The Dressmaker's Duke

by Jess Russell

  The blood kept coming, running into his mouth and down his neck. His shin connected with a piece of furniture—a chair—he threw it aside.

  “Where is she, you bloody bastard?” He needed Biden to say something, to gauge his whereabouts.

  Floorboards creaked to the left of him—the gun must be in that direction.

  Rhys charged toward the sound.

  His shoulder caught a large body full in the chest and smashed him into the far wall. A hand gripped his wrist and twisted; the bottle dropped and shattered. But Rhys landed a good uppercut to Biden’s ribs and another to his face before Biden backed away.

  “Oh, Roydan, you disappoint me. Such a shoddy show. I would have thought you would mount a much more strategic attack.” Biden laughed. “You must be over your ears in love to forget yourself so.”

  Rhys ripped his shirt-tail out of his breeches and used it to wipe his eyes.

  Biden. Definitely an older version, but looked to be very fit. Given Rhys’s sluggish mind and extreme fatigue, it would be a very even fight.

  The man leaned causally against the wall and smoothed his hair back, like some bored courtier. But on closer inspection perhaps his stance might have more to do with the damage to his ribs. Rhys hoped so.

  The room was larger than he thought, but there were no hidden nooks where Olivia might hide. Stairs led up to what he supposed were bedchambers above. The door to the kitchen stood open. A patterned apron hung over a chair tucked beneath a large table. The pistol, nowhere.

  “A pity we have no foils,” Biden rubbed his jaw line as he pushed off the wall and circled to the large fireplace. “Now that would be a match.”

  Biden’s eyes gave him away, glancing one too many times to the wood pile next to the hearth. He had spied the gun. Rhys dove and reached the pistol first.

  “Ah, my dear boy.” Biden held his hands before him as he backed away toward the door. “You would not dare to shoot a peer of the realm in cold blood, would you? No, it goes against your monkish tendencies.” Biden smiled. “You are bluffing.”

  “On the contrary, Biden, when I see a rabid dog, I kill it without a qualm.”

  He cocked the trigger as a shadow filled the doorway.

  Olivia.

  His world wound down and time stuttered and then stopped altogether. The sun must be back out. It caught the edge of her hair making her into an angel. She was holding a basket—apples? The smell filled the air. With the sun behind her, her face was hidden in shadow. Oh, to see her smile at him. She stepped forward and there it was—

  Olivia hitched the basket of apples to her other hip. Jeb was back early. The cottage door stood open. The old mare she had seen in the yard must be his newest rescue. After giving him a big hug, she would have to scold him for letting the heat out and possibly a chicken or two in.

  Olivia blinked in the threshold of the doorway. The cottage light, or lack of it, was always an adjustment after being out-of-doors. “Jeb?” The shadowed man came into focus.

  Rhys. Dear heavens, Rhys stood not ten feet from her.

  Like the string of a child’s top being pulled, the world whirled back to life. An arm snaked around her neck, another under her breasts, trapping her arms within her cloak. Apples spilled, rolling across the floor.

  “Ah, my sweeting, you have arrived just in time to join our little party. Perhaps you would be so good, Roydan, as to lower that pistol. It is not a very mannerly way to greet our newest arrival, is it, my dear?”

  That voice lisping next to her ear, where had she heard that voice? My God, no. Hadn’t he died that night? She tried to turn her head, but his arm remained like a vise around her neck. Rhys, his face now a frozen mask, slowly lowered the gun. An apple rolled to rest against the leg of the table, a period to their hideous situation.

  “Now, lay it on the floor, and slide it to me.”

  Rhys hesitated. The arm synched tighter around her neck. She gagged. Rhys’s mask flinched. He bent and did as he was told. The gun skittered across the floor knocking a few apples out of its path. It lay a few feet in front of them.

  “Very good. Now step back, all the way to the far wall.” Rhys retreated.

  He was hurt. Blood streaked his face and soaked his shirt. Likely from the glass that littered the floor.

  Biden’s hand found her jaw, and he squeezed it like a nut in a cracker. “I have waited a very long time for this reunion of ours, my dear, nearly thirteen years. And it’s time my patience was rewarded.” Hot sour breath fanned her cheek.

