by Jo Goodman
In sleep nothing of it showed on his face. There were no thin white creases fanning out from the corners of his thickly lashed lids nor was there any hint of tension about the relaxed curve of his mouth. The easy cadence of his breathing was a comfort to her, and it took every bit of Rae's will power not to climb back in bed and thread her fingers in his bright yellow hair and touch her lips to the gentle pulse in his throat.
She remembered how she had awakened in the middle of the night, an unfamiliar heat resting on her abdomen, and how she had feigned sleep while Jericho slowly explored the contours of her body, first with his hands, then later with his mouth. Somehow he knew the moment she was aware of what he was doing, and it became a game between them to see how long she could pretend to be unaffected by his lazy caresses. Surrendering was not the same as losing, she thought as she gave herself over to his loving.
Reluctantly she left the side of the bed and dressed as quietly as she was able, given the accompaniment of the bells. Rae's only purpose in leaving Jericho's chamber was to return to her own room to bathe and change her servant's garb for something clean. Once she was refreshed and out of her torn and slightly soiled garments she would return to Jericho's room with no one the wiser. It was early yet when she left his side, and she knew none but the duke's staff would be up at this hour. That she only heard the soft padding of her own feet as she walked through Linfield's quiet corridors seemed to bear this out.
It was not until she opened the door to her chamber and a cold hand was clamped over her mouth that she realized her confidence had been without substance.
Struggling to free herself as well as to breathe, Rahab was lifted off her feet by the strong arm about her waist and carried into her room. The hand on her mouth slipped a little, and as she gasped for air she was assailed by the strong odor of spirits. She nearly gagged at the smell of the hot breath befouled by liquor, and her momentary weakness effectively cut off her chance to scream. Behind her the door was kicked shut.
In an effort to escape, Rae twisted wildly in the arms of her captor, kicking backward with her feet. Though her arms were restrained on either side of her waist, she used her fingers to pinch the hard thighs that trapped her from behind. Several pained grunts attested to the distress she was causing, but the arms around her were like iron bands and refused to give quarter.
Rae had no need to see her assailant to know it was Newbrough, but there was no satisfaction in the knowing. She could feel herself becoming lightheaded from lack of air, and as her strength waned her terror grew. When it became clear that the earl's direction was the giant four poster bed in her chamber, she went slack in his arms.
Rae's dead weight caused Newbrough to pause in his stride. As he shifted his hold to gain better purchase on her unwieldly body, Rae shoved backward with the last of her strength and managed to stumble free of his arms. Newbrough leaped forward to grasp the chain and bracelet that dangled at Rae's back, but she spun on her toes suddenly and he was left flailing drunkenly at the air. While he was recovering his balance, Rae slipped the bracelet on her own wrist and put a spindle-legged chair between her and the earl.
Newbrough merely laughed unpleasantly at her delaying tactic. "Do you think that bit of furniture is going to keep me from what I want? I've been waiting all this long night and morning to have you. A few sticks of wood aren't going to stop me."
Rae drew in long draughts of air, trying to calm herself and think where she could go from here. The path to the door that opened on the hallway was partially blocked by Newbrough. Even foxed as he was, she did not think she could best him in a scramble for that exit. He would not be taken in by her fainting ploy a second time, and she feared that if he held her again, unconsciousness would be a thing too real. Her glance traveled to the connecting door to Nigel's room, but even as she considered it the earl put a period to her hopes.
"It's locked and Nigel is sharing another's bed. If he were there he would not help you. He promised that I could have you, and so I shall." He took a step toward the chair, and like a frightened faun Rae became wide eyed and still. "I did not believe you would stay with Adams," said Newbrough conversationally. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you found a way to escape him. And I waited. I could pity the man for being made insensible in your embrace if I did not loathe him so. He's tried to make a fool of me as you did that day in the library. My presence in your chamber now is proof that I will be no one's fool. Mayhap he will heed the lesson I intend to serve you."
