Don stalked back to his chambers, every stiff, purposeful stride carrying him further from temptation. He sought to put distance between him and his alluring captive, needed to break away from the gravitation of her.

          Once within his chambers, he paced a groove into the floor, fisting his hands as his thoughts steadily raged to and fro; a constant battle of right and wrong, wearing away at his forbearance.

          Undo your hair. He was acting like a besotted, heartsick lad, looking for any reason to touch her, to be near her. He should have kept to the shadows, forever the obliging and menacing beast.

          He could just hear the sardonic whisper of Seraphine's voice on the dark cognizance of his mind.

          You are doomed to an eternity of unrequited desires.

          His jaw tightened. Seraphine was a poison in his veins; a murmur of menace against the walls of his mind. She corrupted every thought, every desire and want. He would never be rid of her – not in this life, or the fiery next.

          Elle was the sweetest anguish; her innocence and beauty splintering away at his armored walls. How easy it would be to take what he'd been denied for so long. Take her. His body demanded. You can't have her. Spat harsh rationality.

          His mind and body were not his own. Both were irrevocably enslaved by two women who held adverse dominion over him. He had made the grave mistake of letting a woman beguile him once before, and the result of that had cost him dearly. Now, a mere chance encounter with a beautiful maiden who couldn't see the truth of what he is threatened to breach the fences of everything that divides him from feeling.

          Dragging a breath into his lungs, Don stepped out onto the balcony, stopping short of the sunlight that eluded his chambers. He glared with reproachful eyes at the burning sun poised in an endless canvas of blue, divested of clouds. It bathed the countryside in a brilliant sweep of amber, bringing to light a range of colors that could never be found in the gray of his life. He could never walk freely amid the day for there were many terrible truths found in the light. And he feared those golden rays that would betray him to seeing eyes.

          He resented it as much as the woman who had cast him to the shadows. And now another would beseech him to abandon the comforts of his obscurity to a place that stood for so much heartache.

          She's your captive; a means to an end. Captors didn't grant their prisoners such liberties as visiting the sea.

          Don's eyes hardened on that skyline before pivoting back into his chambers. He crossed to a chair and settled into its wooden frame, his mien set with determination.

          And there he remained until dusk, watching as shadows slanted across the stone walls of his room.

***********

          As the hours came and went with Lord Rossetti's absence, Elle's expectancy of visiting the sea gradually diminished.

          She knew when nightfall came to rest, for it absorbed every bit of the warm, autumn sun, eliciting a chill that crept from the underside of the earth to whisk coldly throughout her chambers.

          Elle gripped her elbows as her legs carried her across the room to sink with despondency into a chair. How could she have been so gullible? She had let him undo her hair and that subtle intimacy now burned with humiliation on her face.

          A sudden stabbing of tears added to her mortification for she had never felt more foolish and that feeling, coupled with her sadness, wedged like a knot in the space between her heart and ribs.

          She wanted to right the wrongs done. She wanted to restore her father's good name. But it was more than that. She wanted to prove to everyone that she could be brave like her sisters; that she was just as equal to any other.

          It was easy to forget all that in a place like this, a place where shadows conquer the light, where vacant furniture and layers of dust are the residuum of untold tales. She was so alone here; captive to a stone-hearted man that made sport of her feelings.

          "Miss?" the maid called for entry, startling Elle from her thoughts.

          She pushed to her feet to avoid the embarrassment in having been caught crying and quickly wiped at an aimless tear, but the abrupt momentum seized her in a staggering vertigo. She faltered from the onset of dizziness and quickly grasped the back of the chair for support.

          "Are you unwell, Miss Duncan?" Lucy hastened forward, her voice turning shrill with concern.

          Elle stayed the maid with a shaky hand as the soft patter of her feet drew closer. "I'm fine, Lucy, I just stood up too fast is all." She reassured once her balance was restored.

************

          Lucy regarded her with wide, wary eyes; noticing the unnatural paleness of her face, her slack expression and the dark shadows beneath her eyes, all of which struck an uneasy chord in her chest. "I'm not so certain I believe that, miss. I must insist that you eat something."

          Elle shook her head as she pressed a hand to the flat of her stomach; straightening to retrieve her wooden staff with the other. "Nay, I'm fine, thank you."

          The sadness and disappointment could plainly be distinguished on her less animated face. And the glassy redness of her eyes was a telling sign of tears. How could Lord Rossetti be so heartless? Could he have not spared the girl but one kindness when she had given up so much?

          Her heart squeezed with empathy and displeasure as she opted to stoke the fire, all the while, watching Elle from her peripheral.

          "Please, do not fret." Elle assured, moving to reclaim her chair as the fire began to crackle anew, emitting a pleasant heat.

          Lucy straightened away from the mantle to gaze at her. She sat with her shoulders slightly bowed as she traced her hands over her skirts as though to smooth them of any wrinkles. She looked disheartened, although attempting to mask that emotion behind a forced smile. Lucy knew enough loss to recognize it in the eyes of another. One could only endure so much when parted from their family, and confined to a room that offered little diversion from the continuance of boredom. Her sullen expression tugged guiltily at Lucy's heart. If she hadn't mentioned the shores then perhaps she could have spared her less heartache.

