Devil's Daughter

by Catherine Coulter

  “Yes,” the comte said after a moment. “But I would be certain that the deed is, in fact, done.”

  Adam shrugged. “Take her yourself, then. I am not interested.”

  The comte frowned. His gift of the young English girl was not only a test, it was also his payment to the marchese for saving his life. “Very well, Pietro,” he said slowly. “You will not rut in front of us. But you will remain here.” He jerked his head toward the ceiling. “Take her upstairs.”

  Adam felt a surge of relief.

  “But first”—Gervaise jerked the cloak from her, closed his fingers over the laced neck of her nightgown, and ripped it apart.

  Rayna yelled through the gag, struggling with all her strength. The comte held her painfully tight.

  “Lovely,” he said, staring down at her breasts.

  Adam could almost smell the lust in the other men as they stared at Rayna. He must act quickly. “Give her to me,” he said.

  The comte swept Rayna into his arms and tossed her like a sack of potatoes to Adam. “She is yours.” Gervaise laughed. “Enjoy your sport.”

  “We have always shared before,” Tino said.

  Adam didn’t wait for Gervaise to change his mind. He pulled Rayna possessively against him and strode toward the stairs.

  “The chit is in for a rutting.”

  “She will know a man, not any of you clucking roosters,” Adam said over his shoulder. He was pleased at the shouts of laughter that followed in his wake.

  Rayna began struggling against him. Adam bowed his head close to hers and whispered, “Stop it, for God’s sake. Hold still. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Instantly she quieted.

  Adam took the stairs two at a time. The second floor of the house was shadowy and dim, lit with but one branch of candles set on an old table in the hall. He remembered Celestino telling him that they occasionally brought women here for trysts. He saw a door partially open and strode toward it. He stepped into a small room that held but a wide bed and a commode with a basin on it. He kicked the door closed behind him and searched in vain for a lock.

  Adam eased Rayna to her feet and quickly unfastened the gag over her mouth. She swallowed convulsively, her tongue swollen and dry in her mouth. He was staring down at her, his face taut and pale in the candlelight.

  “What is this place? What are you doing here?”

  “I cannot tell you,” he said as he untied her wrists. “But you must trust me, Rayna.”

  “Trust you.” For a moment, her anger overcame her fear. “I was waiting for you, marchese, in the garden. Did you guess I would be there? Did you send the comte to get me?”

  “Don’t be a fool.”

  “He laughed at me, taunted me. He touched me.” She clutched her hands over her gaping nightgown.

  Adam wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her, but there wasn’t time.

  He clamped his hand over her mouth. “Listen to me, Rayna, for we haven’t much time. Remember you once told me that you trusted me?”

  She looked at him, her eyes nearly black with fear.

  “You must do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand?” He lifted his hand from her mouth.

  “What are you going to do to me? Rape me?”

  “We are going to pretend that I raped you. Dammit, Rayna, you must trust me.”

  “I am so afraid,” she whispered.

  “So am I. Will you do what I tell you?” As he spoke, he chafed her wrists.

  “Pietro, why did the comte do this? What is he to you?”

  He drew her against him and kissed her temple. “No one is going to touch you, cara, I promise.”

  He prayed that his promise would not be his last, and pushed her away from him. “Now, you must do exactly what I tell you.” He nodded toward the bed. His nostrils flared at the smell of sex and old sweat. “Take off your clothes and get under the blanket.”

  Rayna stared at him. “You want me to take off my clothes?”

  He took her shoulders in his hands. “Listen, Rayna, you are here to be raped, by me. We must make them think that is what is happening. Now, do as I tell you.”

  It was a nightmare, she thought as her fingers fumbled at her torn nightgown. She looked from the corner of her eye toward Pietro as he stripped off his clothes. She saw urgency in his movements, and quickly jerked off her gown.

  Adam paid no attention to her. He heard the bed creak and the rustling of the bedclothes. He turned quickly, sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled off his boots. He paused only a moment before standing to unbutton his breeches.

