“Marcus, there was never any other man, only you.”
“I’m sorry I treated you so badly. I behaved like an absolute cad.”
“Hold me tight, I’m frightened.”
“I know.” Any wonder, he thought savagely, ignoring the lurid comments from one of the men. Fortunately, Georgina gave no sign of having heard his offensive remarks.
“Can’t you shut up? Some of us want to sleep,” someone complained in a rough, guttural voice.
“Did they touch you, Georgina?” He held her close against the length of his body.
“The men in here didn’t do anything because a couple of them know Johnny.” She shuddered. “Those hired guns wanted to...”
“I can guess what they wanted. Did anyone actually touch you?” he asked frantically, feeling sick to his stomach at what might have befallen her.
“No, but they were going to, only the big man in the corner said if Johnny found out he would kill anyone who hurt me.”
Not only Johnny Valentine. I’d have ripped them apart with my bare hands.
He held her close, feeling relief as she started to calm down. Suddenly he noticed several pairs of beady eyes staring at them. Dear God, there were rats in here. Thankfully, she could not see them as her face was still buried in the hollow of his throat.
“Thank you for coming here, Marcus.” Her voice sounded muffled and he could feel her breath on his bare skin. “I thought you hated me.”
“Why?”
“Because of what happened by the creek. I saw you with the pretty lady at the race meeting, too.”
“Were you jealous, Georgina?”
“Yes, I hated it because you were laughing and being nice to her.”
“I was coming over to see you, but you snubbed me. When Valentine turned up I nearly went mad with jealousy.”
She cuddled closer to him, her firm young breasts thrusting against his chest. She wore no undergarments, just a thin cotton shirt, and against his silk one they might both have been naked.
“Oh, Georgina.” He groaned the words against her throat, using his hands to keep her body pressed up hard against him.
“You’re so warm, I’m not frightened anymore.” She wriggled herself into a more comfortable position until her body fitted snugly into the contours of his, and Marcus loathed himself for the sudden urgent rush of desire this movement aroused.
“Go to sleep, my love.”
“What’s that noise?”
“I don’t know,” he lied, glaring at the three sets of beady eyes surveying them. “Just a mouse, it’s nothing to worry about.”
“Is it rats?”
He sensed her rising panic. “No, it’s a couple of mice.” He kept her face buried in his chest. She had been through so much the sight of those rats might push her to the brink of sanity.
“There’s nothing there, my darling.” He rocked her gently. “Go to sleep, I won’t let anything hurt you. Did I ever tell you about England? You would like it; the countryside is very pretty.” He spoke softly so their fellow cells mates would not overhear.
“I’ve been to the Court of St. James, that’s where certain specially selected people get presented to Royalty. You should see the ladies in their court dresses, all made of silk, such vibrant colors. The train is the most impressive part of their whole outfit. It might be made of satin and would be fastened around the waist. They’re several yards long sometimes, trimmed with lace and lined with silk. Some trains are worked in pure gold. In their hair, the ladies wear feathers, diamonds or even pearls.”
“What do the men wear?”
“Well, let me think. They might wear, say a claret colored court coat, knee breeches, long white silk stockings and shoes with gilt buckles.”
She giggled slightly. “Did you dress up like that?”
“Yes, I was presented at St. James Court on a couple of occasions, a few years back.” He felt the tension leaving her body so he kept on talking. Telling her about his boyhood, his school days at Eton, holidays he had taken to Paris and Rome, and his time as an officer in the Cavalry. Anything to blot out the horrible scratching noise.
The floor felt hard, deathly cold. He reached out a hand and found the walls damp and slimy to his touch. What a revolting place. If only his officer friends could see him now. It seemed a lifetime since he was in England among his own fashionable set.
Strangely, even the thought of Sylvia caused him no pain now. In fact, he had trouble bringing her features to mind. As for that episode which had brought him such disgrace, he wondered how he could have been so stupid as to allow himself to be caught in such a compromising position.
It would be a long night. The other prisoners were snoring and snorting away in the corner. One man with a shocking cough, sounded as if he was full of consumption. It was a good thing he was here to protect Georgina. Judging by what these men had said, they would not have molested her themselves, but those hired guns were capable of anything
They wouldn’t dare harm her now he was here. In the morning, the Colonel would ensure their release. His uncle didn’t feel kindly disposed toward him now, because he hadn’t offered to wed Kathryn. It was the stigma on the family name he would be worrying about. I won’t be leaving without Georgina. They could not charge her as she had committed no crime, or none he knew of, anyway.
It was a harsh life out here, yet strangely fascinating, he reflected, resting his chin on Georgina’s hair. He had never seen such a beautiful color before. It was as if the rays of the sun had somehow been trapped amongst the tangled curls. She stirred restlessly and he hugged her closer. She looked so fragile, almost wraithlike yet she had inner strength and a ton of courage.
In the dark filth of the cell, for the first time in his life he took a good look at himself, and the picture proved anything but impressive. On reflection, he realized he had spent his life surrounded by spoilt pampered people, who over-indulged themselves at every opportunity without so much as a thought for the less fortunate.
