One Sinful Night
Page 27
“I found them this morning!” she blurted out, instantly wishing she could withdraw her words. Her hand covered her mouth a moment too late.
“Excellent news, my darling!” he exclaimed in excitement. “I knew you had to have them somewhere. You wouldn’t happen to have them in your possession now by any chance, would you?”
She shook her head.
“No? I didn’t think so. But it’s no matter. We’ll just have to stop back in London and retrieve them at some point. The money from those little deeds of paper will come in quite handy to finance our future.”
She slowly removed her hand from her mouth. “Our future?” she murmured while alarm bells clanged furiously in her head. But she remained very still, not moving a muscle, her expression one of calm neutrality.
“Of course, Vivienne. I’m still going to marry you. Everything is all arranged. By this time tomorrow you will be my wife.”
Pure, unadulterated panic rushed through her as she sensed the danger she was in. Her head spun with wild possibilities, none of them pleasant, as her heart thudded loudly against the wall of her chest. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. She was trapped. Trapped in a moving carriage with a man who had some nefarious purpose in mind for her. Her first impulses were to scream, cry, rant and rave, or, quite possibly, vomit all over him. She glanced at the window of the carriage and then back at Jackson, who still eyed her intently. She was no match for him physically. He could easily subdue her if it came to that, and she shuddered to think just how he would subdue her.
Then she heard Aggie’s voice telling her, Keep your wits about you now, miss. Just thinking of Aggie helped. Her grandmother’s spirit was with her. She could not overcome Jackson physically, but she certainly could outwit him. A cold calm took over her. Believing he would remain calm as long as she did, she forced herself to breathe and reminded herself not to say anything that might anger him.
“If you take me home, I’ll gladly give the deeds to you,” she suggested.
“No. You’re staying with me. I thought I made that abundantly clear. Once I marry you the deeds legally belong to me.”
Unconsciously Vivienne glanced out the window again, seeing dilapidated buildings pass by. It was beginning to rain. Her eyes lingered on the door handle. They were moving at a good pace. What would happen if she jumped from the carriage now? Would she be able to summon help? Or should she bide her time and wait for a better opportunity to escape?
His long black walking stick smacked down on the empty space on the seat beside her, cracking the leather like a whip. Vivienne jumped, gasping in startled surprise, her heart thudding wildly.
“Don’t even think about it.”
His threatening voice sent chills down her spine. She glanced back at him, and found his feral eyes gleaming at her. He sat like a tiger ready to pounce, watching, waiting, for his moment to strike. “At the moment, we’re in a section of London where you would be raped the instant you hit the ground, then sold to the highest bidder. You would more than likely go for a high price.” He grinned at her wickedly, enjoying the fear he instilled when she shuddered helplessly.
“You’re better off taking your chances with me. I don’t want to hurt you at all. I can make things very nice for you, Vivienne, if you will let me. For I have come to care for you a great deal. Be sweet. Be accommodating. Be willing. And we shall get along quite well together.”
He lifted the walking stick and pressed it menacingly against her chest bone. As she gasped in shock, he uttered in an ominous tone, “But cross me once, just once, and you shall not live long enough to regret it. Are we agreed?”
No, you demented, repulsive, pathetic excuse for a man! You’ll rot in hell for this! Stifling the words she longed to scream at him, she managed to murmur aloud a faint, “Yes.”
“Smart girl.” He removed the stick and placed it on the seat beside him once more. “Whitlock doesn’t want to marry you anyway. His mother told me.”
She glanced sharply at him, unconsciously rubbing the sore spot on her chest where he had poked her with his cane.
“Ah, that got your attention. You see, Vivienne, I’m really rescuing you from a terrible fate. Lady Whitlock despises you. She’s the one who sent me that note, signed with your name, asking me to come to your room that night at Bingham Hall. She wanted to ruin you by having me caught in your bedroom and forcing you to marry me. That whole night was a set up for the two of us. And, quite frankly, I wouldn’t have minded that at all. But apparently I showed up a little too late.” He gave her a knowing look. “I’m doing you a favor by taking you from Whitlock. His mother would torment you relentlessly. I, on the other hand, offer you a mother-in-law-free marriage.” He grinned happily at her, his golden gaze intense.
Vivienne’s head spun as she thought of that night. Jackson’s words explained so many things. Especially Lady Whitlock’s being outside her door at the crucial moment. She did not doubt for an instant that Aidan’s mother was capable of such behavior. How infuriated Lady Whitlock must have been when her plan went awry and Aidan was obligated to marry her after all! No wonder she fainted.
It also explained her sudden friendly overture to make peace.
“Then she orchestrated this with you, didn’t she? That’s how you knew I would be going to her house this afternoon. Lady Whitlock told you.”
“But of course,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Now just relax, as we have a long journey ahead of us. I’ve a basket packed with some food just for you. Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you.” Did he really believe that she would enjoy this as a merry, little jaunt to the country? That she would picnic with him gladly and thank him for rescuing her? The mere thought of food nauseated her. “Where are we going?” she dared to ask.
