by Mari Carr
“Perfect for each other? We fight twenty-four seven. I annoy the hell out of you and you have a tendency to be an overbearing, demanding ass at times. How is that perfect?”
“I don’t know.” A small, sad grin formed on the corners of his lips. “It simply is. Hayley, when I told you I was coming back to court you, I didn’t mean seduce you. I want to marry you. I want you to stay with me always. Can’t you try to consider it?”
“No,” Hayley whispered. “No, I can’t.”
Jack watched as she escaped into the house, his heart heavy. Heedless of his actions, he walked through the woods, stumbling over rocks and underbrush in the dark, until he reached the oak tree. He stared at the strong, tall tree for several long minutes. Then he threw back his arm and hurled a hard fist at the rough trunk. The bones of his knuckle crunched and blood dripped from the deep scratches in his skin, but he didn’t feel anything.
No pain. No emotion.
Nothing.
Chapter 25
The two weeks after her meeting with Jack on the bench were the longest of Hayley’s life. She’d suffered a perpetual stomachache that wouldn’t go away and fallen into a deep depression, tired most days, as her nightmares came back with a vengeance. Unable to sleep or eat, she spent most of her time wandering the grounds of the Grange and avoiding the guests at the house party. She had no desire to leave the property for fear she would run into the angry earl.
Her feelings regarding Jack’s confessions of love ran from confusion to sadness to fear. Unable to reconcile any emotion where he was concerned, she’d grasped the one most familiar to her—anger—and had clung to it like a lifeline.
How dare he ask her to give up everything—her mother, Tori, her job—to stay here? What was he going to give up for her? Nothing. He still got to live in the house where he grew up, keep his business and eventually he would probably be an earl. In addition to that, all his friends were here.
Any fool could see how badly she fit in here. She hated dresses and refused to pin her hair up. She liked to ride horses astride, swim in less clothing than permissible and had a tendency to speak her mind. If she stayed here, the people would probably burn her for a witch.
She was sorry she’d ever gone down to that damned bench. She should have left well enough alone. It was foolish of her to think she could have her cake and eat it too.
And yet, she wanted Jack’s friendship back. She missed him. Not having him to talk to, laugh with, and yell at left a huge hole in her chest that refused to close. Not even Erin had been able to cheer her up. Frustrated, she continued to avoid him, afraid of opening her mouth and driving an even bigger wedge between them.
Not that it had been hard to keep her distance. Jack was gone from the house when she came down each morning, usually off for a long ride on Lancelot. Upon his return, he locked himself into Alex’s study every afternoon to work on his shipping concerns. Dinners had been a somber affair, despite Erin’s attempts to keep the conversation light and enjoyable. Jack always retired as soon as the meal ended, while Hayley sat with the others, trying to pretend her heart wasn’t slowly breaking apart at the seams. The doctor had finally removed her stitches, but that hadn’t even made her feel better.
She’d returned to the tree several times, but its massive trunk never parted to return her to the place she truly belonged. If she could put all of this behind her and return to her tiny apartment and eighty hour a week job, maybe life would go back to normal. At home, she wouldn’t have time to think about Jack Campbell, and this two-ton weight on her chest would lift.
The last day of the house party finally arrived. The beautiful weather and jovial spirits of the servants, neighbors and guests lightened Hayley’s mood. Anxious to throw off her cloak of doom, she threw herself into the festivities, helping Erin run the games for the children and awarding prizes. Jack also got into the spirit of the day, participating in and winning the bow and arrow competition, as well as coming a close second to Templeton in the arm wrestling tournament.
The day was filled with laughter, good food, and loud, lively conversation. She and Jack managed to be cordial, although neither of them was able to initiate any kind of real conversation.
He approached her as she helped Mrs. Scott serve lemonade to thirsty contestants.
“I’d love to have a glass of that, Mrs. Scott.” He looked at Hayley as the housekeeper turned to pour his drink.
“Lovely day,” he said, his words clipped.
