Too Far to Whisper

by Arianna Eastland

  “You were not mistaken,” she said softly. “You have been so kind and caring to me of late, I have found myself craving you, dreaming about you. I do not wish to wait until our wedding night. I shall be able to enjoy our wedding day so much more if I do not have to concern myself about losing my virginity. No one shall know the difference if I give myself to you now…or then.” She slowly walked her fingers up his chest and smiled what she hoped was seductively. “…Other than us, that is. It shall be our sinful little secret.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse.

  “I am,” she whispered, dreading what she knew was about to occur. Visions of being in Shadow’s arms again and of her family still dwelling safely in their homes, however, gave her the courage to go through with it.

  In one swift move, Nathaniel pushed her back against the pillow, rolled on top of her and planted a hand on either side of her shoulders. The eyes that gazed down at her resembled those of a starving man who suddenly had stumbled upon a banquet. Although his upper body was bare, Rosalind was relieved to feel the soft cloth of his breeches against her leg.

  He lowered his head to kiss her, while Rosalind prayed for the strength to endure it. The kiss began softly, teasingly, then became more demanding, to the point of causing her lips to feel bruised. Nathaniel, she realized, knew not the meaning of gentle when it came to women. She even suspected he was unable to become aroused unless he was being forceful and controlling.

  Rosalind returned his kiss with feigned passion, her tongue meeting his when it invaded her mouth. She briefly thought of what her brother and Shadow would have said – how appalled they would have been – had she divulged her plan to them…which was precisely why she had not.

  Fear and revulsion began to overtake her as Nathaniel’s hand dropped to her right breast and he began to forcefully squeeze it through the thin material of her nightdress. She moaned from the pain of it, which Nathaniel mistook for a moan of passion. He pressed his body more tightly to hers, his tongue frantically scouring the inside of her mouth, his breath coming in short gasps. He continued to hold her mouth captive as his hand boldly slid down to grasp her nightdress and jerk it up above her thighs.

  Rosalind knew the time was nearing when he would doff his breeches…and she would scream and put an abrupt end to his passion…and the wedding. She, however, was beginning to fear she would not be able tolerate him very much longer.

  She broke away from his kiss and breathed, “Please, Nathaniel, I wish to…see you.”

  Without any hesitation, he rose to his knees and pulled down his breeches. leaving them bunched around his knees. He remained still for a moment, affording Rosalind the opportunity to look at him in the candlelight.

  “It would greatly pleasure me if you would touch me…to stroke me,” he said.

  Rosalind knew that her acting skills were not nearly good enough to allow her to grant his request and appear to be enjoying it. She could not…would not. The thought suddenly occurred to her, with some regret, that she had not yet touched Shadow so intimately, not even during their night of passion.

  “Come, kiss me,” she said, raising her arms toward him, hoping to entice him.

  “Touch me first,” he said, his tone becoming more demanding. “I want to feel your soft hands on me.”

  Rosalind once again had to swallow her nausea. She shook her head. “I am not yet ready to do something so bold. Please, do not try to force me to do something I do not wish to do. You must remember I am not one of your wenches…you must be patient with me.”

  “Oh, my dear innocent girl, I no longer can be patient,” he said, leaning forward. With his index finger, he traced a path down the smooth column of her neck. “I am here, feeling the warmth of your body beneath mine. I am made of flesh and blood, not granite. I have gone beyond the point of being patient.”

  He suddenly dropped his full weight onto her, causing her breath to escape from her lungs. His mouth covered hers in another forceful kiss. With his loins now naked and his arousal obvious, moving against her leg, she knew that no one who came into her chamber would be able to deny his intentions. The time had come to scream…ere it was too late.

  Rosalind attempted to break away from Nathaniel’s crushing kiss, but the more she tried, the more tightly he grasped her and the deeper he thrust his tongue into her mouth, until she swore she could feel it touching her tonsils. She could bear no more, not without gagging. And she would not – could not – allow him any opportunity to penetrate her. Panic began to flood through her as she realized Nathaniel was not affording her any opportunity to scream. She felt as if she were being suffocated – being held captive by his mouth and body. Without pausing to think, she sank her teeth into his tongue.

