by Diane Gaston
‘Tell him, Katy,’ the madame cried, but Katy merely buried her face in Flynn’s chest. ‘He whipped her skin raw,’ Madame Bisou said. ‘But she escaped from him.’
Flynn made Katy look at him. ‘Then you know the place. You must show me where it is.’
Her eyes were panicked, but she finally pursed her lips and nodded.
‘Make haste!’ Flynn pulled her towards the door.
‘Take Cummings with you!’ called Madame Bisou.
Rose pulled against the leather bindings on her wrists, but they held her securely to iron rings imbedded in the wall. Similar bindings held her feet. Katy had loosened her bindings when she’d been his captive, and Rose was determined to do the same.
Greythorne had carried her inside a town house, down a narrow set of stone steps, deep into a basement, to this room with its thick wooden door and long table with metal rings attached to it. The table frightened her. Would he bind her to it next? Another man had hauled Tannerton, dumping him on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Tannerton still lay on the stone floor. He moaned every so often, so at least he was alive, but for how long? Greythorne certainly intended to kill him.
Rose made her hand as narrow as she could and tried to slip the binding off, but it cut into her skin. She tried again, until her wrist bled.
Greythorne had warned he would be back when Tannerton regained his senses. Greythorne wanted the marquess to watch whatever he planned to do to her. She shuddered, knowing from Katy that he would strip off her soiled and ripped clothing and strike her with one of several whips that hung on one wall as orderly as teacups in a cupboard.
Tannerton moaned again, but this time he jerked against his restraints. ‘Deuce!’ he mumbled. ‘Where the devil?’
‘You are in a house in London. He didn’t take us very far.’
He glanced over at her and struggled more, then shut his eyes and moaned. ‘Greythorne.’
‘He hit you on the head,’ she told him.
He rocked himself into a sitting position. ‘I feel it. Where is he?’
‘Abovestairs.’ She tried to speak calmly, but her voice shook. ‘He said he wanted you to be awake. While he waited, he said he would change his clothes and have some supper.’
‘Damned inhospitable of him not to offer us supper.’ He leaned his head against the stone of the wall and closed his eyes again. ‘I am sorry, Rose. Ought to have left the whole matter to Flynn. He’d not have made a muddle of it.’
She had been trying not to think of Flynn. Her dear Flynn, who would undoubtedly be called upon to view their bodies and tell the magistrate who they were.
‘Did the bastard hurt you, Rose?’ he asked.
She decided not to tell him about Greythorne strangling her. ‘Not as yet. I’m thinking that comes later.’
‘Deuce.’
She had been a prisoner once before. Miss Hart had freed her with cunning and bravery. She must be brave this time. And cunning. When dressing for Vauxhall, she’d stuck Katy’s knife under her corset. She had no hope of reaching it, but Tannerton was less fettered than she.
‘Lord Tannerton, can you get over here and stand?’ she asked.
He opened his eyes in narrow slits. ‘I have no idea. Why?’
‘I have a small knife under my corset.’
He laughed, then winced in pain. ‘Damned good place for it.’
‘I didn’t know where else to put it.’ she said. ‘If you can move over here, I think you will be able to get it out.’
He used his legs to push himself over to her. His head lolled back and forth as he moved, showing how dizzy he must be.
When he got to her, he said, ‘I must grab on to you to pull myself up. It will put a strain on your arms.’
‘No matter,’ she said firmly. ‘Just do it.’
It was difficult for him to pull himself up with his hands behind his back. It took him several tries before he stood. She thought her arms would come out of their sockets with his weight.
She tried to ignore the pain. ‘Pull up my skirts. It is right at my waist under my right arm.’
He swayed as he lifted her skirt, and she knew he would not be able to keep his balance for long. She finally felt his fingers on her bare skin. She stretched her torso as best she could to give his fingers room to pull out the knife.
‘Got it!’ He tugged on it and it clattered to the floor. He swayed, and his eyes rolled back.
