Jared sat next to Mariah, keeping watch until Dr. Langley blustered into the room. His movements quick and sure, he rolled back his sleeves and drew off his vest, ordering Jared from the room. Reluctantly Jared wandered into the drawing room to throw himself into a chair.
After knocking and hearing no answer, Clay Hamilton came in but stopped when he saw Jared seated by the fireplace. Observing the worry etched on Jared’s face, he forgot his antagonism toward him and asked anxiously, “Is someone ill? Saw Doc Langley’s buggy outside.”
“Mariah almost died this morning, Hamilton. Maddy went off her head and tried to poison her. Doc’s with her now. I think I reached her in time. Clay, I married Mariah last night. Maddy seemed to think she was avenging Lil somehow. Mariah was going to let you know.”
A muscle worked continuously in Clay’s jaw as he listened in disbelief to Jared’s explanation. It’s impossible he thought. She kissed me at the party last night; I would have proposed if Pa hadn’t asked me to wait! An ugly suspicion formed in his mind and he threw it at the man across the room. “You weren’t satisfied with Lil, were you? You had to force your damn lust on Mariah. Did you rape her to force her to marry you, you bastard?”
Before Hamilton could blink, Jared was up, his hands twisting the shirt collar at his throat. Eyes that had turned dark blue flashed a cold, deadly threat. “The only thing I know, Hamilton, is that she loves me and if you ever look her way again, it’ll be the last thing you do!” He released him with a contemptuous shove that propelled him backward several feet, where he staggered to retain his balance.
“You haven’t heard the last of this, Bryant,” he sneered at the man he now knew he hated. He backed toward the door and crushed his hat on, slamming out to mount and gallop away.
Jared dismissed the statement, whirling as Doc Langley came into the room, shaking his head. “Close call, son, mighty close. Without your quick action, that little girl’d be gone to heaven! Never met her, who is she?”
When Jared explained she was his wife and they had just been married, Langley’s face softened compassionately. “She’s a beauty, Jared! With her youth and health, she’ll pull through just fine. Keep an eye on her and feed her plenty of liquids—milk or soup. Should be a couple of days before she can get up, though. I’ll come by tomorrow to check.” His face hardened into a frown, voice steely as he inquired how the poisoning came about. “Where’s Maddy now?” He knew the woman, had known her for almost twenty years and though he found it hard to credit her with such an action, it was his responsibility to take her to the law.
The doctor followed Jared to Lil’s room and she showed them the servant’s room and when there was no answer to the loud rap, fetched a spare key and unlocked the door. Maddy’s body lay spread across her bed, face blue and twisted in a deathly macabre grimace. The poison she had used on Mariah lay near the bed, the sack clearly marked with death’s hand. Doc checked for a pulse and a soft moan alerted Jared as Lil swooned. Jared carried her back to her room.
Leaving Lil, he returned to the room to find the doctor covering the old woman’s contorted face with a blanket. He frowned at Jared once more. “Clear-cut case of attempted murder and suicide. Guess…she couldn’t stand the guilt. ’Preciate it if you’d have the body brought to my house for an autopsy. Purely official, of course, it’s clear how she died. Have to file a report at Myer’s Landing. I assume you want to keep this under wraps—no sense makin’ more talk for the gossip-mills.”
Jared appreciated his understanding and thanked him. After showing the doctor out, he returned to Mariah’s room. She was awake, but weak as a kitten and he had to lean close to hear her whispered words. “I…love you, Jared…” Her eyes closed and she drifted into an exhausted sleep.
Three days later, Mariah sat on the gallery, a blanket covering her knees, as Jared’s resonant voice recited lines from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Her head lay supported against the high back of the chair, eyes closed in contentment as Jared’s trained voice made the melancholy words spring to life. He sat at her feet, and her hand lovingly toyed with the golden curls at the back of his head.