She nodded, working hard to produce a false smile. “Congratulations on the archery win.”
“Thank you.” He took the lemonade from Mrs. Scott, sipping it slowly. “Delicious.”
Mrs. Scott smiled before turning to fill Templeton’s glass.
Jack and Hayley stood and stared at each other for several awkward moments before he nodded shortly. “Well, have a good day. Excuse me.”
A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to catch her breath. She tried to swallow some lemonade hoping to dislodge the thing that was pushing tears to her eyes.
God, I’m going to cry right here in the middle of a picnic.
Desperate to get away, Hayley pushed her way through the crowds, nodding politely, unable to speak. Once she escaped the throngs of people, she hurriedly walked toward the shore, hoping the gentle motion of the waves would comfort her.
It was by the sea that Jack found her nearly a half an hour later. He’d observed her rushed departure from the picnic, but was drawn into a conversation with Serena Scott, the daughter of a well-to-do earl with designs on Jack’s fortune. He suffered through the usual discussion about the weather and who was wearing what at the ball tonight before finally managing to break free.
Hayley had removed her shoes and stockings and was facing out to sea with the waves lapping around her ankles.
“I thought perhaps you would participate in the foot race,” he said as he approached.
She startled slightly at the sound of his voice before turning and offering him a small smile. “No, I didn’t think it would be nice to embarrass all those poor young fellows.”
He grinned at her joke until he saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She turned away quickly, obviously hoping he wouldn’t see her distress.
“Why are you doing this to us?” he asked.
“Me?” He sensed her struggle to pull her anger around her. He knew her. Anger she could manage, but she wouldn’t give in to tears, lest he think her weak. “I don’t recall doing anything to us. You were the one who ruined everything.”
“How?” Jack refused to rise to her bait. “By falling in love with you? Yes, that was badly done of me. How dare I ask you to take a chance on being happy? How dare I challenge you to try to overcome your past and make a good life for yourself? How dare I ask you to believe in someone other than yourself for once? Dammit, Hayley. We have a chance for real happiness and you’re tossing it away with both hands.” He turned away, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Her continued denial was ripping through him like a knife.
“Jack—” He could tell from her tone she wasn’t going to say anything he wanted to hear.
“Forget it. Forget all of it, Hayley. I won’t bother you again.” Jack walked toward the Grange…and away from her.
Hayley leaned over the balcony, breathing in the cool evening air, trying to compose herself. Her first ball was nothing like she expected. Three weeks ago, she’d looked forward to this night like none other. She had planned to dazzle Jack with her new ball gown and sophisticated hairdo. She had fantasized about his face when he saw her dressed up and tried to imagine what he would say to her. She’d envisioned dancing every dance with him, causing a great scandal and the two of them relishing every minute.
Instead, she’d danced a set of country dances with Ben and a rather staid waltz with Alex. Then, she’d proceeded to hold up a wall along with three other wallflowers and watch as Jack flirted and danced with every beautiful woman in the room, ignorin
g her completely.
Unable to stand it any longer, she escaped to the balcony, but her depression continued to grow. She couldn’t go back inside. Her heart couldn’t take any more.
She was so deep in thought, she didn’t notice Wilshire come out of the shadowed corner until he stood right beside of her.
“Good evening, my dear,” he said deeply.
Hayley jumped slightly. “Lord Wilshire.”
“Forgive me, I did not wish to alarm you. You looked so lonely out here on your own. I wondered if there was something wrong.” His voice was cool and menacing. She glanced over his shoulder toward the balcony doors in hopes of seeing Jack. It had been foolish to separate herself from the crowd. She didn’t like being alone with the earl. His cold eyes drifted down over her body, lingering at her breasts as if assessing her worth. Her skin crawled in his presence and she shivered slightly. “Cold, my dear?”
“Yes, a little. I think I’ll return to the ballroom. Dancing will certainly warm me up again. By the way, I saw the guest list and you weren’t on it. I assume you can find your own way out?” She started to pass him, but he grabbed her upper arm tightly, tugging her close to his side.