‘Hold on to me,’ she ordered. ‘Lower yourself slowly.’
Somehow he did as she asked, finding the little knife and hiding it between his hands.
He sat very still. ‘Dizzy.’
She feared Greythorne would find him next to her and become suspicious, but after a minute or two, he moved back to his place by the wall.
‘Katy told me to carry the knife,’ she said, still trying to battle panic.
‘Good girl, Katy,’ he mumbled.
She watched him awkwardly work the knife against the cord tying his hands. ‘You were about to tell me something in the carriage.’ He spoke as if they were sitting in some elegant drawing room.
‘It does not matter now.’
‘No, tell me,’ he insisted. ‘We must talk of something.’
‘I will tell you if we escape.’ She could not tell him she did not love him, not when he might die this night.
He did not persist. After a pause he said, ‘De Sade. Wrote these books. Forbidden books. Passed around everywhere, naturally. Read them at Oxford. In French. Les Prospérités du Vice. Justine.’
She tried twisting her hands in their bindings. ‘I am not understanding you, my lord.’
He opened his eyes and gave her an urgent stare. ‘Listen, Rose. When he starts in on you, grovel, cower, beg for his mercy. Promise him you will do whatever he wants.’
She glared back. ‘I never will.’
‘Do it,’ he ordered. ‘He will enjoy your fear. It is the only way to outwit him.’ He swallowed. ‘Give him your fear, and he might release you from your bonds.’
If she could get free like Katy had done, she could fight him off. They would have a chance.
There was the scraping of a key in a lock. They both swivelled their heads to the door.
Greythorne entered, dressed in a brown banyan of figured silk, slippers and night cap.
He turned to Tannerton. ‘You are awake. How splendid.’
‘You have hurt him badly.’ Rose turned her voice into a whine. ‘He doesn’t stay awake.’
Tannerton let his head droop. Had he caught her cue, or was he really passing out again? Greythorne marched over and pulled his head up by the hair. ‘Stay awake if you know what is good for you.’
Tannerton’s eyes rolled.
Greythorne approached Rose more slowly. She had never seen a snake, but she thought a snake must move the same.
‘Don’t hurt me, sir.’ She tried to sound weak and frightened. It was surprisingly easy because it was so close to the truth. ‘Don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you ask, just don’t hurt me!’
His eyes glittered with pleasure. He slithered up to her and took the pins from her hair. Flynn had done the same, she remembered, but out of love. Her hair tumbled down on her shoulders. He examined one of the pins, grinned, and made as if to poke her with it.
She shrank back.
He laughed. ‘You think this pain?’ He put his face an inch from hers and pushed the point of the hairpin into the flesh of her arm. ‘You do not know what real pain can be.’
‘I will do anything. Anything.’ She looked around wildly. ‘Do…do you want me to undress for you? I will undress for you, my lord.’
His eyes widened with interest.
‘You will like it, my lord,’ she said.
He glared at her. ‘Have you ever undressed for Tannerton?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve never been with him, sir. Tonight was the night. I…I think I can please you, if you give me a chance.’
He walked over to the wall and selected o
ne of the whips and cracked it next to her ear, so that she felt the wind it produced against her cheek. ‘You have to be punished, you know.’
She nodded.
He undid her bindings and she fell to the floor, pretending to be afraid. When he stepped closer, his banyan fell open and she saw her chance.
She grabbed where he was most sensitive and squeezed with all her might, like Katy had done. He cried out, dropping the whip and doubling over. Tannerton had freed himself and was struggling to get to his feet. He dropped the knife, which clattered to the floor. He tried to reach for it, but she grabbed his arm.
‘Come!’ She pulled him out of the door, slamming it behind her.
He stumbled towards the stairs, but could only crawl up.
Rose followed behind, pushing him. ‘Make haste.’
Suddenly Greythorne caught her and dragged her back to his room of torture. He threw her with such force she rolled on the floor and hit the wall with a painful thud.
He hauled her upright again, but she twisted away from him.