The earl's bloodshot eyes held but one purpose as he advanced on Rae. Blinking once, as if to rouse herself from her arrested posture, she pushed the chair forward so that its seat hit Newbrough squarely in the knees. He grunted once, shoved the piece aside and continued to advance as Rae cautiously retreated to the fireplace. Unwittingly she backed into the poker and andirons and they fell over, the sudden noise surprising her. Newbrough took advantage of her disorientation and lunged for her as she watched the heavy poker roll out of her reach. She spun away as the earl's hands clawed at her skirt. The fasteners on the waistband tore under the harshness of his grip, but as the material rent Rae had enough freedom to fumble for the brass candlestick on the mantelpiece. Newbrough caught her frantic movement in time to avert his head and escaped having the blunt end of the instrument brought down on the back of his neck. The candlestick connected with his shoulder with such force that numbing pain shot down one arm and his fingers loosed their grip.
Rae yanked her skirt away from Newbrough's other hand while his explicit oath echoed in the room. She threw the candlestick at him, and not waiting to see if it made its mark, ran for the door. Her palms were so clammy that it took two attempts to turn the handle. On the second twist the door opened a few inches, only to be slammed shut by Newbrough's powerful hands on either side of her head.
Rae ducked beneath his outstretched arms and was halfway to the other side of the room when the earl tackled her. The weight of his body bore her down and she skidded along the hardwood floor, coming to an abrupt halt when her head met the fireplace's marble apron. Dazed, the breath driven from her lungs, it was several minutes before she could move. She watched helplessly as Newbrough recovered first and took the bracelet from her wrist and slipped it on his own.
Rae's eyes were nearly blinded by the ache behind them as she thought of thrusting a steel blade between Newbrough's ribs. The terrible pain in her temples was the first sign that the threads of her repressed memory were returning. As Newbrough jerked her to a sitting position, then half-dragged, half-carried her to the bed, she remembered being led up the narrow stairs of Wolfe's Tavern, away from the crowd of drunken soldiers ready to hang her for killing one of their own. She remembered Jericho's indolent inspection of her body as he lifted her skirts and commented on her legs. Though she had been angered at the time, his look was nothing compared to the earl's piercing gaze, which stripped her of her dignity as well as her clothes.
Newbrough straddled Rae, and when she attempted to beat off his hands as they tore at her blouse he yanked hard on the collar so the bells rang wildly and the leather chafed her tender skin. She clawed at the collar with her fingers to prevent herself from choking, but the earl slapped her viciously across the cheek and her hands fell uselessly to her sides. The pressure on her throat was relieved the instant Newbrough had her compliance.
Impatient fingers ripped through Rae's blouse, then her chemise, uncovering her breasts. Rae closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of Newbrough's slack mouth and hot gaze as he stared at her. Something of the sickness she was feeling showed on her face as he cupped her breasts and kneaded them with rough intent. He stopped what he was doing, grasped her chin in one hand, and slapped her lightly with the other.
"It would be folly to toss your stomach now, sweet bitch," he said tightly. "I mean to have you regardless. Open your eyes. I want you to see what manner of man you're getting now."
Seething with revulsion and loathing, Rae opened her eyes.
> Far from being angered by the hatred in her glance, the earl smiled and drew his palms along her naked shoulders and arms until his fingers circled each of her wrists. Slowly he lifted her hands and forced her to caress his velvet-covered thighs. Controlling her as easily as if she were a marionette, he made her hands stroke the hard length of his legs as he straddled her. His neck arched as he brought her hands closer and closer to his erection and finally settled them on the hard bulge in his breeches.
Taking a deep breath, Rae squeezed as hard as she could.
Newbrough screamed in pain, doubling over to hold himself as Rae struggled to be free of his weight. Newbrough rolled away from her, but the bracelet on his wrist kept her a prisoner. She attacked him then, clawing at his face and drawing blood, beating him with her fists. At first he was vulnerable to the attacks and only hunched his shoulders to ward off the blows, but as he recovered he retaliated with bruising fists, and it was the one he delivered to Rae's'midsection that left her breathless and fearing for the life of her child. She pulled at his chained arm and tore at his wrist, trying to roll the bracelet over his clenched fist. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his free hand lift to strike her down again. A voice from the doorway gave him pause.
