The Edge of Hell: The Mitchell Brothers Series Book One

14

Wolstan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, a voice Mae had hoped in vain to never hear again replied, "I believe you'll find your answer with a single glance in the mirror, Mae."

The stone fell from Mae's trembling hand. Her panicked gaze swung to find the source of her nightmares emerging from behind an ancient oak tree wearing a green floral gown and a cream shawl draped artfully across her shoulders.

A cruel smile that fairly dripped with venom curled Ardella's lips as she strolled onto the bank and added, "However, a face like yours is bound to shatter one into thousands of pieces, so I'd be cautious."

Mae met Ardella's cold eyes, paralyzed as snippets of the painful childhood memories unearthed by Cyrus's attack flashed within her mind. Her limbs began quaking, her heart pounded, and bile burned the back of her throat.

Chills raced from her head to her toes. Every instinct in her body screamed to run as fast and far away from Ardella as her legs could carry her.

But her feet were rooted.

"Well, that's a pleasant morning ruined," Wolstan growled, his voice low and menacing.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. I'm simply satisfying some harmless curiosity," Ardella crooned, raking her eyes over him from head to toe in a slow, lustful perusal. "And why wouldn't I after seeing the two of you sneak down here, and I'm left wondering if I'd catch you taking advantage of my unfortunate niece."

"Let's leave," Wolstan said. He dropped his rock and grabbed Mae's left hand, snapping her out of the petrified trance Ardella's presence had gripped her in. "There's a sudden offensive odor tainting the air."

Mae clung to him, focusing on what used to be the simple acts of walking and breathing.

Ardella followed close behind them, saying, "I see speaking hateful lies is a fault you share with that horrid uncle of yours, Wolstan Mitchell."

Wolstan pressed his lips into a thin line as he glanced at Mae and quickened their pace.

"I've also noticed his carriage at your house these past several months," she called out, her voice tinged with gleeful malice. "The question is whether he's sniffing after your mama or your brother's favored hound. Knowing your uncle, I'd wager the latter."

A low, feral-sounding growl escaped Wolstan's throat, and his footsteps faltered.

But just when Mae feared he would turn and give Ardella the reaction she sought, he tightened his hold on her hand and lengthened his stride until Mae was all but running to keep up with him.

They arrived at the barn several minutes later, Mae's hand still gripped firmly in Wolstan's. They approached the ladder and climbed to the loft without speaking.

Mae ascended first and walked to the hay door on quivering legs, and a heart-rending realization struck, leaving her breathless.

She'd made perhaps one of the gravest errors of her life in remaining with the Mitchells as long as she had—an issue Mae would need to rectify as soon as she could gather supplies and put a plan into place.

It no longer mattered that the thought of leaving the family she'd grown to love made her want to collapse to the floor weeping. Or that Wolstan might not be so averse any longer to her staying.

Heartbreak was far preferable to suffering any further mentally and emotionally torturous encounters with Ardella and what would undoubtedly be a deadly one if Cyrus saw her again.

"That woman is nothing but a poisonous fountain of words," Wolstan growled. He walked up behind Mae and stood next to her at the hay door. "How anyone can live under the same roof and not be tempted to end her miserable life on an hourly basis is beyond me."