Maybe This Time, page 35
She twisted her head. He grabbed it in his hands. “Don’t make me angry,” he warned her, his tone rough, threatening, frightening. “You won’t like me angry. I could . . . hurt you.”
Remembering Hedwig, Alyssa stilled. His lips again covered hers and she stood passively in his embrace. Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she vowed not to let them fall. Kevan. She must think of Kevan. Where was he? Did he know where she was? When—dear God, please!—would he come?
Innes raised his head, triumph burning in his eyes. His arm swathed her like a shroud and he buried her at his side. “You have much to learn about pleasing a man. But don’t worry, I will instruct you.”
Certain she would be sick, she closed her eyes to fight the waves of nausea rolling through her. Once, she’d decided to end her life rather than suffer this man’s touch. But then she’d been alone and without hope.
She wasn’t alone anymore.
Kevan. She would think only of Kevan, see only his image in her mind. She’d picture herself escaping, gaining her freedom from Innes and finding her way back to Kevan. She’d picture him coming, finding her. And the two of them killing Innes—before he killed her.
He forced her into a lamplit salon, shoved her down on a wide divan, then sat down beside her. He pressed his thigh against hers. Her flesh crawled, and she moved away.
Sliding across the damask cushion, he followed her. “You can’t escape me, Alyssa. Haven’t you learned that yet?”
Her anger rising, she bit the inside of her cheek, clenched her hands on her lap into fists to keep from striking him. “Why have you done this?”
Innes smiled, but there was no tenderness in it. Only lust burned in his eyes. Lust and hatred. “I want you.”
When Kevan said those same words, she felt warmed by them, cherished and loved. From Innes they sounded wicked, ugly and evil. “You had me and you wagered me to Kevan.” To herself, she added a silent prayer of gratitude that he had. “My value meant little to you. My husband—”
“You will not speak of him to me!” Innes’s skin flushed and he fell silent until his color was almost back to normal. “You refused to become my wife, Alyssa.”
“That was later,” she reminded him. “You’d already lost—”
“I had not,” he interrupted. “While you were abed with the fever, I visited your chambers. I’d arranged the match with your father long before. When I told you we were to wed, you laughed in my face.” His eyes grew cold, hard. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I was fevered,” she countered. “I remember seeing no one.”
“You saw me.” He scowled his insistence and squeezed her arm. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. “But you aren’t laughing now, are you? Nor will you ever laugh at me again.”
Being physically inferior, surprise is your strongest defense. Unbidden, the instructions filled her mind. Lull your enemy into complacency.
Taking in a steadying breath, she heeded the directives. “If I offended you, I apologize. But I would remind you, I was ill. Much of the time, I knew not what I said or did.” Watching him closely, she saw his expression soften. “Please, let us forget this unfortunate incident, Lord Innes. Send me home.”
“This is your home. At least for now,” he informed her. “We are going to America.” His eyes grew cold as sleet. “You will live with me openly there—as my mistress.”
Alyssa gasped. “I’ll not.”
“You will,” he contradicted her. “I wanted to make you my wife, but you scorned me. My honor demands satisfaction, and I shall have it. You suffering the indignity of Phryne should suffice admirably.” He shrugged. “Though you don’t share the physical features of the Athenian courtesan, you shall share her reputation as a woman of easy virtue. And you shall earn that reputation.”
He lifted his chin, his expression amused. “I’ve always been possessed of a most generous nature. When I tire of you, I shall invite any man expressing interest to share your charms.”
She wanted to kill him. Keeping her expression passive was almost beyond her ability. Still, she gave the task her full effort. “Kevan—”
Innes slapped her.
Her cheek stung, and tears sprung to her eyes, but she blinked them back and glared at him.
“You will obey me, woman. Never speak that man’s name in my presence again. This time, I will forgive your insult. But should it happen again, I’ll take a stick to you.”
Alyssa believed him. Furious, she forced herself to sit mute until the anger eased from his expression. Dear God, he’d gone mad. Fear prickled her skin, raising it to gooseflesh. And, worse, he intended to make her the victim of his madness.