  Rayna pulled the cover to her chin. For a moment she thought she was somehow outside of herself, watching a trembling girl and the man who soon would be as naked as she.

  Her eyes met his for a moment, then fell to his naked chest. “No,” she whispered. “Please, Pietro.”

  He paused, his fingers on the buttons of his breeches. “I am sorry, Rayna. I have no wish to shock you, but there is no choice.” He quickly turned his back to her and shrugged out of his breeches.

  She stared at his body, lean and olive-tinted, so different from her own. His back and thighs were banded with muscle, his waist narrow, his buttocks smooth and sculptured as if by an artist’s hand.

  “Stop enjoying the view,” he said.

  She saw him draw a dagger. “What are you doing?”

  Adam did not reply. He lifted his leg and sliced the dagger tip along the inside of his thigh. Blood welled up.

  “What have you done?”

  He still kept his back to her, not wanting to embarrass her. “Rayna,” he said over his shoulder, “virgins bleed. Since you will remain a virgin, I must bleed for you. Now, pull down the cover.”

  She only stared at him, and he walked abruptly near to her and whisked the cover away from her. “Open your legs, quickly.”

  He heard a sharp intake of breath from her, and watched her thighs slowly part. He sat down beside her, wiped the blood from his thigh onto his finger, and smeared it over her. She jumped at the touch of his fingers.

  “Hush,” he said. He daubed a bit of blood on the sheet beneath her hips. He turned his back to her and touched more blood to his swollen manhood. Rutting bastard, he thought, staring down at himself for a moment. His head jerked up at the nearing sound of laughter and the clomping of boots.

  “Rayna, scream, now.”

  He uncoiled his body and lay beside her, taking her into his arms.

  “Scream, dammit.”

  She let out a high, wailing cry that reverberated off the walls of the small room.

  “Again. Louder.”

  She yelled so loud he thought his eardrums would shatter.

  He heard Gervaise in the corridor and knew he would burst in at any moment. He heaved his body on top of her, clutched her face between his hands, and kissed her, brutally.

  She began to struggle against him, pounding her fists against his back. Not an act now. That was what the comte saw when he jerked open the door and strode into the room.

  Tino laughed behind him.

  “Well, Pietro, was the little slut a virgin?”

  Adam rolled off Rayna, rose slowly, and gave the men a victorious bow.

  “Dio, he’s still hard for her.”

  “I want to see for myself,” Gervaise said.

  Adam tore back the cover, and pulled her legs apart.

  “Ah, she bleeds red.”

  Rayna was sobbing, her eyes closed tightly against the men who stared at her.

  “Did you tear her?”

  “No,” Adam said, and immediately realized it was a mistake.

  “Excellent. Now she is mine. I too have a gift for you, my lady.”

  Rayna grabbed the covers, jerking them to her chin.

  “You will fight me, little dove?”

  “I want her, Gervaise.”

  “Shut up, Tino. If she swells with child from this night, she will know that it is a gift from one of the two men she he
rself trifled with.”

  Adam said very calmly, “No, Gervaise. She is mine and no one else will take her, including you. I intend to take her to my lodgings. If she swells with child it will be mine.”

  “I will take her downstairs,” Gervaise continued, as if Adam had not spoken. “I want her shamed, with all of you watching.”

  “If you touch her, I will kill you.”

  The words were so softly spoken that Rayna barely heard them.

  The comte stiffened. “Kill me, mon ami? Surely no woman is worth haggling over.”

  “She was your surprise for me, Gervaise. I will keep my gift. Now, get out, and take our panting friends with you.”

  “See here, Pietro,” Celestino began, his face flushing.

  “I have no wish to draw your blood, mon ami,” the comte said. “We will play cards for her.”

  Adam saw a glint of confidence in the comte’s eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief that he had allowed the comte to win the several times they had played. “As you will. I have no desire to be uncivil about this.”

