"Didn't I go there to see about my foot, silly? I know where 'tis. Now you just sit there and take it easy 'til I get back."
Isabella went down the path to the outer gate, one of the bitches who'd recently whelped loping along at her side. How good it felt to stroll along and enjoy the singing of the birds and the scenery. In the dreary back streets of Stepney even the sky had always seemed to be dull and grey. The wild beauty of this country thrilled her, made her forget for a while that she was a convict; that her family were so far away there was little possibility of seeing them again.
It was cooler now, more like a spring day in England. The weather was all upside down here in the colony. They'd been here three months and Dougal was as happy as a pig in muck. Tiger Carstairs had bought more of his precious merinos and Dougal and Gillie were building the flock up.
"Go home to your pups," she ordered the dog at the gate. The bitch slunk off, tail lowered, her milk-swollen belly flopping from side to side. Isabella hadn't gone far when one of Tiger's closest neighbors’ cart came trundling along the road.
"Well, well, and what are you doing out alone at this time of the day?" he asked when she hailed him down.
Isabella explained about Thelma's cough and her need to get medicine.
"Jump aboard, deary," he invited. "You shouldn't be on the road without a man along with you. There's escaped cons out here, not to mention the road mobs, and they're a rough bunch." He saw her worried look and chuckled. "Mind you, the ones on the run don't usually keep this close to town in daylight. I'm not going right into town, lass. I'll drop you off at the end of Elizabeth Street, for I'm going over to Brickfield Hill. You should be safe enough there. Will that do you?"
"That'll be fine, Mr. Enshaw." Isabella smiled gratefully.
He let her down at the outer edges of town, ordering, "Just you make sure you get someone to pick you up. If you're still here when I return you can come home with me. All right? You wait on that corner there." Clicking to the horse, he flicked the reins on its rump.
"I will. Thank you." Isabella waved as she started to walk. There were one or two cottages along this stretch of road, spaced out and set well back. Feeling slightly uneasy again she peered around. It was so quiet, except for the parrots squawking and the whistle of the wind in the trees.
When she came to a house set near its fence that bordered the road she stopped to look at a large white bird with yellow feathers standing high on his head. It sat perched in a cage hanging beneath the porch. Isabella hated to see any creature caged and wondered why so many of the settlers found the need to capture these beautiful creatures and confine them in such small prisons. She hovered by the gate, chewing her lip. There was more pleasure to be found watching them flying free, and for a moment she considered releasing it.
A shadow suddenly crossed her path, and she gasped, a hand going to her throat as someone bulky rushed at her. They must have been concealed behind the thick trunk of a eucalyptus tree for she'd thought herself alone. She swallowed a shriek.
"Mr. Malloy!"
The ugly Irishman was looming over her. Isabella went to move around him and he sidestepped, barring her way.
"Let me pass." Defiantly she glared at him while her heart hammered against her ribs.
"Well, well, if it isn't Malloy's lucky day. Look who we have here. I've been patient and bided me time, and now I'm about to get what's rightfully mine. It just goes to show, don't it? If you waits around long enough everything comes to you. That Tiger Carstairs thinks 'e can do as he likes. Just because the guvnor is all for letting these emancipists have land and animals he thinks he's as good as a free settler like me." His mouth curled, and Isabella recalled what her master had told her of the Irishman's violent nature.
She was so shocked by this information about Tiger Carstairs that she momentarily forgot her panic at being faced by this monster. "But ... he's as free as you are," she stammered.
"You think so? He was transported same as you, stupid bitch." He guffawed, then spat in the dirt.
"You're wrong. He's a nob." Isabella couldn't believe him. He had to be wrong. "Why else would the Governor give him special rights? And he owns his tract of land and his merino sheep that the Governor likes to breed."
"Cause that's the way of the guvnor. Gives them all the rights, don't he?" He made an awful sound in his throat and spat again, near her feet. Isabella jumped sideways. He had moved closer until his stench enveloped her.
"I have messages to run." With a huge effort she tried to keep her voice from shaking as her limbs were. How could she get away from this pile of filth?
