by Cheryl Holt
“If I’d known she was still here”—she attempted another smile—“I’d have had her join us for the meal.”
“I’m afraid that wouldn’t have been possible.” He stood, and he held out his hand in a fashion that demanded she take it. “Come with me.”
There was no mistaking his demeanor. He was furious, when she couldn’t figure out why he would be.
“To where?”
“Don’t quibble. Just come.”
“You seem distraught. What’s wrong?”
“Get up!”
“Honestly, Adrian. What’s the matter?”
He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “I am now your husband, Helen. You must obey me without hesitation.”
She strove to wrest away, but he dug his fingers in tightly enough to leave bruises. “Let go! You’re hurting me.”
“You don’t know the definition of hurt, my dear, but you’re about to learn.”
He started toward the door, lugging her along, and she struggled to stop him. She wasn’t certain what he intended, but she wasn’t about to follow like a lamb to the slaughter. She was a rational person. If he wanted something from her, he only had to ask. He didn’t have to act like a bully.
“You’re scaring me,” she complained.
“Am I? Good.”
They were in the hall and heading toward the stairs.
“What do you want? Tell me!”
“Can’t you guess?”
“No.”
“I’m eager for my wedding night to commence.”
“Your . . . your wedding night?”
“We have to consummate the union.”
“You swore I wouldn’t have to.”
“You didn’t buy all that drivel, did you?”
“But you said you love Archie, that we’d have a white marriage!”
He chuckled. “I lied.”
They were at the staircase, and he paused at the banister and pushed her against it. His crotch was pressed to her side, and she could feel his erection. He was excited by their skirmishing!
The idea of cohabiting with him was repulsive, and she couldn’t do it. Surely he understood her qualms. He couldn’t mean to force her!
She gazed up, hoping to reason with him, but the face that stared back belonged to someone she didn’t recognize. He appeared quite mad, and with a sinking heart, she realized that she didn’t know him, at all.
“Adrian, please,” she begged. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Yes, I do. I want to very, very much.”
“I’m with child! You could harm the babe.”
“You think I care about Westmoreland’s brat?” He began climbing, dragging her with him. “You should pray you lose it over the next few months, for if it’s born alive, I’ll drown it.”
She laid a protective hand over her stomach. “You’re insane!”
“Why would you say so? I merely decline to expend a farthing of my newly acquired wealth raising Westmoreland’s bastard.”
“You knew I was increasing! I confessed everything!”
“Yes, but I plan to inform others that you tricked me, that you were in dire need of a husband and I was the dunce who fell victim to your scheme.” He flashed a look that was all innocence, that anyone would presume was genuine. “I was never apprised that you were pregnant; I swear it! I thought you were a virgin, and . . . oh . . . the horror of being deceived! I’ll be able to divorce you. I’ll have your money and your property, but I won’t have to have you—or your foul little monster.”
“You’ll never get the estate. It’s mine.”
“No, Helen, we haven’t signed the papers yet, remember?” They’d made it to the hall at the top of the stairs, and he explained his ploy as he hauled her on. “They’re still being drawn up. You were in such a hurry that you couldn’t wait to obtain my signature. You’re my wife, and what was yours is mine—as soon as we copulate, which will happen very shortly.”
“I trusted you,” she stupidly cried.
“In that regard, you’re as foolish as your brother. Neither of you has a lick of sense.”
She hit him as hard as she could, but she wasn’t a brawler, so the blow was weak and off balance. The swipe startled him, though, and his grip momentarily lessened. While he regrouped, she wiggled away and ran, screaming.
He caught her from behind, tackling her so that she toppled to the floor with a loud thud. He pinned her down and hissed, “You may screech all you like. There’s no one to hear you, except Patricia, but she’s in no condition to come to your aid.” He rose and pulled her up. “When the servants return on the morrow, you’ll be beyond help.”
“What have you done to Patricia?” she demanded.
