Название | Beloved Beast |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Karyn Gerrard |
Жанр | Исторические любовные романы |
Серия | The Ravenswood Chronicles |
Издательство | Исторические любовные романы |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781601836601 |
Yes, he should have. It made Luke wonder what else Reed had not told him. As far as women were concerned, Luke managed during the past eleven years to limit his carnal activity to ladies of the night, where in darkness they could not see him and he did not have to look at them. Along with his increased strength and enhanced senses, his libido also ran at a high level. Mired in grief, he fought his urges for several years. But not lately. A good thing he used sheaths under the circumstances to stem any chance of catching a disease. Even though he may be immune, why take chances?
No use losing his temper at this stage. There had been many unknowns through the years. He could hardly blame Glenna or Reed. Though despite their long, complicated friendship, a small part of Luke still did not entirely trust the old man. “I see.” What else could he say? “What other surprises will I find in your notes?”
At that moment, Clara entered the room carrying a tray laden with tea, mugs, and a plate of cheese and biscuits. Reed looked relieved at the interruption. Luke jumped to his feet and took the tray from Clara’s shaking hands then placed it on the table. Though Luke could not ascertain most changes in temperature, he found the parlor far too chilly. Damn and blast, he should have brought them coal as well as food. “Isn’t there a woman who comes in the morning to light your fires and prepare you both breakfast?”
Clara frowned as she poured the tea. “Yes, but she hasn’t been here the last two days. I went to her house to inquire as I was concerned she might be ill. The place is closed up tight. Perhaps they went to the country. She did speak of relatives in Sussex.”
“You should have called Fred or me,” he admonished gently. Though most of February had been mild, a couple of nights dropped near zero.
“You are both far too busy,” Clara stated, waving her hand in dismissal.
Luke slipped out of his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He had a fire blazing in the hearth in a manner of minutes. Taking the mug of hot tea, he sat down and watched as Clara lovingly fussed around Reed, ensuring he had plenty of cheese and biscuits and the blanket across his legs was tucked in. She grabbed her mug and took her seat on the other side of her husband. “When Fred arrives, we will light the fire in your bedroom as well,” Luke stated.
No sooner had he spoken his nephew’s name when Fred knocked and strode into the parlor. Clara tried to stand, but Fred bade her to stay seated, leaned in and kissed her cheek, then did the same with Reed. Pouring himself a mug of tea and grabbing a slice of cheese, he sat on the sofa next to his mother. “All together again, yeah?” he smiled.
Fred possessed an outwardly sunny nature but could turn serious enough when warranted. At five feet eleven, he was as broad-shouldered and solid as his father had been, and his features, though not classically handsome, were pleasing enough. Luke knew Fred often kept company with various ladies through the years, but nothing serious ever came from the brief dalliances. With his sable-brown hair and light brown eyes, he had the look of a Parker. He could have been Glenna’s son for all their similarities. Another roll of pain moved through him. Luke reluctantly pushed her from his thoughts as he fought to keep control of his grief.
“I want to be buried in Charlwood,” Reed said suddenly. That certainly ended all conversation.
“Dad…”
“Three generations of Parkers lived in the area and it should be my final resting place. Your mother’s too, when the time comes. You will see it done?”
“Of course,” Fred replied, his voice soft.
“Next to Glenna’s stone,” Reed insisted.
So much for not thinking of Glenna. Luke had never been to her grave. What did it matter? Her body was not there. She’d been swept out to sea because of his incompetence. He made a fist with his gloved left hand and the leather creaked in response.
“It is not your fault,” Clara said.
No doubt every emotion tearing though him reflected on his face. It always did. He was not a man to hide his feelings, though he tried. “I could not save her. This hand is not my own, and it could not hold on to her.”
A strangled sob left Reed’s throat and Clara rushed to his side. “Stop. Both of you. It is no one’s fault. An act of nature.” She kissed Reed’s forehead. “It is nothing you did, Reed, nor you, Luke.” Soon after Clara married Reed, she was informed of the experiment and Luke’s part in it. A family secret they all kept close to the vest.
The despair on the older man’s face was plain, and he understood it. Reed blamed himself for reanimating him and for replacing his severed hand. If Luke had remained buried and forgotten, Glenna would still be alive. In these long eleven years, no one in the family blamed him. He was eternally grateful.
“I should have this…thing removed. I would be better off with a damned hook or a wooden hand. Anything but this,” Luke spat. Before he was reanimated, Reed used the hand from another corpse and stitched it in place of the one he lost during the carriage accident. It was a horrible lump of flesh he constantly kept covered. Thankfully, there were no other body parts replaced. Bad enough there were moments he felt like Frankenstein’s monster since his reanimation. He certainly did not want to look the part. At least, no more than he looked now. Luke exhaled. “Forgive me. I usually do not sink into such morbid self-pity.”
Fred nodded. “If you cannot share your deepest feelings with family, who can you share them with?”
“True. Apparently the grief still lingers. Perhaps it always will. Reed, your wishes will be carried out, have no fear. Let us move on to other topics.” He filled Fred in on the hired woman not showing up.
“Well, how dashed inconvenient. No fear, Mum. I’ll find someone else as soon as possible. If it happens again, you ring up one of us.”
Clara sat on the sofa. “Luke brought us some of his rations.”
“I have no need of them.” In Luke’s new life state, he did not need food to survive. At times he ate for the enjoyment of it and always made sure when in the presence of strangers to make an effort to act as normal as possible, which included the ingestion of food.
“War keeping you busy, Son?” Reed asked, seemingly recovered from his emotional outburst. The doctor told them the sudden change in his emotions was the result of his old age. “They won’t be sending you across enemy lines?”
“No, Dad. I’m not a field operative as such. Agents work under me. As far as I am aware, I’ll be staying at fifty-four Broadway for the foreseeable future.” Fred stood. “I shouldn’t have even said that much. Now, excuse us a moment. Luke and I will get the fire going in the bedroom.”
Reed nodded. “Don’t worry, I can keep it to myself, as this family already has many well-kept secrets.”
Luke followed his nephew into the room and closed the door. With a tsk, Fred ran his finger along the mantel, frowning at the thick blot of dust on the tip. “I may have to find someone to live-in. Mum would never have let the housekeeping deteriorate like this before.”
“Perhaps we should move them back to Charlwood,” Luke suggested.
Fred shook his head. “Can’t be done. Dad is too weak. I already asked the doctor if such a re-location was possible. He advised against it.” He leaned down and placed newspaper and sticks of wood on the grate. “I have a new assignment. We’ve heard chatter the identity of a female agent may be compromised. She was undercover in Germany from nineteen thirty-eight until early nineteen forty. The lady is back in London and works at fifty-four Broadway in an administrative and translator capacity. This brave woman barely escaped with her life, and I would not see her harmed. I will need you to assess the situation. I’ll tell you more once we leave here.” Fred scooped up some coal from the nearby bucket and laid it