Intimate 02 - Intimate Surrender

by Laura Landon

  Also by Laura Landon

  Intimate Deception

  Silent Revenge

  The Most to Lose

  When Love Is Enough

  A Matter of Choice

  Shattered Dreams

  Broken Promise

  Not Mine to Give

  More Than Willing

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2013 Laura Landon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance

  PO Box 400818

  Las Vegas, NV 89140

  ISBN-13: 9781477805954

  ISBN-10: 1477805958

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013931719

  There can be no greater honor than to dedicate this book to my loyal readers.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Hannah tried to move, but stabbing shards of burning pain raged from the core of her being. She winced, then pressed her fist low to her belly and sank back into the straw.

  For several agonizing moments she did nothing but struggle to take enough air to breathe. This must be what it felt like to die.

  She inched her spread legs closer together and cried out when spikes of fiery pain shot through her. She couldn’t lie here so…exposed.

  Scorching tears streamed from her eyes only to get lost in the straw beneath her. The despicable things the man had done to her and the revolting ugliness of his intrusion clung mercilessly to her.

  Humiliation consumed her, and she recoiled from the shame.

  Terror paralyzed her when she thought of her father’s reaction if he ever discovered how she’d been defiled.

  She shifted in the dirty straw. She couldn’t let him find out. The beating she’d receive if he did would be worse than any thrashing he’d given her before.

  She rolled to her side and clasped her hand over her mouth to keep from casting up the little she’d eaten earlier. She was desperate to flee from the place where the man had groped and clawed at her, but a rush of burning pain shot through her when she tried to rise.

  She hugged her arms around her middle and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Every inch of her screamed in pain. Over and over she prayed that no one would ever find out what had happened, that she could pretend to the world she was still pure. That when she woke in the morning she’d be safe in her own bed instead of curled up in the corner of a dirty stall in the horse barn. But even if by some miracle that were possible, his atrocious actions would always haunt her. She would never forget what he’d done to her.

  She could still feel his hands on her body, touching her in places no one had ever touched her before. She could still smell the sour liquor on his foul breath when he kissed her, when his filthy mouth sucked at her breasts, and she still felt the burning of his whiskers against her tender flesh. Every inch of her throbbed—every muscle screamed in pain. Her flesh was bruised and sore where he’d pawed at her, mauled her, pushed into her.

  She wanted to cry to the heavens for the reprehensible acts he’d committed against her, but she was unable to utter more than a raspy moan. Her voice was hoarse from her pleading cries for him to stop. But he had not. He’d touched her in the vilest manner. His large, brutish hands had clutched at her with unrelenting force.

  With trembling fingers, she pulled the shredded material of her dress to cover her breasts. She knew what he’d done to her had been a sin. Her father had repeatedly warned her about the sins of the flesh. Over and over her father had demanded her promise not to allow any man to touch her. But she hadn’t been able to stop the man tonight. He’d been too strong, too determined. Even her screams hadn’t been loud enough to summon anyone to help her.

  Hannah recoiled in shame. She was no longer pure and innocent as her father told her she must be. She was no longer a virgin as he’d demanded she remain to be accepted as one of God’s children. She could never be one of the select.

  She tugged at the hem of her gown wrapped around her waist. With wild fury, he’d pushed it there before he’d…

  Hannah cried out in agonizing mortification. A man she didn’t know had violated her, had invaded her body, had raped her. The way he’d stroked her and fondled her had been a filthy and disgusting act. Her unyielding flesh had rebelled when he’d entered her as if he’d torn her in two.

  Hannah struggled again to move, but another brutal stabbing of pain shot through her.

  She lay still a while longer, then attempted to stand. She had to escape before her father discovered her. He’d never believe that what the man had done hadn’t been her fault. He’d always warned her of the sins of the flesh. The sins a woman caused a man to commit.

  Hannah rolled to her side and looked down. Blood—so much blood. Her blood.

  A pool of crimson still streamed from inside her, turning the straw beneath her an earthen black.

  She tried to distance herself from the convicting evidence that proved she’d been violated, but stopped when the door burst open and her father stormed into the barn. There was a crazed look in his eyes, a murderous expression on his face.

  “No!” he bellowed.

  The roar of his accusation caused the animals still in their stalls to shift uncomfortably. Hannah used the little strength she had to push away from him as he shot toward her.

  “I told Brother Jasper he was wrong! That my daughter would never behave so wantonly. But he laughed in my face. Laughed!”

  “It wasn’t my fault, Father!”

  “Liar! Brother Jasper told me what you did. How you flaunted yourself, letting him glimpse your breasts.”

  “No!”

