by Sahara Kelly
But this time, she was at the mercy of her husband.
He’d decided to watch, at the beginning, urging the other men to take her as they wished as often as they wished.
The liquor and whatever other substances they had used, rendered them inhuman. Alwynne suffered shame after abusive violation on top of repulsive acts she could never have imagined.
Her nakedness seemed normal now, her body simple a vessel for whoever wanted to use it next.
Finally, Randall called a halt. “Get that corpse out of here. Get thisss one a bowl and washcloth. She sssstinks.”
The men, awed and not a little intimidated by the unmasked horror that was their host, obeyed.
“Now leave usss. Enjoy what other pleasures you can. But I want you all gone by morning. Do you underssstand?”
They were gone before the last hissing word had finished.
“Randall…” She poured pain and agony into his name. It wasn’t hard. She hurt. Badly.
“My lady wife.” He stood, coming to the bed and gesturing to the water one of the men had brought. “Wash yourself.”
“Of course. Thank you for thinking of it.” She did so, not caring that he was observing her from his one good eye. After what she’d been through it was a relief to cleanse her body of the spunk left behind by those animals.
She barely spared a thought for the dead girl who had lain next to her, growing colder even as Alwynne cried out her releases, time and again.
The body had gone, as had the redhead. Robert and Arthur would doubtless be called to take care of things.
“Is Stephen with you, Randall?” She pulled a pillow to her chest and hugged it.
“In a way.”
“Oh. When I left the house, I understood he was to be with you this evening. Had I known what was happening here, I would never have ventured near, of course.”
“Of course.”
He was making her nervous. One of the major problems of his disfigurement was the total lack of expression on most of his face. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. She had no idea if he’d taken the elixir that evening or if he was, even now, under its effects.
“Might we return to the house now, Randall? I would very much like to leave here immediately.”
“We’ll go. Sssoon.”
“I…”
“Shut up, Alwynne. Shut up.”
She closed her mouth, nerves jittering, chills running up her naked spine. What was happening? Why wasn’t he the docile vegetable staring from his window?
His hands lifted and slowly he began to remove his jacket. So slowly. It was almost mesmerizing. Then the buttons on his shirt, one by bloody one until she wanted to scream.
Her fear was real, deep and paralyzing. After what she’d been through tonight at the hands of three drunken and drugged fools, it would seem that there was little left that could scare her.
But anyone who thought that to be the truth had never met Randall Harbury.
His shirt fell to the carpet, revealing that fine muscled chest. The travesty of his face topped a perfect body; an evil joke played by nature.
“Sssso, wife. You came here to play with the children, did you? To have a quick fuck from some young stud in his cups?”
“No, of course not, Randall. Nothing like that at all.” She protested quickly and as sincerely as she could.
“Lying whore.” He watched her, his stillness as intimidating as the anger lurking beneath his words. “I’ve watched you, you know. Watched you with an assortment of lovers. Stephen was one of the best, I’ll admit. Made me spend a couple of times, just watching the two of you together.”
Bile rose in her throat as she realized the impact of his declaration. He’d spied on her. God only knew for how long.
Would this night never end?
“And now you’re here. Nicely warmed up from the attentions of several sons of the aristocracy, if I’m not mistaken. Aren’t I the lucky one?”
He’d lost the sibilant hiss, she realized. “Randall, you’re different. You are speaking clearly.”
“Of course I am.” He frowned as best he could. “And I owe it all to you.”
“Me?”
“That delightful elixir that was supposed to turn me into a quiet little mouse who stayed in his quarters and looked out the window for the rest of his life? Well, you fucked up with that one.” His face contorted into what passed for a smile.
“I’m one of those rare people who don’t respond that way to sedative chemicals, dear. They have the reverse effect. I’ve never felt better, sharper or more alive. So thank you for that.”
“It was all an act? Did Stephen know?” She was struggling with the idea he could improve, let alone that the elixir had done it.
“Stephen? Does it really matter?”
“Oh God. Randall. What have you done?”
“You should be more worried about what I’m going to do, wife.” He leaned nearer. “Much more worried.”
He stared at her, the remaining half of his mouth in an amused curve. “But I can see you’re concerned about Mr. Waring.”
He moved away, toward the shadows near the door, and returned with a large bundle. “Since you’re so concerned about poor Stephen, perhaps you’d feel better knowing he’s here.”
She scrambled backward, clinging to the pillow, trying to increase the distance between them.
God help me.
He placed the bundle on the bedside table and left it there as he clambered onto the bed.
She tried to think as fast as she could, her mind scrambling for something that would stop his inexorable crawl toward her.
“Randall. Stop this. You know it’s outrageous. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Really?” He smirked, a twisted half smile distorting the bits of his lips that still looked…human. “It’s my estate, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not. And you and I both know it.”
“Oh stop, Alwynne. That horse has been out of the gate for years. We took care of it, remember? You and I? Back when we used to do things together?”
It wasn’t something she’d deliberately used, but at least it had stalled his progress temporarily.
