by Cheryl Bolen
It almost looked like a scene set for seduction. However, Sabine knew from past experience that Gower didn’t seduce—he took.
He raped.
Her mouth grew dry as she stepped into the room with Gower at her back. She quickly crossed the room to stand by the fire, only to be disappointed that the poker iron was not sitting in its cradle.
Gower noticed and laughed. “You didn’t think I’d leave a handy weapon around for your use did you?” He closed the door softly behind him. “Come, sit. I promise I won’t pounce on you.” His smile widened to a grotesque grin. “After all, you are here to do my bidding.” The smile died and the face of the devil was revealed. “You don’t want me to have to hurt those you love do you? Alfredo. Such a handsome boy, so like his father.”
“You are a monster. You’d hurt your own son”-
-”Be careful, my fiery French beauty. What would happen to the Orsini riches if that fact became known? There’d be forfeit to the church. Under Italian law, the Pope has claim on any noble wealth when there are no heirs. Hence we know why Roberto Orsini was so desperate to marry a lady already with child. He wanted to ensure the church got nothing from him.
As soon as you arrived back in London, I spotted the boy by chance in the park. I’m surprised his nanny didn’t tell you. I found it rather amusing. She too understood who I was as soon as she saw me. She looked as if she’d like to knife me through the heart. I discovered that if the Pope learns of your deception, you and the boy would be in the poorhouse just like your parents.”
Sabine swallowed her rage. She needed a calm head in order to deal to her enemy.
He walked slowly toward her. “You need me to keep quiet and for me to ignore my own son. Well, given how terrible it is for me to be unable to acknowledge him, you’ll have to pay a price for that.” He paused for added effect, “And you will continue to pay until I am satisfied. Why should a father not profit from his son’s good fortune?”
“You’re no father. You’re not even a man. The only way a woman comes to your bed is by force or because of money.”
His hand shot out and gripped her tightly by the throat. “Tut. I was going to be nice.” His face moved closer, his lips in a cruel snarl. “I was going to let you have a few drinks to warm that frigid body of yours, but perhaps I’ll simply take you like I did ten years ago. Hmmm… would you like that?” He kissed her hard on the mouth and she bit his lip so hard it drew blood.
The hand choking her throat disappeared and he stepped back in order to put more force into his backhanded slap. She saw stars and felt the blood trickle from the corner of her mouth. “Bitch.” Then he gave a smile that would freeze hell. “I do love it when my women play rough. But before I rip that God awful spinsterish gown from your delectable body, give me the vowels.”
Sabine was angry with herself for not being able to keep her hands from shaking as she fumbled for the papers. This was going to be far worse than that night long ago when Gower raped her in her parents’ garden. At least it had been dark and she couldn’t see him as he had rutted her from behind.
She clenched her fists and told herself to bide her time. Gower would pay. She knew it was wrong, and God help her for it, but she desperately wanted him dead.
She carefully drew the papers out of her pocket, the touch of her small pistol giving her strength. He grabbed for the bundle and tore the ribbon off them. His eyes began to scan through all the documents.
“They are all there, as I’m sure you knew they would be. I would have one favor from you.” At her words, his gaze flew back to her. “Tell me, how did you know I’d be in the garden that night?”
Before answering, he walked over to the fire and began to throw each individual piece of paper into the flames and watched them burn.
“It was easy. I saw you one day walking in the park with Judith, the now widowed Lady Harcourt. The two of you, beautiful young ladies, made quite the picture. What a vision you were with your fair hair and rosy cheeks. Imagine my surprise when I saw Lord Wolverstone stop to say hello. But it wasn’t Judith’s hand he lingered over, it was yours.”
“He visited your parent’s garden often. I assumed he was grooming you to be his mistress. It was inconceivable that you could become the wife of a Marquis.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Imagine my surprise when I found you to be a virgin.”
She gritted her teeth. “How did you know to send me the note?”
“I followed Marcus. Over the course of a few weeks, I followed him and spied on you both when you met in your parents’ garden. So eager you were in his arms. And I didn’t send you the note, he did.”
