Jane Blythe – USA Today Bestselling Author

Tag: romantic suspense

  • Week 95 – The stuff dreams are made of

    Still leading her by the hand the man guided her up twenty marble steps to a huge oak door with handles in the shapes of lion heads. He opened the door and they stepped into the largest entrance foyer Astor had ever seen.

    Antiques and expensive looking art filled the room, and a grand staircase led to the second floor. This house was the stuff dreams are made of, or it would be if she hadn’t been abducted, raped, tortured and sold.

    To this man.

    Who still held her hand and was leading her towards the stairs. When they reached the top he walked her through a maze of hallways until they finally stopped in front of a door.

    Up until now the man hadn’t done anything to scare her-buying her for half a million dollars aside-but now she got a sense of foreboding. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and goosebumps broke out all over her body.

    “This will be your room until you’re ready to come and share my bed,” he informed her.

    When hell froze over, she muttered to herself.

    “You have free reign of the house and the grounds, a tracking device was implanted while you were sleeping, before you were brought here, so I will know where you are at all times. You are not permitted to leave the property, if you do, you will not like the outcome. You are not permitted to speak with any of the staff, they will not speak to you. You will eat your meals alone in the south dining room. Until you are ready to give yourself to me body, mind, and soul, you will live without human interaction.”

    That almost sounded too good to be true. He was really going to keep his hands off her? He wasn’t going to rape her? Or hurt her? He was really just going to leave her alone? If he was true to his word then she would be able to find a way to escape without having to worry about anyone noticing what she was doing.

    “Astor,” his voice had gone deadly serious. “You will give yourself to me.” Then he pushed her up against the wall and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.

    Then abruptly he released her and walked away.

    “By the way my name is Frost,” he called over his shoulder.

    She couldn’t say anything.

    All she could do was stare after Frost in shock.

  • Week 94 – One day at a time…One step at a time. That’s how we will take things

    She was grabbed roughly around the bicep and dragged out of the trunk of the car.

    Astor Valentine swung her free hand at the man who held her, but he reacted quickly, blocking the blow and slapping her hard across the face.

    Why couldn’t she learn her lesson?

    Fighting back didn’t do any good.

    It hadn’t stopped her from being drugged and abducted at a party. It hadn’t stopped her being locked in a cage for the last month. It hadn’t stopped her being dressed up and paraded around at an auction. And it hadn’t stopped her being sold.

    Sold to the man who was standing just behind the man who still had hold of her. He was handsome, in a villainy kind of way. He had hair as black as night and eyes to match, she could see his muscles rippling beneath clothes.

    There was something different about him.

    He didn’t feel the same as the others. The men who had abducted her, the men who had beaten her, and raped her, who had taunted her and mocked her, they had felt evil. But this man didn’t. She knew he was the same, he had been at the auction after all, he had paid money for her, but when he had looked her over at the auction she hadn’t been afraid, she had almost felt safe.

    “No need to be so rough with our new guest,” he said, his tone smooth and almost melodic. He stepped up and took hold of her hand. “One day at a time…One step at a time. That’s how we will take things, and one day you will learn how to be happy living here.”

    Here was a huge mansion that looked like something out of a gothic movie, set in the middle of what looked like acres of perfectly manicured grounds and wild, untamed woods.

    She would never be happy here.

    Not until she killed the handsome man who thought he owned her.

  • Week 93 – Love conquers all, I remember my mom saying that, but

    Rachel hadn’t said anything yet.
     
    Drake couldn’t figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
     
    He still held her in his arms, and the fact that she hadn’t pulled away eased some of his nerves. He’d wanted to come before now but fear had held him back. Rachel had asked him to stay away and as much as he had wanted to honour her wishes he just couldn’t stay away. He was under no illusion that this was going to be easy, he’d put her through hell, winning her trust back was going to be some feat.
     
    “Rach?”
     
    “I . . .” she started then stopped, then started again, “I think . . .” she trailed off again.
     
    “You think what, sweetheart?”
     
    “Love conquers all, I remember my mom saying that, but . . .”
     