“Did we take care of it, Randall? Or did we just hide it? Have you ever thought to check? I haven’t.”
“Robert and Arthur have never failed us.” He looked uncertain for a moment.
“Yes, I agree. They’re very good at disposing of…of…accidents, shall we say. But have they ever disposed of an accident while it was still alive?”
“I told them to.” It was close to a whine.
“But just suppose they didn’t.”
“I would not be pleased.”
“Agreed. Neither would I. But I also never thought to check. The power system was just being completed, if you recall.”
He thought for a moment. “No, I don’t.”
“That’s all right. Don’t concern yourself. But I will make a point of asking Robert and Arthur about that important business.” She tried to pour reassurance and calm into her voice. It was hard, because her heart had lodged somewhere right beneath her tongue.
For the first time in many years, Alwynne was terrified. She was alone and naked with the monster that her husband had become. Visions of what he’d done to other women dashed through her brain leaving bloody footprints and body parts.
Bile rose, but she swallowed it down. “Randall, I am cold. Could I not find some clothing?”
His eyes, one hideous, one still bearing traces of the handsome man he’d been, rose to meet her gaze.
And then he slowly shook his head. “I don’t think Stephen would like that. He prefers you naked.”
He reached out and grabbed the covering of the bundle on the table. “Shall we ask him, Alwynne? I think he’ll say yes. But you can make your own mind up while I fuck you.”
He pulled the covering away and she screamed, a terrible sound torn from deep inside her throat.
Looking at h
er from the bedside was the head of Stephen Waring.
Chapter 16
“Gone? What do you mean he’s gone?” Portia’s mouth fell open.
She’d dashed downstairs early next morning, anxious to see Devon again and find out how he’d slept on James’s couch, only to find it empty. Now she was in the kitchen.
Burke pushed toast across the table. “Eat. There’s tea as well.”
“James…” She felt her eyes sting. “Where is he?”
The older man sighed. “He really has gone, Portia. Sit down and let me explain.”
She pulled the chair out sharply and sat, ignoring the toast, and staring at him, torn between anger and pain. This was Devon, for God’s sake. They’d just rescued him. She’d just rescued him. How dare he leave before talking with her?
“This had better be very good, Burke.” She muttered under her breath.
He met her gaze. “You know who Devon is. And you know he’s been held captive for far too long. And you know who is responsible.”
She nodded. “I do.”
“Think of him, Portia. The most important thing right now, the absolute most important thing is for Devon to establish that he is alive. That is more important than you, than me, than anything at all. Once that is irrefutably confirmed, he’ll be able to take his rightful place. Harbury will be his.”
She made an abrupt motion with her hand. “I know all this James.”
“Then think, girl. Once they discover he’s gone…”
She blinked. “Uhh…”
“Yes. Now you understand the rush. Every hound those devils possess, both animal and human, will be hunting your Devon. We had to get him somewhere safe immediately. There was no time to waste.”
“Where is he?”
“Lord Southfield’s. Charlotte and I arranged beforehand that if we were able to free him, we’d get him there at the earliest possible moment. That’s one place he’ll be safe. And Southfield says he vaguely remembers him as a lad. With the Lord Lieutenant’s endorsement, Devon can travel much more safely to London and assert his claims.”
“It was so late. He was so tired.” Portia’s voice broke then, tears filling her eyes. “He fell asleep on my shoulder, James. I barely got to say anything to him.”
“I know, dear. We had a hard time waking him before dawn. But after he’d washed and shaved and dressed…well, he looked like a new man and we could see the energy starting to return. He and Charlotte left a couple of hours ago.” He poured himself some tea and gestured to her empty cup. “Have some?”
She nodded. “All right.”
“He has to set things right, Portia. It won’t be easy. There will be a scandal, of course. The current Lord and Lady Harbury will probably be charged with a crime or two. I don’t know how it will work.”
“How long, d’you think?”
James smiled gently. “I believe the young man has a strong incentive to return here at the earliest possible opportunity. There’s someone very special waiting for him. At least that’s what he told me.”
“Really?” She leaned forward. “He said that?”
James rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I forget that you’re a girl.”
She frowned. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
“I apologize and I’d appreciate if you’d let that one pass.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s been a long and eventful night and it’s still barely sunrise.”
She looked at her tea, not really seeing it. “Should I go back to work?”
“That’s pretty much up to you.” He sounded thoughtful. “My sense is that it would probably be better if you did. There’s bound to be hue and cry when an inmate is discovered to be missing. I’d rather you were there so that no suspicion falls on you.”
“Well, that makes sense. And I am curious to know what kind of response they’ll come up with to the escape.” She sighed. “I’ll go and get ready.” Reaching for the window, she drew the curtain aside. “At least it’s stopped snowing.”
“And it snowed enough to cover our tracks as well. Everything really did work in our favor last night.”
“Except that I felt rather strange in that tunnel, Burke. Like I was breathing in something sweet and it was having an odd effect on my body.”
“I noticed that. Devon mentioned it as well.” He took a breath. “It’s something I might casually look into on my walk today, if the paths are halfway passable.”
