Sound of the Heart

by Genevieve Graham

  Glenna’s heart raced, thrumming inside her chest. She had to get out. This was bad. “I belong to no one, sir. I ken I’m to work here, but I dinna belong to you.”

  “Ah, so that’s how it’s gonna be. I see. Well, the thing is, I do own you. I own everything from your pretty blond head to your tiny little feet and everything in between.” He held his open hands parallel to the slender line of her waist. “You’re all mine now.” He closed in until she was backed against the wall.

  She felt the edge of a doorframe and tried to slip out of reach, but he was fast, and stronger than he appeared. He grabbed her upper arms and threw her onto the bed in the back room, then slapped her face hard when she struggled. She flailed against his restraining hands, kicking uselessly against him as he straddled her. Too strong, too fast. No! she screamed in her mind, and heard her own voice spewing furious Gaelic syllables that did nothing to stop him.

  She was so focused on wriggling out from under him that she barely noticed him working at her skirt. It wasn’t until his sticky palm gripped her thigh and he dug his fingers into the muscle that she understood how much danger she was really in. She had always been protected from this before, had always managed to escape. But this was too close. No no no! Too much!

  She pressed her thighs tightly together, growling and kicking, determined to wear him down, but he was stronger. He forced her legs apart and she could do nothing but shriek when he forced himself through. He moved urgently, brutally, with the detachment of a hunter, grunting with short, determined sounds. She kept fighting, screaming, working against sobs that rocked through her, but she could do nothing against him. She felt useless, helpless, weak. Oh, Dougal! I’m so sorry!

  Eventually, Frank Hill rolled off. He left Glenna partially dead inside, though the greater part of her boiled with fury. Vibrations built up from deep within her, and she knew that despite what he had just done, she absolutely wouldn’t allow this man to defeat her. Beside her, Frank lay contentedly, his chest rising and falling slowly as he breathed. A contented man. Eyes still closed, he raised one hand and lowered it again so his palm lay flat, proprietary, on one covered breast. That was too much.

  “Damn ye an’ yer useless wee pintle, ye fuckin’ load o’ sow shite!” she shrieked, shoving his hand from her chest as if it were a snake. She rolled to one side, trying to ignore the wetness oozing between her legs when she moved. He still wore his perfect white linen shirt and Glenna grabbed the collar with both hands, tearing the seam. She brought her face to his and glared down at him. “Ye’ll no’ touch me again,” she said, spraying his face with spit, “or ye’ll suffer for it.”

  “Is that right?” He chuckled, and in one instant had her pinned beneath him again. He was heavy, his weight squeezed her stays against her ribs. She panicked anew, afraid she’d soon be unable to breathe. “Well, my dear Glenna,” he said, sliding his hand beneath her skirt again. He squeezed, and though his grip was low on her body, tears forced from her eyes. “I don’t think so. As a matter of fact, I don’t appear to be suffering one little bit.”

  She went limp and his tone changed to something that strove for comforting. “That’s my girl,” he said, bringing his hand back up and sliding it down her cheek. “You’ll get used to me. As long as you understand that I . . .” He grinned suddenly, a wide, victorious flash of teeth. “I own you.”

  “Never,” she whispered, sucking in a sob.

  He tucked strands of her hair back, clearing her face so he could touch her cheeks, her brow, her chin, her eyebrows, her ears. His voice changed again, becoming conversational. “Ah, Glenna. I’ve wanted you for a while now, and I mean for us to get along. You’ll see. I can be good to you. My wife used to understand that. She understood it long enough that she got her fat fingers so thick with jewels she can barely lift another cake to her big mouth. Smart girl, that one. She got so fat I won’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. But you, Glenna, you can make me happy.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “I’ve just proved it, missy,” he said with a self-satisfied chuckle. “I’m very happy right now.”

  Glenna turned her head away, wishing the pillow would suck her inside it. “Go away,” she managed.