Sabine’s blood ran cold. Marcus was in on this. She shook her head; no, it couldn’t be.
The last of the vowels disappeared into the flames and he turned his cold eyes on her. “I waited for a note to be sent, and I ensured that Marcus would be unable to make the rendezvous. I then came in his place. You should have seen your face when you realized I wasn’t Marcus.”
He walked toward her and ran a finger down her face. “I never forgot your choked screams as my hand covered your mouth. Nor your tight, virginal body.”
His hand cupped her breast and squeezed it hard. Sabine froze with revulsion. She couldn’t, she couldn’t go through this again. She closed her eyes.
“It was so obliging of you not to tell Marcus. He would have had my balls, or my life, for touching you. I considered cornering you again for another bout, but you never met in the garden again after that night.”
*
Sabine closed her eyes. She’d not been able to walk back into that garden ever again after Gower’s rape of her. The horror and humiliation were too great.
“He started to openly court you. I knew if you wanted to become the Marquis of Wolverstone’s wife, you’d have to keep our ‘liaison’ quiet; for who wants a man’s seconds as his wife?”
Sabine’s hand fumbled in her pocket and found her pistol.
“Every time I drank with Marcus and his friends, I silently gloated, knowing I’d been there first. I thought for sure you’d finally told him, when a month later you suddenly disappeared. Seeing Alfredo, now I understand why.”
“Well, I bloody well don’t understand why, perhaps you’d like to tell me.” Marcus advanced into the room, white hot fury rampant in his eyes, his voice edged with steel. “And take your hands off her, you prick of a man.”
Faster than you’d expect a man the size of Gower to move, he’d grabbed Sabine round the throat and swung her in front of him using her as a shield against Marcus’s pistol.
Her fingernails clawed at the fat fingers preventing the life-giving air from reaching her lungs.
Her breath rasped through her teeth, her eyes widened, and her hope soared as Marcus moved from out of the shadows. She could see the molten rage flaming within his eyes. His nostrils flared and his lips were taut with anger.
She looked up into Gower’s eyes filled with alarm. A sneer spread, turning his face into a monstrous mask of ugliness. His hand tightened at her neck.
“Such a pretty neck; it’s so slender and graceful, and so easily snapped.”
Marcus stopped in the center of the room, breathing hard as he took in the scene before him. His amber eyes pierced the dim room with outraged intensity. He looked like Mars, the god of war, a dark, vengeful, exotic beauty.
Sabine lowered her hands from the steely arm encircling her throat. She fixed her stare and all her faith on Marcus.
“Stand aside, Wolverstone,” Gower warned, “Come any closer and I’ll snap her neck.”
“Like I stood aside ten years ago and did nothing? I’ll not be so dishonorable a second time,” and to her horror, he crouched and relinquished his weapon to the floor. She turned and looked at Gower’s triumphant smile. It wasn’t until she’d turned back to look in stunned disbelief at Marcus, that she saw Henry St. Giles step into the firelight.
“This time we settle it, man to man, coward. No weapons, just our fists
.” Marcus’s tone was coolly scornful, his stance was relaxed, but suppressed violence simmered and rippled under his impeccable attire, and he moved with predatory panther-like grace.
Sabine stared, mesmerized by the guilt she saw in Marcus’s eyes. “It was not your fault, Marcus,” she said softly.
“Shut up, bitch.” Gower stepped back. “You call this honorable. If it’s honor you want, then call me out. If you kill me here and now, how will you explain it to the magistrate? As soon as Society claps eyes on dear Alfredo, they’ll think you killed a rival.”
“He’s right, Marcus. Let him walk out of here. He won’t hurt me. He’s got what he wanted. The vowels I held have been destroyed.” Her desperate plea fell on deaf ears.
Marcus’s cold fury cut through the fraught atmosphere. “I know him. He’ll just want more and more. He’ll continue to use Alfredo to get what he wants.”
