“At least he had that much decency left in him,” Charles said, and added, “Unless, of course, he meant to boast of his despicable actions.”
“Perhaps he’ll be able to tell us himself. He’s stirring again, I see. Well, Nicholas? Are you back with us or will you have to be taught your manners all over again?”
“Newbury—you will—as usual—teach me anything— it—pleases you to—teach me, I suppose,” Nicholas said in a strained whisper he had to force out while he felt his body shudder with the cold chills that overtook it as water dripped into his eyes and even his mouth. “But I wish— that—you would not—” He held his own despairing words back just in time when he realized that he had been about to plead, and said when Newbury asked him in his smooth voice to finish what he had been about to say, “Nothing—or—I’ve forgotten—” And this time could not prevent from gasping out loud when the lash descended again, without warning.
Alexa had felt, while they were all talking over her and around her, as if all her muscles—even those that controlled her breathing and those in her throat—had somehow become paralyzed, like her fingers locked tight over the coldness of iron bars, and her eyes, and her open mouth, and her mind and the thoughts in it as well. Frozen in place—like everything else and everyone else in this ghastly tableau—until suddenly she became aware of the pressure of Charles’s hand on her shoulder and saw the strange look that Newbury sent over her head before he turned calmly back to watch the continuance of the carnage he had already begun.
She had been holding in her breath because she could not breathe, and everything was trapped in her head until it was filled to the bursting point.... And then, on the sharp gust of her expelled breath, she heard herself cry out wildly as she felt for one inexplicable instant his pain as well as her own combined in agony so unendurable that she almost fainted from it.
“Alexa! Good God, for a moment...!”
“My dear Charles, you should have warned me that your fiancée had such a delicate constitution. Unless it is a little more than that, and you have made her that way?”
She heard Charles and she heard Newbury’s sneering voice, and when she lifted her bent head she saw that the Marquess stood just on the other side of the bars, looking down at her with that expression in his eyes that she had always found terrifying before. And she had been right to be frightened because now, catching him unawares, she understood what it meant and why all of this was being enacted and how he had planned and manipulated and must have waited for this moment. Yet strangely enough it was this sudden, intuitive feeling that made Alexa lose her fear of him, and her blind desperation as well; enabling her to meet his eyes steadily and hold them until he suddenly drew in his breath and looked below her eyes, saying in a falsely solicitous voice, “Ah, your lovely velvet gown must be quite ruined,” before he turned away abruptly and murmured questioningly, “My good Brown, do you think we could find out exactly what his Lordship might have forgotten? I have a feeling...”
“Oh, stop! For God’s sake, haven’t you done enough? Gone far enough? You know, as you always knew very well...” Alexa drew in a shuddering breath and started to pull herself erect, but Charles had both his hands on her shoulders now and would not let her, as he leaned over her to say softly, “My dearest, you are still distraught, aren’t you?”
“Do let her finish speaking, Charles. I am curious to find out what I have always known.”
Alexa said steadily: “Nicholas never raped me. Never. I lied. I lied because I was so angry with him, but I never thought... How could I have known to what ugly lengths you would go? You...” she felt rising anger stiffen her as she spat straight in his smiling face. “You whoreson! Butcher! If anyone should be put on trial, it is you!”
Newbury laughed shortly and without mirth as he said mockingly, “And so it’s proven that the lady’s a whore, or a whore playing a lady. You admit? On your knees like a Christian saint, or a repentant sinner?”
“I have already admitted to what you brought me here to admit, and I will repeat it if it pleases you. I lied. I lied! There was no force, no rape. I was most willing. And I do not have to kneel before anyone as depraved and as evil as you!” Panting, Alexa fought to be free of the weight of Charles’s hands pressing her down, and when his fingers tightened as he swore angrily at her, she sunk her nails into one hand and her teeth into the other; and then, before he could strike her as he meant to, she took advantage of his momentarily being thrown off-balance and pushed him as hard as she could, sending him staggering backward as she sprang to her feet and faced him defiantly.