          Her hands entangled in her skirts as she asked, "Are you sure there is nothing I can get you – mayhap, another cup of tea?"

          Elle tilted her face and offered another strained smile, her dark eyes glinting of the tangible sadness there, "That would be lovely."

          Lucy nodded, eager to restore a glimmer of light to her eyes, and started for the door only to pause midway, turning back to suggest tentatively, "You really haven't eaten much these last few days, if – "

          "Just the tea, please," she interjected softly, her face shifting towards the hearth where burning embers reflected in the dark of her eyes.

          Lucy surrendered with a sigh and quietly slipped from the room.

          As she padded down the darkened corridor, candles flickering faintly to a cold caress of air, her thoughts centered on Lord Rossetti.

          If he learns that Elle has been refusing her meals, he will be furious. Lucy did not wish to subject the girl to his temper, but her efforts were in vain, the girl just simply refused to eat. What was she to do?

          He was undoubtedly a hard, unfeeling man in every sense of the word and though his heart may be frozen over in certain hardship, she clung to a small semblance of hope that a blind maiden could reach some part of the man behind harsh, fortified walls.

*************

          Later within the stillness of the night, Don abandoned his chambers, finding himself unexpectedly at Elle's door. Whether he wanted to profess his regret or not, the feeling had stemmed nonetheless.

          He had denied her a simple pleasure, and why her feelings should matter at all was disconcerting – but they did. He had purposefully broken his promise to prove that he was in every respect incorrigible and heartless. It was better for the both of them if she believed that. But after the lazy descent of the sun, he hadn't felt any gratification in knowing that he had displeased her.

          That feeling now had him looming at her door.

          How could he explain that her nearness affected him, made him want and hope for things he could never have? It didn't matter either way for who could want him with a face like his? It didn't change who or what he was.

          Don stood before Elle's door in the slate of darkness, his hand hovered over the latch. He should turn back and return to his chambers, forget the feelings that had driven him here. He certainly had no business lurking outside her door in the dead of night, but he felt compelled and incapable of turning back.

          Stealing a breath, his hand turned the latch. The door gave way to a sliver of darkness, its weight barely registering as a waft of cool air hastened over his face.

          Damnation!

          He stiffened with displeasure as he surveyed the meager fire burning low in the hearth. Why hadn't the maid returned to stoke it?

          He would see to mentioning it on the morrow he thought as he quietly crossed the room to prod the wood, rekindling the flames to emanate heat.

          A soft sigh drew him away from the hearth.

          As he approached the bed, he spied her wooden staff propped against the wall before fixing his eyes on her sleeping form.

          She slept soundly, a small shape amid the massive bed, enveloped beneath a mass of coverlets. Her hair dispersed her pillow like a splash of midnight, those blackened tresses beckoning his touch.

          He recalled earlier how her hair had felt in his hand, how smooth each strand had coursed through his fingers like spun silk. He had wanted to fist that wealth of black silk and could feel that irresistible urge once more, but resisted, curling his hands as though to quell that impulse.

          She was the loveliest combination of innocence and beauty. He didn't deserve her, but that dismal knowledge didn't change the fact that he wanted her. He was doomed to live out his existence in a black void of isolation and misery. That had been the purpose of the wickedness cast upon him, to ensure that women like Elle were always beyond his reach.

          If he could have this moment, this one fragment of something other than infinite darkness and loneliness, why not take it? That lingering thought brought him closer to the edge of the bed, lured by an insatiable longing to steal but one forbidden pleasure.

          He settled next to her, the mattress dipping with his weight as she slept unaware, one hand nestled beneath her cheek as the other lay at her side. He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and from there turned his hand down to run his knuckles the length of her face.

          It was like touching the finest of satin.

          His stomach clenched with a flaring of heat as she shifted slightly into his hand and in doing so, brushed her mouth against the underside of his palm.

          Don clenched his eyes shut and ground his teeth against the groan rising from his throat.

          When he opened his eyes again they settled hungrily on her mouth.

           It would be wrong to kiss her. It deviated from all things right but he seemed powerless to turn away, to deny himself this one desire, for he may never have it again.

          And with that thought, he leaned forward and tentatively pressed his lips to hers.

          The moment his mouth brushed against hers, an incredible, unbridled flare of heat spiraled through him, rendering him with a primitive desire to claim every bit of her. His kiss was a fleeting graze but the affect was jarring, fueling an exquisite rapture that erupted beneath his skin like a raging fire.

          His eyes flickered over her sleeping face, surveying every beautiful, delicate line that made up her loveliness. She was in every way the light to his dark; the untouched to his destruction. A vision and pleasure prohibited to the likes of him.

          If Elle Duncan had her sight, what would she think of him? How would she react to the horror of his face? Would she turn away in fear and disgust? Would she gaze at him with pity in those dark eyes?

          You are a beast. What woman could love you now? Those words meandered through his brain like a relentless serpent, anxiously pending moments like these to hiss a torrent of ridicule on his consciousness.

          His jaw grew taut. His hands fisted.

          He shouldn't be here. He should not have kissed her. He should not want her.

          Never touch her again, Don vowed silently. He would steer clear of her until her father's debt was fulfilled. He would put a lengthy distance between them and never surrender to temptations that coaxed unfathomable desires that could very well tear his black heart asunder.

**********