“Let go of me.”
“Not yet,” he whispered. “I have plans for you. Very important plans.”
Alarmed, she struggled in earnest to escape from his punishing grip. She opened her mouth to scream, but closed it quickly as Wilshire pressed a knife to her ribs.
“I would not scream if I were you.” Turning her toward the balcony stairs, he dragged her to the back gardens. Several couples were strolling, but they were too far away to see her distress.
“You and I are going to take a little drive,” Wilshire said in a hushed voice. “We have plans to make—plans for our future.”
“You and I have no future,” Hayley cried. “You’re a lecherous, disgusting old man and I won’t go anywhere with you.”
“Ah, but my dear, I need an heir.” Wilshire waved the knife in front of her face. “And as I hold you personally responsible for the disappearance of my betrothed, you will be the woman to provide one for me.”
“How can I provide you an heir when I won’t let you put your filthy hands on me or say anything even remotely sounding like a wedding vow to you?” Hayley hoped she’d put enough strength into her words. She didn’t want the earl to suspect the paralyzing fear coursing through her veins. He was walking a thin line between sanity and madness.
“I intend to correct my previous mistakes. You and I will couple first. Once you have proven you can bear my child, we will marry to save you the inconvenience of bearing a bastard. I will not be trapped with another barren wife.” His voice was laced with bitter malice and she realized the true danger she was in.
“But your wife wasn’t barren. She conceived a child. Perhaps the problem lies with you.” Hayley dug her feet into the ground, hoping the earl was too weak to drag her to the carriage. However, her arm soon throbbed with pain as he tightened his grip, propelling her farther away from the ballroom with ease.
She fought down the panic threatening to take over.
Don’t show fear. It’s what he wants.
Visions of her drunken father floated in front of her eyes as she recalled him grabbing her, slapping her, pushing her down on the bed.
Wilshire dragged her deeper into the garden, down a secluded path, while Hayley kicked and struggled the whole way. It was a moonless night and the path was becoming increasingly difficult to see. She stumbled over a root but Wilshire’s incredibly strong hands caught and steadied her, bringing home the direness of the situation. She needed to fight him before he took her away. She swung her arm around, catching Wilshire on the side of the head. Unfortunately, it was a glancing blow that only served to infuriate him more.
“You little bitch!” He tightened his hold painfully. “You will pay for that, but not yet. Now you’ll go to sleep.” He raised the hilt-end of the knife, bringing it down on her head before she could evade the blow. She fell to the ground as the world went dark.
Chapter 26
The first thing Hayley felt when she opened her eyes was an intense throbbing in her head. The second thing was the ropes binding her arms and legs to the four corner posts of the bed she was lying on. The thick twine was abrasive and rough, making her struggles painful as it cut into the sensitive skin around her wrists and ankles. The knots—well tied and tight—didn’t loosen, despite her desperate attempts.
The room was dark except for a single candle on the table by the bed. Squinting, she tried to discern the features of the room with little success. The walls were shadowed and hidden from view due to the dim lighting. The entire place had a sinister feel. A sweet smell—like incense—permeated the air. The bed on which she lay was large and ornate, covered with red silk sheets. Two large armchairs sat before the empty fireplace and the lack of fire kept the room cold and drafty. She wished she had thrown her cape over her thin ball gown before venturing out onto the balcony.
Unable to escape her bonds, her thoughts turned to the events leading to her imprisonment. The earl had taken her away from the ball at knifepoint and knocked her unconscious. The pounding in her head had not receded. It felt as if someone was using her brain for a bass drum. How long had she been unconscious? She said a brief prayer her friends had realized she was missing. The room’s only door opened. Her heart began to race as the earl and his large groomsman, Rawlings, entered.