    Drake felt his stomach drop.
     
    He knew how that sentence finished.
     
    He let his arms dropped and gave Rachel the flowers. “I hope you can find peace one day,” he told her as he turned and headed for his car.
     
    “Drake, wait,” Rachel called after him.
     
    He froze but didn’t turn around. He didn’t think he could look at her again and still walk away.
     
    “I still love you, and all I’ve dreamed about since I thought you died was having you here and being in your arms, I don’t know, Drake. I don’t know how we can work this out, its going to take time, I don’t trust you anymore, but if you understand that this needs to go slowly, then . . .”
     
    “Then?” he asked, still not turning around.
     
    “Then we can try,” Rachel finished.
     
    Drake spun around and ran the couple of steps between them and wrapped his hands around Rachel’s waist and picked her up, spinning her around and then finding his lips and kissing her until they were both breathless. “I love you so much, Rachel. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry my job nearly got you killed, I’m sorry you were hurt, I’m sorry I hurt you worse by not letting you know I was alive, and I’m sorry that we lost our baby.”
     
    The small smile that had lit Rachel’s face faded at the mention of their daughter. Of all the pain he had caused her it was that she had grieved their child alone.
     
    “Instead of dinner, I have something to show you,” he said, setting Rachel back on her feet and taking her hand, tugging her down the path to his car before she could change her mind. She didn’t resist, and he opened the passenger door for her, helped her in, then got in the driver’s seat.
     
    Neither of them spoke as he drove but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Drake knew that Rachel needed him to earn her trust back, and that was fine with him, she still loved him and that was what was important, in time they could heal.
     
    “We’re here,” he said as he parked the car.
     
    “Here?” Rachel echoed, her brow crinkled in confusion. “What are we doing here?”
     
    “I have something to show you,” he said.
     
    She still looked confused but she climbed out of the car, and her fingers curled around his when he took her hand. She let him lead her without question, through the cemetery stopping in front of a small tombstone in a quiet corner under a large oak tree.
     
    Tears filled Rachel’s eyes and she dropped down to her knees in the grass. “My mommy carried me every day of my life,” she whispered the words engraved on the tombstone. “You did this for her? For me?”
     
    Tears filled his own eyes. His daughter’s death was his fault. Asking Rachel to forgive him for that seemed more than was right.
     
    He dropped down to his knees beside his wife. “Rachel, I’m so sorry. You lost her because of me.”
     
    Rachel turned watery eyes on him. “It wasn’t your fault she died. Your job, we both knew the risks, none of that was your fault and I don’t blame you for it.”
     
    “Rachel,” he whispered, taking her hands. “I don’t deserve you.”
     
    She smiled.
     
    A small smile but a smile just the same.
     
    “We both lost a lot, we both almost died, and we are both grieving our baby. You hurt me so much, but I’ve missed you, I can’t live without you, this isn’t going to be easy, but I’d rather fight to get back what we had than let it slip away. I don’t want to be angry anymore, I don’t want to be sad, I don’t want to cry, I don’t want to walk around in a haze, I just want to . . . live,” Rachel finished.
     
    This woman was so much more than he deserved, and he loved her so much that it physically hurt him that he’d hurt her.
     
    “Hope,” Drake said softly.
     
    “Hope?”
     
    “Our daughter, we should call her Hope.”
     
    Rachel smiled again, bigger this time, a smile that reached her eyes. “I love it.”
     
    “Dinner?” he asked, standing and holding out his hand.
     
    She looked at it for a moment, then took it, and let him pull her to her feet. “I’d love to.”

  • Week 92 – Dead of night, footsteps echoing in the narrows of the upstairs hallway, creeping lightly, ever closer

    “Rach?”

    She didn’t want Drake looking at her like that. She didn’t want to think about him hurting too, he was the cause of all of this.

    Dinner?

    How could she say yes when he’d hurt her so badly?

    How could she say yes when she didn’t know if he would hurt her again?

    How could she take that risk?

    Why couldn’t she hate him?

    She should hate him, but . . .

    She didn’t.