“The same thing I’m going to do to you.”
He continued down the corridor, and she should have fought him, but she was dazed by the violence. He was a fiend, and he’d trapped her like a rabbit in a snare. Her spirits flagged. Couldn’t she do anything right? Why did she keep landing herself in one disaster after the next?
I have to guard the babe, she reminded herself. It was the only part of himself that Luke had deigned to share. She’d loved him so desperately, and if she had to kill Adrian for the child to be safe, then that’s what she would do.
He brought her into the master’s suite and heaved her onto the bed, and she was stunned to note that he’d already been in the room and prepared it for whatever atrocities he envisioned. There were cords secured to the bedposts, and in a thrice, he had them tied around her wrists.
“Perfect,” he murmured, as he studied her predicament. “I’m told this is where Westmoreland used to fuck you. Is it?”
“Go choke on a crow, you deranged maniac.”
“Now, now, you must learn to curb your tongue, lest I simply cut it out of your mouth.” He leaned down to painfully squeeze her breasts, making her wince, making her squirm in fear. “Where is your dashing captain, Helen?”
“I haven’t any idea,” she truthfully said. “I was nothing to him. He didn’t care about me.”
“You’re correct,” Adrian concurred. “Shall I torment you with stories of his antics in London? Should I tell you about his beautiful paramours and wild orgies? Do you imagine he’s spent a single second mooning over you?”
“I’m certain he hasn’t.”
He laughed. “God, how I’ve been waiting for this day!”
“How could you have been? What is it you want?”
“Don’t you know? Really?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“I want it all!” he preened. “I want the house, and the farm, and the status that goes with them. And you! Most of all, I want you—submissive and groveling.”
“But . . . but what did I ever do to you?”
“Nothing. Nothing, at all.”
He grabbed her dress and ripped it down the center to expose her chest. Her bosom was covered by corset and chemise, but it was only a matter of time before she would be naked and at his mercy.
“You have small tits,” he said. “I’m glad. I hate it when a woman looks like a damned cow. I wish I hadn’t agreed to share you with Archie.”
“What did you say?”
“Oh, have I forgotten to mention Archie?” He was glimmering with a demented sort of lust. “I promised to let him have you—while I watch, of course. I’m sure I’ll find it very arousing.”
“Archie wouldn’t . . . wouldn’t . . .”
“He’s often pondered it.”
“You’re lying!”
“Am I? He’s considered raping you for years, but he was too much of a coward. I’ve urged him to move beyond his inhibitions. He’s not so timid as he used to be. In fact, he’s quite abandoned all restraint.”
“He would never hurt me!” she loyally asserted, though it was bluster. She’d never understood Archie, had never particularly liked or trusted him, and if Adrian was egging him on, he might commit any evil deed.
“Wouldn’t he? Y
ou’re so naïve.”
He reached to the table by the bed and retrieved a knife he’d placed there. On seeing it, her eyes widened with alarm, and he grinned.
“You’re afraid. Marvelous.”
“I’m not scared of you,” she contended.
“Yes, you are, as you should be. Give in to the terror, Helen. If you do, our night will be so much more enjoyable.”
With a flick of his wrist, he sliced through corset and chemise to bare her breasts. Luckily, he hadn’t nicked her, but eventually, he would. What was best? To resist? To humor him and survive? To succumb without argument?
She would probably be murdered despite what she did or didn’t do, and she chose to go out fighting. She wouldn’t stop till she drew her last breath!
Attempting to throw him off, she bucked with her hips, but she hadn’t any leverage. And she screamed and screamed, so loudly that she felt her lungs might burst.
“I like it when you try to be tough,” he growled. “When I finally break you to my will, the end is so much more satisfying. Now, let’s amuse ourselves before Archie arrives. I’m eager to determine if your precious captain taught you any worthwhile tricks, though I have to confess that his tastes—and mine—are a tad different.”
