“What?” Her stomach dropped, and tears welled in her eyes. “Jason, you can't mean that. I don't need sedation treatments. He can't help me with my problems; no one can.” Her voice rose as he closed his eyes to her. “I... dammit, Jason, look at me. Tell him no.”
“I'm sorry,” Jason shook his head and turned away. “It would be in your best interest to accept treatment.”
“My best interest?” Nichole shouted, stunned. “Are you fucking kidding me, Jason? Where's Amy? Where's Jim?” She glanced at Renata and Kevin. They had moved closer and listened avidly. No surprise showed on their faces. Then, Renata grinned at her.
“Don't touch me.” Nichole yanked her arm away from the doctor and tried to put Jason between them.
“Miss Harris, please.” Clemens reached around Jason and gripped her by the wrist. “As I said before, I must return to Denver without delay.”
Nichole jerked her arm but failed to break his hold. Panic tightened her chest.
Jason stepped away and turned his back.
Clemens captured both her wrists and twisted her arm in a practiced gesture, which brought her back tight against his chest. Nichole screamed and bucked her head against the doctor's chin and raked the hard edge of her shoe down his shin bone.
“No!” she shouted again as he yanked her back and wrapped his arm around her neck.
“Calm down or I will sedate you.” His voice was low and cold in her ear.
“Let me go!” Nichole continued to struggle. “Put me down, goddammit!” There was no calm inside her. “What is wrong with you, Jason? Help me!” Her voice broke, and she screamed with rage.
Jason covered his face with both hands and walked away.
“Renata, fetch my bag.” Dr. Clemens motioned toward the door. “Miss Harris appears to need something to calm her down.”
Renata opened the case and withdrew an already damp cloth. “Is this it, Dr. Clemens?”
“Yes. Keep it away from your face. That's right; now hold it over Miss Harris's nose and mouth. Be careful she doesn't bite you.”
A sickly-sweet scent came from the cloth Renata held to Nichole’s face. She tried to turn her head, but the doctor held her throat tight. Heaviness pressed down on her head, and her eyelids fluttered. She heard a door slam in the distance and Amy’s voice. Then, the day went black.
Chapter 31
Nichole Harris
Nichole's eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. From the blank depth of her drug-induced sleep, she clawed her way to the surface. There was something she had to do. Something urgent. She could hear movement near her—an irregular step on the floor.
She tried to say Merril’s name, but the words didn’t form. Her face was numb—rubbery. It would be easier to sink back down into the darkness, but she resisted the urge. Her instincts warned her to run, but to do that she must open her eyes. A blurry outline captured her attention through watery vision. Color in motion came toward her, then paced away. Nausea gripped her, and for a few moments she struggled against that, gagging.
“You awake?”
The voice was wrong.
Why am I so sick?
In a flash, she remembered why, and panic seized her. She fought to sit up. The cold porcelain of a bedpan thrust into her side, and she wrapped her arm around it, retching.
“He said you'd need that when you woke up.”
Agonized heaves clenched her gut as her head pulsed with pain. She knew Kevin watched her as she tried to gain control of her stomach. She hated him just a little bit more for that. She spat out the last bitterness and wiped the tears streaming down her face.
“Holy shit,” Nichole muttered.
“Yeah, you look like shit.” Kevin took the bedpan and set it near the door. He handed her a damp towel.
She held it to her face as she sat the rest of the way up. She recognized her bed. “Where's that doctor?” Words were hard. Her mouth wouldn't cooperate. Pain pounded behind her eyes.
“He left.”
Nichole lowered the towel and blinked at Kevin's blurry form. “Why?” She reapplied the cool cloth to her face.
“I didn't let him take you, so he left.” Kevin chuckled.
“You didn't?” She wiped her face one last time and tossed the towel toward the bedpan. “How did that ... what happened? Where is Jason?”
“Jason is downstairs with Amy. She's rather upset. Renata rode back to The Shilo with Dr. Clemens.”