It was Newbury’s warning voice that halted Lord Deering before he could carry out the threat implicit in the ugly expression on his usually handsome face. “Charles! No! That will do no good, you know.”
“Did you see what the bitch did to me? She deserves...”
“Charles!” Newbury said again in a sharper voice that silenced him. He looked back at Alexa and smiled. “So you are quite capable of defending yourself—when you want to? And when you choose to, you’ll let any man bed you? Ah, there’s nothing worse than a depraved, wanton bitch who’s a liar into the bargain! Look what you have done to my poor nephew, who treated you honorably and offered you marriage. And then, of course...shall we ask our silent Nicholas what he thinks? After all, we must not forget that he has been the one to suffer the most for his misguidedly foolish notion that you might need protection from... Well, at any rate, instead of speaking the truth in his own defense he chose to uphold your lie in yours. And all for nothing, as it turns out. Such a wasted, useless sacrifice. Being chained like a dog to be flogged daily...”
Her face turning white, Alexa repeated in a stunned whisper, “To be... Oh God, no! Every day? Why? Why wasn’t I told? Why wasn’t I put on trail and questioned also? If I had thought...”
“Why,” Charles said behind her in a voice filled with vindictiveness, “you were on trail in a way. It all depended on what Embry might say, you see. And had he told the truth, why then, my dear Lady Travers, I might have had you many more times by now, but under vastly different circumstances; especially since you seem to enjoy frequenting brothels and receiving your payment in gold chains to flaunt about your hips. And I would not have been the only one to mount you either, bitch!”
“Charles, Charles! She’s your fiancée, after all, and we must remember that the trial is over and the sentence has been passed but not yet fully executed. It’s not pleasant to be made whipping boy for a confessed whore, is it, Nicholas? Tell me again, do you enjoy being flogged?”
“No!” Alexa cried out frantically, pulling at the door. “Oh don’t! Don’t!” But Newbury had already looked at Brown and nodded, and she had to watch all over again and feel her own body flinch as if the lash had embraced it too at the same time.
“Well? That was enjoyable?”
“No. Damn you, no! I—do not find it—enjoyable in the least. Does that please you?”
He’d had to force the words out. He was in agony, and his torment was all because of her. I cannot stand it, Alexa thought. I cannot stand it! How can he? She saw Newbury watching her again as if he waited, and knew what he waited for.
“What are your conditions?” This time it was her turn to force words to emerge from her dry throat. “Tell me what they are and I will meet them, damn you! But if all you needed was my admission that I lied deliberately, then you have it already and you can let us go.”
“Us? Why you’re quite free to leave when you please, of course, but there is unfinished business here, I’m afraid. I’m sure my nephew will be glad to loan you his carriage, if not his escort as well.”
“And the alternative?” It was a question she had not really needed to ask, and as he answered it and the door was unlocked for her Alexa was conscious of their eyes on her. Not Nicholas, who had never once acknowledged her presence there; but the man Newbury called Brown— and Charles—and another man who was introduced as Partridge, of all things—and New
bury himself, her whoreson father. All of them on one side of the scale and on the other herself—her body and her wits staked in a last, desperate gamble that might still lose her the only prize that she wanted above all.
“Nicholas?” She had not dared to touch him, seeing the way he flinched almost instinctively when she had stretched out her hands to him. “Please, try to understand? Please—I could not stand...”
He was sitting on the floor where they had left him, with his knees drawn up; and his newly bearded face, concealed by his clasped hands, rested on his knees as he remained hunched over and silent. Until she said on a despairing note, “Please, I...I love you, Nicholas!”
And then, without lifting his head, he said indifferently: “Then I’m sorry for you, poor Alexa, for there’s not much of me left that is as I was, and that not worth the marring of your soft and silken skin. I have had enough time to grow used to the whip, and you should have let them finish what they started and thought only of yourself. Two fools are worse than one, I think.”