  “Don’t deny it! I know you! You’re the daughter of Satan. I’ve always known it but prayed I could save your wretched soul if I kept you on your knees in prayer. But I’ve failed. Even God doesn’t want you. He knows what you are. A whore!”

  “No!”

  “Quiet! You used your beauty to tempt a righteous man. The same as Eve tempted Adam. Brother Jasper told me how you paraded your body like a Jezebel before him. How you tempted him until he could not resist.”

  “No!”

  “You did! Brother Jasper lay prostrate at my feet to ask forgiveness for his weakness. He admitted all to me and the other brethren and begged for us to intercede for him in asking forgiveness.”

  Hannah shook her head. She knew words were useless, knew her father’s rage was so intense he’d never listen to her, never believe her.
<
br />   “How could you have disgraced me so? You’re more wicked and shameless than any of Satan’s strumpets!”

  Baron Fentington reached for the strap he always carried and pulled it from his belt. “I have begotten a brazen harlot!” He brought the strap down across her tender flesh. “Worse than Delilah!” The strap came down again. “Worse than Eve!” The strap came down yet again.

  Hannah curled her body into a tight ball as the sting of the leather flayed her back and her buttocks. Her denials went unheard. Her pleas for her father to stop the beating went unheeded.

  With each slash of the strap, she succumbed to the pain. Eventually, the little strength that remained left her, and she prayed that when she lost consciousness she’d never wake again.

  A blessed numbness settled over her. And she fell into darkness.

  She wasn’t dead. She’d prayed that she wouldn’t wake, or that when she did, she would be in heaven. But when she opened her eyes, she was still alive, and condemned to the living hell to which the righteous liar had committed her for the rest of her life.

  She was weak from the blood she’d lost, with her body bruised and battered.

  In time, she woke enough to take in her surroundings. She was no longer in the barn or anywhere near the house. Someone had carried her down the long lane that led to where her father’s land bordered the Earl of Portsmont’s estate—where her best friend Grace lived. They’d dumped her body there and left her to die.

  Her father’s intent was clear—she was no longer welcome in his home. He no longer considered her his daughter. To him, she was already dead.

  She slowly rose to her feet and walked to a nearby stream. She stepped into the shallow water and scrubbed away as much of the filth and humiliation as she could from her battered body. But she was unable to scrub away the shame of what the man had done to her—a man of the cloth. A man who claimed to represent God. A man who preached redemption to the lost.

  As the sun sank below the horizon, Hannah washed the bloodied gown as clean as she was able—but the body it covered would never be clean again.

  She was a wicked, shameless woman. A whore. A woman beyond redemption. That is what a man of the cloth had condemned her to be. But she would not allow him to destroy her.

  Somehow she would rise from the hell she faced now. But she’d learned her lesson. She would never trust a man again—especially a man of the cloth.

  Chapter 1

  Fifteen Years Later

  Hannah nearly skipped as she walked through the flowering meadow. It had been so long since she’d been to the country she could hardly take everything in. The smile on her face refused to dim. She couldn’t believe she’d almost turned down an invitation from her friend Caroline, the Marchioness of Wedgewood, to join her family for a two-week summer party at the Wedgewood country estate. And Grace, the Duchess of Raeborn, would also be there. Grace and Caroline were her dearest friends. How could she have refused?

  All of Caroline’s sisters would also be in attendance, each with her husband and a growing number of children. There were fourteen by latest count, but by year’s end Hannah knew there would be at least two more.

  Her smile broadened as she remembered seeing Grace when she’d arrived the day before. It was obvious Grace was increasing again. Although Raeborn was probably a nervous disaster, Grace was aglow with happiness.

  Hannah savored the warmth that tugged at her heart. She was responsible for Grace and Raeborn discovering one another. Although it had been anything but blissful in the beginning, everything had turned out far better than anyone could have imagined.

  She wanted to laugh. Who would have anticipated that a match having its beginnings in Madam Genevieve’s famous bordello would ever turn out so perfect? But then, who would have thought Madam Genevieve, one of London’s most famous bawds, would be invited to a party hosted by the Marquess and Marchioness of Wedgewood and attended by the Duke of Raeborn, plus a smattering of earls, viscounts, and barons? There were times when friendship far surpassed anything London Society could imagine.

  Hannah swung her arms as she continued her walk, then turned to her left when she reached a narrow path at the edge of the meadow. When Lady Caroline heard that Hannah wanted to go for a walk while the rest of her family either napped or took care of the smaller children, she suggested Hannah travel in this direction. According to her instructions, there was a small brook only a little farther, with a perfect little resting place that overlooked a quiet stream.