“Kevin.” Nichole's numb mouth refused to cooperate, and she spoke slowly. Her eyes were gritty and burned. They watered as she squinted to focus her vision. It hurt to blink. The sickly-sweet scent of ether clung to her face. “What did you tell ... that doctor?”
“I told him he couldn't take you from me.” Kevin walked around the bed and squatted down in front of her. He grunted as though it hurt to move.
“Why did he— How could you—” Kevin’s face swam into focus. “Holy crap, Kevin. You look terrible.”
Kevin ignored Nichole's comment. “Dr. Clemens told Jason only a close relative could stop him from placing you in his hospital. A father, or a brother, or ... your husband.”
Nichole blinked at him. “I don’t understand.”
“As your betrothed, it was left up to me. I saved you.”
“You saved me.” She whispered his words and tried to make sense of his explanation. “But ... we're not getting married.”
“Oh, I think we are. Either we marry, or the good doctor comes back and takes you away.” Kevin studied her face.
Horror filled her. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't take a breath. The grin on Kevin's battered face grew wide and gleeful. Two short breaths wheezed into her lungs, and she held his gaze as she spoke. “You would force me to marry you? Why would you do that?”
“I have my reasons.” He stood, the grin gone, and stepped away from the bed.
He paused at the door, and a strange smile spread across his bruised face. “In case you think your pretty cousin will stop the marriage, you'll need to think again. Jason has his own reasons to keep his mouth shut.” He captured her gaze and grinned. “I promise you—he won't interfere.”
Nichole turned her head and blinked tears from her still-burning eyes.
“You're a mess,” Kevin said from the doorway. “Clean yourself up and come downstairs. We will announce our engagement at the barbeque tomorrow night. You have fifteen minutes, or I'll be back for you—and you won't like that one bit.”
The door swung closed with a click.
* * *
Amy Harris
Amy paced the length of Jason’s desk, her nails tapping angrily on the corners each time she turned. She had stepped out of the room to speak with Jeanne and Lawna about the barbeque. When she heard Nichole scream her name, she had run through the kitchen in time to see Kevin lift the unconscious Nichole in his arms and carry her up the stairs.
“No, Jason, I don't understand. You say that doctor of Renata’s sedated Nichole after she became hysterical, but that doesn't make sense.”
Jason rose from his leather chair. He didn't speak until Amy stopped pacing and looked at him. “Dr. Clemens was gracious enough to examine Nichole and provide us with his recommendations.” He looked away from Amy's intense gaze and adjusted his cufflinks. “I intend to help my cousin in any way I can. Dr. Clemens studies injuries of the brain. Doc Johnson is a country doctor and a part-time veterinarian.”
“That still doesn't tell me what upset her.” Amy countered. The whole situation, Doctor Clemens, Renata's involvement, and now Jason's indifferent attitude, gave her a sick feeling in her stomach.
“Dr. Clemens recommended Nichole be committed to a hospital that specializes in treating this type of brain injury—”
“A sanitarium?” Amy said before Jason finished speaking. “How could you even consider that?”
“She's still here, isn't she?” Jason yelled. He paused, took a slow breath, and lowered his tone. “I agree Nichole should remain here with
us, and she is. She is upstairs in her room, as we speak.” Jason dropped his gaze to his desk. “Now, please. There are some things I must take care of this evening. I don't have time for your hysterics as well.”
Amy stood completely still. Anger coursed through her and made her heart beat fast. Her hands, clenched into fists at her side, opened into claws and took on a luminous blue glow. “I see.” Her voice was soft—controlled—and the glow slowly faded. “Then, I leave you to your work.” Her glare burned unspoken accusations into Jason's equally cold stare as he raised his head and met her eyes. She turned and stalked to the office door when Jason's voice stopped her.
“Perhaps you should consider returning to Denver for a while.”
Amy's back straightened. “Yes, of course, Jason,” she replied without turning. “I had already thought of that myself.”