“Now if I told you that, it would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” He gave her a gleefully intimidating look. “And don’t worry. No one is coming after you. I sent a note telling your aunt and uncle that we were in love and eloping together.”
She had no acceptable words she could say to him in response so she kept quiet, her eyes lingering helplessly on the window and the rain falling outside. They were passing into open countryside. The sky hung low with gray and ominous clouds. Thunder rumbled overhead. It would be dark before long. She tried not to dwell on what might happen once they reached wherever it was he was taking her…
Instead she hoped her family would be worried enough to look for her by now. Surely they would not believe that she had gone out for tea with Lady Whitlock and ran off with Jackson Harlow. She counted on Gregory creating an uproar over her disappearance. He knew she would not leave willingly, especially after everything she told him about Aidan and Jackson Harlow yesterday. Gregory would be able to deduce that Harlow had abducted her and make Aunt Gwen and Uncle Gilbert believe she had not run away. But how would they know where to begin looking for her?
She wondered if Aidan knew she was missing yet. And, more importantly, would he even care that she was gone?
A powerful, dreadful thought occurred to her.
Aidan would automatically assume the worst of her now. He would think she ran off with Jackson rather than face marrying him, of course. She was certain of it. Last night he had warned her to stay away from Jackson Harlow and she had obstinately ignored him, knowing it infuriated him to think of her with Jackson. And he had been so high and mighty with her that she had wanted to infuriate him. But now he would believe she left with Jackson willingly. He would never think anything else. Why would he? With the words she had flung at him last night? She had deliberately taunted him. But we’re not married yet, are we, Aidan? She cringed at the memory. How could she have acted so foolishly and recklessly? Who knew her words would come back to haunt her so soon and so irrevocably?
When she managed to escape this maniacal idiot, which she was certain she would, for she had no intention of sitting back meekly and becoming Jackson’s wife, Aidan would never forgive her this transgression. Once again, it
seemed she was doing something to deceive Aidan or to hurt him. Once again, she looked the faithless harlot in Aidan’s eyes. Once again…How could it be that fate conspired to ruin her twice? For she would surely be ruined now.
Her heart sank. She had lost Aidan forever. Again.
As the carriage continued on the bumpy, puddle-lined road moving farther away from London and all the people she loved, Vivienne could not help the tears that spilled from her eyes. The edgy silence within the dim interior lengthened. She reached for a handkerchief from her reticule to wipe her eyes.
“Don’t cry, Vivienne.”
His soft voice startled her. She continued wiping her tears, ignoring him.
She wondered if he had been insane all along or if he had suddenly lost his mind this very day. For he was surely stark, raving mad. Maybe it was when he injured his head in the boat accident. In either case there was no doubt that she was in the captivity of a mentally unbalanced person. That gave her pause. She could outsmart an insane man, couldn’t she? She couldn’t simply sit there and cry. As Aggie always told her, she needed to keep her wits about her. Now more than ever. She needed to be alert and ready at a moment’s notice to take an opportunity to flee him the second one presented itself. Perhaps if she played along, she might lull him into a false sense of security, and he might let down his guard.
“I’m crying because I had no idea you cared so much for me, Jackson.”
In the growing dimness, she felt rather than saw his gaze on her, assessing her.
“I do care for you, Vivienne. I’m sorry things turned out this way. I know this is not how you imagined your wedding to be. I wish it could be different for us.”
“I do, too,” she whispered. She positively wished things were different.
They continued on for a long time in silence after that. It was now fully dark out and the rain continued to pour. The carriage rumbled to a halt. Jackson suddenly sat up straight, donned his gloves and hat, and threatened, “We’re here. If you say one word to anyone you will regret it.”
He removed his black cape and flung the door open. Leaping from the carriage, he turned to help her down. Vivienne tried not to flinch when he touched her, placing his cape around her shoulders. Raindrops pelted her face.
They were at the entrance of The Pig and Whistle, a typical country inn. A tall gentleman rushed out to greet them with a large umbrella. “Good evening, my lord. We have your room ready for you, just as you requested. Follow me through the back entrance.”
Before Vivienne had a chance to catch the man’s eyes, Jackson quickly ushered her into the inn, gripping her arm rather tightly, up the small wooden staircase, down a dim corridor, and into the end room before she could make eye contact with a single person. Obviously he did not intend for her to speak to anyone. Her spirits sank. She stood nervously, waiting to see what Jackson expected of her.
“I’ll bring your supper shortly. In the meantime, make yourself at home.” He flashed that chilling golden grin at her, and held up a long key. “There’s no way out, so don’t even attempt it, Vivienne.” He closed the door behind him and she heard the key turn in the lock.
Trapped inside a strange building with a demented man who terrified her, Vivienne looked around nervously. Apparently, the plain room had been prepared for her. The lamps had been lit and a fire burned on the hearth. It was acceptable enough, and at least it was clean. The large canopied bed in the center of the room gave her chills. Yet, relief flooded her at simply being removed from Jackson’s presence and her knees almost buckled now from the strain she had been under. Flinging off Jackson’s offensive black cape, she sank onto a small divan, trembling.