“Until I tire of you, I will treat you well,” he assured her. “But only so long as you please me. You must do what you’re told, when you are told to do it; heed even my tiniest wish without question. You needn’t bother glaring, Ladybird. One way or another, you will satisfy my desires. Suppress your rebellious nature and accept that, then you’ll have no cause for complaint.”
“And if I refuse?” Her voice was but a whisper of sound. She hated it. Hated her fear of him, her weakness, her lack of ability to fight back. She hated him.
His lips spread back, baring his teeth in a grim smile. She couldn’t stifle a shudder.
“Should you dare to refuse my slightest whim, you will find your circumstance extremely unpleasant. To cause me annoyance, will cause you pain.” His paw-like hand gripped her face, pinched her cheeks until her teeth cut into the soft flesh of her inner cheek and the taste of blood filled her mouth. “But let’s not talk of unpleasantness, mmm? You are not a foolish woman, merely an ignorant one who has now been enlightened.” He lessened the pressure and stroked her aching jaw. “I am a wealthy man, Ladybird.” His fingertip grazed her skin, down her throat to the valley between her breasts. “I can make your life paradise or hell, and I assure you, paradise will be much more to your liking. All you must do to get there is whatever I demand of you—both in and out of my bed.”
She was going to lose her stomach. She swatted at his hand. “I’d prefer to reside in Hell than to suffer your slightest touch, and that’s the truth of it.”
Before her eyes, he altered. The veins in his neck bulged, his jaw compressed, and an angry white line circled his mouth. “Very well.” He stood and jerked her to her feet. “Then, first, you shall have your hell.”
He dragged her up the stairs and shoved her into a small tower room. Cobwebs tangled in her hair. Dank and musty, the air reeked of disuse. A naked cot pressed against one wall, a chamber pot against another. A tiny window caked with dirt and the grime of neglect let through no more than a dim sheen of light from the coming dawn.
Alyssa closed her eyes, refusing to utter a sound.
Without warning, Innes ripped the clothes from her back. She snapped her eyes open and fought his hands. Too strong for her, he accomplished his task. In moments that seemed lifetimes long, she stood before him: naked, embarrassed, and terrified.
Praying for strength, she resisted the futile urge to hide behind her hands, stiffened her spine, and forced her voice strong. “So, now you will add rape to your list of crimes.”
He smiled his cynicism. “No. Though you deserve a sound thrashing with the stick for your insult, I shall spare myself the bother. Soon enough, you’ll beg me to give you my seed.”
She thrust out her chin and stared into his eyes, silently praying that he would leave before her knees gave out and she collapsed. “Before begging anything from you, I will die.”
He laughed, a high-pitched maniacal shriek that grated at her ears, mocked her defiance. “You will beg me,” he predicted. “Hell grows most tiresome. You’ll soon thirst for the passions of paradise. And I’ll be delighted to give them to you, my dear. As soon as you request them—on your knees.”
“You intend to keep me here until then?”
“But of course.” He waved a hand. “What better Hell could there be? Look around. One window, much too small for escape. One door, which I assure you will be bolted and guarded at all times. Yes, I agree, the conditions are most primitive.” He pursed his lips and cocked his head. “But you did say that you preferred hell.”
He turned and walked toward the door. “Shall you kneel to me now? Spare yourself the hardships that you will suffer for naught?”
Alyssa thrust out her chin, glowered at him. “If I fail to, Kevan will kill you for this, Innes. And when he does, God forgive me, I will rejoice.”
He laughed. “Kevan is dead. Bend to my will, Alyssa. Please me, and you will not suffer.”
She swallowed her panic. If Kevan were dead, she would know it. She would feel it. “I’ll never kneel to you. Never. I swear it.”
He strode back toward her. She drew in a sharp breath and held it. He bent to gather her clothes, and she let her breath out slowly.
A scowl as dark as night made a grotesque mask of his face. “As you wish. But know this: as long as you live, you shall be mine. Please me, or suffer the tortures of hell.”
