Swear by Moonlight

by Shirlee Busbee

  That thought hardly crossed his mind when there was a loud crack, and the curricle lurched wildly as the right wheel went spinning down the road. The horses reared and plunged at the sudden drag, the curricle nearly tipping over on its side without the support of the wheel. Thea and Maggie gasped and clung to each other as Lord Randall fought to keep control of the struggling horses.

  Eventually he was able to bring the horses to a standstill and leaped down from the curricle to survey the problem. The wheel was gone, the body of the curricle tipped precariously onto one side. A brief search revealed the wheel several yards down the road. The hub was completely cracked, which had allowed the wheel to break free of the axle. Hawley swore as he looked at the damage. It was unlikely he'd find a blacksmith who could fix the wheel at this hour. Provided he could even find a blacksmith. His expression unpleasant, he walked back to where Thea waited for him.

  "Is it very bad?" she asked anxiously, her eyes filled with worry.

  "As bad as it can be," he growled. Looking both ways down the road and seeing not so much as a farm cart, he sighed. "The last village we passed was several miles back," he said finally. "No doubt there is a posting inn or another village just ahead of us. I am afraid that I shall have to leave you alone again, my dear, and go see what help I can find." He glanced at her. "It may be dark before I return. The moon will be out though, so you will not be completely without light. Will you be frightened, if I leave you here?"

  Thea shook her head. "No. Maggie and I shall be fine."

  He helped the pair of them down from the unsteady curricle and, spreading a carriage blanket on the ground at the side of the road for them to sit upon, quickly unharnessed the curricle. Astride one of the horses, the other tied to a nearby tree and the curricle dipping drunkenly where they had left it, he prepared to leave. Looking down at Thea and Maggie as they sat on the blanket, he hesitated. They should be safe. He might be careless of others' comfort but even he did not like leaving two young defenseless women alone on a deserted stretch of road. "I would take you with me, but I shall travel much faster on my own," he said apologetically.

  "Of course you will!" Thea said. She smiled at him. "Go. Go. Do not worry about us. We are country-raised, and the night holds no terror for us. We shall be quite all right. And do not fear we shall become chilled—Maggie and I both are wearing our heavy cloaks—we shall be warm." She stifled a yawn. Her lack of sleep was telling, and her eyes already drowsy, she added, "When you come back you shall no doubt find us asleep."

  When Hawley returned, driving a rented farmer's cart, his temper was none too good. Even the sight of Thea and Maggie curled next to each other and asleep on the blanket did not lighten his mood. The village, more a small hamlet although it did boast an inn of sorts, had been a goodly distance down the road. By the time he had reached it and learned that it would be morning before anything could be done about his curricle, he knew that the elopement was in grave danger of coming to naught. They would have to stay the night, and he was certain that morning would bring Lord Garrett hot on their heels. His face tightened. He had come too far to be thwarted now—and the state of his finances made marriage to Thea urgent. This unforeseen patch of bad luck left him with no choice but to make it impossible for Lord Garrett to oppose the marriage.

  If Thea noticed that Lord Randall was silent during the bone-jarring ride to the little inn where they would be staying the night, she said nothing. She was tired, hungry, and looking forward to sleeping through the night. This elopement business was rather exhausting and not very romantic, she decided fighting an enormous yawn.

  Thea had not thought a great deal about what would happen when they reached the inn, but she was disturbed when she discovered that Maggie would not be sharing the room with her. Her expression troubled, she said to Lord Randall, "It is not necessary to procure another place for Maggie—she can share my bed. I will not mind."

  "Ah, but I will mind," Hawley said with a smile. "I'll not have it bandied about that my wife is reduced to sleeping with servants. I have the care of you now, my pet, and it simply would not do."

  "Oh," Thea said blankly, touched and yet uneasy.

  He smiled again and ran a caressing finger down her soft cheek. "Go to bed, my dear, I shall see to everything."

  "What about Tom?"

  His smile became fixed. "Do not worry. I have everything in hand."