Jared had filled Mariah in on the details of what had happened while she was ill. The events horrified her, the worst one, the remembrance that she had almost given in to that floating, disembodied feeling that had signaled approaching death. She knew now that it was Jared’s hands that had given her support when she had weakly expelled the poison and that he had stayed by her side constantly until the second night. She had awakened feeling much stronger and had found him, collapsed in the chair next to her bed, his face worn and lined with concern.
She felt strong enough now to talk and when he finished the famous soliloquy, she tugged softly at his hair and he glanced up at her.
“Where will we go, Jared? I can’t stay here any longer. Lil won’t even look my way—I know she blames me for everything.”
Jared took her hand in his. His gaze swept over her face and his heartbeat quickened as he thought how close he’d come to losing her. She was pale and thin, fragile-looking. “Would you like to return to St. Louis? Or would you not be a welcome visitor with the rogue you picked as a husband?” His voice was teasingly affectionate, but deep lines of worry still etched the corners of his eyes.
“You’re not a rogue, Jared! And no one would dare say so or risk having his eyes scratched out!” she said protectively. “I miss Mama, of course, but I’d like to settle someplace new and fresh. Perhaps it’s time you went to England and we searched for your father.”
With bitter reflection, Jared realized she was probably right. He would never be able to settle permanently anywhere until the old wound of his father’s desertion had healed. “Whatever you want, love. Who knows, the old man may welcome his long-lost son with open arms,” he said cynically. “We’ll talk about it again, when you’re stronger.”
Jared lifted the slight weight of her body into his arms and carried her back inside. Mariah’s heart ached for him; the sarcasm that marked his words as he spoke of his father revealed how deeply hurt he still felt. When he had settled her comfortably on the bed and tucked the cover under her arms, she gently caught his neck. With one hand, she drew his mouth down to hers, sweetly expressing her love. His lips eagerly returned the kiss but he drew back, stifling a groan.
“You keep that up, ma’am, and I’ll forget you’ve been so sick. You’re bewitching enough, without teasing me into seducing an invalid!” He tenderly pushed a stray wisp of hair from her forehead to ease the rebuff.
Lil, passing the room, saw the caress through the open door and her mouth tightened into a thin, hate-filled line. Entering her room, she shut the door and threw herself on her bed, kicking the springs in frustration. How dare they stay in her house, flaunting their…lust in front of her! Now, with Maddy gone, she had no one left, and the emptiness of her existence sent her into a stormy depression. As always, her mind turned back to the one person she felt was responsible for the whole sordid mess. Because of her, Maddy was gone; because of her, Jared had turned into a lovesick calf, and, because of her, Lil no longer had an outlet for her own rampant sexual drives. She had searched her mind for a way to get rid of Mariah but Jared stood in the way, guarding her constantly.
Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. Jared had neglected his duties lately, with his attentions centered on Mariah. If she could persuade him to resume them, at least until she could find someone to replace him, he would be out of the way. She could send a note to Clay Hamilton, signed with Mariah’s name, that asked him to meet Mariah somewhere…but where? Yes, she knew where—the spot Jared always sought, near the creekbed! With Jared gone, she’d get Mariah to go there on the pretense that Jared had been hurt on the range. She giggled delightedly, unable to see a flaw in the plan. She would maneuver it so that Jared would find them together. The first positive plan that had any merit made her sit up with excitement, and she decided to leave now and call on Clay to set him up for his part. She would tearfully inf
orm Clay of Mariah’s true relationship to her. It would provide a basis for Mariah’s need to meet Clay—that Jared had found out and scorned her because of it. The subtlety of the plot made Lil giggle again. She quickly bathed her face and freshened up before leaving for the Hamiltons’.
No one saw Lil as she saddled her horse and rode off toward the Hamilton ranch. When she returned two hours later her face was flushed with excitement, triumph radiating from her bright blue eyes.
Lil caught Jared to one side, a week and a half later, pleading with him to do her a favor. “Jared, since Mariah’s illness, you have to admit you’ve paid no attention to your duties around the ranch. The men are getting hard to handle. Could you go out this afternoon and oversee the roundup? It would really help until I hire someone to take your place. I assume you’ll be leaving with Mariah.” She kept her expression evenly composed, commanding herself not to disclose the bubbling excitement inside.
