My fists were raw from pounding against the unmoving door, my voice hoarse from screaming. I spun around, pressing my back against the wood, scanning the chamber for any escape.
"The windows," I gasped, spotting the tall glass panes across the room.
Lucian's laughter followed me as I darted toward them, my wedding gown tangling around my legs. I yanked at the heavy velvet curtains, revealing windows sealed with wooden planks nailed firmly in place.
"Did you think I wouldn't anticipate that?" Lucian's voice was amused, casual, as if we were discussing the weather rather than my imprisonment. "I've prepared this room quite thoroughly, Clara. There's no way out."
I turned slowly to face him, the magnitude of my situation crashing over me. The man I'd married—the handsome, charming Marquess I'd schemed so cleverly to catch—sat comfortably on the edge of our marriage bed, watching me with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing an insect.