"You ain't off anywhere, girl. Nowhere but with me, that is. Think I'd let you go now I've got you where I want you?"
He grabbed her wrist. Isabella yelped, tossing her head from side to side. She looked frantically about. The road was deserted, but surely someone had to be in the house nearby.
"Help!" she screamed.
"Now don't be daft." Malloy looked over his shoulder, grinning when no one came out of the open door. "You can make this easy on yourself and come quietly with me like a good girl or you can make it hard. I don't care how we do it, but you're a going with me, an' that's a fact."
"No! Help me," she yelled, and his sweaty and sticky hand clamped over her mouth. Isabella gagged, kicking out at his legs.
"Aw, don't make it difficult." There was a thread of pleasure in his tone, as if he wanted her to fight. "Reg!" Using two fingers he whistled shrilly.
A ramshackle cart pulled by a ribby pony trundled into view from where it had been concealed behind a high hedge. A young man of about sixteen, sporting a foolish grin, drove the decrepit vehicle.
"Give us a hand, boy," Malloy ordered. He had one arm around Isabella's middle, one still covering her mouth.
Isabella twisted and fought with all her might, using elbows and fists, lashing out with her feet. Malloy grunted under her onslaught but didn't loosen his grip. What she'd give for a knife right now. She'd not slice this man's thumb off, but put it through his evil heart.
Ye gods! She should have gone along with her instinct and hidden a weapon in her apron pocket. But who would have thought something like this would happen here? She'd become stupid and placid, thinking life would be all roses now she was living in the lap of luxury. What a fool! The world was full of lustful, greedy men, whether it be in the colony, aboard ship, or on the streets of London.
"Now stop that, girlie, or I'll have to knock you out," Malloy muttered near her ear. Isabella shuddered at the vile smell of his breath.
The boy jumped down and reached into the bed of the cart. His high pitched giggle was at odds with his size and bulk as he tossed a piece of stinking sackcloth over her head. Isabella screamed, but was lifted off the ground and tossed over Reg's shoulder. "She's a real handful, dad," he said, as frantically she thumped him, kicking and screaming until her throat hurt. Reg stank as much as his father. The aroma mingled with the smell of the filthy sacking made her retch.
"Shut your trap." Malloy whacked her backside.
"Let me go, you brute!" Isabella kicked harder, but her frantic efforts only made Reg laugh. When he tossed her onto the cart she landed with a thump that knocked the breath out of her. The cart rocked as Reg clambered in with her.
"Hang onto her, Reg." Malloy chuckled, snorting as the cart rocked again when he climbed up to the front of it. "She's a real lively piece, this one. Sit on her head if needs be. But keep her quiet, d'you hear? Bejesus, what a stroke of luck, eh? I can't believe she's fallen into me hands like a gift from above. Tiger high and mighty Carstairs is going to choke on his own spit when he finds how I've outwitted him." His crude guffaw made Isabella shudder. "Told you I'd find her sooner or later, didn't I?"
"Yea, Dad." Reg's weight fell across her middle. The wagon began to rumble off. Reg ran his hands up and over Isabella's body, settling on her breasts, squeezing until her eyes watered. "She's got nice round tits, Dad."
The bile threaten
ed to choke her. Dear God! How could they do this in the middle of the morning? Surely somebody would come to her aid. This brute and his weak-minded son couldn't get away with kidnapping her in daylight.
She could hear the bustle of the town around her, and Malloy calling out to people as they passed. The noise grew louder, the stench overpowering as Reg moved about, pressing himself to her and making grunting sounds of pleasure, even while she punched and fought him.
The cart rattled over cobbles before it came to a halt. Isabella could hear numerous accents and dialects, raucous shouts and catcalls. Her worst fears rose up to paralyze her. They were in the wharf area. Tiger had warned this was a place no self-respecting woman entered if she valued her life.
A long-forgotten prayer entered her mind. No one would come to her aid now. Kidnappings, rapes and murders were commonplace amongst the riffraff in this part of the town. Whalers and sealers came into the bay to stock with provisions and the crews came here to brawl, drink and find women. Ships carrying goods from China, India and many other places around the world brought crews of many nationalities, and most of the men rarely got further than this area.