* * *
Nichole Harris
Nichole stared dumbfounded at the closed door. She had fifteen minutes to—what?
Change my clothes? Slit my wrists? Become presentable?
She closed her eyes and let her head spin.
Well, shit.
The room smelled of ether and vomit, or was that her?
She struggled to her feet and held onto the tall dresser for balance, then wobbled over to the dressing table. One look in the mirror and she laughed out loud. Her laughter dissolved into sobs as she sank onto the chair and covered her face.
A sanitarium or marriage to a madman.
Was everyone in on this heinous plan? They had to be. Why else would Jason let this happen?
The realization her fifteen minutes were ticking away, and Kevin's threat to return, sent a shock of fear into her gut and got her moving. She sniffed, wiped her nose and glared at her pathetic reflection. The tip of her nose had peeled and showed pink through her unbecoming tanned skin. There was vomit on her bodice. Her hair bun had slid down the side of her head. Her eyes were puffy and red.
Fifteen minutes. I hope he doesn’t expect too much.
She pulled the pins from the bun, brushed her hair and repinned it. Cool water and a moist towel couldn't wash the smell off her, but she felt better. She rinsed her mouth and spat into the bowl, then took one last look in the mirror.
She choked back the urge to fall to the ground and weep. Instead, she stiffened her spine.
I’m not dead, or married, or locked away just yet.
Anger at the injustice kept her on her feet. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked at Jason's office. The door was closed. The sound of clinking glass turned her attention to the music room. Despite her anger, her stomach fluttered with nerves and her knees trembled.
Kevin is dangerous. He’s already proven that.
Cautiously, she entered the room.
Kevin looked up at the clock and grinned. “Two minutes to spare. I almost hoped you wouldn't show.” He downed a full glass of whiskey and set the empty glass on the mantel. He hissed as the alcohol burned his throat, and then turned toward her. “I'm glad you've decided to accept the situation, Nicki,” he drawled and pointed to a seat. “It'll make things so much easier for us.” His satisfaction was apparent as she seated herself where he had indicated. Then, he stepped to the door and slammed it shut.
“Would you like a drink? A glass of water?” He pulled a decanter from the liquor cabinet and poured a glass half-full of water. “You’re mighty quiet, sweetheart. Perhaps you'd like to tell me what's bothering you?”
Nichole's glare shot to Kevin, but her furious words died in her throat. There was madness in Kevin's eyes—the same violent madness she’d seen yesterday when he killed Toma. She tried to swallow, but fear had sucked the moisture from her mouth. Those insane eyes were trained on her. He smiled, reading her reaction and set her water on the mantel. He took a step toward her.
“I saw you and Merril at Shadow Creek the other day. I know what kind of lies you've been telling me.” He smiled again and advanced another step. “That wasn't very nice, you know.”
Oh shit!
She rose to flee just as his thick-fingered hand closed around her throat and pressed her back against the cushion. His mouth descended over hers and cut off her scream of terror along with her breath. She pushed against his chest and shoulders, but he only increased the pressure of his hand on her throat and stuck his tongue between her lips when she gasped for breath through whiskey fumes.
Darkness closed around her vision, and bright sparks flashed, just as the pressure released. She sucked in a shaky breath, and then Kevin forced his tongue back into her mouth. She gagged and pushed against him. Then, the devouring mouth was gone, fastened instead on her breast he had freed from her torn dress.
A sharp pain shot through her nipple as he bit painfully into her tender flesh. One of his hands clawed frantically at her thigh where he had bunched up her dress. The other clutched greedily at her other breast leaving dark red marks on her white skin.
Nichole panted, and anger exploded in her mind. She wove her fingers deep into his thick hair, then yanked back and down with all the strength she could muster.
His head came up and away from her breast with a smacking sound.
She drew back her arm and launched her fist as hard as she could into his face. As her fist connected with his eye, she rolled toward him. Her movement dumped him off the settee and onto the floor.