“Ah, you’re awake. Good,” Wilshire said as he walked to the bed. He had the same knife in his hand, large and ominous-looking. She shrank away from the sight of it before she could stop herself. She resumed her struggles against the ropes regardless of the painful slivers they left on her wrists, desperate to escape the earl. He chuckled at her fruitless efforts. “I assure you the ropes are secure. I would never underestimate you. That was quite a fight you put up in the garden. Such strength for a woman. I like that.”
“Must make you feel like a pretty big man. Tying up a woman who’s smaller than you. Trying to intimidate her with a knife.” She spoke with more bravado than she felt, but years of defending herself against the cruelty of her father and the men from the shelter came back in an instant. She’d discovered long ago that words were sometimes the only defense a woman had. Besides, the earl’s smug look infuriated her so much, she felt compelled to strike out with the only weapon he’d left her. “You’re nothing but a coward.”
Wilshire slapped her hard across her left cheek. Tears blurred her vision as a thousand pinpricks attacked the side of her face.
“Shut up!” Wilshire roared. “You don’t seem to understand your position.” He brought the knife up to her chin, the sharp point puncturing the sensitive skin underneath. She felt a drop of blood roll down her neck. “I am your master now. It will give me great pleasure to break your spirit. You are too bold by far and it’s time a strong man took you in hand. My nephew is obviously too weak for that job. If you learn your lessons, if you please me, I will make you my countess. It all depends on how well you learn to obey me and, of course, on your fertility. How do you like my bedchamber?” He gestured around the room with his hand.
Rawlings had lit several candles as she and the earl spoke. They cast eerie shadows around the room, providing enough light to bring it into view. Chains hung from the walls, along with weapons and whips. There were dark stains on the carpet she assumed to be blood. A horrified gasp escaped her lips before she could hold it back.
“I see you are impressed. Pain,” the earl continued, “is a hobby of mine. I cannot wait to introduce you to the pleasure of it. I realize now the error of my ways in my first marriage and even in my affairs. I chose weak victims thinking it would make my pleasure greater to hear them cry, to see them cower before me. But with you, I anticipate my greatest satisfaction ever. The joy I expect to receive in bringing you to your knees is greater than any I have ever known. Why, I grow excited just thinking about it.”
One quick gl
ance at his breeches proved he was certainly excited. Fear lodged in her throat. He wasn’t just a cruel man, but a madman. Julia had told her about the earl’s penchant for brutality, but seeing it firsthand only made the fact more frightening. Face to face with his sadistic tendencies, she realized her predicament was worse than she could have imagined. He’d brought his wife and, God knew who else, here to torture them for his own sexual pleasure. She had heard of people who found pain sexually stimulating, but seeing it up close terrified her.
Pleased by the fear in her eyes, Wilshire moved the knife lower pulling it through the fabric of her bodice. The thin material of her dress and shift gave away easily beneath the sharp edge. He continued to cut until he reached her midriff, then he laid the knife aside, separated the torn edges of her dress and pulled roughly. In seconds, Hayley, bared to the waist before the earl and his baleful henchman, felt the cold hands of horror spread through her body. A million leeches crawling over her skin would have been preferable to their leering looks. She closed her eyes as Wilshire roughly took one of her nipples between his fingers and squeezed—hard. Tears filled her eyes at the pain caused by such a small touch. She was amazed two fingers could produce such a torment.
“What? No comments? Threats? Insults?” he asked coldly. “You disappoint me. I expected more from you.” With that, he roughly pinched the other nipple.
Hayley took several deep breaths in an attempt to fight back the panic.
Jack will come. Jack will come.
The words were a mantra, a prayer in her mind, only to be silenced by another voice that asked will he come in time?
She needed to take care of herself. She had never succumbed to the threats of bullies and she wouldn’t start now.
“You realize you’re too late.” She silently thanked God her voice was not as shaky as her insides.
“Too late?”
“I’m no longer a virgin. Your nephew Jack took care of that. I wonder if you’re comfortable with the possibility of raising Jack’s son as your heir.” Hayley hoped her lie was convincing. “After all, there is a very good chance I’m already carrying his child.”