God help her. How long before Thelma realized something had happened and contacted Tiger? They wouldn't know where to start looking for her. She was a long way from the doctor's house and might as well be the other side of the continent.
Tiger Carstairs hadn't given her a second glance since the day in the orchard. He would likely be glad to see the back of her. But she knew Dougal would come to her aid if he died in the attempt.
"Oh Dougal," she whimpered. "Please help me."
"Eh?" Reg mumbled as he moved off her.
"I said bring her in, you dope," his father bawled.
"Oh, right, Dad. She's a nice little piece, isn't she? I can see why you fancied her." Reg jumped down, dragged her across the floor of the cart by her feet, and then slung her over his shoulder like a bag of flour, ignoring her thumps and kicks. Isabella's head bounced against his back, and she choked on the stench rising from him.
Nearby revelers warbled a sea shanty, their slurred and tuneless voices shouting the verses of a song Isabella had heard often at sea coming from the crew's quarters. Useless to yell for help, no one would hear her.
"Careful boy, we don't want her dying on us before we've had our fill of her, do we?" Malloy sniggered.
Reg stomped down what must have been a narrow passage, for her feet hit the wall with each step he took. He grunted as he stopped.
"Put her on the bed," Malloy ordered. "Then leave her to me, eh?"
"Aw, Dad," Reg whined. "You said I could have a turn with her if I helped you." Reg kept a hand on her chest and Isabella pushed at it, rolling away from him. He laughed as he grabbed her wrist, and she raked her nails across his hand. He laughed louder.
"Get out of here, you silly sod."
Reg let her go, then Isabella heard shuffling. "Here, take this an' go an' fetch us some rum next door. And don't be long, all right?"
Malloy must have pushed his son out of the room. She made up her mind; this was not going to be the end of her. She was not some worthless little Irish biddy who deserved to be pushed around by scum such as this.
Malloy ripped off the sacking and her bonnet along with it. Isabella bit back a scream of terror when she saw he'd already removed his trousers to free his bulging cock.
Cringing against the bedhead she put her shaking hands to her mouth. Now what should she do? She knew the power of an aroused man, and this time had no knife to defend herself.
"Now, then, tasty wench, it's time I got what should rightfully have been mine months ago. You've got no high and mighty Tiger Carstairs to take you away from me now." He rubbed his palms together, then fondled himself, his beady eyes narrowing.
"Tiger will find me, then kill you!" Isabella scrambled from the bed.
She went to dodge around him, but the room was no bigger than her bedroom at home and Malloy easily threw her back down. She fought with all her might as he came over her. There was no way she would give herself to this dung heap of a man. Better to die fighting than to die after he and his son had their fill of her. The bed smelt of urine and stale sweat.
"Get away from me, you bloody lump of shit!" Thumping her knuckles on his back and neck, she brought her knee up as far as she could. But he was too close for it to do any great harm.
He forced a knee between her legs and began to part them.
Isabella brought her fists down as hard as she could on his head, one each side of his ears.
This seemed to amuse him. "Fight all you like wench, there's no one to hear or come to your aid. And they wouldn't care if they heard you. No one pokes their noses in around here. Open your legs!" His fingers prodded between her thighs.
Isabella raked her nails down the side of his face. Blood began to run from the scratches, which seemed to inflame him. She would never have expected him to have such strength. Grabbing her flailing hands he secured them over her head with a grasp as tight as a steel trap.
Someone rapped on the door. "Malloy!"
Isabella knew this was her only chance to escape. She screamed at the top of her voice, praying the person outside would come to her aid.
Malloy clamped a palm over her mouth. Isabella bit it as hard as she could and he swore obscenely.
"Go away," he bawled.
"It's Reg." The woman rattled the knob. "The silly bugger's gone and got himself knocked out."
"So? Let the silly sod sleep until he comes to. Not much I can do about it, is there?" Malloy returned his attention to Isabella, fumbling with her skirt and petticoats, lifting them to her waist.
