Flame of Fury

by Sharon Green

  And her new husband was the worst of the lot. Rianne knew nothing at all about the brute, but he'd proven himself ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted. His freedom would no doubt be precious to him, much more so than the life of the girl whose fortune he coveted. He now had that fortune, or would have it soon. After that…

  Well, she wasn't about to simply stand there and let him murder her! Rianne sat straighter on the coach seat as she promised herself that, and it was a promise she meant to keep. One way or another she would escape this man, and then she would find the freedom that had been all but snatched out of her hands.

  It would have been nice if the ride took longer, but all too soon they were pulling up in front of the brute's house. It wasn't quite as large as her own, but it was a good distance from being a cheap little cottage. Rianne wondered how Machlin had been able to afford to buy it if he needed money so badly that he had to marry for it, then dismissed the question. He'd probably bought it with the last of the gold stolen from a previously married victim, and now, no longer a widower, was ready to begin to become one again.

  "Welcome home, wife," the brute said as the coach came to a halt. "I think you'll like the house you're now the mistress of."

  Rianne said nothing as he climbed out of the coach, trying instead to decide whether or not to refuse to follow him. Would he embarrass himself by fighting with her there, in front of the staff that had come out of the house to greet them? Maybe if she just sat there, he would get so annoyed he'd turn and walk away.

  By then he stood on the ground with one hand held up to assist her, and a single look at those cold gray eyes told Rianne she would be the one who was embarrassed if she refused to leave the coach. He would sooner drag her out kicking and screaming than let her stay in the coach from where she could escape him, and there was no doubt to the conclusion. He was a big, overgrown brute, and wouldn't hesitate to act like one.

  She put a bored, totally unimpressed took on her face, then began to leave the coach without paying any attention to the hand being held out to her. She had no skirts to trip over, after all, and a glance at the household staff showed they were shocked at the lack. Well, good, she was making a proper first impression, then. A small warning before the real storm struck -

  "Oh!" Rianne cried out, so startled at suddenly being lifted into the brute's arms that she almost forgot to be outraged. He'd taken her off the coach steps without a word, and now stood holding her without the least effort.

  "A bride is supposed to be carried across the threshold of her new home," the brute informed her blandly, a touch of amusement in those gray eyes. "If nothing else has gone right, at least this will. And if you don't stop struggling, I could end up dropping you accidentally."

  Oh, right, accidentally. Like the accident he must already have planned. Rianne might have said something about that, but she felt too confused by her suddenly strange feelings to respond, and in point of fact was most uncomfortable. She'd never before been held by a man in any way, and was upset to find herself reacting physically to his touch. Her right hand rested against the royal-blue damask of his wedding coat, a futile effort to keep herself as far as possible from contact with his broad, hard body.

  Those massive arms of his held her easily but lightly, forcing her to use her left arm to lean on his shoulder. Almost her whole left side was against his chest, and his hands seemed to burn where they touched her back and thigh. This was much worse than simply having his hand wrapped around her arm, and she found it impossible to breathe freely again until he carried her up the steps past his staff and into the house, and had put her down in the hall.

  "Allow me to present my new wife, Mrs. Rianne Lockwood Machlin," the brute announced to the people who had followed them inside. "We were married just a short while ago, and will therefore be celebrating the occasion here until we leave on our wedding trip. Mrs. Raymond, have my wife's rooms been prepared?"

  "They certainly have, sir," a young woman answered with a smile. "And those of her gowns and possessions that were sent over have already been unpacked and put away. We all wish you a great deal of happiness, Mr. Machlin, and Cook is preparing a very special dinner just for the two of you."

  "Thank you, my friends," the brute said with his own smile as the others gathered around him, echoing the congratulations first given by the woman who seemed to be his housekeeper. "Now let's get the new mistress of the house settled in. You'll all be introduced to her individually after she's had time to rest."