  “You can be very provoking, sweeting. When I saw you at Parkington’s mask, I could not believe my eyes.”

  Dear God, he was the man in the satyr mask. No wonder her skin had crawled.

  “I would not have credited it except for the fact that—if you will recall, Roydan—her gown did not cover much, and I happened to spy that delectable birthmark hovering just above this delightful derrière.” The heavy ridge of his cock pressed against her. She closed her eyes as if to cocoon herself. She must remain calm.

  “Ah, I see you are intimately familiar with that bit of flesh, Roydan. Looks a bit like a heart, doesn’t it? You see,” Biden lisped in her ear, “I had given up finding you, Olivia Jayne, and there you were right under my nose. I was rather hurt you did not recognize me, but then I was wearing a mask…not to mention being fully clothed.” Biden laughed.

  “I must say, I liked what I saw. And by God it’s high time I got what was due me. Don’t you think bets should be honored, Roydan? Ah, but you perhaps don’t know the particulars? Tut-tut, Olivia Jayne.” Biden turned her to him, his hand now fisted in her hair.

  Long buried images rushed to fill her chest, making it hard to breathe. The candlestick heavy in her hand. The thud as it smashed into his head. The small pair of sewing scissors sinking into his breast. And then the blood, so much blood. She had watched mesmerized as it gushed out soaking her bedding. So sure she had killed him. He still bore the scar near his temple, the puckered skin marring his handsome face.

  One cold, blue eye twitched and his hideous grin pulled into a thin line. “Have you not been completely forthright with our charming duke?” He used the hand in her hair to shake her head no. “Our Mrs. Weston has left out a few small details in her history. And you thought you knew our fair lady, Roydan. Quite a blood-thirsty little minx is our Olivia Jayne.

  “But, we will fill the duke in soon enough, my love.” He let go of her hair and held her by the throat again. “I hate to rush these delightful stories. They must be savored.” Something cold and wet touched her ear. Her teeth met and she drew in a hiss of air. Dear God, his tongue.

  Rhys fixed his gaze on her, as if willing her to trust him, trust that they would find a way through this horror. Olivia released her pent up breath and his nostrils flared, almost as if he were taking in her expelled air.

  “I had hoped my little fire would do the trick.”

  Fire? Was Biden responsible for the fire?

  “You disappointed me again, my dove. I sometimes marvel at why I still want you. You see, I was to be your rescuer. I would miraculously present myself just in the nick of time, and you were meant to come begging to me! But the gallant Duke of Roydan was there before me.” He frowned as if he’d lost his place in some memory.

  The gun lay only a few feet in front of her. Could she kick it toward Rhys? He was so far away.

  “Yes, those damned poaching Roydans…like father, like son…” Biden shook his head, his fingers dug into her flesh. “And then you vanished yet again.”

  Rhys’s gaze darted to the gun as well. He must be thinking the same as she.

  “Ah, I almost forgot this in all the excitement. So kind of you to bring it to my attention, Roydan. Can’t have these things lying around, can we?” His laugh, oddly high, like a young girl. “Firearms have a nasty tendency of going off unexpectedly.” He bent to retrieve the gun pulling Olivia down with him. She tried to keep her cloak about her shoulders, but when Biden hoisted her back u
p against him, it slipped and dropped to the floor.

  There was no time to prepare Rhys. No time for the words she had rehearsed so often in her fantasy. Still, Olivia tried to smile, her arms cradling her heavily rounded belly.

  Rhys’s frozen mask cracked and he gasped.

  She opened her mouth to tell him of her joy. To tell him how many times she had imagined sharing this miracle child with him. Their miracle. But no words came. She could not make that joy fit this horrible scene.

  “What have we here, my pet?”

  A muscle jumped in Rhys’s face and then hardened, his eyes once again shards of icy amber. She mouthed the word, no. Please, no. His steely face frightened Olivia more than any gun. What would he risk to protect her and his baby?

  “Ahhhh…It seems you have been a naughty girl. No doubt lifting your skirts”—Biden turned from her to Rhys—“or all manner of trash. It will not do, my angel. I will not tolerate such tawdry behavior. But then again, you always were a whore, weren’t you? Running off with that filthy soldier, Weston. Sullying yourself with half the regiment, I’ll warrant. At least I had the pleasure of getting rid of him.”