  Reassured and having seen that Maggie was comfortable in the room she would share with the innkeeper's daughter, Thea climbed gratefully into bed. Wearing a demure cotton shift and the covers pulled up to her chin to keep out the chill of the November night, she lay there feeling rather small and uncertain.

  The day had been long and tiring, but she found herself restless. The elopement was not proving to be quite as romantic and thrilling as she had assumed it would be, and Hawley's manner at times troubled her. Tom and her mother had both warned her against him, telling her to be careful, that he was not the charming suitor she thought him to be. Especially, her mother had pleaded that she not be fooled by a sophisticated air and a handsome face. They were going to be furious when they discovered that she had defied them, she admitted guiltily. Thoughts of home and her mother's disapproval and Tom's condemnation flickered through her mind. They had to be mistaken in their beliefs about Hawley. Despite his actions that day, Thea was positive that Hawley was going to be a wonderful husband.

  The sound of her door opening had her sitting bolt upright in the bed, her eyes big and round with apprehension. In the light of the candle he held, she recognized Hawley and let out a sigh of relief.

  Smiling shyly, she said, "It is very kind of you to come and check on me before retiring. As you can see, all is well." When Hawley made no reply but walked to the center of the room and set the candle on the small oak table, she asked, "Is your room nearby?"

  "Not exactly," he said with a slight slur, and began removing his clothing. Tossing his coat on a chair, he sat down and began taking off his boots.

  Thea could smell the scent of liquor coming from him; that coupled with his slurred speech was a clear indication that he had been drinking heavily in the time since she had last seen him. She had seen her brother, late at night, weaving and staggering through the house once or twice by accident, and she knew gentlemen under the influence of strong drink acted erratically—she didn't think she wanted to be around Lord Randall in such a state. Her eyes even bigger, her stomach feeling as if it were filled with ice, she fastened on what he had said, and stammered, "W-w-what do you m-m-mean?"

  Removing the lace at his throat and wrists, he shrugged out of his shirt, and said, "Why, nothing, my pet." He looked across at her and the glitter in his gray eyes made her mouth go dry. "My room is not nearby because my room is right here."

  "Here!" she squeaked, her eyes skittering away from his broad naked chest. "But it cannot be! You cannot stay here. We are not married."

  He nodded. "I know. I would have preferred this to be done differently, but tonight's delay has made it necessary."

  "W-w-what do you mean?" she asked, her heart thumping in her chest.

  Gently, he said, "We are to be married, are we not, my love?" And at Thea's cautious nod, he added, "I have no doubt that morning will bring your brother to our very door. We must make it impossible for him to part us."

  Frightened and uneasily aware of what Hawley was implying, Thea frowned. She was rather innocent, and while she knew that when she and Hawley were married he would share her bed, she hadn't thought about that aspect of their marriage very much. Born and raised in the country, despite her station, she had a fair idea of what sharing Hawley's bed would entail—she just wasn't prepared for it to happen right now. And certainly not without marriage!

  "You mean make love?" she asked in a small voice.

  Hawley nodded. He walked to the bed and, sitting on the side of the bed, he took one of her hands in his. Kissing her fingertips, he said, "We would do it eventually, my love. We will just be
anticipating our vows by a few days."

  She was resistant to the idea. He could see that from her expression, and he bent forward, saying urgently. "Thea, it is the only way. Your brother will be here by morning. You know that he will tear you away from me."

  Thea wouldn't look at him, a tight ball of panic fisting in her chest. What had seemed so romantic and dashing only hours before had taken on a sordid hue. She wanted, she discovered with horror, her mother. It suddenly dawned on her that she didn't really know this handsome man as he bent nearer and kissed her wrists. Those snatched meetings in the rose garden at Garrett Manor, the passionate missives that had been furtively pushed into her trembling hands, and the burning looks they had exchanged in the company of others had not prepared her for reality.

