Flame of Fury

by Sharon Green

  "I believe we came out here to discuss something other than the staff," Rianne said, those green eyes showing her determination to change the subject. "No one can approach without us seeing them coming, and if they sneak up behind a tree the fountain will drown out our words. Shall we get started?"

  Bryan noticed that her gaze was now on the fountain, but he doubted that she saw its three-tiered loveliness. She was seeing something else entirely, something that had no loveliness at all.

  "I was about eight at the time it happened, eight or nine," she began in a lifeless voice. "My mother was dead only a few months, and I'd taken to wandering all over the house. It had come to me that my mother might be hiding rather than dead, you understand, and if so I wanted to find her. I'd keep her secret from that man, her husband, and she and I would have lots of happy visits.

  "I wasn't supposed to go into the cellars, but it had also come to me that that man might be holding her prisoner down there. It was so much like a dungeon that it was perfectly possible. Stone walls shining with damp, heavy wooden doors, stable lanterns easing the gloom only a little - If she was down there, I had to get her out. She'd always admitted she was weak, but I was strong enough for the both of us. She had relied on my strength ever since Father had died.

  "I'd crept down to the cellars that day because I'd noticed others going down. A strange man who had shown up and then seemed to spend all his time in my stepfather's study, his personal manservant, and my stepfather. My stepfather never went down to the cellars, not even to choose his wine for dinner. If he was down there, it had to be something to do with my mother.

  "But it wasn't." Her voice had grown very soft, and Bryan had to lean forward to hear her. He glanced at Sarah to see that she sat stiffly, gripping the arms of her chair, looking as though she were braced against an unexpected blow. She felt the terrible pain in the girl's lifeless voice, just as he did. He thought about stopping the nightmare narrative, but he had to know.

  "But it wasn't something to do with my mother," she went on in a whisper. "There was a big, empty chamber toward the back of the cellars, and the thick wooden door stood partially open. Inside was - that man and my stepfather, along with the manservant and a fourth man. The fourth man was tied to a sturdy wooden chair, and he was trying to scream around the gag in his mouth. They'd taken off all his clothes, and I could see the blood and burn marks all over his body.

  "'He's a stubborn one, all right,' the stranger said to my stepfather. 'If I'd known he would be so difficult to persuade into speech, I would have had you extend the invitation to one of his peers. We'll have to choose more carefully next time.'

  "'You're going to do this again?' my stepfather demanded weakly with horror. He acted as though he wanted to look away from the man in the chair, but didn't dare. 'If someone else disappears from my house, people will begin to get suspicious! Please don't give up on this one, I'm sure he's ready to break. Another taste of the iron, perhaps, or - '

  "'Nonsense,' the other man snapped. 'If the threat to his manhood didn't move him, what do you imagine would? He's already given up his life as a man to preserve the secret entrusted to his honor, so what else would it be possible to do? Even a spineless wonder like you should be able to see the obvious. Amuse yourself one more time, 0, and then end it.'

  "O must have been the manservant's name, because he smiled with pleasure. There was a leather case lying open on a high table beside him, and he took out this small hooked thing of metal, and then… The gagged man couldn't scream out loud, but I could…"

  By then Bryan was out of his chair, crouching next to her and holding her tight in his arms, trying to quiet the shuddering horror pushing her breath out in gasps. She was paler than the marble of the fountain, trembling harder than the water drops at the central tier's lip.

  "All right, that's enough for now," he decided out loud, one hand to her neatly coiled hair. "Since I can guess what happened next, you can save the details for another time."

  "No, no, I can't," she denied, moving protestingly in the prison of his arms. "A lot of the memory is blurred, so I have to try to get it straight. If I push it away again, I may never remember it all."

  "And wouldn't that be a shame," Bryan muttered, reluctantly letting her go and returning to his chair. He'd needed to hear the story, needed to know how much more pain and suffering to charge against his quarry's account, but telling it was tearing the girl apart. Even though she was trying to pretend otherwise.

  "So, I screamed," she continued after taking a gulp of tea. "That brought me to their attention, and my stepfather was livid. He was also terrified, but the other man calmed him down. They spoke in whispers for a couple of minutes, and then I was escorted back to my rooms where I spent my time until all the guests left. My stepfather was there every time a tray was brought to me, but all the rest of the time I was completely alone."

  "To make sure you didn't tell anyone about what you'd seen," Bryan said with a nod. "They couldn't afford to silence you permanently, not when that would have taken your inheritance out of Harding's reach. They needed an alternate method of ensuring their safety."

  "Which they found rather quickly," the girl said, clearly fighting to keep control of herself. "The day after the last of the guests were gone, my stepfather's - friend - walked in when I was taking my bath. The first thing he did was something no one had ever done before; he spoke to me as if I were an adult.

  "'Even if you tell someone, they won't believe you,' he said. 'None of the servants in this house like you, so they won't want to believe you. You've been haunting this place like a ghost ever since your mother died, and they think you've been spying on their private affairs. You may believe I'm lying, but I'm ready to prove the point. I'm going to do something to you, but no one will believe you when you tell them how it happened.'