  What had he to do with Wes’s death?

  “Settle, my love.” The cold barrel stroked her jaw line. “It is not good to be overanxious, especially in your condition.

  “Yes, the dear Major…Well, I suppose I cannot take all the credit. Your step-mama actually found the two of you, but once she established you were married, well you were of no use to her. But I could not be so lackadaisical. So I arranged the…little accident. It all went rather smoothly until I heard you were huge with his brat. I couldn’t very well have you carried off with all those sentinels hovering about you. Billing and cooing.”

  Biden had had Wes killed? Olivia could not make these pieces fit together. The child within her stirred as if it could feel her distress. Shhh, she crooned over and over in her mind, willing it to calm.

  “Yes, I truly thought I was done with you until I saw you at that mask with Roydan.” Biden moved the pistol down her neck, over her breasts, to her belly. “Let’s see…” His hand smoothed over her belly in a caressing motion, and then dipped down between her legs. Olivia braced herself, more fearful of what Rhys might do, than of her own revulsion. She shook her head minutely at Rhys, but his attention was wholly fixed on Biden. “Umm…she is quite…fecund. I suspect she must be very close to her time. I would guess only a few more weeks? What would you say, Roydan, does that sound about right? Is that your recollection as to when you fucked her?”

  Rhys jerked forward. “You filthy—”

  Biden pushed the gun to her belly. Olivia clamped her teeth together. Should she scream? Would Hazel be back from the far pasture? Could Olivia risk the girl being hurt?

  “Oh, no, Roydan, you don’t want to do that.” Biden tsked. “Not when we are about to have some fun.” He began to undo the buttons of his falls.

  Olivia screamed.

  The blow came harder than she expected, and she fought blackness. A hand covered her mouth. She bit down. “Bitch!” Biden jerked the gun up. The click of it cocking under her chin sounding overly loud. Rhys stood frozen halfway across the room.

  “What is that old saying, Roydan? Two birds with one stone?” He laughed and the barrel pressed deeper into the soft flesh of her neck.

  “How naughty of you, Olivia Jayne. But I am flattered you recall how I enjoy that bit of love play. However, we must be patient, my love. The biting will come later. Now hold still.” The wool of her scarf burned the back of her neck as he whipped it off. He shoved the end into her bleeding mouth. He pushed more and more. “Yes, my dear, I’ll wager you can take it all.” She gagged.

  “I am truly touched you remember that bit of fun. I thought you were quite comatose…but perhaps you only saw the teeth marks afterward?” He frowned and took the end of the scarf and dabbed the blood at the corner of her lip. “Never fear, we will remedy that soon enough. You will most assuredly be alert to all I have planned. You see, I haven’t forgotten the marks you left upon me.” He briefly touched his temple and then his chest. “So much blood from a paltry pair of sewing scissors. If your dear step-mama hadn’t come in, I might have had to add murderess along with whore to your list of accomplishments.”

  He turned the gun from her onto Rhys and then untied his cravat with his free hand. “Clasp your hands together behind you like a good girl and hold this end,” Her thoughts must have shown in her eyes. “I wouldn’t risk it, my pet. While I am shivering with excitement at the thought of having you both to entertain me, it’s you I want. The duke here is as expendable as having a second dessert.”

  She could not stop her hands from shaking as she clutched the bit of linen. The thin fabric bit into her wrists, and her fingers throbbed with pulsing blood. “There that is much better.” Then he pulled her back to him. “So much to do. So many opportunities to explore.”

  He absently looped a strand of her hair slowly round his finger, his attention fixed on Rhys. “Hmm…you are a handsome lad, aren’t you? Much like your dear father in looks but alas, not in tastes, I’ll warrant. Too bad. I’d so enjoy a ménage à trois…But unfortunately, I only have two hands. And you my duke, I would speculate, are quite a handful if you are anything like your sire.”

  “Ahhhh!” Rhys lunged forward. Olivia cried out through the wad of wool as Biden pulled her squarely in front of him forcing her arms up behind her. She whimpered.

  “I can see our friend Roydan is itching to spoil our fun, and that I will not tolerate. Let us subdue him, shall we, while still giving him an opportunity to view the entertainment.