‘Stay away!’ she cried, grabbing one of the whips and driving him back with it, until he wrested it out of her hand.
‘Bitch!’ With eyes red and bulging, he slapped her across the face so that she fell to the ground. This time her fingers closed around Katy’s knife. She silently swore she would use it.
When he pulled her to her feet, she came at his throat with the knife, jabbing it into his skin until he bled.
He staggered backwards and she ran out of the room once again.
Tannerton was trying to come down the stairs.
‘Hurry.’ She pushed him ahead of her. ‘I’ve stabbed him.’
They stumbled out into a hallway, just as the door of the town house crashed open, and Flynn and Cummings rushed in.
‘Flynn!’ Rose fell into his arms. ‘I think I’ve killed him.’
He held her. ‘Rose.’
Tannerton leaned against the wall. ‘Get her out, Flynn.’ He slumped to the floor, and Cummings ran to assist him.
Flynn released Rose. ‘I’ll see to Greythorne. Then we’ll summon the watch.’ She did not want to leave his side.
As she led Flynn to the basement stairs, Greythorne burst through the doorway. He lunged at Rose, but Flynn knocked him aside. The two men grappled, pounding each other with fists.
‘Flynn!’ Rose cried in alarm, more fearful for Flynn than she’d been for herself.
Greythorne was wild with rage, swinging recklessly as Flynn hit him again and again. Greythorne crashed into a table and it shattered beneath him, but he jumped to his feet, brandishing the jagged end of one of the table’s broken legs.
‘Stay back, Rose.’ Flynn pushed her behind him and backed away from the newly made weapon.
Suddenly Katy appeared behind Greythorne.
She hit him on the head with a bottle, shattering it, sending wine and glass flying.
‘See how you like it,’ she shrieked. ‘See how you like pain!’
Greythorne stumbled towards the stairs to the basement, his foot slipping on a piece of wood from the broken table, then let out a cry as he tumbled down the hard stone steps, hitting the floor below with a sickening thud.
Rose followed Flynn to peek down at the crumpled, contorted form. ‘Is he—?’
Flynn descended the stairs slowly, lest Greythorne rise up once more. When he reached the body, he pressed his fingers to Greythorne’s neck.
‘He’s dead.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Flynn dispatched Cummings to summon the watch, and by the time Cummings returned to this Fleet Street residence where Greythorne was known as Mr Black, the Bow Street Runners had also arrived. Any servants who might have been in the house had run off, and Flynn suspected none would dare return. He also doubted the other ruffians who had assisted Greythorne would ever be found.
The Bow Street Runners and the watchman took charge of the situation, saying there was no need for anyone else to remain. Flynn was glad to get Rose away from there, but before leaving, he penned a letter for one of the Runners to carry to the magistrate asking him to call upon the marquess the next day.
Flynn decided they all must go to Audley Street, where Tanner could be tended to in his own bed. He sent Katy, Cummings and Tanner in one hackney carriage. He and Rose rode in another.
Alone with Rose at last, Flynn put his arm around her and held her close. ‘How are you faring, Rose?’
She snuggled against him. ‘I am faring very well now, Flynn.’
They did not speak. After the horror and danger she’d been through, he wanted only to give her peace. In their silence the closeness between them returned, as if their thoughts were one and there was no need to speak aloud. Flynn was content to have her in his arms. He had come so close to losing her, he doubted he would ever take a moment like this for granted.
He’d thought her asleep, but she murmured, ‘I have something to tell you, Flynn.’
Flynn kissed the top of her head. ‘I have many things to tell you, Rose.’
‘Will you give me time to talk with you after we arrive at Lord Tannerton’s?’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘Indeed, I will.’ Brushing her hair from her forehead, he asked, ‘You do not mind I’m taking you there?’
She sighed. ‘I’ll mind nothing if it means being with you.’