His life was a farce. This revelation was disquieting. He had blamed Sylvia for his demise. She had, of course, been a contributing factor although the real blame lay at his own feet. One woman scorned him so he set out to prove to everyone how much in demand he was, even if it meant cuckolding a fellow officer.
Strange, how one could put things into their right perspective in this hideous place. His career in the Calvary had been unspectacular. If there had been a war on somewhere, it might have made a difference. He had always been satisfied with his lifestyle before. It took someone like Georgina to show him what an aimless empty shell of an existence he had always led.
He loved Georgina. She would be his wife and to hell with what anyone else thought. It was doubtful whether she would wish to live in England, and he was in no position to return there until the scandal died down, if it ever did.
He eased himself slightly because his hip ached from where it was pressed against the hard floor. A week or more of this and he would be crippled with rheumatics.
“Marcus.”
“Go back to sleep. I was just shifting my position a little. I’m aching from lying in the one spot for too long. Sorry if I disturbed you.”
“Will it be long until morning?”
“I don’t know, probably not. I left Stanton’s after midnight and we must have been here three hours at least.”
“Listen to those men snoring,” she said.
“I have, one of them has a frightful cough, too.”
“Yes, he spat up stuff before.”
“Georgina, please spare me the details.” He shuddered.
“I’m glad you came.” She trailed her hand across his cheek. “You need a shave.”
“Yes, a bath, too. It will take weeks to wash the stench of this place away. Damn you, get out.” He lashed out at a rat chewing on his boot.
“What was that, Marcus?”
“A mouse ran across my leg.”
“Tarnation, can’t you shut up,” a
n irate voice growled from the other end of the cell.
A bout of coughing, a couple of snorts, several succulent obscenities was followed by silence.
“Georgina, this is not really the time or the place, but will you marry me?”
“Marry? You want to marry me? I thought I wasn’t good enough?”
“Please, forget those foul things I said. I’ve had plenty of time to think over these last few hours, and there are things in my past that aren’t particularly pleasant.”
“I don’t want to hear about them; the past is finished and should be forgotten.”
“I want to tell you, in case you should hear it later from someone else. I can’t go back to England, not for a time anyway.”
“I don’t want to know.” She pressed her face against his bristly cheek.
“Hear me out before giving me your answer.”
“I do want to marry you. I love you so much nothing else matters, unless…” she trailed off. “You, you aren’t already married?”
He picked up the tremor in her voice.
“No, I don’t have a wife.” Hugging her close, he briefly explained the circumstances necessitating his hasty departure from England, and his behavior sounded even more sordid when spoken out aloud.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me about Johnny Valentine and what he means to you.”
“I don’t love Johnny the way I love you, Marcus. I never wanted to marry him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s…”
“Because?” he persisted.
“Please,” she said in a wavering voice. “I can’t tell you about Johnny, I promised McGuire. He made me swear not to tell a living soul about, well it’s a secret.” She trembled so badly he let the matter drop—for now. What secret? Probably something to do with her lowly background, but where did Valentine fit into the picture?
“Maybe you could ask McGuire.”
“Don’t worry, Georgina, I will.” I’ll shake the truth out of him if need be. If this marriage between them was to work, there could be no secrets.
“You don’t want to marry me anymore?” she asked sadly.
“Yes, of course, I do.” He hugged her close. “We can be married as soon as I make the arrangements, would you like that?”
“Yes.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “I wonder how many men have proposed to their future wives in prison?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not too many I should think. I’ll have to stand up for a minute my legs are getting stiff.” When he stood up she did also.
I’ll always remember this place, she thought. Now she understood what Johnny meant. No wonder he preferred to die than be imprisoned. Marcus stamped his feet; she did likewise. Without his warmth, the cold dampness seeped so deeply into her bones they ached.
What they could see of the sky through the little barred window above their heads, showed it to be streaked with pink and grey. Their fellow inmates started stirring also, poor things. Criminals they might be, but the vilest person in the world did not deserve this kind of treatment.
The sun had risen fully by the time Georgina heard the key being turned in the lock. Breakfast time. The congealed mess on the plates was supposed to be stew. It wasn’t even handed to them, just dumped on the floor.
There were four others in the cell with them, dirty, uncouth looking fellows, but Marcus decided they must have some code of decency. Honor among thieves, type of thing, as they were quite discreet in answering the calls of nature.
He would die before using the primitive facilities himself. Georgina became upset when he asked as delicately as he could, whether she needed to use them. It was a disgrace, he thought savagely, that she should be subjected to such degradation.
They both refused the food; starving to death, he felt sure, would be preferable, although the others had no hesitation in disposing of their portions.
“When will they let us out, Marcus?”
“Soon, Georgina, soon.”
“Make them let us out now.”
She verged on hysteria once more. How much longer before she completely broke down. What kind of people ran this place?
“Stay here, I’ll see if I can make someone come.”
“No, don’t leave me.” She clutched frantically at his arm, her fingers biting into the flesh above his elbow.