  "That was when he did the second thing - scraping my back with his knife." She faltered, needing to swallow hard. "It was painful, of course, but worse was the - deliberately casual way in which it was done. It seemed to annoy him that I wouldn't scream or cry, but he let it go and left. And he turned out to be correct. When a maid came to help me dress after my bath, she was horrified to find me bleeding. She demanded to know what had happened, so I told her my stepfather's friend had cut me with a knife."

  The girl smiled without humor, and shook her head. "You should have seen the storm that caused. I was shaken hard, and then lectured about telling awful lies about a grand gentleman like my stepfather. First, the woman said, all his friends had left the day before. He had no more guests in the house. Second was the fact that a fine gentleman like Robert Harding would never associate with anyone who was capable of hurting little girls. She covered the wound, got me dressed, then marched off to tell someone about the way I'd lied."

  "How long did you keep trying to tell the truth?" Bryan asked, wishing he could smooth the fists out of her hands. Fury was clearly what she was feeling, at those who had hurt her, and those who had refused to hear her.

  "He came back and did the same thing again for five days in a row," she answered obliquely, green eyes filled with a coldness Bryan had seen before only in the eyes of men. "That second day he laughed at me, because I'd been confined to my rooms for 'lying.' He took the covering off the wound and did the same thing again, but even though it hurt more than the first time I still refused to cry. He didn't like that at all, and I repeated my story when I was asked about what had happened this time. I repeated it every time I was asked, but after the third day they stopped asking."

  "That was probably when they decided they didn't want to know the truth," Bryan said in a growl, wishing more than ever that he'd already caught up to that filth. "They were afraid that the same thing could happen to them, or maybe even worse. That slime knew they would think first of themselves, leaving you to manage as best you could. Did he ever speak to you or come near you again?"

  "The last time was the last day he came," she responded, the fury now clearly ti
nged with illness. "He was in a rage that he hadn't made me scream or stop telling the truth, and his narrow eyes glittered with it. Before he added to the hurt on my back, he told me that was the last time he'd do it. He was leaving, and I'd never see him again.

  "'Unless you decide to be really stupid,' he said, staring down at me with those eyes. 'There will be guests in the house beginning tomorrow, and you could try telling them what happened. If you do they won't believe you, but I'll certainly find out. At that point I will return, then take you away with me. You won't enjoy living with me, but I'll find it most diverting.'"

  "And you were too young to know they couldn't afford to do that to you," Bryan said, this time reaching over to pat Sarah's arm. The poor woman had gone deathly pale and looked about one step short of physical illness. When her husband got back, he'd be lucky if Jamie didn't have his ears for putting Sarah through all this.

  "I'm still not sure it was an empty threat," the girl told him with a headshake. "They wouldn't have wanted to lose control of my inheritance, but sooner that than lose their lives. If someone had believed me and made an effort to investigate… Well, I had no idea who would do either thing, so I just kept quiet. That last time with the knife hurt so much… Knowing it was the last time made his threat to come take me away all the more frightening, the thought of having it started again, and forever without stop - "

  Once again her words broke off, her eyes closed as she fought for control. It came to Bryan that she might have told the story here, beside the house where it had happened, to keep from fouling any other place with the memory of it. But whatever the reason, it had gone more than far enough.

  "All right, now you've told me everything," he said in what he hoped was a soothing way. "Now we'll just sit here for a few minutes, drinking tea and enjoying the day. Come on, lean back and relax."

  He was speaking primarily to the girl, but Sarah also needed the advice. Her problem was that she shared too easily what others went through, that she felt their pain almost as strongly as they did. Compassion like that was more of a curse than a blessing, a truth she was right now proving. Bryan refilled all their cups with tea, then set an example by leaning back himself.

  It was Rianne who first threw off the cloud that hovered over them. Bryan had wanted to hold her close and help her do it, but he'd felt the same thing from her that he had the other day after her bath: with those memories stirring so strongly, she couldn't bear to be touched. Someday she might be able to accept the strength of someone else's support, but now she had to do it alone the way she had as a child. She raised her cup and sipped from it, then lifted her green eyes to him.

  "So what happens next?" she asked, looking and sounding as though nothing at all had occurred. "Does he get away with it again, or is there a chance of catching up with him?"

  "Those three heirs and the executor of Harding's will all live in London," Bryan answered, toying with his cup. "That means tomorrow I leave for London to pay them each a visit. If there's anything at all to be found, I'll find it."

  "I can be ready by tomorrow, " she agreed, startling Bryan out of his relaxation. "It would be easier if you could get me the clothes boxes from the coach Angus and Cam and I used, but if not I'll have them pack the rest of my things here."

  "You expect me to drag you to London after what you've been through?" Bryan demanded in outrage, straightening in his chair. "What do you think I am, a complete savage?"

  "Really, Mr. Machlin, no one is a complete anything," she murmured in answer, that same devilish look in her eyes that he'd seen the night of the ball. "And what I went through happened years ago, when I was still a child. Or were you referring to what I went through because of you and your plot against my stepfather? Now there's something to think about."