  Murmurs of understanding agreement came from the staff, and they began to disperse. One man in livery closed the front door before taking himself off, but by then Rianne was back to having the brute drag her around by one arm, this time toward the stairs. They climbed after the woman, Mrs. Raymond, who led the way holding her dark skirts carefully high, then walked a short distance before turning into a wide corridor. Three quarters of the way down the corridor Mrs. Raymond opened a door, and Rianne's loving husband pulled her inside after the two of them.

  "This is the sitting room, through there is your bed- chamber, Mrs. Machlin, and that door leads to the maid's quarters," Mrs. Raymond told Rianne with a smile, gesturing toward the appropriate doors. "Please look around, then tell me if there's anything you need that isn't already here. I'll be more than glad to have it fetched at once."

  "How about a nice, large rock," Rianne said without looking at the woman or the room. "That's something I would really enjoy having."

  Since the brute had freed her arm again she strode across the sitting room to the door that led to her bedchamber, walked inside, then swung the door closed with more strength than was necessary. She hadn't failed to notice the fact that the sitting room, though lovely, had no windows at all, and the same was true in the bedchamber. She was being put in a cage - decorated with silk and lace, but it was still a cage.

  The room was cool and lovely in the lamplight, rose and gold blending in an effort toward beauty. The chamber was large enough to have four upholstered chairs and two settles, three tables of varying sizes, a vanity and bench, a fourth table holding a pitcher and basin, a very large wardrobe, and two low chests along one wall. The curtained bed was also larger than the one she'd had at home, the curtains now tied back to the posts.

  All the material used was either rose, gold, or a combination of the two, and all the wood and leather was dark-brown. The effect was one of sedate calm, but for Rianne it might as well have been moisture-dripping stone and a dirt floor covered with putrid straw. She hated being a prisoner, hated the way her life and dreams had suddenly crumbled to sand. If she couldn't escape it would all be gone for good, but how was she supposed to escape from a room with no windows?

  Just as she stood in the center of that room asking herself that very important question, a brisk knock came at the door. Rianne didn't answer the knock, but an instant later the door was opened anyway. Rianne already knew it was her husband; who else would have the bad manners to simply walk in without waiting for permission?

  "Mrs. Raymond will bring you a tray, and then help you get comfortable," he told her, only one step inside the room. "Lady Margaret told me what you did with your breakfast and brunch, and I was there myself to see that you didn't touch a thing at the reception. Dinner is still too many hours away, and will deserve something better than to be swallowed whole. I'll see you then."

  Rianne wanted to ask whether that was a promise or threat, but he left before she had the words put together. A moment later she heard the sound of a key in the lock, and wasn't in the least surprised. Cages did have to be locked, after all, or the dumb, helpless creatures inside might find it possible to blunder out to freedom.

  It wasn't more than a few minutes before the door was unlocked again, but this time it didn't open almost immediately after the knock. Rianne was sitting on the floor beside the large wardrobe and leaning back against the wall, her knees drawn up for her arms to rest on. She wanted nothing of what any of them might give her, and
that included use of their furniture. She would sit and sleep on the floor of her cage, and continue to think of nothing but escape.

  "Mrs. Machlin, is it all right if we come in?" Mrs. Raymond's voice called through the closed door. "Have you fallen asleep?"

  Rianne couldn't see that it was her job to be pleasant to those who were loyal to her captor, so she made no effort to answer. Another moment passed in silence, and then the door was finally opened. Mrs. Raymond came in with two girls who were dressed as maids, one of them carrying a tray, and Rianne sighed to herself. It looked like the morning at her own house was about to be repeated.

  "Why on earth are you sitting on the floor?" Mrs. Raymond blurted when she saw Rianne, finally locating her after looking around the room. "I mean, with all these lovely chairs, not to mention the bed - Is something wrong?"

  "Why, no," Rianne answered in her most reasonable tone, staying right where she was. "Whatever would give you an idea like that?"

  "All right, it's clearly obvious that something is wrong," the woman said, no longer sounding quite like a servant. "Would you care to tell me what it is? Maybe I can help."