  “Worn out already? Well, I suppose you’ve travelled a fair bit today. Sure. I’ll leave you to rest. But I’ll be back later, don’t you worry.” He climbed off the bed and stooped to pull on his trousers, smiling at her the whole time. His voice returned to business. “I’m glad you’re here, Glenna. You and I are going to do just fine, but there are rules. Even for you.” He buttoned his trousers as he spoke, then wiggled one foot into a shoe. “The moment we stop being friends, well, that’s when I introduce you to the other gentlemen here. That’s the way it works.” He strode confidently to the side of the bed and gazed down at her, keeping his thumbs tucked in his waistband. “You see, my dear, I am the talk of the town. Everyone knows Frank Hill. Everyone wants to be like Frank Hill. Everyone wants what Frank Hill has.”

  She watched him from the corner of one eye, hating how fragile she felt. Rape was one thing, as repulsive and horrifying a reality as it was. But the idea of being owned by this creature was unthinkable. She would find a way to be the one thing Frank Hill did not want. The one thing nobody wanted. And if she could kill Frank Hill, all the better.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s all about reputation. The more people hear about the famous Frank Hill, the more they talk, the more they come to my establishment and spend their hard-earned money. Soon I’ll have no need of my pig of a wife or her money-grabbing family.” He had the other shoe on and now smoothed back his slick gray hair. Glenna had the impression he was no longer speaking to her at all. “She won’t have a thing to say once this place is mine.”

  He glanced into a mirror and tweaked his moustache. When he was satisfied, he turned back. “I’ll give you a little time to get used to all this. It might be a while before I’m back. Then I’ll bring something to eat. Suit you, Glenna?”

  If only murder were possible through thoughts. “Nothin’ about this suits me, ye bastard.”

  His smile hardened again. “I will be back soon.”

  CHAPTER 37

  The Cost of Freedom

  At first, she’d paced the room, banging on the door and walls, demanding release. No one came. She’d attacked his desk, hoping to discover a weapon of some kind, but it was securely locked. On its surface there was nothing but scraps of paper, a couple of worn quills and ink. She could do nothing. With no other options, she sat on the edge of the bed, alternating between crying, staring, and planning revenge, fueling her anger with memories of his body against hers. No man was allowed to do what he had done. No man but Dougal. This man would pay. He would suffer, just as she’d warned him he would suffer.

  Despite what he’d said, Frank did not come back soon. She listened to the rising and falling volume outside the locked door and judged it was two days before he returned. By then she was brittle from hunger and thirst. The windowless room had become an oven, and she had been forced to undress to her shift.

  So when he returned, she could do nothing but stare at him, drained of food and water and any kind of fight. She curled on her side, hugging her knees to her chest.

  “Glenna! Glad to see you’re awake. Hungry?”

  She closed her eyes. He would feed her. If he truly wanted her as he said he did, he wouldn’t let her die.

  The mattress sagged when he sat. He leaned over and kissed the cheek he could see. God, she was thirsty. She fought the urge to lick her lips, then gave in. Please give me water.

  The cup was inches away, closer, closer, then blessedly pressed to her lips. He poured a small, precious sip into her mouth and she choked, both from the angle and from the fact that it wasn’t water at all. She sputtered, craving the wet, flinching at the bite.

  “No? Not time for wine yet? Fine. Water then.” He chuckled. “You’ll have to pay for it, you know.”

  She didn’t care. When his fingers trac
ed the line of her cheek, brushed the greasy strands of her hair, she didn’t care. He poured water through her lips and it was the sweetest, softest, most wonderful thing she had ever tasted.

  When she’d had a few gulps, he took the cup away and frowned with distaste. “You smell like the back end of a horse.” He stood abruptly and left, taking the food with him, but returned with a small girl in tow. He left them alone and the girl went to Glenna’s side. She flipped up the hem of Glenna’s shift and Glenna instinctively reached to push it down.

  “Never mind that,” the girl muttered. “I’m only here to clean you.” She glanced at Glenna, her expression full of regret. The girl looked older than she’d first seemed, only small. Underfed. The pale skin across her chest was mottled with bruises. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help before. He keeps the keys, you see. I’m sorry.”