“Brown!” She felt herself suddenly grasped around the waist from behind and carried roughly backward until she was set on her feet in the center of the floor, gasping from having her breath cut off. “I said a minute, and you said you were more than willing. I’m impatient to find out if you’re still as great a liar as before.” Alexa heard Charles whisper something and Newbury laughed. “Strip her for us, Brown. She’s bashful as well as being slow.”
“Two fools are worse than one,” Nicholas had said without troubling to lift his head. But now he had. Was the thought of seeing her forcibly stripped of her clothing what it took to make him notice her? As Brown, a grin on his face, approached her, Alexa flung her head up and looked challengingly at Newbury. “I can do it myself, and you would enjoy it better if I did! Besides, I did say ‘willingly,’ didn’t I?”
Would he remember, in spite of everything, that she had once told him she could not undress herself? It was for Nicholas that she defiantly removed her clothing now, item by item and layer by layer. The green velvet gown that she had bought only because that particular shade of deep green reminded her of the color of his eyes. Five petticoats and a crinoline—corded, lined with horsehair and finished with braid straw at the hem. The very latest thing, she had been told; but perhaps men did not appreciate such things. Removing her tightly laced corset was more difficult than all the rest, and in the end Alexa had to call on Brown to help her. Why was the human body supposed to be kept hidden? Was it only for the secret excitement of the prurient, since anything natural and open was no longer exciting? It felt good to be rid of her clothes again, even if she had to shiver slightly from the cold. Let him see her now as he had seen her for the first time and still remain indifferent, if he could!
“Well, gentlemen?” The gold chain encircling her hips caught the light from the lantern and turned bronze to match Alexa’s hair. It seemed strange to her how her mood of bravado had actually turned into fearlessness, Alexa thought as she found herself posing for their inspection.
“Bravo!” Newbury applauded sarcastically. “And now, I hope, there will be no last-minute regrets?” It seemed as if Brown, like a well-trained dog, responded to every slight signal his master gave.
“Come along, milady,” he said, grasping her wrists firmly before her, and felt a momentary pang of regret at being forced to put scars on such magnificent golden skin. But then, perhaps she was one of those who might enjoy being treated like a bitch. What a bold and brassy piece of goods she’d proved to be so far, stripping her clothes off without seeming to turn a hair. But how long would that last once his Lordship wanted her whipped in certain different ways? Ah, it was almost a pity indeed, until he got to thinking about it. They wanted her looking at them to begin with, and allowed enough slack to squirm—and that was always fun.
Chapter 48
She had undone her hair as well as her clothes, and it fell almost to her waist in a rippling bronze river. He hated the color of her hair to the same degree that it made him desire her—desire to have her subjugated and cringing. All the more now, since the bitch had managed to surprise him and leave his poor nephew gasping like a beached fish. He should, in fact, start her first lesson off by allowing Brown and Partridge to explore and handle her thoroughly until she lost some of her arrogance. And it was, of course, partly that arrogant air of hers that reminded him of his mother, along with her hair.
“Tie up her damned hair or cut it off!” the Marquess said irritably to Brown, who seemed to be taking an unconscionably long time to make sure she was secured—by the ankles first, and then by the wrists above her head— leaving her helpless and, by now, probably quite frightened. “I love you, Nicholas!” he had heard her whisper, and Nicholas, well-trained by him, had not shown any reaction except indifference. The Marquess smiled suddenly, an ugly smile. Brown seemed to be having difficulty with her hair. Why not...? He had already given Nicholas a swig of brandy from his silver flask, and now Newbury insisted that he must have another and get to his feet.
“I thank you for the brandy, but I’m afraid that I cannot, Newbury. Your disciplines for the good of my soul have made me weak. Don’t you have another and more willing victim to play with now?”