  Miserably, she realized that those brief contacts were definitely not enough upon which to base a marriage. She had been, she admitted unhappily, in love with the novelty of it, the excitement of it; flattered and thrilled that such a handsome, urbane man had deigned even to notice her, much less declare himself besotted by her. Her mother's and Tom's disapproval had only set the seal on her determination to elope with Lord Randall, to show them that they were wrong, that she was old enough to make decisions for herself, that she was not a child anymore. But now....

  Thea swallowed and glanced around the small room. It was pleasant enough, neat and tidy, but it was foreign and strange to her, the furnishings worn and ragged. It was certainly not the satin-and-silk bower she had imagined for her wedding night.

  Confused, her thoughts tumbling through her mind, she looked at Hawley. "Couldn't we just pretend? Just my being alone with you here is enough to ruin me. Wouldn't Tom agree that your marriage to me would satisfy honor?"

  "Don't you want to make love with me?" he asked, his gray eyes fixed on her.

  Her gaze dropped. The way he was looking at her made her feel naked—and frightened. "I-I-I don't k-k-know," she stammered. "I thought I d-d-did, but now I don't know."

  His mouth thinned. It was what he had feared, why he had pushed her as far and as fast as he could. He had not wanted her to have time to think, time to consider what was happening.

  "It is too late to change your mind," he said. "And I'll not have that brother of yours wresting you away from me and trying to cover this up—too much depends on our marriage."

  Panic spread through her entire body, and, struggling to free her hand from his grip, she said breathlessly, "Let me go. I want you to leave this room—now! We will talk in the morning."

  "No, we won't. After tonight there will be nothing to talk about, my pet. The deed will be done."

  He reached for her, and Thea shrank away, fighting to evade his capture. "Oh, please," she cried, "let me go."

  "No," he said, smiling queerly, lust burgeoning within him. "You will be mine... my wife."

  Pampered and petted all her life, sheltered and innocent as only the daughter of a powerful aristocratic family could be, Thea was beyond her depth—had been since the moment her brother had introduced Lord Randall to the family circle. She wanted only one thing at the moment, to wake up in her own bed at Garrett Manor and to know that this was all a horrible nightmare. Unfortunately, it was not, as Lord Randall's next actions proved.

  Ignoring Thea's violent struggle to escape him, he bore her back onto the bed, his mouth crushing against hers. The taste of her sweet mouth and the thrashing of her slender body excited him, provoking the beast within him. Heedless of her fight to escape, he made short work of her cotton shift, the fragile material tearing easily beneath his determined assault, leaving her naked before him.

  Lifting his mouth from hers, he glanced down at the pale, budding breasts, the nipples rosy and tempting. His breath hissed in his throat at the sight of her slender curves, and, cupping one breast, he took it into his mouth, sucking hard, biting the tip.

  Thea arched up in pain, nearly mindless in terror and disbelief at what was happening. She blinked away frightened tears and pushed at his shoulder, simply wanting him to go away.

  "Oh, please," she begged, "let me be—if you love me, you will not force me."

  He glanced at her and smiled. "Of course I love you—and if you love me, you will not deny me what I want most ardently."

  She bit back a sob, her lashes spiky with tears. "I d-d-don't know if I love you," she admitted. "I thought I d-d-did, but you are frightening me."

  "It doesn't matter—it is too late now to change your mind," he murmured, his hands roaming over her with shocking intimacy. She gasped and squirmed beneath him, and, glancing at her face, he wasn't surprised to see that she was blushing. So innocent. So untouched. And so very, very delectable.

  "Shy, my pet? Don't be. Before I am through with you, you will not have a shy bone in your body."

  He was wrong about that. By the time the light of dawn crept into the small room, Thea's humiliation and embarrassment were nearly palatable. She was painfully, mortifyingly conscious of her body, and she was certain she had never loathed, would never loathe, anyone as much as she did Lord Randall.

  All through the long night he had thwarted her frantic attempts to escape and had taken her against her will more than once, ignoring her cries and shrinking flesh. He had not been deliberately brutal—after all, as he had muttered hotly into her ear, his body plundering hers, he loved her. Intent upon his own needs and designs, he had simply taken what he wanted, done what he wanted, and it had not mattered that Thea had been stiff with revulsion and terror.

