by Merry Farmer
The room he led her into was more sumptuous than anything Noelle had seen before. Several plump sofas were arranged around the room as if a large number of party guests were expected at any moment. Several mirrors hung on the walls, their gilt frames glinting. The carpet was soft under her freezing feet. But as she glanced around, taking in the mural painted around the top of the walls and at a pair of large, painted vases on either side of the massive fireplace, details stood out. Nude bodies twisted into any number of painful positions. Creatures that were half men, half animals ravishing creamy-skinned beauties. The shiver down Noelle’s spine turned to full trembling.
“You couldn’t pay me enough to work for you,” she whispered, her throat going dry when she realized the fire irons were carved in the shape of naked women lashed to poles. “Let me go.”
“Nonsense.” He ignored her. “Everyone has their price.” He let go of her arm and stepped around until he was standing face to face with her, then shrugged. “Of course, sometimes that price turns out to be very low indeed when one realizes how few choices she has.”
Noelle refused to be intimidated, and that was clearly what Lord Shayles was trying to do. He wasn’t the first man to attempt to force her into a painful and humiliating act by implying that she had no other choice. Well, she wasn’t the frightened, ignorant girl she’d been all those years ago when Madame Trixie had sold her into humiliation. She’d made a mistake coming to Lord Shayles, but she wasn’t alone now. Ram was out there somewhere. He might even be looking for her.
“I’m sorry.” She squared her shoulders. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have wasted your time by coming here, but I’m not interested.”
She nodded and turned to walk off.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
The words were barely past Lord Shayles’s lips when his fist flew at her face. The impact was sudden and painful, stunning Noelle and knocking her off balance. She sagged, confused when she didn’t fall to the ground. A moment later, her confusion doubled as she was hefted off her feet. The air rushed out of her lungs as something hard hit her gut, and it wasn’t until several seconds after she began to move that she realized Lord Shayles had thrown her over his shoulder.
Face still aching from the blow, Noelle had a hard time getting her bearings. Especially since Lord Shayles carried her into a darkened room, and then down a curving staircase. It wasn’t until her shock wore off that she thought to flail and kick.
“Let go of me,” she shouted.
Lord Shayles ignored her.
“I won’t do anything for you.” She fought on, pounding her fists across his back. “Nothing you could pay or do or say will make me—”
She gasped as he flung her off his shoulder, smashing her hard against what felt like a bare stone wall. Her head snapped back, crunching against the stone, causing her to black out for a moment.
It was a moment too long. Her body sagged, and before she could drag herself up from the black abyss that sucked her down, she felt first one arm, then the other, lifted up and to the side, cold shackles closing around her wrists. A wet trickle itched down her scalp from where her head impacted with the wall. She fought desperately to regain her senses, but as she battled the black fog, her boots were yanked off, and shackles closed around her ankles. Odd shackles with an iron bar between them that kept her legs spread far apart.
“Now.” The single syllable pulled Noelle back to full focus. Lord Shayles stood in front of her, unbuttoning his jacket. Through the dim light of the room she could see the malice in his eyes. “It would be unwise of me to damage the merchandise. Fresh meat demands the highest prices, after all. But since you don’t seem to appreciate everything I’m offering you, I’ll have to explain it to you the hard way.”
He tossed his jacket over a strange, low contraption that looked like a cross between a sawhorse and a whipping post, then began rolling up his sleeves. Noelle glanced frantically around the room, her mouth going dry and her pulse pounding. She recognized a few of the devices scattered around the room and could guess at the uses of many she’d never seen. She’d heard whispers from some of the other girls she’d worked with over the years about men with peculiar, violent tastes. She’d been unlucky enough to be stuck with customers who’d left her with bruises in her younger years. But she’d never dreamed she’d be subjected to the sort of treatment the girls had whispered about late at night, when trying to frighten each other. She hadn’t really believed men could be like that…until now.