  Gervaise turned to Rayna. “You, little dove, will watch. Do dress, marchese.”

  “I will bring her downstairs with me,” Adam said. He turned his back on the comte and began to pull on his trousers.

  He heard a dry laugh, and the retreat of booted feet. He walked over and quietly closed the door, listening until he was certain the comte had quit the hall.

  “Rayna,” he said, turning back to her. “Did you understand?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  She sounded calm. She was holding herself together. He admired her greatly in that moment.

  Adam smiled at her. “I will be proud to have you as my wife.”

  “I have not agreed to marry you, marchese,” she said.

  “Even after I have shed my blood for you?”

  Rayna raised her eyes to his face. “I ask, marchese, that you win the card game.” Her gaze fell to his dagger.

  “No, Rayna, you will not do what you are thinking. I love you, no matter what happens. I want a living wife, not a dead virgin.”

  He sat on the bed to pull on his boots, then rose again to fasten his waistcoat. He carefully wiped the dagger on the bedcover and placed it back in his belt. “Come, petite.”

  She placed her hand in his and walked beside him from the room.

  “When we get back downstairs, I want you to be disdainful. Do not show fear. From what I know of these men, it would only excite them the more. And you must show hatred for me.”

  “I will try. When we leave here, Pietro, I will bathe the wound on your leg. I do not want you to become ill.”

  “I begin to believe that you are not your father’s daughter.”

  They look like carrion, Rayna thought, staring around at the roomful of men. The comte sat at a table shuffling a deck of cards, a glass of brandy at his elbow, looking relaxed and utterly confident. Rayna pulled away from Adam, her eyes dark with rage.

  “Ugo,” Gervaise said, “you have daughters. See that our little bird stays close. I am certain you will know how to punish her if she tries to flee her cage.”

  “You are scum, comte,” Rayna said, “and the rest of your animals as well.”

  “Ah, I will enjoy teaching you manners,” the comte said.

  “I think not, Gervaise,” Adam said easily, sitting down in a chair opposite him. “I have begun her lessons and I will complete them.”

  “Odd,” the comte said thoughtfully, his eyes still on Rayna. “I did not expect the little slut to have so much spirit. Perhaps you were too gentle with her, mon ami.”

  Adam shrugged. “I prefer a woman who has some fight left. Later tonight, I will teach her pleasure, and she will beg me to take her.”

  “That bores you, marchese?” Celestino asked, growing more excited.

  “She will doubtless please me for as long as I want her. Then she can return to England and wed with some red-nosed squire. I’ve a fancy to have my son step into the fool’s boots someday.”

  “How cold-blooded you are, mon ami.” He fanned the cards in front of Adam. “Would you care to cut, marchese?”

  “I presume there is honor among thieves.”

  Celestino laughed, poking Niccolo in the ribs.

  Adam assumed that Gervaise would cheat, but only with the first hand. He would shuffle the deck on the next round.

  “Piquet?”

  Adam nodded, looking bored. He stretched his long legs diagonally from the table and leaned back in his chair.

  Rayna watched the other men cluster around the table. Only Ugo stayed so close to her that she could smell the brandy on his breath. She realized clearly in that moment that if he did win, the marchese would fight him. He would fight all of them, and they would kill him.

  The comte took the first rubber easily, gaining over a hundred points, just as Adam expected. Adam had played conservatively, just as he had before with Gervaise. He knew the comte relied on luck and didn’t calculate the odds as he should. He also knew that if the cards ran against him, he would lose, despite his skill. Adam won the next rubber, but gained only a few points. He was careful to cut after the comte’s shuffle.

  Gervaise stared down at his cards, then lifted his eyes toward the marchese. He was behaving as he usually did, as if he was slightly bored, as if he didn’t care who won. But his eyes held something different. Gervaise’s gaze passed to Ugo as he held the English girl. She was standing still as a statue, her lovely face as pale as the finest Italian marble. She had pride, he thought, something he admired.