    Rachel closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind, figure out what the right thing to do was. Instead images started to flash through her head. Dead of night, footsteps echoing in the narrows of the upstairs hallway, creeping lightly, ever closer, people in her room, hands hitting her, feet kicking her, cold, dark, blood.

    “Rachel.”

    Someone shook her, popping her eyes open, she was shaking, and cold, and sweat dotted her brown.

    Flashback.

    She hated those.

    “Shh, its okay. I’m here.” Drake’s arms came around her, holding her tightly against his chest. His arms shouldn’t make her feel safe but they did. She was so confused.

    There was one thing she needed to know.

    “Were you really watching the house all these months?” she asked.

    “Yes. I wanted to come to you so many times but I was afraid you would hate me. Kind of like you do right now,” he said, half jokingly, half seriously.

    “I don’t hate you, but I do hate what you did.” Despite her anger and hurt it felt good to be in Drake’s arms again. Wasn’t this what she had dreamed about, prayed for, imagined happening all this time?

    “So?” Drake said slowly, his hands gently stroking her back. “Are things really over between us? Can you forgive me? Can you give me a chance to earn your forgiveness and your trust back?”

    Rachel knew she needed to decide.

    He needed an answer and so did she. The last few months had been hell and she couldn’t keep obsessing over this or she would drive herself insane.

    She still loved Drake but could she forgive him and take him back?

  • Week 91 – This was hard

    A month had passed since Drake had walked out of her hospital room.

    She hadn’t seen him since.

    Just as she’d asked he hadn’t contacted her in anyway, he had just disappeared.

    Again.

    In the last month her body had healed from the stab wound, but her mind was still stuck in that same dark place. Her family still worried about her, she still didn’t eat or sleep or leave the house. She just sat, curled up in her rocking chair, and felt betrayed.

    Drake hadn’t even fought for her.

    Did she want him to?

    Rachel wasn’t sure. She was so angry, so hurt that he could let her think that he was dead, and that he could leave her to grieve the loss of their child alone. But as angry and as hurt as she was it didn’t change one simple little fact.

    She still loved him.

    She hadn’t expected him to give up so easily. She had expected him to teller that he was never letting her go, she had expected him try to winter back, she had expected him sit outside her hospital room and try to convince her to let him drive her home when she was releases, she had expected him to turn up at her door every day, apologising and telling her he loved her.

    But maybe he didn’t.

    Maybe he didn’t love her the same way that she loved him.

    How else could she explain how easily he had walked away from her?

    That hurt her more than anything else.

    Had she wasted the last few years of her life married to a man who didn’t love her, then grieved for him while he tossed her away like an old, no longer needed, security blanket?

    She still had her security blanket. She had taken it with her everywhere she went until she was seven and the taunts of her peers had finally pushed her into giving it up. Although she still had it it had lost he magic it once possessed. Now it was just a dirty, tattered piece of material. Was that how Drake saw her? The old, dirty, tattered, broken wife he had one loved but had now lost its magic?

    This was hard.

    The hardest thing she had ever had to deal with.

    Her doorbell rung and Rachel ignored it. She wasn’t in the mood for another pep talk from her family. She knew they loved her but they didn’t understand. How could they? She didn’t even understand all the emotions swirling around inside her. All she knew was that they were choking her. Bit by bit they were choking the life right out of her.

    The doorbell rung again, and then again, and it was only to put a stop to it that she finally dragged herself out of the rocking chair.

    When she threw open the door she didn’t find her family but Drake. Well new Drake, same eyes, different face, like he had had plastic surgery to change his appearance. He probably had, so the gang-and maybe her as well-would no longer be able to recognise him.

    In his arms Drake held a box of chocolates, and bouquet of flowers. Her favorite flowers. Tulips, in a rainbow of colors.

    She wanted to ask what he was doing here but all she could do was stare at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. He was staring at her too like he never wanted to look at anything else but was fully prepared for the door to be slammed in his face.

    “Dinner?” he finally asked. “Not as husband and wife, just a date, a chance to start over, please, Rach.”

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