“I don’t want any of this,” she said, hating how feeble her protest sounded. It was hard to stay strong when she could barely move because of the shackles binding her.
“Good.” Lord Shayles finished with his sleeves and moved to a cabinet built into an arched alcove. “I have several friends who like it when their supper fights back.” He opened the cabinet and took out a long, gleaming knife.
Noelle’s breath came in fast, shallow gasps as he walked closer to her, brandishing the knife. She refused to let him see how terrified she was, refused to beg him not to hurt her, but the words rang through her mind like a scream.
“The rules are very simple,” Lord Shayles said. He sauntered close enough to her to rest the tip of the knife at the top of her bodice. “You came to this house of your own free will, and you will stay here of your own free will.”
“No, I won’t,” Noelle protested.
Lord Shayles’s answering smile was like ice. He slashed down with the knife, splitting Noelle’s bodice open from her neck to her waist, and yet, her corset remained untouched. She shivered. If he could cut her clothing with such precision, she was almost certain he could do other things with his knife that would be just as precise.
“You will do everything that is asked of you,” Lord Shayles went on, hooking one long finger through the waistband of her skirt, then slicing it clean through. “If you don’t…” He yanked the knife through her skirts, slicing them to the point where they fell away from her body.
He didn’t stop there. As she watched, helpless to break free and too frightened to move or breathe, he shredded her skirts, tearing them away and tossing the pieces behind him, until she wore nothing from the waist down but her faded drawers and tattered stockings. Try as she did to stop herself from shaking—if only to avoid accidental cuts from Lord Shayles’s blade—she trembled as if she were chilled to the bone. She was chilled to the bone, in more ways than one.
“We provide particular services here at The Black Strap Club,” Lord Shayles went on. “So you may find yourself experiencing slight discomfort in the course of your duties.”
He spoke as if she might occasionally stub her toe or be asked to skip a meal. Noelle knew better. She pulled at the shackles holding her wrists, hoping against hope that she could slide her hands through and break free.
As soon as Lord Shayles saw what she was doing, he sliced at her sleeves, stripping them and the rest of her bodice away. Noelle was forced to stay stock still to keep from being cut. She closed her eyes, prayed that by some miracle she would be transported back to the lazy prairie of Haskell, to the laughter and good cheer of her sisters at Bonnie’s Place. She thought of Ram, torn between praying that he would swoop in and, by some miracle, rescue her, and hoping he would never find out how foolish and blind she’d been.
“Now,” Lord Shayles said at last, taking a step back and looking at her in just her chemise, drawers, and stockings. “Are we clear about the rules?”
Nothing was clear, but in her gut, Noelle knew that any contradiction would earn her more pain. The most strength she was able to show was to open her eyes and say nothing at all.
“Good.” Lord Shayles smiled his icy smile. “Then let’s begin with a sampling of what my friends can expect from our newest offering.”
He stepped in close, holding the knife against her throat. He brought his lips close to hers, but instead of kissing her, he traced his tongue across her cheek, leaving a wet trail. Noelle shivered, fightin
g to keep herself from whimpering in fear or slipping into the numb despair that had enabled her to do so many degrading things in her past. She closed her eyes, praying for a miracle.
Lord Shayles had just reached the point of thrusting his tongue into her ear when a dull crash and a muffled shout came from somewhere nearby. Shayles jerked back, fury marring his face, and glanced from the door he’d brought Noelle through to another, smaller door at the far end of the room. Noelle expected someone or something to burst through the door she’d come through, but it was the other door that crashed open, slamming against the wall with a splintering sound.
Half a dozen burly men—some that looked vaguely familiar—flooded the room. Behind them were a well-dressed man with silver-grey hair that she didn’t know, Captain Tennant, and Ram.
“Ram!” she called out, nearly weeping with relief.
“Noelle!” Ram started across the room toward her, but Captain Tennant held him back. One of the burly men motioned him to caution as well. The ship. Noelle knew the other men from the ship. They worked for Captain Tennant.