Jared recognized the truth of her claim. Mariah was on the mend, stronger every day. He was sure he could leave for a while. “Sure, Lil. You’ve been pretty patient so far, I owe you that much.” His worries about leaving Mariah alone with Lil had vanished. “I’ll tell her where I’m going, then head out.”
Lil watched him return to the daughter who had become her hated rival, thinking, you owe me far more than you realize, Jared! And he would pay the price this afternoon! She planned to be ready to offer him consolation when he returned from the creek, with his wife and her supposed lover both dead.
Mariah stood at the front door, staring after Jared as he rode out to the range. He was headed in the direction of the creekbed, the spot that meant so much to her now. The sweet memory of the beginning they had shared beneath the gnarled oaks still warmed her. Jared had spent the last three nights with her. The tenderness of his body against hers reassured her again of his feelings.
Mariah conserved her strength by taking a nap each afternoon. While she rested, Lil put the rest of her plans to work. She had needed a confederate, someone to run the message to Clay and to ride in and warn Mariah of “Jared’s accident.” Kyle Smith, an older hand who could be easily duped, was perfect for her plot. Before Jared came to the ranch, he thought he’d been in line for the foreman’s job. He was stupid enough to believe her story of how Jared had misused her, and when he’d finished with her degradation, had turned to Mariah. She led Kyle on, enticing him into her bed a couple of nights, and when she promised him he’d become the new foreman, he was ready and eager to do anything she asked. Now, as she dispatched him to the Hamilton ranch with a forged note from Mariah to deliver, she allowed him to hold her close a moment, and to run his rough, calloused hands over her as a taste of what would be his.
The note told Clay that Mariah had been forced to marry Jared. Now, knowing that she was a half-breed Indian, he’d begun to beat her and had even threatened her life. It asked him to meet her by the creek. Clay’s frustrated love for Mariah would easily tempt him to fall for the false note.
Kyle had been told to wait an hour, giving Clay time to start out, and then ride in to tell Mariah about Jared. Nervously watching the clock, Lil finally saw the hands reach two-thirty and, exactly on time, Kyle came running in. Mariah had just gotten up and her eyes were still heavy-lidded and sleepy until the stuttered news of Jared’s accident penetrated. Kyle played his part well, telling her they laid Jared near the creek. “He’s hurt bad, Miz Bryant…you’d better come now!” Wild with dread and fear, Mariah trembled as she waited for Kyle to saddle her horse, so absorbed with Jared she never stopped to wonder that Lil had not become hysterical or that Kyle did not accompany her. She sped the black mare as fast as it would race.
Oh, dear God, please…let him be all right, she prayed as she whipped the horse to a faster pace. It took over twenty minutes to reach the spot and she flew down from her mount, startled to find the creek deserted. Helplessly confused, she put a hand to her head trying to clear her muddled thoughts. Sudden hoofbeats broke the silence and she whirled. Clay Hamilton drew his horse to a halt and jumped down, Mariah’s note still crumpled in his pocket. Seeing her pale face, he was overwhelmed by his feelings, and he quickly moved to draw her into his arms to ease and comfort her.
Mariah tensed and pulled sharply away. “Clay, what’s this all about?” His hand still possessively held her arm and she struggled free. “Clay, don’t…I’m married now, you know that!”
Puzzled by what he considered coy teasing, he reached for her as as his arms tightened, his lips achingly sought the trembling mouth. Her lips were as soft and sweet as he’d imagined. Mistaking her pliancy for willingness, he brazenly forced his tongue into her mouth, his arms caressing the slender body that he now knew would be his.
Shock had immobilized Mariah but as Clay’s hands freely roamed over her body, she struggled against the pawing encroachment. Breaking his hold, she paused to catch her breath before she raised her hand and slapped his face as hard as she could.
“What ever gave you the idea you could take such liberties, Clay Hamilton. If my husband saw you…” His complexion was a sickly white, the imprint of her hand visibly reddening the fair skin.