A deadly growl grated from his throat, but she had already gained her feet. She raced to the door, her bodice clutched to her breast, and was out of the room before Kevin could get to his feet.
She looked back as she rounded the banister.
Kevin stood in the doorway and their gazes locked.
He's going to kill me.
Terror galvanized her, and she picked up her skirt and raced up the stairs.
His boots pounded into the parlor behind her.
She didn't pause at the top of the stairs to look back. She ran to her room, shut the door and wedged her chair beneath the handle. Trembling, she sank to the bed and waited for the door to burst open and her life to end.
* * *
Kevin Shilo
Incensed, Kevin dashed after her. His eye had already begun to swell where she’d hit him. He stopped for a moment at the base of the stairs and heard her bedroom door slam shut. A thrill of anticipation shot through him as he placed his boot on the first step.
“Kevin.” Jimmy Leigh's harsh voice jerked him to a standstill. “What are you doing here? I thought you left with Renata.”
Kevin glared at the tall man who stood in front of the closed office door.
“No, I decided to stick around ... see if I could help out for tomorrow night.”
Jim nodded, stepped around the table, and approached the stairs. “What happened to your eye?”
Kevin winced. “That damned brother of mine. You heard what he did?”
“I heard some nonsense. I find it all a bit hard to believe. Can't imagine what got into Merril, can you?” Jim's voice had a hard edge of anger. He took another step toward Kevin.
Kevin eased his foot off the stair and stepped back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “No, can't say that I can.” He backed away as the big foreman continued to approach. “I really ought to head back. What with Merril running off, there's no one at the ranch to keep an eye on things. Wages go out today.”
“That’s true,” Jim agreed stoically. “I think you should run along.”
Kevin opened the door and hurried outside. He glanced back just long enough to see Jim turn and look up the stairs. Kevin closed the door and ran to his horse, who stood saddled and waiting in the corral.
Chapter 32
Nichole Harris
Nichole sat on her bed and tried to control her ragged breath to hear Kevin when he came up the stairs. The adrenaline eased, and she began to tremble. She waited in apprehension, listening for his boots on the stairs, but the sound never came. She stood and pressed her ear to the door. No sound in the hallway. No
noise on the stairs.
She shifted the chair from beneath the knob and cracked the door enough to peek out. Kevin should have broken down her door by now, but the house remained silent. Whatever his reason, he hadn't followed her upstairs. She shoved her hair from her face, closed her door and leaned against it, tense as a coiled spring.
He could be anywhere.
She wedged the chair beneath the knob again, crossed the room and peered out the balcony door. The clopping of hoofbeats caught her attention.
Kevin galloped his horse down the drive toward The Shilo.
He's gone.
She slumped against the doorframe in profound relief and shut the door. She shook her head and covered her mouth with her hands. Sobs erupted, and she sank to her knees beside the bed.
This isn't over. He'll be back.
She needed help, but to whom could she turn? Jason let this happen—why? Merril beat Kevin bloody then ran away—why? Why did they want her to marry Kevin?
A shudder of disgust went through her.
Kevin—ugh.
She rose from her knees and staggered to the dressing table. Her face appeared ashen and blotched, with dark circles underneath her eyes. Her lips were swollen, and her hair hung in tangles around her face. But it was the bruises on her neck and breast she studied. Red tooth marks stung where her skin was scored beside her nipple.
With a cry of rage, she tore the dress to the waist, pushed it over her hips and let fall in a pool at her feet. Wishing it was Kevin's head, she stepped out the bunched material and kicked it with fury under the bed. Her torn shift followed the dress. She grabbed the brush and drew it through her tangled hair.
She wasn't going to marry Kevin—that much was certain.
How can I stop him? They'll lock me away.
They can try.
They can, and they will. Kevin was quite clear about that.
But why? It didn't make sense. What was their motive for wanting this marriage? Kevin's motive certainly wasn't love. Then, what? Money? If she married Kevin, what would happen?
That was easy—the two ranches would combine.
Passage (Soul of the Witch Book 1) Page 25