the burn. It crawled up her throat until she could barely breathe.
Seraphina's scream tore through the silence.
She jolted upright, gasping, her breath ragged as the last echoes of that unbearable heat shuddered through her.
Then she realized she wasn't alone.
Her nose brushed against warm skin. Her hand landed on the broad plane of a man's chest, and the deep thrum beneath her palm told her exactly who it was before her eyes even opened.
Eric Blackwood.
He sat at the edge of her bed, his hand gripping her arm. His touch was possessive.
Her body melted into his.
And then —
"It won't happen again," he said. "No matter how hard you try."
"What… what won't happen again?" she asked.
"I won't fuck you again."
"Again? When did you ever—f… you know—?"
Her tongue tripped over the word, and to her utter humiliation, his mouth twitched.
"How hard did you hit your head?" he murmured.
"I was shoved down the stairs by your girlfriend," she shot back, chin lifting, "so yeah, pretty damn hard."
"I don't have a girlfriend."
"Great. Then can I go home now?"
"You're not going anywhere."
"What?"
"This little plot of yours—whatever game you and your mother think you're playing—isn't going to work. You'll stay here until I'm absolutely sure you're not pregnant."
"Why does everyone keep saying that? I am not pregnant!" Sera yelled.
"Then you're trying to get pregnant. Why else would you prop yourself up with pillows? You want my swimmers to hit the spot?"
"What the—how would your swimmers even get inside me?" she sputtered, face flushing hot. "Mrs. Blackwood tricked me into that position!"
"Of all the women in town," he drawled, "my mum brought me the crazy one."
"Who are you calling crazy?"
"You," he said simply, pointing at her with an infuriatingly calm expression. "Do you even know who I am?"
"Oh, please," she snapped. "I know exactly who you are. I'm just tired. Tired of being abused since the moment I stepped into this godforsaken house. You've tried to rape me, I've been lied about, shoved, slapped, tied down—so no, I'm done pretending to be polite because you're a Blackwood."
"I tried to rape you?" he said slowly. "that's what you are going with?"
"Yes!" she snapped. "You—"
"Will you stop screaming?" he growled.
"How else am I supposed to be heard? No one is listening to me!"
"I am listening," he said finally.
Across from him, Sera stood stiffly. "My mum supplies eggs to the Blackwood estate," she began carefully. "She's been doing it since before I was born."
"Yes, I know Mrs. Hart. Didn't know she had a daughter."
"She had a little accident and hasn't been able to walk properly," Sera continued. "So she sent me to inform the butler to include the last payment — and the next — and transfer it directly to her. We… needed the money." Her throat tightened around the confession, but she pushed on. "She told me not to enter the house."
"Why didn't she just call?"
"She tried," Sera said quietly. "All day yesterday. The line just kept cutting off."
"Yeah… the last storm messed up the estate's network service."
"When I came here," Sera said, "the maid answered the door. She was the one who assumed I was Miss Duvall and brought me straight to your room."
"And then you tried to…" she swallowed hard, "to rape me."
"So," he said slowly, "what you're saying is I tried?"
"I knocked you out with the lamp beside your bed."
Eric blinked. And then — to her utter horror — he laughed.