  “Who are ye?” Glenna managed.

  “I’m Sarah. I work here,” she whispered. “Before that I . . . well, I know what’s happening to you, because I’ve been in this same place. It will pass, though, when he tires of you. And then . . .” Her shoulders slumped as she let out a breath. “Well, don’t you worry. You’ve enough on your mind for now.”

  Glenna gave up the fight and let Sarah do what she had to do. The sympathetic words hurt more than she’d expected, and while the girl swabbed her body clean, Glenna wept. She regretted the loss of the precious water as it slid down her cheeks, but couldn’t stop the tears.

  Sarah left with the chamber pot and Frank returned, bearing food. He started with water, then bread soaked in water, then small pieces of meat that tasted sweet on her tongue. She worked up the strength to sit and feed herself, and the food moved in her stomach, filling the empty spaces. Eventually she stopped eating, afraid she might get ill from too much at once, and shrank back against the wall.

  He saw her summon her strength and stepped in before she could gain control.

  “Glenna,” he murmured. He stroked the side of her face. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I’m a busy man. Fortunately, my work is done for now. I can stay awhile.”

  A tear snaked down Glenna’s cheek and her chin wobbled, but there was nothing she could do. She was weak and sick and half his size. He removed her shift while she said nothing at all, and she registered none of his compliments. She lay still as he moved over her, feeling him take greater and greater control. When he was done, he lay beside her and blew a long, satisfied sigh from under his moustache.

  He sat up suddenly. “I almost forgot. I brought you a gift.”

  She closed her eyes and said nothing when he nudged her awake, dangling a pendant in front of her. A large pearl framed in gold hung on a delicate gold chain, like nothing Glenna had ever seen. She frowned, trying to focus, but didn’t reach for the gift. She didn’t want anything from this man. Nothing but water . . . and freedom . . . and vengeance.

  “I thought the pearl was right for you. The colour of your hair and all.”

  He struggled to hook it behind her neck but she said nothing. He stared at the little pendant, admiring the way it lay between her breasts.

  Dougal would have known what to do at this moment. What would he have said? Oh, Dougal. Help me!

  Frank continued to talk, apparently unconcerned whether she joined in the conversation. “My wife will never miss it. She has more trinkets than she knows what to do with. They look so much better on you.” He ran his fingers over the pearl, then over her. She shuddered. What had she allowed to happen to her life? “I’ll bring something else next time. I have something in mind.”

  Still smiling, Frank lay back down beside her and stared at the ceiling, apparently ready to chat. His voice was soft but energised. Like a boy, proud of his accomplishments. “You aren’t the first, you know. But you are by far the most beautiful. Oh, if dear Julia ever knew!” He chuckled, pleased with himself, and rolled so he could face her, leaning on one elbow. His fingers explored the lines of her body and Glenna lay as if dead, despising the man more with every breath. “Her parents financed this tavern. They brought money from England and spent it on this place. And you know what? They’ve never once visited it.” He frowned, shaking his head. “Imagine that? Pay for something and never see it? I can tell you, I paid for you and I damn well mean to see a lot of you.”

  Slowly Glenna emerged from the nightmare, sensing light. She could almost hear Dougal’s sweet voice echoing within her mind.

  Anythin’ can be a weapon, mo chridh.

  She had nothing at hand. Nothing here but the man’s gift and his words. She listened to him drone on about his wife, about the tavern, about his plans, and she started to wonder. Why this man would want to spill his secrets to her was a mystery, but in them might be weapons she could use. How far could she push this? How could she regain some of the power he had stolen from her? She decided to set a little bait. See if the slimy wee fish bit.

  “I like jewellery that sparkles,” she murmured.

  His reaction was immediate. He leapt to his feet, surprised to hear her say anything, and encouraged by the words she chose. “Do you? Well, I did bring something else, though . . .” He frowned. “Your fingers are a lot smaller than Julia’s . . .”