  When he finally rose and, after a hasty wash in the water that had been provided by the tight-lipped landlord, dressed and strolled from the room, Thea gathered her tattered bloodied shift around her naked body and curled into a small bundle of abused, shattered dreams. She didn't cry—she was beyond tears, had been beyond tears after that first painful intrusion of his body into hers.

  Maggie timidly entered the room, not bothering to knock. There were few at the little inn who didn't know what had happened; the walls were thin, and Lord Randall had not been able to stifle all of Thea's tearful pleas. Maggie had known that something was amiss last night when Lord Randall had sent her away from her mistress, but she had not known just how amiss until she had been in the kitchen this morning and overheard the innkeeper and his wife talking.

  Asleep at the rear of the inn, Maggie had not heard Thea's cries, but the innkeeper and his wife had, and they were most disturbed by the situation. They were a good sort, but they did not know Thea's identity, and it was unthinkable that they would have tried to interfere with a member of the gentry taking his pleasures with a maid—willing or not. Such things were known to happen, but they did not like it.

  As Maggie had listened with growing horror, the wife, her features angry and resentful, had said to her husband, "I don't want them staying here another night. We are not that kind of place and I don't care if he is a gentleman, I don't want to cater to his sort—no matter how much money he gave you. Disgraceful what he did. And I don't care what he told you—he as good as raped that poor child, and you know it. And her such a young little thing. What can her people been thinking of to let her go off with him?"

  The burly innkeeper had pulled his ear. "Now, Bessie, don't carry on so, he said it was just a lover's argument, and that the girl is fine. It isn't our place to call him to account."

  Bessie had sniffed and, spying Maggie's shocked face over her husband's shoulder, bustled away.

  Breakfast forgotten, Maggie flew to Thea's room. The bloodstained sheets and Thea's white, stunned features told their own tale.

  Wordlessly Maggie helped Thea bathe and dress, the innkeeper kindly sending up a large bucket of hot water and towels. By the time they left the room, Maggie was nearly frantic at her mistress's silence and lack of animation. Miss Thea was always chattering away, a smile on her face, but this pale, silent stranger bore no resemblance to her, and Maggie feared for her sanity.

  Thea was quite sane; she just couldn't cope at the moment with
what had been done to her, could not believe how horribly awry her life had suddenly gone. She was ruined. And now she would be compelled to marry the detestable creature that had brought her to that state. There was no other choice left to her, and her misery and pain were all the deeper for knowing that it had all been her fault. Her foolish, foolish fault for thinking herself in love.

  At breakfast, Thea could not bring herself to eat. That she had to share the space with a smiling, expansive Lord Randall killed whatever appetite she might have had.

  After enduring her silence for several minutes, Hawley said, "Oh, come now, pet, it is not so bad. I know that you were a virgin, but you will find that you will come to enjoy what we did." He smiled, that smile she had once thought so charming. "I know that I did."

  Thea looked at him, blind fury churning in her breast. Her Up curled and she said, "Do not call me 'pet.'"

  His face tightened. "And you shall not speak to me in that tone of voice."

  "Will I not?" Thea asked, her spirit springing to life. "I will do, my lord, precisely as I please—after all, what can you do about it—rape me again? That is what happened last night, wasn't it? Rape?"

  "Call it what you will," he growled, rising from the table and throwing down his napkin. "I only did what I had to do to ensure that your brother could not part us."

  "But did you have to enjoy it quite so much, my lord?" she asked sweetly. "Did you need to take quite so much pleasure in my resistance?"

  "You are overwrought," he said coldly. "I suggest you remain here and try to come to your senses while I see about making arrangements for getting another wheel for the curricle."

  His hand was on the knob of the door when the sounds of pounding hooves heralded the approaching hard-riding horsemen. He paused and looked back at her. "No doubt your brother."