“Who is making all that racket?” Archie scowled and halted.
“Who do you think? It’s your sister.”
He glanced down to where Miss Reilly was strapped to the bed. “My sister? She’s caterwauling like a banshee. What could be so dire?”
“She’s crying for help. What would you suppose?”
“Help from what?”
“Your degenerate friend has started in on her. From the sound of it, she’s not too thrilled with how her wedding night is progressing.”
“But Adrian said he’d wait till I finished with you. He promised!”
Archie was livid. Adrian had sent Archie to Miss Reilly’s bedchamber, advising Archie to do whatever he liked to her but keep out of sight. He’d claimed he had to lure Helen upstairs without Archie getting her riled. Archie hadn’t wanted to miss the fun of seeing Helen’s expression when she realized that she’d been duped, but Adrian had insisted, and like the puppet he was in Adrian’s hands, he’d scurried off.
Clearly, Adrian intended to ravage Helen first, without letting Archie assist, and the notion that he’d been deceived was galling.
He crawled off the mattress and went to peek out the door. Down the hall, he could hear Helen wailing and cursing. There was some scuffling, followed by a stinging slap, but Helen’s tirade wasn’t silenced. If anything, it grew in intensity.
He was anxious to join them but tantalized by Miss Reilly’s quandary, too. He could treat her however he wished, and the exciting prospect was difficult to ignore.
“I’ll be back shortly,” he ultimately told her. “Don’t go anywhere.”
As if she could! Hah! Adrian had done his work well, having bound her while she was unconscious and unable to defend herself. Her face was battered, an eye puffy and turning black-and-blue.
“Where are you off to, you disgusting prick?”
Archie whipped around. “What did you call me?”
“Are you deaf?” she mocked. “I called you a disgusting prick.”
“You will not disrespect me! Not in my own home!”
“Last I checked, this wasn’t your home, and even if it was, I’d talk to you however I please.”
At her impertinence Archie was aghast, and he stomped over to her. “Shut your mouth!”
“Or what? Will you shut it for me?”
“Yes, you presumptuous hussy. How dare you offend me!”
She rattled the ropes on her wrists. “Once I’m loose, I’ll do more than offend your sorry ass. I’ll kill you.”
“That’s a grand speech from a woman who’s completely under my control.”
“I won’t always be fettered. I’ll figure out how to free myself. When I do, you’d best beware.”
“Of what?”
“I can hit a man with a knife from thirty paces. Someday when you least expect it, I’ll simply slip out of a crowd, toss my blade, then vanish, and no one will have any idea who threw it.”
“You’d actually have me believe that you’d commit cold-blooded murder?”
“In a thrice, Archie old boy. In a frigging thrice. Better be saying your prayers.”
At the threats Archie was appalled. Had Adrian thought through this portion of their adventure? How could they ever release her? They’d have to . . . to . . . do away with her to keep her quiet.
“I’m weary of listening to you.”
He searched for a gag to stuff in her mouth and found a stocking hanging out of a dresser drawer. All the while, Helen was clamoring on and on, the keening howl grating on his nerves. He had to cram the stocking between Miss Reilly’s lips, but he wasn’t sure how. In her angry state, she resembled a rabid dog, and he was terrified that she’d bite off his finger.
“Your friend hasn’t let up on Helen,” she chided. “Don’t you feel any sympathy for her?”
“No.”
“No twinge of brotherly concern?”
“Helen is reaping her just reward.”
“For what?”
“For betraying me with Westmoreland.”
“You think she betrayed you?” Miss Reilly seemed astounded by the possibility.
“I’m positive she did. She deserves whatever happens.”
“That’s rich. You know, Arch, you make me glad I never had any siblings.”
“I told you to shut up!”
“What’s it like, taking it in the butt for that pervert, Adrian? I’ve always wondered how you could stand it.”
A hot flush coursed across his cheeks. No one knew how he behaved with Adrian when they were alone. No one! How had she guessed?