  Nathaniel emitted a muffled yelp and abruptly sat up. When Rosalind spied the rage in his eyes, she held her breath. Too frozen with fear to move, she silently watched him draw back his hand. She clamped her eyes shut just as she felt the sting of his palm against her cheek.

  “You taunting little whore!” he growled.

  Rosalind’s eyes flew open as she pressed her hand to her cheek. He leaned close to her face and said in a voice so cold, it sent a chill down her spine. “You will learn not to defy me!” He grasped a handful of her blond curls and jerked her head up to within an inch of his face. “I am a Corwin! No woman denies me anything…do you understand?”

  Rosalind managed to nod despite his fierce grip on her. Nathaniel released her and shoved her head back onto the pillow. She noticed a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, apparently from the bite she had delivered to his tongue. He used the back of his hand to wipe it.

  “’Twould be to your advantage to relax and attempt to enjoy this,” he rasped, forcing her legs apart with his knees. He reached out to clamp both of her slender wrists in one hand and then held them pinned above her head.

  Scream! Scream for help! She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  Nathaniel noticed her attempt. The anger in his eyes intensified, making him appear more terrifying, more sinister, than Satan himself. “All this time, I have been feeling guilty for hitting you when I found you lying in the forest next to your dead guide,” he fiercely whispered. “I meant only to leave a mark on you…to blame on the Indian so I could justify my reason for shooting him…in the back.” He leaned closer to her and added through gritted teeth, “But now you are making me wish I had bashed in your skull and left you to die with the savage!”

  Ignoring Rosalind’s shocked gasp, he raged, “You women are all alike – whining, demanding sluts who believe they can make men do their bidding by flaunting themselves and teasing. Not one of you is better than the other – nay, not even you, my sweet Rosalind – and I was a damned fool to ever believe you were!”

  Rosalind desperately tried to shut out his words. No longer was being raped her only fear. She feared for her life.

  Nathaniel’s knees forced her aching legs even farther apart as he prepared to violate her. The action jolted her back to the present. She was powerless against Nathaniel’s strength, especially in his enraged state, and she knew it was useless to try to reason with him.

  Scream! she again willed herself, tearfully praying she would be able to find her voice before it was too late. She took a deep breath, then released it in a loud wail – a terrifying cry that shattered the stillness of the silent house.

  Cursing, Nathaniel abruptly released her wrists so he could silence her in the way he knew best…by slamming his fist into her jaw. Rosalind’s head fell limp to one side.

  Within seconds, the door flew open and the light of a lantern illuminated the chamber.

  “Nathaniel!” Elias Corwin shouted, his eyes wide with horror as he gaped at his naked son, who still held his fist above Rosalind’s face. “What in God’s name is going on here!”

  From the other doorway came a loud gasp. Elias snapped his head in that direction just as his wife crumpled to the floor in a swoon. His
gaze traveled from his wife to Nathaniel, then back to his wife. His urge to beat some sense into his stupid, lecherous son suddenly became second in importance to his need to attend to his wife. Shouting for Matthew, Elias set down the lantern and hastened to aid Abigail.

  “Are you happy, Nathaniel?” the magistrate cried, his round face scarlet, the veins on his forehead bulging. “See what you have done?” Dropping to his knees, he cradled Abigail in his arms.

  Nathaniel was so stunned by all that was occurring, he moved not a muscle – not even to conceal his nudity – not even when his brother burst into the chamber.

  “What the…?” Matthew, breathless from having ascended the stairs so rapidly, gasped.

  “Go out and tell the guests, whom I am certain are awake and curious by now,” Elias ordered, “to return to their beds – that Rosalind has just suffered a bad nightmare.”

  Matthew obeyed. Several minutes later, he returned to the chamber and closed the door behind him.

  “Tend to the girl,” Elias ordered him. “I fear your animal of a brother has killed her.”

