Page 76 of Dark Christmas
Count Blackmoor.
He steps inside, tall and imposing, his sharp features framed by dark, shoulder-length hair. His eyes are cunning—a predator sizing up his prey. There's no doubt he’s handsome but there’s something deeply unsettling about him. His smile never quite reaches his eyes, and I can sense the malevolence behind every word.
"My lady," he says smoothly, his voice like silk. "How are you faring today?" His tone drips with false concern.
I narrow my eyes; I know exactly what game he’s playing. With the duke gone, Count Blackmoor is next in line to inherit the estate, and by his calculations, he hopes to win my hand in marriage as part of the bargain.
"I’m managing," I reply cooly, though my heart races with unease.
His eyes flicker down to my belly, his smile widening ever so slightly. I’ve been able to hide my condition up to this point with loose-fitting clothing, but rumors are already swirling, and soon the secret of my pregnancy will be the talk of the estate.
"I’m sure you do."
He steps further into the room, his polished boots soundless against the stone floor. He makes himself comfortable, uninvited, on the edge of my bed. I tense at the sight, my fingers instinctively pressing against my belly as if to shield the life growing inside.
"My lady," he begins, his voice calculating, "I understand the grief that has consumed you in the wake of the duke’s passing. You are in a... delicate state, and it is only natural to feel overwhelmed."
I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words sting. He knows nothing of my grief, only the opportunity it presents.
"But," he continues, leaning in slightly, his dark eyes glinting, "you must think practically. You are pregnant, and the eyes of the kingdom are upon you. There is a certain... expectation forhow you must conduct yourself, especially now. I'm offering you a way out, a solution." He smiles, the expression as cold as winter. "Marry me, and I will ensure the safety of your child. We can silence any whispers of scandal. I will look after you both."
His words coil around me like a serpent. I know Count Blackmoor well enough to understand that his offer of protection is a farce. He’d find a way to eliminate my child, the duke’s heir, the moment he could. He’s not a man to leave loose ends—especially not when it involves a threat to his inheritance.
I refuse his proposal.
Count Blackmoor’s face darkens at my rejection, though he tries to mask his frustration with a twisted smile. He’s tried this before—this false charm, this sick game of making me believe I have a choice.
"You’ve always been insistent," I say, my voice cold. "But the answer is no. I would sooner raise my child as a bastard than submit to you."
The mask slips. His smile vanishes, replaced with simmering rage. He rises abruptly, crossing the room in swift strides and grabbing my arm. His grip is firm, and I can feel it bruising.
“You’d do well to watch your tongue,” he growls, his face inches from mine. “I’ve been patient, offering you some sense of control in this. But make no mistake, you will be mine, whether you like it or not.”
I yank my arm from his grasp, my heart racing, but I refuse to back down. “Never,” I hiss. “I’d throw myself from this tower before I let you touch me.”
He steps back, his lips curling into a snarl. “You’re being a fool. The duke never loved you, not truly. He only wanted you for your body. But I, my lady," he leans in, his voice low and threatening, "I want all of you. And I will give you everything—power, wealth, security—if you just say yes. Marry me, and everything you’ve ever wanted is yours.”
His eyes flash with something dark, something final as he says, “This is the last time I’m asking.”
“No,” I say firmly, staring him down. “And that is my final answer.”
Count Blackmoor’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. For a split second, I wonder if he’ll lash out, if his rage will get the better of him.
His lips curl into a sinister grin, one that sends a chill down my spine.
“Don’t underestimate me, my lady,” he warns. “I’m capable of more cruelty than you could ever imagine.”
“Like what?” I ask defiantly despite the icy fear creeping through me.
His evil grin widens. “It wasn’t the enemy that killed your precious duke on the battlefield, you know. That was all me.”
“What?” My breath catches in my throat, my heart pounding.
I’m stunned. My mind races, reeling from the horror of what he’s just confessed. Without thinking, my hand flies across his face, the sound of the slap echoing through the room.
His eyes blaze with fury, and for a moment, I fear what he might do. His hand rises, but before he can strike, the sound ofa throat clearing comes from the doorway.
We both freeze, turning to see none other than the duke himself.