  "I'll admit you're due an apology for that," he allowed, trying not to show the discomfort he suddenly felt. "I had no choice about forcing you into marriage, but I never meant to hurt you. And I won't add to it by putting you in danger. The man I'm after won't hesitate to kill if he finds himself cornered, and I won't expose you to that."

  "Since the choice is mine, you'll have nothing to feel guilty about," she maintained, stubbornness kindling the glint in her eyes. "And how do you expect to recognize the man you're after? Without me he could tip his hat to you on the street, and all you'd do is nod in return. You need me, Mr. Machlin, almost as much as I need to face that cur again. Or don't you want to catch him?"

  Bryan's jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth, the better to keep the growl he felt on the inside. The little vixen was trying to trap him, and so far had done a damned good job. He did owe her something for enmeshing her in his plot, and he did need someone who had actually seen his quarry. What he didn't want was to expose her to the danger she refused to admit would be waiting. His feelings for her hadn't changed, nor, apparently, had hers for him. Mr. Machlin, she called him, even now when they were supposed to be on the same side…

  "We'll have to continue this argument later," he said, seeing the house steward coming down the terraces toward them. "Don't think it's settled, little one, not by a long shot. At least one of those four men ought to know what my quarry looks like, and their lives I don't mind risking… Yes, what is it?"

  "I'm Harms, sir," the man who had first opened the door to them said with a bow. "I thought you should be consulted, Mr. Machlin, about when the authorities are to be informed concerning Mr. Harding's death. The body needs to be removed and prepared, after all…"

  "Yes, of course," Bryan temporized, rubbing at his face with one hand. He hadn't thought about that at all, not with everything else demanding his attention. "Send one of your people now to tell whoever has to know. I'll wait here and speak to them, but the ladies will be returning to my house. Make sure my carriage is at the front door of the house."

  "Yes, sir," the man Harms said with another bow, then turned and retraced his steps toward the house. The show of brisk and loyal efficiency was still being put on, but Bryan didn't mind. He'd take advantage of it as long as it suited him to do so, which meant at least until Harding's remains were seen to. And he'd returned from London…

  His gaze went to Rianne, where she'd begun gathering herself to leave. There was an air of smug satisfaction about her, as though she considered their argument already won. He'd never in his life seen a woman able to recover control of herself that quickly, especially not after reliving a time of absolute horror. He'd have to come up with something good if he intended winning, and he was beginning to get the glimmering of an idea. Don't count me taken yet, little one, he thought with an inner smile. Not quite yet…

  Chapter Eleven

  Rianne strolled around the grounds near Bryan Machlin's house, knowing she'd already done everything possible to be ready for the next day. Before leaving her stepfather's house, she'd been able to order the rest of her clothing packed and sent to her. Machlin had been busy speaking to Harms at the time, so she'd been able to specify that she wanted her things by that night.

  The ride back had been as silent as the ride going, with Mrs. Raymond staring into space and looking very pale. Rianne noticed that the woman seemed to have had a hard time with her story, and had obviously been trying to keep from being sick. As soon as they'd reached the house she'd hurried inside, and one of the housegirls had later told Rianne that Mrs. Raymond was lying down and had asked not to be disturbed.

  "But I'm sure she won't mind if 'Bryan' disturbs her," Rianne muttered, hating the very sound of the name. She'd never be able to speak it herself, not after hearing it so often on the lips of that woman. It made her so mad she wanted to kick Mrs. Raymond, and to emphasize the point she kicked at a leaf in the grass. The leaf disappeared out of sight under the hem of her day gown, leaving her with no idea about whether or not she'd missed. What she hadn't missed was how cozy those two were, each of whom was supposedly married to someone else. What she really ought to do was tell them off right to their faces…

  But why bother
? Rianne sighed as she forced herself to face the truth instead, a disappointing truth but one that couldn't be avoided. Her marriage to Bryan Machlin had merely been part of his plan against her stepfather, nothing to do with her personally. He'd also tricked her into his bed, an act low enough to make her angry, but it also wasn't unexpected. As Angus had pointed out, strong men had a habit of taking what they wanted, something all the books agreed with. Conventions were always disregarded by men like that, men whose passions were so strong. They were born to rule everything and everyone around them, especially their women.

  Which meant that that sort of man wasn't likely to want someone like her as a wife. She wasn't the kind of woman to let any man rule her completely, which Bryan Machlin had already learned - and obviously hated. He'd put up with her until now only because he had to, and now didn't even want her around to identify their common enemy.

  That identification was something she owed him as well as herself, but he must be afraid he'd never be rid of her if he took her to London. She couldn't blame him for the belief, but that wasn't how it would be. According to Mrs. Raymond, he was already prepared to return her freedom. Once the one who paced her nightmares was found, she would be gone before she became an embarrassment to Machlin.

  A small breeze touched her face, possibly the same breeze that had joined her for lunch. She'd had the meal brought to her outdoors, in a pretty little bower to one side of the house. She'd shared the meal with the trees and sky as she often did, usually because there was no one else to share it with. Being alone was nothing new, she'd spent most of her life alone. When the time came that was the way she would leave … and never look back … to save herself the sight of no one waving good-bye…

  "So there you are," a voice said suddenly, startling her. "For a moment I thought you'd run away again."