Whispers of the Sea (The Compulsion Bride Series) Book II (Unedited)

Prologue

Excuses were what bored ladies made to return home before a Ball was finished.

Lady Rachela Clairwood was not a bored lady. She considered herself the life of any party, beauty, and grace, one that could converse intelligently with both a male and female person. It was these attractions that captured her late husband's heart. She sighed, loosening the pins in her mahogany coloured hair, they tumbled down her back like heavy droplets of rain. She shouldn't have allowed them to grown at such length. Her height was not made for hair falling below her waist.

Rachela fell back in a heap on the soft padded mattress. It was almost eleven- thirty, Lady Wright's ball was far from finishing. Perhaps if she got dress once more--NO! Her eyes closed, with the revelation that she could not return, the humiliation and foolishness of her sudden departure were too absurd. It's been years since she thought about that man. He was dead, who she saw tonight was a stranger, someone of similar features. Yet, it didn't stop her heart from knocking violently against her chest.

Her pretty maid, Alice greeted her with surprise and concerned, she tenderly brushed out Rachela's hair, hurtle off her dress and assisted her in her chemise. Rachela breathed audibly, finally released from the suffocating garments, this caused Alice to giggle.

Alice had a tender spot in her heart, maybe it was the fact that she had always wanted a daughter, not that she was not pleased with her son Edward. Edward was lovely, just like his father. He was everything Bradford was. Smart, caring, handsome. Rachela wished he didn't share such similarities, his hair was of her colour but it didn't hinder the familiarity of his father. She would have spent more time with him then. After Bradford's death, Rachela had no interest in marrying again, she wanted more children with Bradford, not someone else.

With a weak smile, she dismissed Alice to fetch her a cup of tea. Before long, she was nestled in bed, with the lamp burning low beside her, ready to fill her with darkness. Her tiredness had shocked her and it was not very long for sleep to engulf body.

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The house was so dark, its quietness was very eerie even for the dark figure that crept stealthily up the stairs. He had to be cautious to not bump into any furniture or vases. The servants, he knew, were all asleep and he silently thanked the lady for not employing a lot. He smiled traveling down the narrow hallway. It wasn't very difficult finding the lady's room. The doorknob made a very disturbing noise as he spun it unlock. He stood still for a moment, listening for any footsteps. Any form of life, before he slipped inside the bedchamber with ease, noticing the candle that was fighting for life beside her head. He took steps until he was hovering over the lady. Rachela looks so beautiful lying there, he wondered for a moment if her life was worth it. "Such a waste of beauty"

Rachela eyes flew open, she gasped at the man standing above her, just as she was about to scream his hands covered it preventing any sound from escaping.

"Sssh," lifting one of his hands, he placed his index finger on his lips. "Try to make this easy for me"

Rachela stared at the stranger through pleading eyes. He made himself more comfortable by seating himself over her body, there was no way of escaping. A tear rolled off her cheek, wetting her captor's hand.

"Why are you crying? I am not going to take advantage of you," He lowered his head and whispered in her ear. "I have a wife..." He lifted his head, a cocky grin on his face which she almost missed due to the darkness. He grabbed the pillow above her head. Fluffed to perfection, perfect for this night. His hand moved from her mouth, only to be replaced by the pillow. Rachela screams for help was not heard and the struggling was useless. She was no match for such a strong powerful man. 

He slowly lifted the pillow after the lady's body went limped. Climbing off the bed he smoothed the pillows and pulled the duvet just below her shoulders. For a moment he sat there watching the lady that looked like she was still sleeping than dead. His hands reached out, touching the softness of her long tresses. He had placed them over the duvet creating an extra cover for her small frame. His index finger twisted around one of her loose curls, clearly, the maid did not do a grand job. It was only when the candlelight died, he rose from the bed and left, leaving a kiss on her forehead.

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