“Wallace, Evans!” Lord Shayles shouted over his shoulder as he backed toward the other door, a feral look in his eyes.
“Your men might have a hard time hearing you, Shayles,” the well-dressed man who Noelle didn’t recognize said in a Scottish accent. “They’re a wee bit tied up at the moment.”
Noelle blinked at him. Was he making a joke? At a time like this? What kind of man would joke in the face of such danger?
But Lord Shayles shifted out of his trapped stance, drawing himself to his full height and grinning at the man as though they were old friends…or enemies. “Malcolm, how nice of you to finally show an interest in my little club.” The Scottish man, Malcolm, huffed a humorless laugh, but before he could reply, Lord Shayles added, “I knew all that preening and posturing in favor of the weaker sex before the House of Lords was a sham. You’re as red-blooded as any man.”
“The women of this country will soon be freed from the shackles that the likes of you have clamped them in, if we have anything to do about it,” Malcom shot back. “Starting with this one.”
Captain Tennant nodded to his men, who advanced toward Noelle. One swiped a key from a small table and easily unlocked her shackles. Noelle’s head spun, and not just from the pain of the blows she’d received earlier. She had no idea who Malcolm was, although she could guess that he was a member of the House of Lords. She didn’t know who the “we” he was talking about could be, or why they were seeking to free women, but it didn’t matter. She could have fallen at his feet and thanked him a thousand times over for helping Ram rescue her.
The moment her ankles were freed from their bonds, she flew to Ram, sobbing as he closed his arms around her.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, his voice just as filled with emotion as hers. “I’ve got you now. We’ll be all right.”
She believed him. Mad as it was, her whole heart believed every word he said. She shook with cold and fear, but Ram’s body was warm, and the love radiating from him enveloped her in a cocoon of safety.
“We should leave here as soon as possible,” Captain Tennant said, breaking through the haze of Noelle’s relief. “Before the police arrive.”
She lifted her head, turning to Captain Tennant with both shock and incredulity. “No, we should wait for the police,” she insisted. “That man should be arrested for the things he tried to do to me. And there are other girls in this house too. I saw one of them. She can’t possibly be here because she wants to be.”
Captain Tennant and Malcolm exchanged an odd, wary glance. Ram’s face was a mask of stone. And Lord Shayles grinned as though he’d devoured a particularly tasty morsel.
“My, my,” Lord Shayles said. “You really are fresh off the boat, aren’t you?”
Angry and confused, her face throbbing from where Lord Shayles had hit her, Noelle glanced to Captain Tennant and Malcolm for answers. They avoided her gaze, looking to the other men. Captain Tennant gestured them to the door they’d broken open.
It was Ram who answered. “Shayles is a peer,” he growled. “He’s nobility.”
“An earl, to be precise,” Lord Shayles bragged, his expression as smug as ever.
“So?” Noelle looked desperately around for anyone who could help, but Captain Tennant was already ushering his men out of the room. Malcolm motioned for Ram to follow with Noelle.
“I’ll enlighten you,” Lord Shayles said. “Since your heroic rescuers seem so unwilling to tell you the hard truth.” He tried to take a step toward her, but Ram jerked her away, all but carrying her toward the door. “I am untouchable,” Shayles bragged. “I am related to the royal family. No mere policeman would ever dare to lift a finger toward me.”
“But,” Noelle stammered. “But this place. It’s horrible. That girl I saw.”
“My property,” Lord Shayles said, grinning like a wolf. “And no one would dare to say otherwise.”
“But,” Noelle tried again.
“He’s right,” Ram growled. “All we can do is leave.”
Noelle let him whisk her from the room, but a deep, uncomfortable hatred burned in her gut. She had never truly hated anyone before, but the whisper of everything that Lord Shayles did in that house, the bitter realization of what could have happened to her and what probably did happen to countless other girls without powerful friends to rescue them, ignited a fire in her that made her feel like a dragon, ready to rip Shayles and everyone like him to shreds.