“I watched you watching her body as it emerged from her clothes,” Newbury said softly. “Didn’t the sight of it arouse some emotion in you? Even pity, perhaps?”
“She has a beautiful body and a skin like gold silk that it would be a shame to spoil, but you will do as you will, I suppose. Why ask me for an opinion when you have taught me that I should have none of my own? Perhaps she enjoys putting herself on exhibition. Why should I care?” And then, pushing his fingers through his hair almost angrily, Nicholas said, “Oh damn! I have not had brandy to drink for so long that I’m probably a little drunk; and if I must be on my feet to please you, then you will have to help me.”
“Tie up her hair so that it will not get in the way,” the Marquess had instructed him. “Brown does not seem able to manage, and you, I am sure, have had some experience with it. And if you cannot either, then we will cut it off, although that would be a shame, don’t you think?”
Everything about her was familiar, from the faint trace of her perfume to the high, pointed breasts he had loved so well. She stood as he had stood every day for what now seemed like his whole life, waiting for that first and least expected scorpion sting of the lash and anticipating each stroke after that. He had been afraid. Why wasn’t she? And then he closed his mind off to any thought that meant feeling, because his arms ached from having been almost dragged out of their sockets and his back and chest felt as if someone had dragged a lighted brand across them. He managed, fumblingly, to make a clumsy knot in the lantern-bright hair that hung against the nape of her neck.
“Nicholas?” she said softly. “Nicholas, is it very bad? Why...?”
“Ask Newbury your questions, for God’s sake, and let me go back to my meditations,” he said roughly, and left her, walking carefully until he was able to let himself down to the almost reviving coldness of the stone floor again. She wanted this. Standing there with every contour of her body outlined in the orange light for them all to see— although Charles had no doubt seen her naked body often enough for it to be no novelty. Any minute now, Brown would come up behind her and look at Newbury for a signal before he raised his arm, and then she, no doubt, would scream and he... Why had she done it? Why hadn’t she let things be at this late stage when it hardly mattered? Newbury had been right all along, of course, and he’d been the fool. But Christ, what did it matter now? If they’d begun with him, they might as well finish with him, and there was no point in her making herself a goddamned martyr for his sake.
“Well?” Newbury said silkily. “You are tolerably comfortable at least?” He noticed from the corner of his eye that Brown had moved up quietly, and he smiled; and noticing his smile, Alexa’s teeth bit into her lip for an instant as she looked at him with a fixed kind of concentration
that almost threw him off until he seized on something he had been mildly curious about ever since he had been reminded how much like his bitch-mother she was. “By the way, our mutual friend Embry pointed out to me recently that there is a decided resemblance between you and the Dowager Marchioness. Do you know your parentage?”
If he had not asked a question she would have asked one of him that would have led to the same reply she meant to give him—in front of too many witnesses for him to be able to evade. And yet in a certain part of her mind she had wondered what might happen if she did not speak at once but waited to see how terrible it felt to feel a leather thong against taut, bare skin, punishment for all the torture she had made him suffer. Perhaps, most of all, to find out what Nicholas might or might not do. But now?
“I know my parentage very well,” Alexa said in a steady voice. “Although I did not know who my real father was until recently. But why do you ask?”
“Idle curiosity.” They had brought in chairs for him and for Charles, and the Marquess lounged back in his, still smiling. “Are we distantly related by some chance? It might add a decided piquancy to what takes place tonight, I think.”
This time she had to take in a deep breath before she was able to answer him without a change in her voice. “Not distantly related, I am sorry to say, my Lord Newbury, but far too closely for my liking at least. My grandmother, your mother, did not tell you, then?”
“Tell me—? Ah, my clever little bitch, if you think to put me off by crying ‘incest’ as you announce you’re one of my bastards by a whore I’ve encountered, I should tell you that you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’ve always made sure, before I’ve done with a woman, that she will not bear any fruit of mine, at least—as I will do with you when I’ve done with you.”
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