Innes turned and stepped into the hallway.
The door slammed shut.
The bolt slid home.
The lock clicked.
Alyssa stilled her thundering heart with a hand to her chest, and looked around. One door, heavy and locked. One window, too high, too small, to aid her escape. A bare cot. A chamber pot. And nothing that could serve as a weapon against Innes. Nothing.
Dear God, she was trapped.
Twenty-five
“YOU MUST eat, milord.”
Kevan looked up at Meg, his eyes haunted. “I’ve no appetite.”
Meg frowned down at him. Unshaven and weary from investigating leads on his wife’s whereabouts, he’d grown gaunt. There was a desperate look about him now.
Two long weeks had passed. And no further word had come from Innes. Meg gave her lord a sympathetic look and left the library.
In the hall, she saw Parks, a slump in his normally erect posture. He, too, wore the signs of strain.
She pulled an envelope from her pocket and passed it to him. “Something must be done, Parks. Have someone take this to Lady Jersey. She’ll know what to do.”
Parks took the envelope and nodded to a footman lingering in the hall. “See this delivered at once.”
A scant hour later, swathed in plumes and a bright green poke bonnet, the esteemed Lady Jersey strolled into Kevan’s Knightsbridge library.
“Parks, tea, if you please.” She smiled at Kevan. “Good morning, milord.”
“Sally?” Kevan narrowed his eyes, watched the lady remove her gloves. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to straighten out this inexcusable mess.”
She sat down in a chair across his desk—the one Alyssa favored. Pain twisted in his chest.
Lady Jersey frowned. “Why haven’t you spread the word about Alyssa’s abduction?”
With great effort, Kevan stifled a groan. If nothing else could be said for the Jersey, she was persistent. “My wife is a proud woman. You know that. I wanted—”
She interrupted with a shrewd glance and an impatient wave of her hand. “To protect her from gossip-mongers who are sure to speculate that she either left willingly with Innes, or that she was raped by him during her incarceration.”
Kevan flinched and nodded. “You are—”
“Blunt.” Again she finished his statement.
Parks set the tea tray on a table near her chair.
“Thank you, Parks.” The forward woman smiled up at his man. “Please bring his lordship something more substantial than scones to eat. He looks—dreadful.”
“Yes, milady,” Parks replied, a decided twinkle in his eye, his back as straight as the jewel-studded sword hanging above the mantel.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Go, Parks. Bring the food.” Lady Jersey turned her frown on Kevan. “I’m most annoyed with you already, milord. Do not test my patience. I agreed to assist in your little deception with Alyssa because I’ve a fond memory or two of your father—Lord, you do remind me of him in his salad days—and, of course, I agreed because I myself married at Gretna Green. A most romantic encounter that I hope you made as memorable for Alyssa as my dear husband did for me.” She cleared her throat, and her voice grew stern. “However, I doubt you did. You’ve botched this entire romance with your wife, and I am far from pleased with your performance.”
Kevan couldn’t keep the groan from passing his lips. “You neglected to tell me that Innes had been married.”
“You neglected to ask,” she countered. “Poor Hedwig. She was a lovely woman. Impeccable lineage, you know.”
She paused to pour two cups of tea, then passed one to Kevan and watched him raise the cup to his mouth. “You are aware that Innes murdered her.”
Kevan sputtered hot tea down the front of his coat of superfine.
Lady Jersey smiled and thrust a linen napkin in his direction. “Close your jaw, Kevan.”
Dabbing his chin, then his coat, Kevan frowned at the lady. “How do you know Innes murdered her?”
“You men are such foolish creatures, my dear. You’ve not yet learned to seek the counsel of women in matters of importance.”
“Sally,” he warned.
Sally Jersey shrugged. “I hired her maid.”
“She saw—”
“Of course not. Innes would have killed her, too, in that case.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because her maid knew of the discord. Innes is quite a gamester. You did know that, of course. After all, you exploited that shortcoming.” She sipped her tea, then went on. “The simple truth is that Innes wanted control of Hedwig’s wealth, and she refused him.”