"Help!"
She screamed and increased her struggles when he removed his hand from her mouth to grasp a fistful of material. Lust filled his bloodshot eyes when they settled on the naked flesh of her thighs. Holding her arms above her head with one hand he ripped her apron off then tore the fronts of her bodice apart. Dribble from his lax mouth splashed onto her bared skin as her breasts fell free, exposed to his greedy eyes.
"Oh gawd, what a sight for a poor sod's eyes!" His scrawny Adam's apple bobbed rapidly as he swallowed.
"They've taken him off. They're gonna have sport with him afore they kill 'im, Malloy. Don't you care if them sods use your boy." The woman sounded indifferent.
Isabella saw the indecision drift over his eyes as he mouthed a string of vile curses. "Saints preserve us. The silly sod deserves all he gets. Why? Why, does this have to happen to me?"
With a new burst of energy Isabella brought her knee up again. "Scum," she yelled, as she caught his swollen cock.
He flinched, swearing viciously. Isabella saw his fist coming at her in a mighty swipe.
As it connected with the side of her face she saw bright lights, then slid down a dark tunnel into merciful blackness.
Chapter Eight
Isabella tasted blood as she moved her tongue over tinder-dry lips. Groaning, she shifted as far as she could before she came up against her bonds.
Dear God! Her arms were tied above her head to the rail at the top of the bed. Worse, her legs were spread, one ankle tied to each corner at its base.
With a moan of pain she wiggled her hips about. Her tattered petticoat lay in a corner where Malloy had thrown it, and her skirt was still bunched about her waist. Vainly she tried to cover her exposed body by arching her middle, straining to toss the cloth over herself.
Had he raped her before he left? She didn't feel sore down there, so sent up a prayer as tears slid down her cheeks. Malloy must have decided his son was more important than abusing her. For the moment. But he would be back to finish what he'd started. Sobbing, she craned her neck towards the tiny window where cobwebs dangled like tattered curtains.
It was still daylight, but she had no idea of the time. The street outside was alive with the raucous sounds, but from what she'd heard since arriving in the colony this area was renowned for its never-ending round of sinf
ul happenings.
What was she going to do? She struggled with her bindings, but only succeeded in ripping more skin off her wrists and ankles. Any minute Malloy would return to carry on where he'd left off.
"Help," she shouted, again and again until her voice rasped. Who would hear her in the endless din going on outside? Even if they heard her she doubted anyone would take any notice. Malloy was right; hers was just another cry drifting through the filthy window.
But she couldn't just lie and await her fate. She yelled until her throat hurt.
She jumped awake from an exhausted doze to hear heavy footsteps along the passage, then someone shouted on the other side of the door, thumping on the wood at the same time. The voice was deep and so familiar she began to sob.
"In here." Her cry came out as a croak. Pitiful. Wetting her arid lips Isabella tried again.
A hammering, then a splintering of wood accompanied a string of muffled curses. The door fell inwards, hanging askew on its rusted hinges and Tiger Carstairs barged in. His fists flailed as he let out a string of curses Isabella had never thought to hear from a gentleman.
But then he wasn't gentry, was he? Just a convict, same as her.
Relief rushed over her and a silly giggle burst from her lips, followed by a hiccup as he bent over her. Words of thanks tumbled out in a rambling stream as tears gushed from her eyes.
"Good God, girl, what's that devil done to you?" he roared. Pulling her skirt down he took out a knife from the top of his boot and sliced through her bindings. "I'll see the swine sent to prison for this." Scooping her into his arms, he held her close to his chest while her soft giggles turned to sobs.
She couldn't stop shaking; her teeth chattering. "He was going to ... to ... but then his son ... Oh Tiger, I was so frightened." His familiar scent was all around her, comforting. She clung to him as shudders racked her body.
"Hush. Just tell me, did he finish the job?" The question was growled into her ear, his mouth warm, as he rocked her back and forth like a small child needing comforting after a nightmare.
Mystic Mountains Page 7