"Lower your hand one inch, m'lord, and I will cut you down so that it never lifts again." Jericho stood in the open doorway, light from the hallway shadowing his features but not the menace in his voice. His left arm was extended straight in front of him, and in his steady hand he held a pistol aimed directly at Newbrough's head. "Now relax your fist and allow Miss McClellan to take back the bracelet." The earl's hand unfolded and Rae carefully freed herself from him. "Stand by the fireplace, Rahab." Rae scrambled from the bed, crossing her arms in front of her as she went to the other side of the room. From the hallway other voices could be heard, and she turned her back on the doorway, hiding her naked shoulders from the curious guests with the long fall of her hair.
"What is toward?" demanded Nigel as he stalked down the hall belting his burgundy dressing robe. "I thought I heard a wounded animal." He stopped at the open door to Rae's room where several guests had gathered, drawn not by the exchange of blows, but by Newbrough's shout of pain.
"You did," said Jericho, never taking his eyes from the earl. "Miss McClellan surprised a wild beast in her room. Isn't that the way of it, Newbrough?"
The earl made no reply and continued to hold one hand in the air while the nostrils of his hawkish nose flared angrily. The scratches Rae had scored on his thin face dripped blood on the snowy coverlet.
Jericho lowered his weapon and he jerked his chin toward the door. "Get out of here, Newbrough. Consider the gauntlet thrown. Is the morrow too soon to see this thing done?"
Newbrough's hand fell to his side, and with great dignity he climbed from the bed and advanced on Jericho. "Not soon enough, m'lord, but I would have Stanhope firmly in my possession before I end your life, so the morrow it shall be." After a significant look at the duke he brushed past Jericho, and in the corridor the crowd that had gathered parted for him, then closed in once more.
Nigel Lynne stepped into the room and shut the door on the other guests. He gave one glance to Rae as she looked over her shoulder to see if she was alone with Jericho, then dismissed her as if she was of no import. He did not ask for an explanation; Rae's state of deshabille explained everything to his satisfaction. "Why the challenge, Adams? Surely the chit is not worth it."
Rae and Jericho were both curious as to why Nigel would be cautious about the duel. He had every reason to want the earl dead.
"Newbrough's a poor shot," Nigel continued. "He won't choose pistols, you know. He's an astonishingly good swordsman. Can you say the same?"
Jericho almost laughed aloud as he realized Nigel's concern stemmed from the fact that he feared Jericho could not best Newbrough. "I can handle my own with a sword," he said easily. "Don't concern yourself for my safety."
Nigel almost said he never had been but caught himself. "As you wish. Mayhap Lesley will act as your second."
"I'll speak to him."
The duke nodded and glanced in Rae's direction again. "Keep her by your side, Adams. I cannot want to see you challenging every one of my guests who covets your possession. I take it she proved more amenable to you than she did Newbrough."
Knowing it would goad Nigel as well, Jericho answered not with words, but with a secretive smile that said much of his enjoyment of the evening past. After a moment's hesitation Nigel quit the room, unable completely to conceal the flash of jealousy that darkened his eyes.
As soon as Nigel was gone Jericho crossed the chamber to Rae. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders. "Are you all right?"
She nodded as he turned her round and raised her face.
"My God!" A shutter came down over his face so that he might not reveal the extent of the damage that had been done to Rae's face. Her right cheek was discolored and beginning to swell so that already one eye looked slightly smaller than the other. Around the edge of the collar he could see her skin was chafed, and there was a long angry scratch on her shoulder. The places where Newbrough had landed his fists had not begun to bruise, but Jericho could guess that her arms and chest would be marked with livid spots before long.
She touched the back of one hand to her swollen lip where she could taste blood at its comer. "I think the earl looked worse," she said shakily.
"But I do not care about the earl," was all Jericho would say.