She barely noticed the corridor Ram led her through, her anger was so hot. She briefly registered a kitchen and some sort of servant’s rooms with a few wretched maids and manservants being guarded by some of Captain Tennant’s men. She did notice the door with broken hinges that led to the dirty courtyard behind the house. Ram, Captain Tennant, and Malcolm must have broken into the house through the servant’s entrance and looked for her from there. She almost didn’t notice the icy chill that hit her exposed skin, and when she did realize she wore almost nothing against her bruised and battered body, she was already being lifted into a carriage.
“I apologize for the accommodations, Miss Walters,” Malcom said once they were all inside the carriage and it jerked into motion. He handed a rough blanket to her from the seat facing where she sat, huddled against Ram. “It’s the best I could do.”
Noelle took the blanket. As scratchy as it was, it felt like heaven when Ram wrapped it around her shoulders. Although the feeling of heaven could just as easily have come from his arms.
Noelle opened her mouth to say thank you, but what came out was, “I can’t believe I was so stupid.” She burst into tears. “I should know better. I’ve known people like Lord Shayles. I’m such a fool for falling for his promise of money and shelter.”
“It’s all right,” Ram repeated. “I’ll shelter you as long as I have breath in my body.”
His kind words only made Noelle cry harder. She buried her face against his shoulder, clinging to him as though her life depended on it. Because her life did depend on it. The life she wanted to have—as a respectable woman, a wife, and even, Lord willing, a mother someday—it all depended on Ram, his wonderful heart, and his determination.
“You are not the first woman to be driven to desperate measures,” Malcolm said in dark tones. “There’s no shame in making a difficult choice when you’ve been backed into a corner.”
“But I did have a choice.” Noelle shook her head. “I should have trusted Ram. But Ajay kicked him out, and his dream of owning his own shop seemed dashed, and I suppose I was just so tired and felt so guilty for being the cause of all that, that for a moment, asking Lord Shayles for more information about what he wanted me to do seemed like my only choice.”
“You didn’t go to him for a job?” Captain Tennant asked.
Noelle shook her head. “I went to ask for information. And I knew immediately that it was a terrible idea. He lured me in before I could run, though.”
> “Typical,” Malcolm snorted. “That man has been ruining decent ladies for years.”
An odd feeling filled the carriage. The silence that followed made Noelle shiver all over again, but more with dread over what kinds of stories Malcolm could tell.
At last, Captain Tennant cleared his throat and said, “Miss Walters, I would like you to meet Lord Malcolm Campbell.”
Noelle nodded to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“No, no, lass. The pleasure is all mine,” Malcolm said.
“Lord Campbell is part of a group of peers in the House of Lords who are seeking to pass laws that would give women broader rights,” Captain Tennant explained.
“Oh?” Noelle’s brow went up.
“It’ll be a long, slow slog,” Lord Campbell said with a frown.
Another awkward silence fell as Lord Campbell retreated into his own thoughts. Captain Tennant smiled at Noelle, then peered out the window. Noelle had the feeling that both men had pulled back into their thoughts so as to give her and Ram what little privacy they could in a moving carriage.
“I’m so sorry, Ram,” Noelle sighed, heart filled with misery. But underneath the misery was a deep, warm pulse. She was with Ram. She would be all right after all. They would be together.
“I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you,” he said, hugging her close. “I’ve never had to make that sort of a decision before. Things have never looked so bleak to me.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” she said, face heating with shame. “If Ajay won’t come around or forgive you, we may have harder times in front of us still. Who knows what kind of decisions we’ll have to make? And you won’t be able to open your grand store without Ajay’s funding.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Noelle thought she saw Lord Campbell perk up.
Ram shook his head, kissing Noelle’s forehead. “The shop doesn’t matter. It’s just a thing. The only dream that matters to me is the dream of you in my arms and by my side forever.”
“But you’ve worked so hard for your shop,” Noelle argued.