Gower tightened his grip. “Marcus understands me only too well. What will Society say when they learn the demure Lady Orsini opened her legs for me”-
-”Bastard,” and Marcus took a step closer.
Gower lifted her off the floor with his hands. Darkness beckoned as her throat was crushed and she fought valiantly to breathe.
“Tut, tut, careful.”
Marcus stepped back, filling the already overheated room with cusses and Gower let her feet touch the floor once more.
Gower turned and peered out of the window to the street below. “Where’s your carriage? You must have one.”
Marcus looked at Henry and nodded. Henry withdrew and she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
“Good man. Now if you’d simply move toward the fire, Sabine and I shall be leaving and taking your carriage.”
“Society be damned. I’m not letting you leave here with Sabine.”
Sabine closed her eyes and prayed. She knew what Marcus would say next.
“I formally challenge you to a duel. Choose your weapon.”
To her surprise Gower moved closer to the door. “I don’t think so. For to challenge me, you’ll have to reveal Sabine’s sordid past. How she willingly came to my bed, hoping to trap me into marriage with her pregnancy. Easy, easy, my sweet treat,” he added at Sabine’s vehement cry of protest.
“I was never willing. Your touch makes my skin crawl.”
Marcus held her gaze and she nodded. She was not ashamed of the past. She had no reason to be ashamed. Alfredo would have to learn the truth if they were to stay in England, for the gossip would be cruel, but it would be better to be prepared than for him not to understand.
Marcus sneered. “The truth should come out so that all of Society knows the kind of man you really are; a bully and an abuser of women.”
“You can’t be that naive. It’s her word against mine. Wait until I tell them how she was begging me for it; how her enthusiasm for the sport knew no bounds”-
-”You’re wrong. It’s my word and her word against yours. I’ll stand by her. I’ll protect her like I should have done ten years ago. Who do you think Society will believe?” A smile filled with utter hatred spread over Marcus’s sensuous lips. Lips that she remembered had been hot and tender on hers. “Pick your weapon, scum.”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “No. I won’t allow it.”
Marcus’s incredulous gaze swung her way. Then his lips firmed into a disapproving line and he hung his head.
She ignored the large hand at her throat. “I won’t be used as an excuse for any more violence. Please, just let him go. Killing him, and in the process ruining yourself, won’t change the past. I’m sick and tired of looking back. I want this to be over. Revenge is not the answer. I thought it was, but it is hollow. Moving on and living a full and happy life is the answer.”
Marcus gave an anguished cry. “Gower took my happy life away from me. He took you!”
This time she beat her chest, willing him to understand. “Marcus, can’t you see. I’m still here.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
She felt Gower moving restlessly against her back. He was uncertain and getting agitated. The silence sharpened to a razor’s edge as the two men stared at each other with venom in their gazes.
“Once in the carriage, he will release me. Won’t you? The vowels have been destroyed.” Sabine wasn’t sure who she was addressing her last comment to.
At her plea, Marcus’s fiery eyes flicked to meet hers. Behind the fury was sorrow and remorse. The fleeting look vanished as his lips tightened.
Henry arrived back in the room. “The carriage is at the door. I’ve instructed my driver to take you wherever you wish to go.”
Marcus’s voice lowered to a terrifying hiss. “If you touch one hair on her head, I’ll hunt you down like the rabid dog you are and kill you—slowly, painfully, remorselessly.”
“As will I,” Henry added.
“Yes, yes. Clear a path to the door. You too, St. Giles.”
“No. Your word as a gentleman first,” Marcus sneered as he pronounced the word gentleman. “Give your word that you’ll leave her on the front steps. In exchange, I promise not to come after you. And my word, at least, you can trust.”
The fingers at her throat squeezed even tighter and Sabine saw dark spots. Her hands rose and she clawed once again at the hand at her throat.
Marcus said, “Go. I don’t need to kill you. Society will shun you forever for your cowardly behavior. I’ll enjoy your disgrace.”