The other men stopped eating to look at them. “At the end of her tether, is she?” the big man asked.
“Yes, how can I get their attention?”
With Georgina clinging to his arm Marcus went to the door and yelled through the grate. Suddenly, the other men started shouting and banging their tin plates together. The din brought results. “Shut up,” a man snarled at them through the door.
“Get us out of here,” Marcus ordered. “My uncle happens to be Colonel Stanton. You’ll hear more of this, I promise.”
Another few minutes elapsed before the door creaked open, and he and Georgina were released. Back in the office, Marcus gave vent to his fury. “How dare you treat us in such a degrading manner? I’ll make sure every single one of you is dismissed over this outrage.”
George stood, too weary to say or do anything. All she wanted was to go home and never return to this evil place again. Marcus had proposed marriage, but did he really mean it? Could they really overcome all the obstacles society would put in their path?
Chapter Ten
They were released, finally. A horse was provided for George, and as they rode away she took deep breaths of fresh, pure air. The smell of this awful place would linger in her memory, a combination of unwashed bodies, dampness and decay.
The sun shone brightly from a cloudless blue sky, birds soared about them, while the air hung heavy with the perfume of trees and wildflowers growing along either side of the road. She felt dirty and disheveled, her shirt was ripped along one sleeve and her trousers sported damp patches on the legs.
Marcus, who was usually so immaculate, had dark stubble covering his jaw and chin. His white silk shirt was creased, and clung damply to his back.
“We’re a disreputable looking pair,” he said with a grimace. Both were hatless. His hair fell into loose waves, while hers was a mass of tangled curls.
“Georgina, you did agree to marry me in that vile place, didn’t you?”
“Yes, if you want me to.”
“I want you to, more than anything else I’ve ever wanted in my life before. I’m selfish and possessive. I won’t share you with anyone.”
“I don’t want anyone else, only you.”
They rode along in silence. She reluctantly agreed to accompany him to Stanton’s until McGuire returned, as he did not want her staying in the cabin on her own. She was tempted to argue with him, but it felt nice having a man organizing everything, especially after the trauma of last night.
No sign of life could be seen at the cabin. Billy would not be back for quite some time. He would head for the hills until things quietened down, or hopefully leave the territory and join up with Tom.
They dismounted and Marcus tethered their horses while she waited for him on the porch.
“Have a quick wash. You can have a proper bath at my uncle’s place. Don’t worry about taking many clothes with you. We’ll go into town tomorrow and I’ll buy you new ones.”
Johnny bounded up from a chair as they entered the kitchen. “You all right, George?”
“What are you doing here?” she asked fearfully.
“Waiting for you. Did they hurt you? I’ll kill any sonofabitch who touched you.”
“I’m alright. I was frightened until Marcus came to look after me.”
“We’re in your debt, Englishman. I heard what you did,”
Marcus’ lips thinned. “How did you know about all this?”
“I have my sources.” Johnny grinned. “You look a real mess, George.”
“She’s spent a night in a filthy bloody cell, thanks to you. How would yo
u expect her to look?” Marcus snarled.
“Don’t fight, you two, please.”
“It has to be said, Georgina, he’s causing you nothing but trouble. He’ll hang at the end of a rope or catch a lawman’s bullet before much longer.”
“Don’t say that.” She glanced from one man to the other. “Please, I want you to be friends.”
“Friends!” Johnny sneered. “I don’t want a lily-livered Englishman for a friend.”
“And I don’t associate with common criminals.” The air became thick with animosity. “I told you I was possessive, Georgina, and I am. You need to choose, right here and now between the two of us. I will not share my wife with another man.”
“Please, Marcus.”
“Choose, Georgina. It’s between him and me. If you marry me, you will never have contact with him again.”
“You can’t mean that. I have to see Johnny, I just have to,” her voice broke.
Marcus stood with his feet planted slightly apart, his arms folded across his chest.
“Please.”
“It’s your choice, Georgina. I might put up with sharing my mistress, but not my wife.”
“Don’t worry about me, do as you like. A prissy English tenderfoot wouldn’t make you much of a husband. I don’t need anyone.”
She saw beneath Johnny’s air of bravado, and her lips trembled. “Marcus, don’t do this to me, please.”
“If I walk out of this door without you, Georgina, we shall not meet again. It will be the finish.”
“I have to see, Johnny, I just have to. Please, he’s….”
“Is that your final word?” Marcus interrupted harshly, as a white-faced George gazed at him, her eyes begging for understanding.
“She’s all yours, Valentine.” He swung on his heel and strode away.
She started after him, hesitating in the doorway. She loved Marcus, but family ties bound her to Johnny. He was her brother and she couldn’t desert him. She scrubbed the tears away with her fingertips.
“I’m sorry, George, I lost my temper. Go after him and explain about us if you have to.” Pain and regret momentarily darkened his eyes. His face was pale, his jaw rigid. He had never looked so sad and vulnerable.
Gunslinger's Daughter Page 11