“And I’ll keep my ears open to see what I can learn as well.”
“Be careful. Extra careful now, Portia. One slip and you could find yourself in trouble.”
“I know.” She rose. “But I’ve achieved what I set out to do. Devon is free. And I will see him soon. I have every reason to be extra careful now, and I won’t have to sneak down to Level Four anymore. So it should be calm sailing.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
James sent up a silent prayer with pretty much the same words as he watched her march out into the snowy landscape and kick up soft fluffs of the cold white landscape with her boots.
The worst half of this adventure was behind them. He had a feeling that Portia and Devon would be a good match, even though he’d had limited conversation with the young man.
There was honor there, he could tell. And integrity. Two important characteristics that rendered him—in James’s opinion—worthy of Portia. And she’d make a devil of a Lady, but life would never be dull at Harbury once they took control.
He wondered if they’d keep the laboratories going. Then he realized he was way ahead of current events, and chastised himself for doing what he always warned others against—jumping the gun.
There were many matters to be settled before such momentous decisions need be made.
And he had one or two things to take care of as well.
He yawned, a jaw-cracking, rib-heaving intake of air. Yes, there was time to catch up on some of the sleep he’d missed last night. Even though it meant lying on a bed that smelled of Charlotte.
He might not sleep, but he knew he’d rest. He’d found something special himself last night, and he decided to take an hour or so to just appreciate it.
*~~*~~*
Portia arrived at the Harbury Laboratories to find the place in an uproar. She followed her usual routine as Mary Jones, hanging up her coat and checking the board for her duties. Amazingly enough, there were no duties yet posted. A first for her in the months she’d been working there as a maid.
And Mr. ‘Enry had gone so far as to forget to pour the hot water into the large staff teapot.
There was loud conversation, shouting, and what seemed like a kitchen full of people all screaming at each other.
Sighing, Portia grabbed a thick cloth, took the kettle off the flame and covered the tea in the pot with a couple of quarts of boiling water.
Then she set the heavy thing down on the hearth, straightened her apron, put two fingers in her mouth and let out an ear splitting whistle that brought shocked silence to the room.
“Now then. That’s better. Will someone tell me what the devil’s goin’ on, because I haven’t had me tea yet and I’ll have a headache afore eight if this keeps up.”
“Oh Gawd, the tea.” Mr. ‘Enry looked distraught.
“Don’t you worry none. I took care of it.”
“Oh good girl, Mary. Good girl. I don’t know what’s come over me, honest I don’t, forgettin’ our tea like that.” He sat, his heavy bulk meeting the chair in a collision that would have been detrimental to one or the other had not they both been build along sturdy lines.
“So?” She tapped her fingers on the long table. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Oh, Jones. You’ll never believe.” One of the younger lads stared at her, his face a study in confusion. “All kinds of things, nasty things like.”
She swallowed down impatience. “Such as what?”
“Don’t listen to ‘im, Mary. Sit and I’ll tell you.” Mr. ‘Enry pushed a plate of ham
to the center of the table, along with slabs of bread and a wheel of cheese. “Eat up, everyone. ‘Oo knows what’ll be ‘appening next?”
“I don’t. An’ I never will if one of you doesn’t let on about it.” Portia tried to keep the edge out of her voice. “I’m gonna have to scream meself hoarse if you don’t spill them beans.”
“Shoes.” A small lad named Orris spoke up. “It were them shoes.”
“What shoes?” Portia leaned toward him, curious as to what on earth he was talking about.
“They found shoes, yer see. In the rubble of that wall wot fell down.”
She blinked. “Wall?”
“Oh, c’mon lad. Let’s ‘ave some sense here.” Mr. ‘Enry turned to Portia. “See, Mary-lass, it looks like one of them patients down on Level Four was tryin’ to dig ‘is way out. And the hole fell in on ‘im.”
“All that was left of ‘im were his shoes.” Orris nodded emphatically. “Told yer. Shoes.”
“Goodness.” She swallowed down a gasp of surprise. She hadn’t been expecting quite this result to last night’s endeavors. “They didn’t find the rest of ‘im?” Her country accent came naturally. Once she’d had to remind herself to use the local vernacular. Now it was second nature.
“Didn’t go lookin’.” Mr ‘Enry sounded somber. “Them two, Robert and Arthur, they said they wasn’t gonna risk their own heads muckin’ about in there. Got a couple of lads bricking it all up again. Poor sod. Got a private grave all to hisself, seems like.”
Portia slumped into her chair, thinking over this surprising development. If they truly believed their “escapee” was dead…it changed a lot of things. Devon was a lot safer, to start with. He could make his way to London with a great deal more freedom than he might have otherwise exercised.
She wondered if she should find a way to pass the word along to Burke. Perhaps somehow he could get a message to Devon. Or at least Lord Southfield.
But before that thought could be expanded into a prospective action, there was another disturbance. Two maids from Harbury burst in to the kitchen.
“We can’t find Her Ladyship.” The older one looked seriously troubled. “Her bed wasn’t slept in all night.”