“Not as much as I enjoyed being Sabine’s first lover. It must kill you to know I was there before anyone else. I took her virginal blood, and if you don’t step back, I’ll take her life as well.”
Sabine could sense that a volcanic force of molten rage about to explode from Marcus. “It’s alright, Marcus. They’re only words and words can’t hurt me.”
Her two rescuers moved in unison over toward the fireplace, leaving a clear path to the stairs.
Gower pushed her quickly before him, all the while keeping the men in his sight. “Walk to the window. Keep looking down. If I see either of you start to move before I’m safely on my way, she’s dead.”
In a blur, they made it to the carriage. Gower entered first, still holding her neck in his vice-like grip. He began to drag her inside. She looked up and saw Marcus pounding on the window before she was pulled inside. The carriage, on Gower’s urgent command, took off at sped. Her last glimpse was of Marcus and Henry dashing down the street after her.
“What have you done?” she cried.
“I need money. You have it. I’ll risk Marcus’s wrath. He won’t hurt me with you still in my grasp.”
“We will drive to Calais. Once in France, you, my sweet, will organize funds for me, so that I may disappear. I hear America is the land of opportunity. If you behave and are—how shall I put it, agreeable,” his lecherous look made her stomach heave. “Then I may set you free.” He pulled her roughly onto his lap. “Or, once we become reacquainted, you might like to come with me.”
Sabine feared she’d vomit. “You stupid man. Now Marcus will come after us. If you touch me, there will be nowhere on earth you can hide.”
“But he can’t do much when I hold what is most precious to him—you, my dear.” He looked down at where her gown gaped from where it had been ripped in the struggle. Sabine tried to cover herself but he stopped her. A sinister look had flooded his eyes and she froze with fear at the sight of it.
“It’s a very long drive to Calais. A man has to have some entertainment…” and as fast as a cobra striking its prey, he flipped her beneath him on the seat. She felt his hand rummaging around the edges of her skirts. He started laughing. The manic sound reminded her of a madman. “What have you got under there? Trousers! As if they would stop me!”
He briefly let go of her hands and flipped her skirts up over her head, trapping her under her clothes. Sabine felt the panic rise in the darkness as his hands tore at the protective breeches she wore under her skirts. Her breath came in terrified gasps. A picture of Marcus and
Alfredo swam into her head. She took deep breaths, fighting desperately to get her fear under control.
Slowly her hand reached to where her pocket now lay within easy reach. She inched her hand into it, until she felt the cold steel of her pistol. Her fingers gripped it and she immediately felt a rush of courage. She’d rather die than let Gower rape her a second time.
She closed her eyes and drew the pistol from her pocket. Gower was so busy ripping her clothes from her body that he’d not noticed how still and quiet she’d gone. She gave a silent prayer for her son and drew her arm free of the tangle of her skirts and touched the barrel of the pistol to Gower’s temple.
“Not this time,” she said softly as Gower went motionless, suddenly still, in stunned silence. “Get off me and move across to the other seat.”
He reluctantly did as she had asked, his face a mass of startled disbelief.
“Now tell the driver to turn the carriage round.”
Gower’s disbelief turned into calculation. “That little pistol won’t kill me.”
She lowered her aim to his groin. “Maybe not, but I’ll make sure you can’t rape again.”
He paled and crossed his legs.
“Order the coach to turn round.”
He hesitated. “If I do that, I’m dead.”
“For a man like you, better dead than a eunuch I suspect,” she said harshly. “Quite frankly, I don’t care. Either way, I’m happy to oblige.”
His lips tensed and an apprehensive silence invaded the carriage. They sat facing each other for several minutes, until slowly color began to seep back into his face. “I think you’re bluffing. You don’t have the bottle to shoot me.”
Sabine tried not to let her hand shake. She did wonder if she had the ability to coldly shoot an unarmed man, but if he tried to hurt her again…
“Try it and see. If you’re not going to tell the driver to turn round and go back to London, I will.” With that she stood slightly to bang on the hatch. That’s when he moved.