They reached the town house right behind the other hack, and Flynn left her side to help with Tanner, who was only half in his wits. He could not walk without assistance, so Cummings and Flynn assisted him to the door and other servants took over once inside. The physician had not left from tending to Smythe’s leg and Wiggin’s hand, so he was present to take charge of Tanner’s care. Flynn told the housekeeper and butler to give their guests, Rose, Katy and Cummings, some food and whatever else they needed.
‘Wait for me in the dining parlour,’ he whispered to Rose.
When Flynn finally reached the parlour, Rose was there alone.
She poured him some wine and fixed a plate of food for him. ‘Cummings went off to share sleeping quarters with one of your footmen, and your housekeeper set up one of the bedchambers for me and Katy. Katy should be sleeping now.’
When she set the plate down in front of him, he grasped her hand and pressed her palm against his lips. He sat her on his lap while he ate.
‘Will Lord Tannerton recover?’ she asked him.
Flynn nodded, swallowing some wine. ‘The physician believes so, after a rest.’
‘You ought to rest, too, Flynn,’ she said.
He smiled at her. ‘I intend to go to bed directly.’
Rose leaned down and kissed his lips. ‘As do I.’
She knew without asking him that she would be sharing a bed with him, not with Katy. With fingers entwined, he led her to his bedchamber, a room so neat and plain, she wanted to weep for its starkness.
Once the door was closed, Rose helped him off with his coat and boots. She unbuttoned his waistcoat.
He touched her neck and pain filled his eyes. ‘You are bruised.’
She did not wish to bring the memory of Greythorne into this room. ‘Do not talk of that. It is over.’
He stroked the skin of her neck and she fancied his touch erased the marks of Greythorne’s cruelty.
He shrugged out of his waistcoat and reached around her to untie the laces of the dress that had been found for her. It was an easy matter for him to pull the dress over her head and to undo her corset. That done, she unbuttoned his trousers.
Their undressing felt like a dance to her, she taking one step, he taking another until all the barriers fell away. He lifted her on to the bed, not as grand as the one they had shared before, but tinged with his scent.
Their dance continued, though his hand faltered with each mark he found on her. He kissed the bruises on her neck, the scrapes and cuts on her wrists, the mark of Greythorne’s hand on her cheek. Nothing could have felt more healing.
She traced the contours of his muscle
s, the roughness of his stubble. She let her fingers play in his dark, silken locks. Reverently they traded touch for touch, until soon he was above her and it was time to dance in unison.
When he entered her, she almost wept with joy. Only the day before she’d believed she would never feel the glory of him moving inside her again. Her back arched and she pressed her fingers into his skin as he set the pace.
As if following his lead in a waltz, she joined her movements to his. They had become one person, moving together, thinking as one person, feeling as one. She gazed into his eyes, and even their souls became one.
Together the excitement grew, the pleasure intensified, and their fevered panting melded like the voices of the King’s Theatre chorus. She would savour this unexpected moment for the rest of her days.
Suddenly they reached the peak together, their pleasure intensified by its being shared by the other. Together they cried out as the waves of ecstasy washed over them.
Together they collapsed when the ecstasy waned, but as Flynn slid off her their connection held fast.
He kissed her. ‘Now, what was it you were wanting to tell me, Rose?’ Still holding her against him, he stroked her arm with his thumb.
She took a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘I made a decision tonight to refuse Tannerton. To not go to bed with him, Flynn. I started to tell him when…when everything happened.’ She pushed away that memory. ‘I can never repay the money he spent on me—or repay you for doing so much for me in his name—but I cannot be his mistress.’
She expected him to be surprised by this pronouncement, but even the rhythm of his thumb against her skin was unchanged.
‘Why, Rose?’ he asked as if the question were expected of him.
She knew she must tell him what she had not said to him before. ‘I love you, Flynn. I do not wish to bed another man.’
‘You do not wish to be a courtesan?’ His tone was almost teasing.
‘I was not truthful when I said that.’ She quickly added, ‘I’m not expecting this to change anything for you, Flynn. You must take your employment with the Duke of Clarence. It is what you dreamed of.’