  Matthew’s mouth fell open as he directed his gaze toward the bed where his naked brother still kneeled, as if frozen in the position. Matthew moved to take a closer look at Rosalind, who lay as still as death. A swollen, rapidly darkening bruise extended down the length of her jaw, and a red welt marked her pale cheek.

  “Get off her!” Matthew snapped, grasping his brother by the arm and tugging him away from Rosalind. Defiantly, Nathaniel yanked his arm away and glared at him.

  Matthew dug his fingernails into his brother’s shoulder. “Get off her,” he repeated in a voice that invited no argument, “or so help me, you will not live long enough to ever do this to another woman.” The two brothers locked angry gazes until reluctantly, Nathaniel finally moved backward to the foot of the bed, stood, and pulled up his breeches.

  After tugging down Rosalind’s immodestly bunched-up nightdress, Matthew located a cloth near her basin, hastily wet it and pressed it to her forehead. He detected a faint moan when he touched her.

  “You are fortunate,” he said to his brother, who had moved to sit on a stool in the corner. “She is alive.”

  Nathaniel stared at his feet and did not respond.

  “She is likely to go above me to the General Court and file charges against you,” Elias added, scowling. His hand gently stroked his wife’s hair. “Did you purposely set out to destroy our family’s good name? Dear Lord, Nathaniel, could you not wait one more day until your wedding? I am a magistrate! I shall never be able to show my face again!”

  Nathaniel remained silent, his eyes still downcast.

  Matthew wet another cloth and handed it to his father, who immediately placed it on Abigail’s forehead. “How is she?” Matthew asked.

  “Your mother merely swooned.” Elias’s eyes cut toward Nathaniel. “And with good reason.”

  “Perhaps we should send for Doctor Tuthill,” Matthew said. “After all, Rosalind is still recovering from a head injury. Nathaniel may have caused her further damage.”

  “Oh, and what explanation do you suggest we offer the good doctor when he spies the girl’s swelling and bruises?” Elias’s voice was heavy with disgust. “That she fell down the stairs…on her face? I am certain he will be able to tell that someone beat her.”

  Sighing, Matthew removed the cloth from Rosalind’s forehead, dipped it into the water and replaced it. Again, she moaned. “Rosalind,” Matthew whispered, “can you hear me?”

  Slowly, she opened her eyes and struggled to focus on Matthew’s face.

  “Rosalind, are you all right?” he asked.

  She tried to speak, but winced in pain. “Matthew?” she finally managed to whisper.

  “Aye,” he responded, his relief obvious. “Do not try to move, just rest.”

  Cautiously, Rosalind tested her jaw. Although it was stiff and sore, it seemed otherwise undamaged. As the fuzziness in her head began to clear, she remembered what had occurred just prior to the blackness. She sucked in her breath. “Nathaniel…did he…?”

  “Nay,” Nathaniel’s expressionless voice came from the corner as he spoke for the first time. “I did not.”

  “Only because I interrupted you,” Elias angrily interjected. “Your intent was sickeningly obvious when I entered this chamber! I have managed to cover up the last time you did this to a woman, but you may have gone too far this time!”

  Rosalind closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks. She had been fortunate to escape the ordeal with only a few bruises. Her plan had been foolish and dangerous, but nevertheless, it had worked. She now had the almighty Nathaniel Corwin exactly where she wanted him.

  “Please, remove Nathaniel from my sight,” Rosalind said weakly, her jaw throbbing as she spoke. She opened her eyes and looked at Matthew. “I do not ever wish to see his face again.”

  “You heard her,” Matthew said, narrowing his eyes at his brother. “Get out.”

  Nathaniel hesitated. He looked at his mother, who was beginning to stir, and then lifted his gaze to his father, who turned away in disgust.

  “Wait for me downstairs,” Elias said to him. “We need to talk.”

  Remaining silent, Nathaniel stood, took a lingering look at Rosalind and slipped out the door.

  “Matthew,” Elias said, “Help me get your mother back to bed.”

  “Will you be all right?” Matthew asked Rosalind before he moved to assist his father.

  She nodded and closed her eyes. Of a sudden, she felt very, very tired.

  * * * * *

  She could not breathe.

