Doomed to Torment: Inherited Damnation, #6

By Claire Ashgrove

 Isolde McLaine left Hatherly Hall and its darkly handsome owner Angus Shaw to escape her incubus father's curse. But when word reaches her that Angus is selling the piece of British history, she returns to talk sense into him. Little does she realized that returning to England will throw her into her sire's vile world and leave her fighting not just her heart and the danger of falling in love but battling to save Angus's son's life.

For three and a half months, Angus has done his best to put Isolde and the one unforgettable kiss they shared behind him. Yet when she returns, scolding him for selling his deceased wife's estate, he's sharply reminded of the passion she awakens inside him. Yet as Isolde pushes for him to leave his son's legacy intact, their battle of wills provokes far more than just desire. His son's nightmares have returned. And Isolde triggered the hellish dreams.

Torn between protecting his child and the love he feels for Isolde, Angus must find the strength to trust in Isolde before her demonic sire claims his son.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Claire Ashgrove
• Release date: May 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513099033

Book preview

I have nothing to say about this afternoon, Angus.

Isolde folded her arms across her breasts, all too aware of the way he filled up the small room. At once, she wished she’d grabbed her robe off the post at the end of the bed. Standing before him in her nightgown, no matter how plain and unrevealing it might be, left her feeling naked.

Hear me out, please. Again, his gaze dipped. Isolde glanced down her body and choked back a groan when she realized the way her arms pushed her breasts against the low-scooped neckline. Hastily, she dropped her hands to her sides. I’m listening.

Clearing his voice, Angus lifted dark eyes to hers. What she read there made her breath hitch— appreciation. The same spark of desire that had lit his gaze on the fateful night he broke all their boundaries and kissed her.

By the ancient spirits, she ached to feel his hungry mouth on hers.

I owe you an apology.

Which you already gave me. Hurry up and leave.

Right then. He cleared his throat again and furrowed his brow. About Thomas. While I appreciate your interest in his well-being, I came to establish some boundaries.

Boundaries? This ought to be entertaining. The man didn’t know the definition, and if he thought he could assign her a specific role when she’d long-ago deviated from regular employee, he’d bumped his head somewhere. Is this another lecture where you remind me you’re the boss and I’m merely the employee?

Doomed to Torment

Inherited Damnation, Book VI

by

Claire Ashgrove

Award-Winning Author

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Doomed to Torment – Inherited Damnation, Six

COPYRIGHT Ó 2012 by Valerie M. Hatfield

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Publishing History

First Black Rose Edition, 2011, The Wild Rose Press

Untamed Spirit Publishing Edition, 2015

Cover Design Ó Tenaya Jayne – All Rights Reserved

Published in the United States of America

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

About Claire Ashgrove

Preview Enslaved by Fear

Author's Note

More Books by Claire Ashgrove

Dedication

To Alice, your friendship spans the miles like you’re right next door.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Acknowledgements

Without the support of my family, there would be no books, no novellas, no nothing—thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything. Boys, Mom—I love you!

Thank you to Heartland Romance Authors and Midwest Romance Writers for your continued support and the family you've become.

~1~

Lush green meadows and swaying fields of heather whispered promises of death Isolde McLaine knew she couldn’t escape. She’d abandoned Hatherly Hall and left England for America in a vain attempt to try. Now it loomed around her. Watching. Biding its time. Waiting for her to succumb to the stirrings of love that had forced her away.

She stared out the taxicab’s window at Hatherly’s skyward-reaching walls of stone. Beyond that iron gate, within those chilly halls, lay everything that had ever mattered to her. Everything she couldn’t have, and everything she craved all the same. If Angus Shaw hadn’t decided to sell the gothic monstrosity, she wouldn’t be here now. But she’d returned to the employer who threatened her existence to stop that travesty. To talk sense into Angus before he destroyed his son’s maternal legacy.

Damn him, she muttered as the taxi nosed through the iron gate.

Angry was better—at least if she let that emotion fester she couldn’t get caught up in the far more damning feelings Angus provoked. And if she focused on how achingly blind he was being, she might be able to forget the mesmerizing feel of his soft lips on hers.

Not entirely likely, given that every time she’d been with her family and watched her brothers and sisters embrace their soul mates she thought of Angus. But with Beltane fast approaching, she didn’t dare get caught up in all the emotion that came with Angus and his adorable son Thomas.

We’re here, Miss. Will you be needing a return trip after the two o’clock tour?

For a moment, the cabbie’s question perplexed Isolde. As she opened her mouth to ask his meaning, however, logic clicked. Just because she’d quit her job didn’t mean Angus hadn’t hired another House Manager, or that the afternoon tours would cease. Isolde shook her head. No. I’ll be staying a few days.

Oh, you’re visiting friends then?

You could say so. Something like that. Isolde fished into her small satchel for a handful of bills and passed them over the seats. Thank you for the ride.