  "Your kind offer comes just a little late," Rianne said, not about to give away anything concerning her escape intentions. If they thought she was giving up, someone might forget to lock the door sometime. "At this point, no one can help."

  "Ah, I see," the woman said, and now she wore a faint smile. "Your doom is upon you because your husband punishes your bad temper by locking you in your bedroom. Well, the solution to that is simple enough. Mr. Machlin is a fair man, and as soon as you begin behaving yourself properly, I'm sure he'll let you out."

  "How good of you to solve my problem, Mrs. Raymond," Rianne said dryly as she stared at the older woman. "Your solution has one small difficulty, though. I don't want to behave myself properly with your Mr. Machlin, and have no intentions of doing so."

  "He has become your Mr. Machlin much more than he's mine," the woman returned with a wider smile, apparently now even more amused. "I doubt if that state of affairs will be quite as bad as you're picturing it, and might even become rather restful. Now, would you rather eat first, or bathe first?"

  "Neither, thank you," Rianne answered coldly, finding a lot less amusement in the situation than the older woman had. What could she possibly have meant by "restful"? Did she know her employer had other women, and therefore would not be bothering his bride? "I'm perfectly fine just as I am. Please don't let me keep you from your other work."

  "You seem to be determined to make this as difficult as possible," Mrs. Raymond said with a sigh. Obviously, she was much more perceptive than Lady Margaret had been. "Your husband would like you to eat and bathe and then nap for a while. You find the request too outrageous to agree to? You would prefer that I inform him of your refusal?"

  "If you're trying to make it sound as though I've chosen a horrible death over continuing to live, you misunderstand my position," Rianne told the other woman dryly. "Right about now a horrible death would look rather good. And yes, I do refuse."

  "You're very young to have learned how to show such cool self-possession," Mrs. Raymond mused, head to one side as she studied Rianne thoughtfully. "If I didn't know better, I would believe you really felt that way. Very well, Mrs. Machlin, the choice was yours."

  Mrs. Raymond inclined her head to Rianne, then gestured for the two maids to leave with her. They left the tray behind, but as far as Rianne was concerned they might as well have taken it with them. She was too depressed to have anything like an appetite, no matter how long it had been since she'd last eaten properly. As long as the staff of this house thought she was simply being punished, the door to her cage would not be left unlocked. She was trapped for as long as the brute cared to keep her like that, and the thought was almost enough to make her cry.

  But that was one victory she refused to give the overgrown monster. He would not make her cry, no matter what he did. She had more than enough experience in refusing to let the tears show, so let him come and do as he pleased. She would never give in and be a good little victim, never!

  After seeing his new wife settled into the rooms that had inexplicably but very conveniently been built without windows - it was the main reason he'd bought the place - Bryan went to his own rooms. He took off his coat and vest and tossed them away, then poured himself a stiff drink. He was really tempted to swallow it in one gulp, but as upset as he was it wouldn't have been a very good idea. That girl had a positive talent for ignoring all attempts at explanation, and it had taken quite a lot to keep from telling her everything. But he couldn't betray his brother's memory by jeopardizing the plan, so things would have to continue the way they were for a while.

  Even if she did think he'd only married her for her inheritance. Bryan sat himself in a chair and took a thoughtful sip of his whisky, remembering how close he'd come in the coach to telling her that her inheritance didn't interest him at all beyond his need to use it against her stepfather.

  When Robert Harding showed up for dinner the next evening, expecting to leave again with a purse bulging with gold, Bryan would give him the sad news. "B. G. Machlin" was the legal signature he'd established all over the country and the world; "Bryan Machlin" meant nothing. If Harding tried to sue - assuming he had the time for it - he would get exactly nowhere. Nothing less than answering Bryan's questions would get Harding the gold he needed, and then everyone would walk away satisfied.

  Except for the girl who was now his wife. She was the one who most wanted to walk away, but just a few minutes earlier, when he'd had her in his arms and was carrying her across the threshold of her new home, Bryan had made an unsettling discovery.