“But he was her husband. Alyssa said something about a trust—”
“No, not a trust. Hedwig’s wealth was settled on her. Innes did receive a huge dowry to compensate though.”
“And when Innes wanted more, Hedwig refused.”
“Exactly.” Sally leaned forward in her chair. “Hedwig’s maid overheard the argument. Innes told Hedwig she was more valuable to him dead.”
“I suspected as much.” Kevan passed his cup to Sally to refill.
She poured and passed the delicate piece of china back to him. “Do you know where Alyssa is?”
“No, I don’t,” Kevan admitted, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. “We’ve tried all of Innes’s properties, those of his friends, inns. There’s no sign of them.”
Lady Jersey let out an impatient sigh and her gaze rolled heavenward. “In twenty-four hours, I’ll have your answers.”
“How?”
“Men,” she said in a tone ripe with disgust. “Will you never learn? I intend to use the most reliable source of communication—the best source of information—in all of England.” Lady Jersey gave Kevan an enigmatic little smile. “Servants, my dear.”
His hopes dashed, Kevan frowned. “We’ve spoken to servants—though none of Innes’s could be located.”
Lady Jersey thrust out her chin. “And how many women have you spoken to, Kevan Buchannan?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted.
“Humph!” She let out an indelicate snort. “None, I’ll wager. A pity. Had you come to me sooner, this incident could have been resolved within days.”
The lady stood. Kevan rose to his feet. “Thank you for your concern.”
Sally Jersey smiled and drew on her gloves. “I know my reputation denounces my kind heart, Kevan, but you love the chit. She is a delightful woman, if a bit too proud. A most suitable match for you, my dear. Your father would have been pleased.”
Kevan bowed, realizing that the fondness Lady Jersey confessed to holding for his father was in truth much more. She’d clearly held him in deep regard.
From the door, the lady directed. “Eat. And get yourself up to crack, my dear. You look dreadful.”
Kevan grinned. “My apologies, milady.”
“Keep them. You remind me so of your father. He, too, wore that amulet, you know. He confided to me once that it had special powers.” She smiled wistfully. “Such a wit, your father. Such a dear, dear wit.”
The lady moved from sight and Kevan cupped the crystal in his palm. A jolt rocked his body and settled in his feet. Yes, he remembered. He’d been young, only seven when his father died. But he recalled something . . . Elder. That was it! Elder.
He concentrated, trying to remember more.
THE OLD HOUSEKEEPER hobbled into the tower room. Dragging her right leg, she bent beside the cot and set a tray of food on the floor. “It ain’t right,” she muttered. “A body ought to have a table to eat at proper.”
The food she’d brought in last night hadn’t been touched, and grumbling her worries about that, she lifted the untouched tray and took a gander at the naked woman huddled on the bare mattress. She lay still as a corpse. “Pitiful. A body ought to have a blanket, too. Old, drafty tower. Chill a body to the bone. It just ain’t right.”
She turned toward the door, damning the devil for seizing her lord. Refusing the poor lass even a blanket. “A little food twice a day,” he’d said, measuring out a portion too sparse to feed a sparrow, to her way of thinking. “And a little water for drinking, but not too much. Let her lips crack and split. The chit will learn to obey her master.”
It was sinful. That spawn of the devil would surely roast in hell. Treatin’ a lady like he was. A lady! She nodded wearily. But him roasting later wouldn’t spare the lady suffering his Hell now. Oh, there wasn’t no fire, but his tower was sure enough Hell for the lady. Him torturing her like he was. Damned able-bodied, weak-spined men, too scared to help her, too. It just wasn’t right.
She hobbled back over to the still woman and whispered. “I would kill the he-devil myself, if I could. He’s got no pistols, else I’d shoot the devil dead, I would. Treating you what has a soul worse than an animal what has none. I done what I could fer you, though. Tried to kill every spider in the house, and anything else able to crawl. God’ll have His due,” she predicted. “And that’s all I got to say. God’ll have his due.”
