Immortal Sacrifice: #4 The Curse of the Templars by Claire Ashgrove

Author:Claire Ashgrove [Claire Ashgrove]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Untamed Spirit Publishing
Published: 2014-01-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Caradoc leaned his head into his hand and stared at the carpeting alongside Isabelle’s bed. Here, in her room, she surrounded him. From her clothes strewn across the floor, to the clutter on her bathroom countertop, to her rumpled covers, she existed in every minute particle. ’Twas why he chose to stay in her absence—to understand, for a little while, all he could and drown himself in her until he could not hear the racket in his head that refused to accept he had fathered September.

He reached between his feet and picked up the discarded sweater she had worn the previous eve. Rubbing the soft wool between his thumb and forefinger, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the truths he knew about her.

They had shared much. More than many lovers, for in the few weeks they had spent together, they did not just share the enjoyment of their bodies. They shared dreams, hopes, and secrets. He suspected he knew more about her family than any other. Things she did not find it easy to confess. And though he had omitted specific details that related to his knighthood, he had told her the things closest to his heart. Most specifically his deep love for the land of Asterleigh and how it tore him into pieces to watch the last of it be divided and sold with the auction of Kiddington Hall.

In all that he had learned, she had not once spoken a falsehood. Had never hesitated to let him into the secret places of her soul. He believed in her love. ’Twas the one thing that had both kept him struggling to stay alive and simultaneously wishing for death. She would not have taken a lover so soon after they parted.

In the darkest fathoms of his heart, he knew she had grieved as deeply as he.

Which meant only that she must have come to him expecting and not been aware of her status. As she had said, the math put September’s conception very close to the first night they had spent together on the English cliffs.

September could not belong to him, but Isabelle believed she did. The child believed she did; he could not rationalize her ability to see him as he once was, and he did not care to try. ’Twould be logical for a seraph’s daughter to share her mother’s gifts. Mayhap the girl saw something of the future. A battle he might yet fight. He refused to acknowledge the nagging sensation that his explanation was mere delusion to content his upside-down mind.

Isabelle believed they had conceived a child, and for almost three years, she had raised this babe alone. ’Twas no wonder her venom held such poison. Had he walked in her shoes, he could not say he would have been so quick to stand in the same room with him, let alone stay the night in his bed.

But what was he to do with a child? The temple would not accept her within their walls.

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