Chapter 14 Terms of Treatment
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Brielle stood her ground. Just as she had expected, Daniel strode toward her, closing the distance in mere moments, and fixed her with a withering glare. “Did you do this?” he demanded, his voice seething.
Brielle met his gaze with an air of practiced indifference a trace of mockery coloring her tone. “Do you believe me now, Daniel?”
The admission was implicit, yet undeniable.
Consumed by fury, Daniel snatched a blade from the scabbard of a nearby guard and pressed the cold steel against Brielle’s throat. “I will kill you,” he snarled, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
Brielle lifted her chin, her posture radiating a cold, haughty pride. “Go ahead. Strike me down. But know this: if I die, the lightning array ensnaring Clarke Estate remains active. The storm is far from over. By the time it passes, this manor will be nothing but rubble, and not a soul here will survive.”
“You-” Daniel gripped the hilt until his knuckles turned white, the sudden surge of rage causing him to cough violently, droplets of blood staining his lips.
Reid lunged forward to steady him, his face etched with anxiety. “Lord Daniel!”
Summoning his strength, Reid called out hoarsely, “Where is Dr. Gordon? Fetch him!”
“He collapsed the moment he escaped the flames,” one of the guards reported grimly. “The court physician is unconscious.”
Seeing the dire situation, Brielle stepped forward before anyone could stop her. She firmly seized Daniel’s wrist, her fingers seeking his pulse.
Daniel’s eyes turned glacial. He attempted to shake her off, but her grip was surprisingly iron-clad.
“Do you still wish to live, Daniel?” she asked, her tone sharp and lacking any polite deference.
Forced to swallow his indignation, Daniel remained motionless, allowing her to assess his condition.
With Bruce incapacitated, she was the sole soul capable of saving him. A bitter sneer tugged at the corners of Brielle’s mind; despite all his proclamations of hatred he trusted in her abilities implicitly now. He at least believed her warnings regarding the curse parasite and the lightning array.
But what did that matter? He would still move heaven and earth to protect his precious Donna.
A familiar, hollow ache settled in Brielle’s chest-the lingering resentment of the girl whose body she now occupied, a woman who had died unloved and discarde. But what could be done? This man would never love her.
“Daniel is coughing blood because his fury has gotten the better of him,” Brielle stated clinically after a moment. “He will recover if he calms himself. However, his wound has been soaked. It must be redressed, or the injury will fester. In that state, he will die.”
Her emphasis on the word “die” was a blatant threat.
Daniel knew he was being backed into a corner, but he had no choice. He was well aware of the gravity of his injury.
“If I am to treat this wound, then we must speak terms. In private.”
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Daniel’s expression hardened, though his rage settled into an unnerving calm. His face was a mask of stoicism, making his thoughts impossible to read. His eyes remained deep and dark, holding a chill that sliced through the air.
“Very well,” he murmured. “The study.”
Brielle did not rush to administer aid. First, she went to her chambers to bathe, scrubbing the soot and rain from her skin, and changed into fresh, dry linens. Only then did she make her way to the study.
Reid was standing sentinel outside the heavy oak door. He pulled it open for her without a word as she approached.
The interior of the study smelled faintly of sandalwood incense, a fragrance designed to instill a sense of calm and clarity.
Brielle instinctively scanned the room, her eyes scrutinizing the furnishings. She was checking for any cursed objects or anomalies that might disrupt the flow of energy. The study, it seemed, was heavily guarded at all times; no one was permitted entry without strict oversight. Therefore, it was unlikely that anyone harboring ill intent toward Daniel could have tampered with the room.
“What are you looking at? Or perhaps, looking for?” Damel’s voice cut through the silence. He lay half- reclined in a high-backed leather chair, his tone laced with suspicion and caution.
“I am ensuring there is no lightning conduit hidden within these walls,” Brielle replied coolly. “I would prefer not to be struck down next. I have little care if you perish, Daniel, but I am not quite ready to die myself.”
She crouched down beside him and began to unfasten his doublet. He had already changed into dry clothes, and although the storm outside battered the shutters with gusts of chill wind, the study was warm from the hearth. Yet, as Brielle undid the fastenings and peeled back the fabric, Daniel’s skin pricked with gooseflesh. The hand resting idly on the armrest gripped the wood until it creaked.
Brielle unwrapped the blood-soaked bandages with focused efficiency. “I have conditions for treating you,” she stated. “I require unrestricted access to the apothecary. I need herbs.”
Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to ignore the sensation of her fingers against his skin, but her cool fingertips brushed against him like feathers, sending involuntary shivers down his spine. He scowled. his voice dropping another degree. “What do you need erbs for?”
“To treat myself, naturally. Do you honestly think I feigned that head injury?” She paused. “If I wait any longer to address it, the damage will become permanen
Daniel opened his eyes slightly, studying her. His dark, tense gaze bored into her as she worked, taking in her serious expression and the clean, precise movements of her hands. His frown deepened. This woman was a stranger; she was not the Brielle he knew.
“Fine. But you must answer my questions first.”
Brielle nodded as she threaded the needle to stitch his wound.
“Is the lightning array truly real?” Daniel asked coldly.
“I hardly need to lie. You witnessed its power with your own eyes tonight.”
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“Then your skill in the healing arts… is that real as well?”
“If it were not, would you dare let me hold a blade to your skin?”
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Daniel’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper And Brielle… is she real?”
Brielle paused for a heartbeat, then met his gaze squarely, refusing to flinch. “Who else would I be?”
Daniel narrowed his eyes, his gaze searching, probing. “Wet, when you look at me, there is no love in your eyes.”
It was a stark contrast to the way she had looked at him before she had tried to end her own life. The difference was so profound it felt as though he were looking at two entirely different souls.
A flash of coldness flickered through Brielle’s eyes. She let out a soft, derisive laugh. “After the way you have treated me, did you expect me to remain loving? Who said that affection must endure forever, regardless of the abuse suffered?”
Daniel’s frown lingered, but logic dictated that her response was sound, so he released his suspicion.
“I will grant you the herbs,” he said after a moment, “but unrestricted access to the apothecary is out of the question.”
He still did not trust her. In his eyes, she was a spy for Elijah. If he gave her free rein to roam the apothecary, she could easily tamper with the supplies.
“Very well. Then simply provide me with the specific herbs I require.” Brielle heard the finality in his tone and chose not to push the issue.
She finished bandaging his wound and moved to step back.
Daniel added, “And there is one more condition. You are no longer to target Donna.”
Brielle paused, looking at him in genuine surprise. Annoyance flared within her as she straightened up. “What goes on between the two of you is none of my concern. If she does not meddle in my affairs, I shall stay out of her way. But if she continues to attempt to harm me, do not expect me to simply endure it. That will not happen.”
She expected this outburst to ignite his temper once more. But this time, for the first time, he did not lash out. His gaze remained deep, unsettlingly calm, and entirely devoid of emotion.
His voice was steady, resolute. “I am not asking, Brielle.”
He looked up at her, his tone dropping to a dangerous register.
“It is an order.”
Brielle met his look evenly. “Then keep your people on tighter leash, Lord Daniel.” With that, she turned on her heel to leave.
Just as she reached the door, she remembered something else. She stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. “The maid in the rear courtyard, Violet. I want her.”
Daniel lounged back lazily in his chair, his expression unreadable. “Disarm the lightning array,” he drawled.
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That was his price.
Brielle agreed without a moment’s hesitation. “Deal.”
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Fate Binds Me to Lord Clarke