  He'd been able to feel the warmth of her flesh even through her clothing, had felt the healthy musculature beneath her rounded softness. Mentally and physically she was different from any woman he had ever met, and the sudden revelation came that she was also his. They'd been married that day in a ceremony that was, for all its haste and informality, completely legal.

  "Which means I don't have to give her up," Bryan muttered, almost as though in argument against someone who had insisted on the opposite. "That might have been the original plan, but plans are always subject to change. Besides, it's more than time I was married. Settling down will do me a world of good."

  That's assuming, of course, that she'll be willing to let you live, a part of him thought, deflating all that justification he'd been building. She doesn't want to be married to you, and no marriage can be really satisfying unless both partners are willing. Can you see yourself settling for even an armed truce in place of the real thing? Is it just marriage you want, or do you want her?

  The answers to those questions were easy. No, he would not settle for anything short of the real thing, and marriage in and by itself was nothing that attracted him. It was the girl Rianne whom he wanted, a girl who spoke her mind freely even to a man Bryan's size. He admired her for her reckless courage, and wanted to be there always to protect her from the consequences of it. He also wanted to see her smile again, hear her laughter once more from shared enjoyment, feet the touch of her hand in sweet and gentle concern…

  It's a lovely dream, that other part of him commented, once again ruining his mood. I can't wait to find out how you intend to arrange all that. Will it be cantharides in her tea, or do you expect to be able to talk her into cooperating? You threatened the girl instead of courting her, and now you expect her to fall panting into your arms?

  Bryan closed his eyes and put the glass against his forehead, unable to argue the truth of that. The girl herself had commented on the lovely way he'd courted her, which made that a large, unwieldy obstacle in the path to marital bliss. Since he'd never gone courting he was at something of a disadvantage, but surely lots of compliments would be a good enough way to start. As soon as he was able to start. First there was a wedding night he didn't want to miss out on, not if there was any way at all to enjoy it.

  He smiled fai
ntly as he thought about how she might feel in his arms that night, his hands and lips exploring and caressing her smooth, exciting flesh. He'd meant to tell her over dinner that he would be leaving her untouched, but as it turned out the message would be different. But not in a way that would make things even worse. He'd find a way around her objections, and then they would both enjoy themselves.

  He sipped his whiskey while savoring the thought, but after a moment was brought out of it by a tap at his door. When he called out permission to enter, Sarah Raymond came in.

  "Well, we brought her the tray, Bryan, " she said, walking over to sit in the chair opposite his. "I also offered her the choice of eating first or bathing first, and she was very polite."

  "But?" Bryan prompted, knowing well enough there was a but. Sarah Raymond had been a friend for a long time, and he'd learned to tell when she was trying to break something to him gently.

  "But she was sitting on the floor with her back against a wall and her knees up," Sarah answered with a sigh. "She's determined not to trust or like anyone, and especially not you. She has also made up her mind not to obey you about anything, and thinks she can hold firm to that decision. She doesn't seem to be the spoiled, arrogant brat we pictured when we discussed this part of the plan, and I have to admit I don't understand what she is instead. I said something to her about being locked up in punishment for throwing a temper tantrum, but I don't believe now that that's why you did it."

  "She's an incredibly attractive woman who doesn't like the idea that I bought her, and has made up her mind not to cooperate with the situation," Bryan said with a sigh of his own. "You know I expected to leave her to cry her eyes out alone while I concentrated on her stepfather, but that part of the plan has changed. I won't be leaving her to herself, and hopefully after tonight she won't meet the requirements for an annulment."

  "I never thought I'd live to see the day," Sarah replied with a slow grin, her eyes suddenly bright. "Bryan Machlin, untamed adventurer, finally married and intending to keep it that way. I'm delighted for you, my dear, but what about that girl? She looks as comfortable in britches as a man, and I'd hate to see her get too close to a weapon. She may turn out to know how to use it."