Vivienne took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry and fall apart now. Think. There must be some way out of this room. She went to the door and quietly tried the handle anyway, knowing it to be a futile gesture. It was most definitely locked. She walked to the small rain-streaked window that faced out toward the back of the inn and peered into the darkness. A brief flash of lightning allowed her to see nothing more than woods surrounding the inn. Attempting to open the window, she discovered that it had been bolted firmly shut.
She sighed in resignation, leaning her head against the cool pane of glass. She was agile but she didn’t know if she could survive a two-story drop without injuring herself, even if she could squeeze her petite frame through the small opening. And where would she go in the middle of the night, without a farthing to her name and no idea where she was? In the pouring rain? Wearing nothing but a thin tea gown and dainty slippers? That was providing that Jackson didn’t catch her. The thought of him extracting his wrath upon her, stopped her from imagining she could flee from this room. There was no telling what he was capable of. She knew when she made her move to escape it would be when he had no chance to reclaim her. But she’d be damned if she would marry him tomorrow.
Think, Vivienne, think!
He said that he would be marrying her tomorrow. That would also mean that there would have to be a chaplain and witnesses. Vivienne would just have to say something to make them help her.
In the meantime she had the night to survive. Glancing around the room for some sort of weapon, she noted a heavy china pitcher and a bowl resting on the small dresser. She could hardly surprise him with that. Oh, what wouldn’t she give for a sharp pair of scissors or a butcher knife. Or a pistol. Her father had taught her to shoot one summer. She had fired many a shot into Galway Bay when she was fifteen.
The key turned in the lock and Vivienne almost jumped out of her skin. She faced the door as Jackson entered the room carrying a tray filled with food for her. He closed the door behind him. The tray was adorned with a single red rose in a small bud vase. Glancing furtively, she noted there was a fork on the tray. And a sharp knife.
He placed the tray on the side table. “I’ve brought your supper.”
She merely nodded at him, attempting a faint smile.
He advanced on her, crossing the room in long strides. She would have backed away, but she was already pressed against the wall. He placed a hand on either side of her, bracing himself against the wall behind her, and she froze in place.
“You’re so beautiful, Vivienne.”
His frighteningly handsome face inched closer to hers, and she could smell the heavy cologne he wore. He breathed hotly next to her cheek and a wave of revulsion swept through her. His lips brushed along the line of her jaw, up to her ear, and he whispered, “You are awfully quiet, Vivienne. That’s not like you.”
Spurred by disgust and revulsion, she suddenly pushed away from him. “Honestly, Jackson, are you daft? Would you expect me to be anything else but quiet?”
Startled by her sudden move, he glared at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
Vivienne’s anger and fear had gotten the best of her and she had lashed out, her Irish brogue in full force, as tended to happen when she was irate. “You misled me into coming with you! You’re holding me against my will, taking me from my family and the man I love, and expecting me to marry you. I’d hardly call that cause for my rejoicing!” She had meant to lull him into a false sense of security. To lead him to believe she wanted to be with him. Too late now. Fear of his retribution settled over her, but she did not regret a single word she’d said.
Jackson regarded her appreciatively and chuckled low in his throat. “There’s my spirited Irish beauty. The one who dared to visit me in my office unchaperoned.” He stepped toward her.
There was no way to back up unless she went toward the bed and she was definitely not heading in that direction willingly, so Vivienne did not move a muscle. Jackson moved closer to her, bringing his hands behind her head, threading his fingers through her hair, slowly loosening it from its upswept style, sending chills down her spine. With a cold sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, she flinched as he pulled her head towards his. In an instant Jackson placed his mouth roughly over hers.
Chapter 22
The Capture
Vivienne.
Aidan could think of nothing but Vivienne and how he regretted blaming her and treating her so terribly. Especially when none of it had been her fault. He had been a fool, and she had been manipulated and devastated. Vivienne, who had always been a friend to him. His smart, brave, beautiful girl. All the lost time, all the wasted years, that they could have spent together. Now he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms again and tell her how sorry he was. And that he loved her. He always had and he always would.
He was damned if he would lose her a second time to the likes of Jackson Harlow. He could not lose her now. If only he wasn’t too late…
They rode through the darkness, taking the mud-covered road toward the little village of Fair Haven. The three of them did not speak, they just kept moving through the rainy darkness. The journey was slow and the puddles deep. The rain was finally lessening to a drizzle, and Aidan urged his horse to go faster.
The dim lanterns in front of an inn flickered in the distance. He prayed he was following the right path. The wooden sign that blew in the wind declared the inauspicious place as The Pig and Whistle. He wiped the rain from his face and reigned in his horse. If Harlow had Vivienne captive inside that inn, Aidan wanted to catch him unaware, to prevent him from harming her. Gregory and George quickly caught up to him.
“You think he’s here?” Gregory called.
“It’s the only place to stop that we’ve come across. He’s either here, or he pressed on ahead. But with the way the rain was coming down, I doubt he could have continued on this road in a carriage. I’d lay odds that he’s inside. With Vivienne.”
George said, “Let me check to see if his carriage is here first. We don’t want to tip him off.” He rode down the lane around and disappeared behind the inn to the stables.