My pleasure, Miss.

She grabbed her solitary bag and climbed out of the cab as a shuttle unloaded a dozen passengers. Isolde fell neatly in line behind the crowd. No sense drawing attention to herself first. She needed to see Nadine, the museum curator before she confronted Angus. And with one tour bus unloading, that meant the museum was currently full of visitors who would be departing.

Listening to the awed murmurs of the tourists who surrounded her, Isolde followed the small group inside. While they mingled in the grand hall, admiring centuries-old oil portraits of the Hatherly family, she lingered near the glass doors to the museum, eyeing Nadine as she pretended not to listen for Thomas’s cheery voice.

Even more than she missed Angus, she missed the adorable eight-year-old boy who had weaseled into her heart the day she first met him, four years ago. Right now, though, Thomas was the last person she wanted to encounter. She needed to talk to Angus first. Talk some sense into him when Thomas couldn’t hear what she intended to say.

Thank you! Enjoy your stay in Sheffield! Nadine called brightly as the last visitor filed out the doors.

A spark of excitement lit within Isolde. Unable to help herself, she smiled. Until right now, she hadn’t realized how much she looked forward to seeing Nadine again. Doing her best not to rush through the doors and hug her old friend, Isolde entered with quiet, controlled dignity.

Nadine remained behind the admissions counter, her attention riveted on a ledger that she scribbled in. Isolde used the older woman’s preoccupation to her advantage and approached quietly.

So where is the infinitely stupid master of the house?

With a startled gasp, Nadine jerked her nose out of the ledger and gaped at Isolde. Surprise gave way to recognition, and her chubby face lit with a smile. "Oh my! Isolde! When you said you were coming, I had no idea you meant today."

Isolde gave in to a grin. You should have known better. How long did I fight to turn this place around and pull it out of the red? I’m not giving that man one extra day to destroy all my hard work. Did he convince you into giving the tours?

He guilted me into it. Laughter brimmed in Nadine’s warm brown eyes. She reached across the countertop and patted the back of Isolde’s hand. I think you just couldn’t stand to stay away.

Despite her bravado, Isolde felt heat creep into her cheeks. Nadine knew. For that matter, the entire staff knew about what had happened between Angus and herself the week before she quit her job three and a half months ago. All thanks to one maid who found it necessary to gossip after walking into the library and interrupting the kiss that should have never happened. Thankfully, Angus had fired the young girl moments after the story reached his own ears. Embellished. Tenfold.

Where is he, Nadine? she asked more quietly. I want to have this initial conversation over with before Thomas figures out I’m here. I won’t know what to tell him, until I talk to Angus.

In the cellar. He muttered something about separating the collectables from the personal items.

More things he wants to sell?

Nadine winced, giving Isolde all the answer she needed.

Sighing, Isolde shook her head. Did you inform him he’s behaving like a bloody fool?

No. I phoned you.

Because Isolde was the only person brave enough to stand up to Angus Shaw. She nodded again, understanding what Nadine didn’t say. Wouldn’t say. Well. I suppose I’ll go confront the dragon.

Shall I see that Enid sets a place for you at the dinner table?

A frown pulled at Isolde’s brow as she considered. If Angus listened, if she managed to talk sense into him, she’d enjoy dining with her friends. If he threw her out—which he might well do given how irate he’d been when she quit—she’d be dining alone at an inn in Sheffield.

Save that thought. I’ll get back to you on it. Turning, she cut a path around the Renaissance statues the second Lord of Hatherly had imported from Italy and moved toward the exit.

Good luck, Isolde. His mind is set.

Isolde nodded. Of course it would be. Hatherly Hall represented everything Angus couldn’t stand to look upon. He was gone more than he was in attendance most years. He’d be glad to be free of the responsibility. Free of the memories he refused to confront.

She left her bag in the hall. At the top of the stairs that led into the dark, musty belly of the grand estate, Isolde paused. She’d rather confront her vile sire, rather stand toe-to-toe in combat against her incubus father, than encounter Angus. Her heart tripped unsteadily. Her stomach coiled into a tight ball of barbs. She wanted to see him…too much.

Pulling in a deep breath, she swallowed down the rising tide of awareness and murmured quiet words of magic designed to keep the dark half of her soul under control. It sensed Angus, too. Knew he was her weakness. And it longed to see her falter so it could bathe in blood.

She took the stairs carefully and followed a faint flicker of light at the far end of the underground chambers. It glowed from within a room that had once held prisoners. Now, it held boxes and crates, things the Hatherlys had amassed through the centuries. Heirlooms that signified life gone by. Treasures Angus should cherish, as opposed to his conviction to auction off his deceased wife’s memory.

Isolde stopped short in the doorway, the sight of him temporarily rendering her speechless. Bent over a large crate, he rummaged through the contents. His usual suit coat lay on the stone floor in a forgotten heap, giving her a rare view of fine linen cloth pulled tight across broad