The next half hour passed in a blur of silent activity as Jericho rang for a maid and ordered a bath for Rahab. Nancy came and looked at Rae with pitying eyes but never spoke a word. While the bath was being prepared, Jericho helped Rae out of her torn clothes and into a silk dressing gown, then gently washed her cuts from a porcelain bowl that Nancy brought him. Dismissing her with a wave of his hand, Jericho assisted Rae into the hip bath and proceeded to wash her with strokes as soft as velvet.
"That maid was your friend, wasn't she?" he asked. It was not what he intended to say, but it bothered him that the girl would not speak to Rae. He folded the wet cloth in his hand and squeezed drops of water on Rae's shoulders, watching those that slid like tears to the high curve of her breast. "Why didn't she say anything to you?"
"She was afraid," Rae said simply.
"Of you?"
"Of you. Didn't it occur to you that Nancy would think you had done this to me? Why wouldn't she think you might treat her the same?" Rae bit back a smile as Jericho cursed softly. "Do not think your rep has been maligned forever, m'lord. She'll hear soon enough how the thing came about."
"I don't care a fig for my rep," he said. A moment later he said sheepishly, "You were teasing."
"Of course."
He nodded thoughtfully, trailing water along the slender arm she had placed along the edge of the copper tub. "What possessed you to come here, Red?"
"I wanted a bath and a change of clothes. I thought to be back in your room before you awoke. It never occurred to me that Newbrough would be prowling the hallways waiting for me to leave your chamber. It is good you came."
Jericho's eyes closed briefly on his pained thoughts before he realized there was no reason to dwell on what had happened. "I know," he agreed softly. "I saved Newbrough's life."
"You saved Newbrough's life? Oh, you are teasing." She splashed water at him with the tips of her fingers and winked at him with the eye that was closing rapidly. "I did give as good as I got, didn't I?"
"Better." He kissed her temple, then finished bathing the last vestige of Newbrough's touch away, first in the copper tub with the soft linen cloth, then in her bed with his velvet soft mouth.
Much later Rae asked, "Jericho, can you really hold your own with a sword?"
His brows shot nearly to the line of his bright yellow hair. "After what we just did, my love, can you doubt it?"
Rae pinched him on the thigh as a rosy blush stole across her face. "That was not what I meant, and you know it. If Newbrough
chooses swords, can you defeat him?"
"It most likely depends on whether I learn how to fence between now and then."
Rae only had to close one eye as she groaned. The other was shut completely now. "I suspected as much. What are you going to do?"
"Do not refine upon it. First things first. There is still Stanhope to be won."
* * *
Rahab sat stiffly at Jericho's side while waiting for the card play to begin. She refused to allow her collar to make a sound and attract the attention away from Nigel as he explained the rules for the final match. She had already had her fill of the other men trying to see beneath the lacy fichu that covered her shoulders. It did not seem enough that they could clearly see the shiner she sported on her right eye. It was as if they intended to compare her bruises with the earl's and determine the winner of the uneven bout. Only Lord Lesley looked at her with something akin to sympathy in his clear eyes; the others saw her with new interest, intrigued that she would fight so hard against the earl's advances.
"This match will be the best of seven games," the duke was saying. "All will be finished before the night is over. Adams is laying the whole of his notes, some fifty thousand pounds, against the Stanhope estate."
Jericho slid a packet containing all his notes on the table and at the same time Nigel took an envelope from his waistcoat containing the title to Stanhope and laid it on top of the packet Lord Lesley left his chair and took both items for safekeeping until the winner should be determined.
Rahab watched Newbrough while Lesley gathered the prizes. She had avoided looking at him since coming into the room, but now that his attention had been diverted, she felt safe in staring.
For a man who was in danger of losing all the trappings of the life he had embraced for the last twenty years, Rae thought the earl of Stanhope looked remarkably calm. The glass of wine at his side remained largely untouched, and he appeared more sober than Rae had seen him in days. Nothing had changed about his vanity. He had used makeup to hide the worst of the scratches on his face as well as the bruise on his chin. Rae flexed her stiff fingers and swollen knuckles and wondered wryly who was hurting the more.