  Rosalind’s eyes flew open as a hand, strong and warm, completely covered her mouth. The chamber still was dark, so she could not immediately see to whom the hand belonged. Frightened, she lashed out with her fists and legs, kicking at the air and wildly swinging her arms until she connected with what felt like a solid chest.

  “Rosalind,” a husky male voice whispered, “do not fear.”

  She recognized the voice and ceased her struggling. When she did, the hand lifted from her mouth. “Shadow!” she breathed.

  Two familiar arms encircled her. She sat up and flung her arms around his neck, clinging to him. Her lips sought his for a lingering kiss.

  Gathering her wits, Rosalind pulled away from him and breathlessly asked. “How did you come to be here? If the Corwins discover you, they will kill you!”

  “I could not bear to be apart from you any longer,” he said. “I had to see you. And earlier, my sleep was disturbed by what I thought was a woman’s scream. I had to make certain you were all right. Fortunately, this house is not difficult to gain entry to.”

  “I am fine,” she said, clinging to him again. “Especially now that you are here.”

  “Did you go through with your plan?” he asked, resting his chin on the top of her head.

  “Aye, and it worked fine,” she said. “There is just the matter of my father’s debt to settle come morning and then I shall be leaving here.”

  Shadow lowered his head, intending to kiss her again. The clouds that had been blocking the moon began to disperse, allowing a shaft of light to illuminate the bed. He spied it then – a dark, ugly bruise on the side of Rosalind’s face. He traced its length with his fingertip, his eyes angrily narrowing.

  “What happened to your face?”

  Rosalind’s hand instinctively flew up to conceal the mark. “I-I…”

  “Nathaniel?” His voice, his eyes, suddenly contained so much anger, Rosalind held her breath.

  Slowly, she nodded.

  “He is a dead man.”

  Shadow already had reached the chamber door before Rosalind found her voice. “No!” she screamed, no longer caring who heard. “Please, Shadow, do not do this!”

  Paying no mind to Rosalind’s cries, Shadow bolted down the stairs. During the time he had worked for the Corwins, he had come to know the house and in which chambers the family members slept. Enraged, he bu
rst into the sleeping captain’s chamber. The shutters were open, allowing the moonlight to give Shadow a clear view of the room. Before Nathaniel even was able to open his eyes, the Indian dragged him from the bed and slammed him against the wall.

  Nathaniel squinted at his attacker, struggling to focus on his face. When he did, he gasped, his eyes widening in shock.

  “Surprised to see me alive?” Shadow’s hand tightened around his throat as he pressed him to the wall. “Perhaps I should have crept in and slit your throat as you slept. Is not that the way you would have done it?”

  “You were a fool to return here!” Nathaniel rasped. “You will not leave here alive.”

  Shadow’s knife replaced his hand against Nathaniel’s throat. “It will be worth it.”

  “Drop the knife!” Elias’s voice boomed from the doorway.

  Moving only his head, Shadow looked over his shoulder and found himself staring down the barrel of the magistrate’s musket.

  Elias’s expression registered his stunned surprise when he recognized Shadow, but he swiftly recovered his composure. “Drop the knife,” he repeated.

  Shadow allowed the blade to fall from his hand.

  Furious, a visibly shaken Nathaniel moved away from the wall and rubbed his neck. “Shoot him, Father! For God’s sake, he just tried to kill me! You are my witness!”

  Elias shook his head. “I am no murderer, son. The Indian shall have his day in court…and then be hanged. I shall not deprive the people of Eastwell the pleasure of witnessing his execution.”

  “Then allow me to!” Nathaniel leapt at his father and wrenched the musket from his grasp, then took aim at Shadow’s forehead. “This time, you damned savage, I shall see to it that you remain dead!” He drew back the hammer.

  “No!” A woman’s shout abruptly halted Nathaniel. He turned to see Rosalind making her way through the group of guests whose curiosity had lured them to doorway of Nathaniel’s chamber. When she reached Shadow, she threw her arms around him and clung to him.

  “Rosalind!” Nathaniel cried, lowering the musket. “What in God’s name are you doing? Move, at once!”