  Glenna stretched out her hand, keeping her eyes closed. She felt the cool embrace of a ring as it slid onto her finger, then rotated and hung, heavy and loose. She brought her hand closer and examined the bright blue stone, then slipped the bauble from her finger to her thumb, where it sat more securely.

  The man was an idiot. He talked of the gambling, of the women, of various nefarious ways money kept trickling into his pockets. While his in-laws congratulated themselves on owning a reputable, thriving business, Frank was paying them back, penny by penny, with ill-gotten gains.

  When he had finished telling the day’s stories, Frank got up, dressed, and locked Glenna in the room, leaving her alone to plan revenge. She slipped her shift over her head and went directly to his desk, from which she seized the paper and quill. She wrote everything she had just memorised. When she was done, she blew on her notes, wanting the words to dry quickly, then folded the paper and hid it under the sour-smelling mattress.

  He returned a day later and she suffered in silence while he used her. The fact that she had to do this, that she was trapped in this disgusting position, made her sick. She hated him, and more than that, she hated herself for being so powerless. But not for long. No, not for long. Soon he would be sorry for everything. Very sorry.

  Afterward, he presented her with pearl earrings to match the earlier necklace. All courtesy of poor, deluded Julia.

  “Who were the other women? Before me, I mean,” she asked, encouraging him.

  She listened with disbelief as Frank obediently and proudly listed all his mistresses, ten in all over the past six years, all of whom had started out in this very room. Glenna filed everyone’s name in her head and wrote them down later, noting he had only been married six years. How Julia would love to hear all this, she thought. How Julia’s oblivious parents would enjoy taking the tavern and all its notoriety from him.

  He left, but he would come back. There was no way to prevent him. But this would be the last time.

  The prize Frank gave her after the fourth visit was a ring: a large, shining ruby set in the centre of a circle of diamonds. He had even had it sized so it fit her properly. She graced him with a bland smile that quivered on the edge of a sneer. She had to play the part if this was going to work.

  “Frank, I want to get out o’ this room.”

  He regarded her suspiciously at first, then nodded. He opened the door and called for Sarah, who arrived within moments with a new, relatively clean gown and blouse. He tossed it at Glenna, then watched her dress, even helped with the laces of her corset before lowering the blouse over her head.

  “Not for long,” he said.

  She fought rage. “Just let me breathe some air outside o’ this room, would ye?”

  He led her into the tavern, which quietened wh
en she stepped through the door. Her body prickled with humiliation, knowing every man in the place was aware of the situation. But she had to get past that, do what she needed to do. She glanced around, praying, and managed not to grin when her prayers were answered.

  Sarah stood by the bar, holding a tray and waiting for drinks.

  Frank’s attention was distracted, though he still beamed beside her, showing off. None of the others had a woman like Glenna. It was degrading, but she fed his ego, fawning gently up against him.

  “I’m thirsty, Frank. Can I get us drinks?”

  “Sure,” he said. She turned to go, but he grabbed her, twirling her around so her back was against his chest. He draped one arm over her shoulder, dangling his fingers over the rise of her breasts. The eyes of the men in front of them glazed a bit while she watched. Every nerve in her body wanted to scream, to lash out at these lecherous creatures, but it would have been in vain. Better to save her strength. “Go tell Sarah to bring a round for the boys, would you?” he said.

  He let her go, and she strode to the bar, trying to ignore the comments that followed her. When she got to Sarah, the girl was watching with interest.

  “He let you out already? That’s fast,” Sarah whispered, her lips barely moving.

  “Help me, Sarah.” The girl’s eyes widened and she shook her head, but Glenna squeezed her hand and tucked her precious weapon within the girl’s damp fingers. “Take this note and hide it. Somewhere he’ll ne’er find it. It has everythin’ I could get to ruin Frank. If anythin’ happens to me, the note must go to his wife, Julia. When I go back to the table, you must go an’ take the jewellery from under my bed. It belongs to Julia. Mind me, Sarah, ye canna sell it or wear it. It needs to be kept safe.”