“What did you say?”
“Does he hold you down and force you? Or are you willing?”
A wave of rage swept over him. He’d never been so furious. “I’ll kill you for uttering such a dastardly insinuation.”
“You don’t have the courage, you sick fuck.”
“We’ll see about that, won’t we, Miss Reilly.”
He went to the wardrobe, riffled around till he located a belt, and when he returned with it, he was more aroused than he’d ever been.
“It’s too quiet.”
Robert reined in his horse and studied the deserted yard.
“Very strange,” the Captain mused.
“Something’s wrong.”
“I agree.”
“The house looks empty.”
No boys emerged from the stable; no gardeners raked leaves; no footman tarried on the stoop. Spookiest of all, the front door was wide open. It made the entire place seem as if everyone had picked up and moved away.
“Helen was so fussy about appearances,” the Captain mentioned. “She’d never have let visitors arrive without a servant to greet them.”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
Robert’s pulse pounded. “What should we do?”
“Is your pistol loaded?” the Captain asked.
“Yes, and I’m carrying both my knives, but I have to tell you that if anybody has harmed Patricia, I won’t need a weapon. I’ll slay them with my bare hands.”
“Good man.” The Captain nodded. “I’ve taught you well.”
He had urged his horse forward when a scream rent the air.
“Did you hear that?” Robert knew the sound had been real, but he couldn’t quite process it. The noise was too incompatible with the bucolic surroundings.
“Let’s go”—Westmoreland kicked his horse into a gallop—“and be ready for anything.”
They raced up the drive, and the Captain leapt to the ground and ran into the foyer. Robert hurried after him, and they both paused long enough to determine that the ruckus was coming from upstairs. They rushed to the second floor, then the third. Pistols drawn, they marched down the hall, searching through one bedchamber,
then the next. Westmoreland was a step ahead, with Robert bringing up the rear.
The Captain shoved at a door and froze. Then he muttered, “Sweet friggin’ Jesu!”
“Westmoreland!” a male voice squeaked. “What are you doing here?”
“Captain,” Patricia shouted over the man, “that deranged bastard Adrian Bennett has Helen. They’re in the master’s suite. You’ve got to help her!”
Robert was still out in the corridor and unable to see. The Captain spun around, his expression more deadly than it had ever been.
“Take care of this.” He gestured to whatever was occurring inside. “I must find Helen.”
“I couldn’t stop him!” Patricia called. “I tried. I’m sorry.”
Robert entered, and initially, his brain couldn’t make sense of the shocking scene. Patricia was bruised and battered, shackled to the bedposts as if she’d been tortured—or was about to be. Archie Mansfield hovered over her.
On espying Robert, fully armed and brimming with wrath, Mansfield gulped with dismay and frantically calculated routes of escape.
“So, Mr. Mansfield,” Robert seethed, “we meet again.”
“Who the hell are you?” Mansfield clamored off the mattress.
“Surely you remember me,” Robert said. “I’m Mr. Smith.”
Mansfield scrutinized him, and as recognition dawned, he laughed. “The accountant? I’m quaking in my boots.”
“Robert, is that you?” Patricia bellowed.
“Yes, darling. Are you all right?”
“Bennett took me by surprise, but this puppy hasn’t laid a finger on me. He’s all talk.”
“I’ve always thought so,” Robert concurred.
“Release me,” Patricia pleaded. “You can hold him down while I beat the living daylights out of him.”
“Yes, I’ll release you,” Robert replied, “but you won’t need to bother with him. I shall be more than happy to assume the task.”
“Robert!” she complained.
He could feel anger seeping into him, commencing at his feet and surging up his legs, his genitals, his belly. His heart seemed to enlarge to twice its usual size, his torso to strengthen and expand, as he came toe-to-toe with Mansfield.
All bluster, Mansfield sneered, “Don’t you have some numbers to add or something?”