Escaping The Beast: A Darkhills Romance (The Darkhills Series Book 2) by Elizabeth Greene (the best motivational books TXT) 📗

sound and cursed her own requirement to breathe. Perhaps if she stubbornly refused to respond he might leave and she could sneak out to find her way back to her own room.

“We have much to discuss. I’d prefer for that to be a two-way conversation,” he continued.

Damn him. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook. She held her breath for another long minute, this time her eyes wide open as if he might suddenly appear right in front of her face.

A tired sigh broke the silence.

“I find I am extremely anxious as to your welfare, Miss. Daxton. I have left you to rest and have not been able to check you for injuries, nor have you eaten anything since this morning. Please, Katherine, will you at least look at me?”

The sound of her name on his lips like a plea had her resolve softening. She couldn’t understand why this aloof and authoritative man would care so much. After another moment of uncertainty, she decided to pull up her big girl panties and face whatever revelations were to come next.

Slowly, she lifted her head from the bed to peer down towards the fireplace. There he sat, leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes watching her intently.

They stared at each other for another long minute, Katherine tried to figure out if she could see any anger or annoyance or any kind of negative emotion in his eyes. Instead, all she saw was steady constant darkness, unmovable and unchanging. Oddly, she didn’t find it unsettlingly, his gaze had the opposite effect on her. It was something solid and unyielding. Something she could rely upon to be constant.

Katherine pulled herself upright to sit across from him. She lowered her gaze and ran her hand over her face, the scratchiness caused her to frown and glance down at her grazed and scuffed palm. Within an instant he was there by her side, her hand held gently in his. The speed of his movement caused her to gasp but the tenderness he showed as he inspected her slightly injured hand had her holding on to that breath.

Lord Nightingale’s eyes returned to hers and she could’ve sworn he looked remorseful. Something that she quickly dismissed. He had needed to go after her and fight a dragon, then drag her sorry ass back to his castle in the woods. There was absolutely no reason for him to feel any remorse over her having sustained a few minor cuts and scrapes.

“Are you hurt anywhere else? Are you in any pain?” His words were soft and filled with concern.

Her eyes tracked down to where he still held her hand in his. Then she dumbly shook her head. He raised his other hand as if to stroke back her hair, but he paused mid-air and dropped it back to his side, as though he thought better of it. Gently, he lay her injured hand back down upon the bedsheets and turned to pace by her bedside.

“I am a man who is used to having control. Used to reading a situation and instantly knowing how to respond. Half the time it's pure instinct and happens without my consciousness.” He spoke to the room, keeping his back to her. “But I am at a loss with you, Miss. Daxton. Clearly, there was something that caused you to leave, but I have tried and tried to ascertain your reasons and I simply do not understand why you would put yourself in such danger as to run from the safety of the estate and into the mountains.”

Katherine remained quiet, curious to see a hint of the man behind the mask of cool indifference. By telling her this about himself he was just showing her his hand unless it was a ploy to distract her and trick her into revealing things about herself.

“I have no way of knowing how I can fix this; how I can make matters right for you,” He continued, turning to face her, “please, Katherine won’t you at least speak to me and help me understand?”

It was a bold move to throw himself at her mercy but that wasn’t what caught her attention. A stain of crimson against his crisp white shirt, peeked out from behind his tailored jacket as he had turned. She was moving off the bed before she could even think to stop herself.

“You’re hurt,” she said, stating fact more than anything. “Why didn’t you say?”

Her hands pushed the fabric of his jacket aside and she bent her head to take a closer look.

“It is nothing.” Lord Nightingale straightened and pulled his jacket back in place. “Did you hear nothing of what I just said? Tell me what made you run.”

“It’s not ‘nothing’,” Katherine argued back and knelt down, shoving his jacket aside once more.

“Miss Daxton, I assure you-”

“You saw mine, I’m seeing yours. This is not up for negotiation, Lucian.” She said firmly, fixing him with a look that dared him to argue.

“Very well.”

The next thing she knew he had tossed his jacket aside and she watched as he began unclasping his cufflinks. The bloodstain on his shirt was larger than she had first thought and in the low light, it still looked wet as it glistened slightly with his brisk movements. Katherine’s brow furrowed deeper at the sight.

“Do you have a first aid kit? I’m no doctor but I’ve patched my father up enough times to be able to do a neat enough job.”

At her words, his hands stilled on the top button of his shirt. A look of sadness crossed his features for a brief second before the mask of frustration slid back into place.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said as he made quick work of removing his shirt and tossing it across the room to land with his discarded jacket by the fireplace.

Good lord.

Katherine’s mouth went dry as she found herself faced with a man made of pure lean muscle. His chest was perfectly defined as if sculpted from