What the hell kind of teasing game was she playing? He slowly began to burn with anger. First the note begging him to save her, then protests that she was happily married! His bruised ego took command and the stifled passions he’d held in check since the day she had married were uncorked. He suddenly realized she was one of those hot bitches who panted for rough treatment, craved it more than gentle handling. He’d once met a whore in St. Louis who was crazy for the same thing. Well, he’d be more than happy to oblige her. His eyes swept down the length of her body following each curve with unbridled lust. She seemed to sense his threat and stepped back, but not before his hand shot out, catching her across the mouth with a vicious blow that sent her sprawling against the dirt and grass.
Mariah’s head buzzed from the stunning slap and she lay a moment, tasting blood from her cut lip. Half-raising herself, she turned to face him…to find out the reason for this sudden, mad attack. Her eyes filled with horror, at the sight of him standing above her, legs braced wide and a demented look of power transforming his face as he took off his heavy leather belt and wrapped one end of it around his right hand, snapping the belt against his high boots in a whiplike motion.
Mariah saw his hand snap back with strength, and her mouth formed a silent scream as she tried to scramble back to avoid the blow that even now was headed for her prostrate body. Still weak from her recent illness, she hadn’t the strength to move far and the tip of the belt caught her low on her stomach, a stinging, glancing blow. Mariah screamed, pleading with him, but Clay laughed, excited by her helplessness. He continued the whipping, each blow more forceful as Mariah cowered, half-bent, while her back and legs took most of the ruthless punishment. Finally, the rhythmic beating stopped and the only sounds to break the stillness were the babbling rush of the creek and Mariah’s anguished, gasping sobs. Disoriented and moaning pitifully, she lay panting for elusive breath, still curled defensively into a ball. Red, swollen welts were beginning to form across the tender, satiny skin that showed clearly through the torn material of her dress.
A part of Mariah, curiously detached from her pain, wondered briefly if he was through with his mad abuse of her. She thought only of Jared, lying broken and bleeding somewhere and it gave her the strength to crawl to a sitting position, to ask Clay, plead with him about Jared. Horror widened her eyes to a glazed green as she caught his stare; he was lust-crazed with excitement at his complete domination over her. His gaze was fixed on her thigh, bared in her straggles to escape. One hand almost absentmindedly stroked the growing bulge at his crotch. Noticing the direction of Mariah’s terror-stricken gaze, Clay glanced down and seemed, for the first time, to realize his condition. He quickly stripped off his pants, stalking menacingly in her direction, to throw himself on Mariah’s prone, fear-immobilized body. The veneer of a civilized gentleman was for
gotten, supplanted by a long-repressed desire to dominate and master. Clay became a rutting animal, unheeding of Mariah, even unaware of her existence except as a vessel to use and degrade. His hands tore at the rents in her clothing, leaving only torn shreds around her trembling body. Hands pawed at her freed breasts and fondled, seemingly everywhere at once, until there was no part of her body that had not suffered the lewd stroking and pinching. Finally, he fell heavily forward, his hands grasping her knees to shove them obscenely wide as he plunged his rampant, engorged erection into her, spearing her unprepared body. Disregarding his superior strength, Mariah suddenly became a wildcat; the pain of his forced violation and maddened lunges making her oblivious to his attempts to hold her down. He attempted to violate her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep within its warm recesses, much as he was violating her lower body.
Mariah managed to scratch at his face and scramble backward, escaping the impaling torture. Blood flowing from claw marks beneath his eyes, Clay felt her slipping from his control. Enraged, he shot his right fist out, brutally catching her on her left temple. The blow stunned her and all resistance drained away, yet she was left aware enough to experience the utter humiliation of the final moments of the degrading act.
Too worn to think, praying that he would finish the mockery of lovemaking, Mariah wanted nothing more than to crawl off into the bushes and die. She had never felt so dirty; her skin crawled from the contact of his body. Tears trickled from beneath tightly shut eyelids to slide down her cheeks.
Savage In Silk Page 13
