Bare Her Soul (James Patrick March x reader )

Eleven

James sat at the far end of his dining table, watching Elizabeth's nose wrinkle at the taste of the lemon sponge Miss Evers had baked for them both.

Perhaps he should have ordered black pudding. He wanted to quip that to her, but her gripping eyes still managed to knock the breath out of him. All these demoralising years later.

Tonight was different to their usual monthly arrangement though. They dined in their customary attire - him in a plaid, charcoal suit and her in another dress from her obscenely flamboyant collection. The setting was lavish and glamourously romantic as always in its attempt to make up for what lacked within.

But tonight, James was distracted by you. Even when she was talking - no more than short-sentence replies to their hollow back and forth - his thoughts drifted.

Was it a mistake letting Steve be the one to follow you? Steve was an eager student, and all too keen to be his eyes and ears on the outside. James had told him - very firmly - that you must not, under any circumstances, die outside of the hotel. He'd shown loyalty so far, but would he this time? Could he? Even in the bedraggled state you'd left the hotel in, you were so gloriously enticing..and Steven had a penchant for murdering beautiful women.

"You're not with it this evening, James. So unlike you." The Countess purred, and his gaze snapped back to meet her piercing eyes. Her red painted lips turning up in an intruiged smile. "I feel insulted...almost."

"My apologies darling..must be the absinth! Brand new bottle you see, gifted to me from a friend on the outside. As you will know, I am rather out of touch  with the fruits of the modern world."

"Really?" her eyes widened then, batting long lashes in an effort to appear innocent.
The Countess could look fiendishly beautiful, but never innocent. "Because otherwise, I really ought to tell Will that you won't be needing me for these dinners any longer..."

"No." he cut, cheek twitching "Let's allow the poor man a night off shall we?"

He spoke through gritted teeth, and Elizabeth raised the thin, black pencil line that was her eyebrow.

"So...how is Will Drake? His excrement still smells like roses I presume?" he collected himself.

There was a knock at his door then, a singular tap, and then shouting erupted from the corridor outside.

"Excuse me" James said, getting up from the chair and bowing slightly to The Countess. He made his way to the door. He ought to be livid that someone would dare interrupt his night, but this time, he felt strangely relieved.
As he opened the door, he heard the tail end of Miss Evers' shrill demand.

"- and you know what that means! You must leave! He'll have your head on a platter for it and I'll never get the chinaware clean after that."

You stood shell-shocked, facing Miss Evers. Your hair, unbrushed, hung around your face, sticking to your cheeks from where you'd been crying. Your eyes were big, and sad.

"Y/N! What a pleasant surprise" James started, a note of relief in his voice.

Both pairs of worried eyes snapped up at him. "Miss Evers that won't be necessary. Y/N is very welcome tonight."

Miss Evers' confused eyes narrowed at the girl, and with a huff, she scampered away with a dirtied bedsheet dragging behind her.

"My goodness dear girl" James gasped as you stared up at him, frozen from the laundress' brutal warning no doubt "whatever is the matter?"

"It's a lot. I just, I really need to talk to somebody" you whimpered "I-but if you're busy, that's-"

"Hush" James demanded, taking hold of your shoulder "come. I am not too busy for you my dear. But I do have company. You can wait for me in my boudoir."

If he let you go running off again, you would surely pack your bags and check-out that very night.
He guided you into his suite and you followed a few steps behind, head down and pulling at a loose thread on your cuff. Old Stevey-boy had clearly done a good job - your eyes looked crazed.

When he rounded you into the lounge, The Countess was leaning against the wooden beam framing the entrance to the dining room, her glass of sherry à la blood held in her folded arms. Her icy gaze roved over you and James' throat tightened.

"Elizabeth meet Y/N, Y/N this is Elizabeth, my..."

"His wife" Elizabeth finished in a husky tone, and he felt you tense beside him. The woman pushed her weight off the wall and sauntered towards the pair of you.

"But don't worry little duckling" she lilted, her floral breath fanning your face. He hated that even in your state you seemed to be, as everybody else was, enthralled by the woman. "We haven't been a couple in years."

She leaned down to you, inhaling the mouthwatering, sweet scent that he knew had drawn her like shark to blood. Before her nose could hungrily reach your hairline though, James grasped her shoulder. He stilled her, quickly and calmly, and her intruiged eyes flitted up at him.

He wore a tense smile as he all but warned "Y/N is very troubled this evening Elizabeth... I've instructed her to wait here for me."

The Countess slinked back from you then, recoiled in a way that reminded you of a serpent. And you looked up at James nervously. He nodded towards the bedroom.

"Go on dear, I promise you I won't be much longer.."

You were too bewildered to respond, and he waited until you'd closed the bedroom door behind you, to turn back to Elizabeth.

He sighed at her wicked amusement, and moved past her through to the dining room. He retrieved the bottle he'd left next to his placemat on the table, and poured another tumbler glass full of it.

"A little young, James?" her voice purred from behind him.

He ignored her, sipping the drink and exhaling a loud 'ha' at the bitterness.
He suddenly rounded on the woman.

"You are not to touch a hair on her head Elizabeth, do you hear me?" he spoke hurriedly but in a hushed tone "I don't frolic with those playthings you keep around here, I expect you to acquiesce the same level of respect."

The Countess smirked, and leaned her curvaceous backside against the dining table "nobody survives long enough with you to become a plaything."

James couldn't help but smile back at that, wickedly, proud. "Very good darling, very good. I suppose she is different, perhaps 'muse' would be a more fitting term.."

Then his eyes darkened, and he stepped infront of her, polished toes of his Oxfords digging into the toe of her heeled boots. He loomed over her.

She didn't bat an eyelash "don't worry James...she isn't my type. But you should know, I saw her the moment she walked in here...and that was what? Four days ago?"

James clenched his jaw "your point dearest?"

"I suppose I'm surprised to see her alive that's all - after that belligerent claim you made on her." The woman's eyes were gleaming with amusement "you must be awfully fond of her James, should I be...jealous?"

James laughed then, and his brow relaxed. He leaned in to her slightly, his voice was gentle, almost affectationate, but the hostile gleam still danced in his eyes. "Oh dearest Mrs March, if I thought you were capable of feeling a shred of anything in regards to me, the answer could quite likely be yes."

He straightened up then, stepped away from her.

"It's your lucky night Elizabeth, I dismiss you ahead of time."

The Countess raised her eyebrows, and as elegant as a ballerina, she disappeared into the hallway, leaning back once through the frame to hum "don't play with your food for too long Jimmy."

The front door clicked, leaving you and James alone in the suite.