Free Everlasting by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss Page A

birth of her bastard son and had then managed to shame the befuddled man into marriage by claiming that he had raped her during his delirium. She had even been inclined to brag on her accomplishments to her son. She had unleashed the last of her secrets as she lay dying of a vile, torturous disease.
     
      Using the knowledge his mother had spilled that night, Desmond had learned much in the way of changing one’s destiny by the use of strange, ofttimes hallucinogenic and poisonous concoctions. Thereafter, he had used the secret potions on those who had possessed what he had coveted or had unwittingly stood in his way as he strove for greater riches and gain. He could not now name how many he had poisoned throughout his lifetime. They had slipped from his memory as easily as dark shadows moving past him through the night.
     
      And in all of this he was assisted by his half sister, Mordea, who’d been raised among the witches who had been his mother’s friends. Noone knew of his relationship to Mordea, and he’d been able to hire her as the castle’s cook, keeping her close enough to take advantage of her knowledge—and close enough to make sure she didn’t reveal any of his own secrets. She kept promising to expand her knowledge of cooking, but he had to tread lightly where she was concerned.
     
      After being saddled with his first wife, he had been greatly relieved when he had found the right occasion to dispense a potion to relieve himself of her during childbirth and, later, after marrying his second wife, disposing of her in much the same manner, in each case making certain that he alone could claim their possessions.
     
      He was proud of the fact that no one had yet discovered how he had been able to dispense with his half brother. A few droplets of a particular potion in Weldon’s wine had allowed him to push the much taller, stronger man down the stone stairs beyond his chambers. It had amused him to watch the imposing figure tumbling down the steps, knowing if the fall didn’t kill him, other measures certainly would. To ensure that he had an alternative plan in case his first attempt failed, he had carried a heavy cudgel tucked within his robe. As it turned out, it hadn’t proven necessary once Weldon’s head struck the stone barrier buttressing the stairs. Even now, he was wont to chuckle over how smoothly everything had gone that singular evening. It had certainly meant a new, more profitable beginning for him, and further confirmed in him the steadfast belief that he was in full control of his own destiny and would now have whatever he desired.
     
    CHAPTER 4
     
      Shall we join Cordelia?” Abrielle asked Desmond as she swept a slender hand about to indicate her friend, surprised and relieved that the trepidation, nay the revulsion, she felt to her very core did not cause her to tremble. She was more than willing to allow her friend to serve as a human bulwark between them. She could only wonder who would function in that capacity after they were wed, and to hope against hope that she could continue to conceal the feelings of dread and impending doom that never ceased threatening to rise up and consume her.
     
      Upon reaching the far side of the drawbridge, she stared down into the moat as she struggled to create an impression of serene pleasure. Tolerating a kiss on her cheek proved another test of forbearance that made her wonder what could be found to treat his horrible breath. Although she knew she had no choice but to face the fact that she was now destined to become Desmond’s wife, she began to fear that her badly flawed pretense would soon be dashed asunder and she’d run sobbing in remorse to the spacious chambers that she and her parents had been given. Regrettably, the commitment she had made wasdragging her down into a pit of despair whence she feared there would be no escape.
     
      When Desmond begged a moment to go speak with a nearby servant, she gladly granted him her