  Hannah was excited for the opportunity to be by herself. She was excited to have the chance to escape London and the worries she’d left behind. Although she knew the city was where she belonged, there were times when she needed to be by herself. When she needed to think. This was one of those times. Things were getting too dangerous for her, as well as for her girls in London, and she feared that when she returned, she’d have to take actions that would cause trouble. But that was in the future. Until then, she intended to enjoy every minute of her time here.

  Hannah stopped along the path and listened. Her excitement rose. She was near the brook. She could hear its rushing water. She gathered her skirts and ran toward the sound.

  The air left her body when she first glimpsed the sight before her. Huge green trees lined the water’s edge. Their arching limbs spread out far toward the middle of the stream. Rocks of all sizes edged the brook, made smooth by the quiet waters. And the grass all along the banks was the deepest green. The sight left her breathless.

  She walked to the water’s edge and looked down into the depths of the stream, so crystal clear she could see the smooth pebbles at the bottom. Every once in a while, a fish broke through the surface as it swam downstream. It took nearly all her resolve not to remove her clothes and step into the inviting water, though such a thought was out of the question. She couldn’t, however, stop herself from removing first her shoes, then her hose, and sitting on the brook’s bank. With a cry of delight, she lowered her feet into the stream.

  The water was cool and refreshing, and she wiggled her toes beneath the surface like she had as a young girl, when she’d been able to sneak away from her father’s watchful eyes. She’d often gone to a stream similar to this one and walked barefoot in the water. That is, until the day her father had discovered her absence and came after her. When he found her, he beat her with the strap he was so fond of using. From then on, she had never returned to the stream if there was a remote chance he might see her.

  Hannah shook her head to erase such memories. She refused to think of her father. He’d been dead to her for almost fifteen years—dead to the rest of the world for the past year—and that’s where she intended for him to stay.

  She swished her feet in the water as if the movement could wash away any thought of him, then leaned back and rested on her elbows. She lifted her gaze to the sun. The warmth of its glow spread throughout her body and let her pretend that the last nearly fifteen years had never happened. She smiled.

  “I have no idea who you are,” a low, smooth voice said from behind her, “but I’d give everything I possess to capture the vision and never let it go.”

  “Oh!”

  Hannah pulled her feet from the water and turned. Her gaze locked with eyes as deep and rich as the finest Swiss chocolate. Eyes that possessed a warmth unlike any she’d seen before. And a countenance brimming with kindness and gentleness. She started to rise.

  “No, don’t move. Stay where you are. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I mean you no harm.”

  Hannah lowered her feet back into the water and watched as the man walked toward her.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said in a voice that wrapped around her like plush velvet. “My name is Rafe Waterford, the Marquess of Wedgewood’s brother. I was invited to visit during the summer party. As, I assume, were you?”

  Hannah nodded. She tried to speak and couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t do anything but stare into the stranger’s magnificently handsom
e face.

  He smiled. “Would you mind if I sat?” He motioned to a spot near her on the bank.

  “No. Please. Sit.”

  He lowered his tall, lean body to the ground next to her and pulled his boots from his feet, then his stockings. “I hope you don’t mind, but you have the right of it. The water looks entirely too inviting to pass up.”

  Hannah tried to pull her feet out of view, but there was no place where they could be hidden. Finally, she gave up and relaxed. Lord Rafe was hardly the first man to see her body. Her feet were the most innocent of what men had seen.

  “Oh, this is wonderful,” he said, lowering his feet into the water.

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” she answered.

  His smile, when he turned to face her, stole her breath. There was something about him that drew her to him like metal to a magnet.

  “Did you just arrive?” she asked, knowing he must have, or she would have noticed him yesterday when she arrived, or at least last night at dinner.

  “Actually, I haven’t yet arrived. I’m on my way to the manor house just now. I live a short distance from here in the dowager house. Since it’s vacant, Thomas has given me use of the place.”

  “How fortunate for you. Are you alone?”

  “Are you asking if I have a wife?”

  Hannah felt her cheeks redden. “Excuse me for being so forward.”

  “Not at all,” he answered. He pressed his hand over his heart and breathed a loud sigh. “Alas, I haven’t found my one true love, although not for want of my family’s trying. They are forever introducing me to the perfect prospect.”

  Hannah laughed. “I know Caroline and can well imagine her attempts to find you a wife.”

  “Although Caroline is quite accomplished at playing matchmaker, her efforts pale in comparison to my other sister-in-law, the Lady Prosser, my second brother’s wife. She is convinced that matrimony is the ideal life for all men. And now that I’ve reached the ancient age of thirty, she feels that time has run out for me to find a bride on my own. She considers it her Christian duty to assist me in finding a wife.”