  “My quint is good, Gervaise?”

  The comte brought his attention back to the game. He started, realizing that despite what he had thought, the marchese was skilled at the game. He said slowly, “Yes, it is good.”

  “And my tierce?”

  “Yes,” he said, “that too is good.”

  When the marchese fanned out a display of high cards before him, all of them good, Gervaise knew that he faced a master.

  “I believe that is the rubber, comte,” Adam said easily. “Were we playing for gold, I should have enough to buy a new waistcoat. As it is, all I win from you tonight is that silly girl.”

  “I will pay you gold for her.”

  Adam arched a brow. “I think not. Before I return her to her father’s house, I want to teach her pleasure. Had I not hurt her so much the first time, you would not have heard her scream.”

  The comte’s chair screeched back, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For an instant Adam thought he would demand a fight.

  “I thank you for your present to me, Gervaise,” he said quietly. “It is now I who owe you something special.”

  Gervaise felt his humiliation ease. “You will show the little slut the folly of her rudeness?”

  Adam rose slowly, splaying his hands on the table. “I will mark her, my friend. You may all rest assured that she will say nothing of this night.”

  “Very well,” Gervaise said. “Take her.”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, Adam dismounted from his house and pulled Rayna into his arms.

  “No,” he said, “not quite yet, ma mie, until we are inside. Naples has too many ears for my peace of mind.”

  Adam pulled up short at the sight of Daniele in the entrance hall.

  “My lord.”

  “Daniele,” Adam said, “I am glad you are here. Just so,” he added, seeing Daniele’s expression at the sight of Rayna Lyndhurst in his arms. “We have had a bit of excitement tonight, Daniele. If you would please check about outside for any uninvited guests. It is possible that our dear comte had us followed.”

  Daniele looked at his master, then slipped out of the front door.

  Adam carried Rayna into the small parlor and set her down on a sofa. “I think you need a glass of brandy, Rayna,” he said, walking toward the sideboard.

  “Do you really believe the comte had us followed?”

  Adam shrugged. “It would not be
wise to underestimate him. I had believed that he trusted me completely. I was wrong.”

  “You will take me home?”

  “Yes, but the comte would not expect it for a couple of hours yet. Here, cara, drink this.”

  The liquor burned down to her stomach. She drew a deep breath and set down her glass. “I am much relieved that you play piquet so well, Pietro.”

  Adam sat beside her and began to rub her cold hands. “I have always let the comte win at cards. It tried him to lose. Odd, but there is some honor in him after all.”

  “What were you doing there, Pietro?”

  Adam sighed, seeing no hope for it. “I was the new member of their club. They work for Napoleon, Rayna, and it was important that I be accepted as one of them.”

  “But why?”

  “I am a spy of sorts, but not for her majesty. I have nothing to do with either Napoleon or the queen. My venture is entirely private.”

  “And it involves the Comte de la Valle?”

  “The comte is selling to the French goods stolen from my family. I came to Naples to discover the identity of the person supplying him with them. I know now that the whole matter will be resolved within days. There is more, Rayna, but I would that you wait until then. I do not believe that the comte or any of his group will attempt to harm you again, but I wish you always to be in the company of others until I tell you otherwise.” He would have one of his own men watch the viscount’s villa.

  “You give me orders, yet you tell me nothing.”

  He smiled. “It is true. I ask you again, Rayna, to trust me.”

  “Well, I have an order for you, marchese. My father must not know about this night. Ever.”

  “Very well. Perhaps it is better that he not know, at least for the moment.”

  “Please take off your breeches, marchese.”

  He looked surprised, then grinned. “My valet will see to my wound, though I would prefer your gentle touch. I have made you blush again. Forgive me.”

  “When will you be my lover?” She looked startled at her own question, but it had come from her mouth, without her mind’s permission.

  “When you are my wife,” Adam said calmly.

  She wanted to tell him that her father would never allow them to wed. “You do not know my father,” she said.