  “Ah, I have it—I can be so clever in a pinch. Lie down on the rug, Roydan.” When Rhys hesitated, Biden savagely twisted her nipple. “See what trouble you cause by not following directions, Roydan?” Rhys, never breaking eye contact, did as Biden ordered. “Now, flip the end over on yourself.” Rhys did so. “Arms by your sides, my boy. You look as if you still have a bit of strength in you and I do not like interruptions.” Biden kicked the rug. “Now roll, boy.” Rhys halted. He would be trapped, utterly. “I said, roll. Now!” Biden kicked again and Olivia stumbled. Rhys thrust his body, every roll of the rug imprisoning him further. Only his head and boots remained uncovered.

  “Ah, one more turn so that the end is on top. That’s it. And you can see properly? I will pull the end a bit.” Biden pulled about three feet of the rug, enough so that Rhys faced Biden and Olivia. “And now I can set my chair right here so you will be locked up nice and tight.” He dragged the chair’s legs to rest on the edge of the rug and then sat, pulling Olivia onto his lap. “There now, that’s so much better, don’t you agree, my dear? Now, where were we? Ah, yes, I believe I had just discovered Lady Olivia Jayne’s breast. She did tell you she is a lady didn’t she?”

  ****

  Rhys flexed every muscle till they cramped. So bloody helpless against this evil.

  How did he let things get this far? The babe—he had not been prepared. He had not been able to move for fear of Olivia. And then with the child—

  “—the old earl of Stokesly’s only child.” Biden was speaking. Rhys must pay attention. “You are a cunning little thing, aren’t you, my dear? But I digress.” He began to heft one of Olivia’s breasts. Rhys’s mind churned and writhed because his body couldn’t. Her lips pressed into a thin, white line.

  “Don’t squirm, my love, I would hate to have to smash your pretty face.” Olivia quieted. “That’s my girl. Such an apt pupil. Now these are quite different from when I saw them last.” He squeezed harder and despite her brave face, Olivia yelped. But Biden seemed not to hear; instead he frowned. “It is the bastard within you, I collect.” He cocked his head thoughtfully. “They will be making milk soon. And since the brat will be dead, I will be most happy to suckle you, my love.” Olivia moaned.

  “No-o-o-o!” The sound erupted out of Rhys, filling the room. Biden flung Olivia off his lap.

  Yes, come
to me, you bastard! Rhys tried to cover his face but, of course nothing moved. Pain crashed in killing all thought. He sucked in air, but the air was blood. He spat. Something was being forced into his mouth. He twisted his head, trying to jerk away, but Biden wedged it deeper between his jaws. Blood filled his nose. He snorted, blood spattering everywhere. Blessed air.

  “Have you guessed yet?” Biden’s face filled his vision. “I’ll give you a tiny hint. You look very much like a trussed goose.”

  An apple?

  Biden clapped with childish delight. “That’s it. I knew you would get it.”

  Rhys tried to crush it, but it filled his mouth so completely, wedged painfully between his over-stretched jaws, his tongue trapped beneath. A gag rose and he willed his jaws to relax.

  The sound of crunching glass pulled him back to the room. Olivia, hampered by her belly, skirts, and bound hands, scrambled over the broken shards to the door.

  “Too many interruptions!” Biden raged. “You want to act like a whore, groveling on the floor? I’ll treat you like a whore.” He jerked her back by the hair and pushed her to her knees between his legs.

  Rhys rolled his head; No! He screamed but his pitiful moan mocked him. Like a coward, he squeezed his eyes shut. If only he could stop up his ears as easily, blotting out Olivia’s soft keening.

  “That reminds me, Roydan, do you know I have had all three of your whores?” Rhys opened his eyes. “Yes, first, virgin Lady Olivia Jayne here,” he began unbuttoning his falls, “and then”—another button slipped through—“Mrs. Dee Gooden.” Rhys jerked his head to meet Biden’s eyes. “Your father and I were bosom beaus. We used to share everything…That is, until he got greedy and stole the delightful Mrs. Gooden from me. No, old Roydan did not know how to play fair.” A button popped off in Biden’s hand. He looked at it as if it were something foreign. Could the man be beginning to fray? “That was not well done of him.”