Hold Your Breath 02 - Unmasking the Marquess (26 page)

Wally’s hands went to his waist, blocking most of the light from the hall. “What say ye, wench?”

His words were slurred, and Reanna knew he was going to have a hard time following her logic. Best to make this as simple as possible.

“Memorable, Wallace. I am a virgin, and I would not like to die as one. I would like your assistance.”

Eyes getting huge, he took a step toward her. “Ye ain’t no virgin.”

Reanna stood as tall as the shackle allowed, not backing down from the fists that were within striking distance. “No? Would I not know that, Wallace? Quite simply, the person coming for me tomorrow will not be letting me live long. I do wish to feel one of God’s gifts before I die. And you are the only one here that can help me, Wallace.”

Wally looked over his shoulder into the hall, then, leering, stumbled toward her. “God’s gift? Yer a classy wench, ain’t ye?” He apparently had forgotten all about Gertie, as he didn’t even glance in her direction as he reached Reanna.

She took the weight of his hands, hiding her cringe as his fingers pawed her body up and down. The smell of gin only slightly cut the odor from his body.

She swallowed back bile as she put her free arm around his waist. He grunted in satisfaction.

Reanna craned her neck up at him. God forgive her for what she was about to say. “I want my arms around you, Wallace. I want my legs wrapped around you, riding you.”

His eyes went wider. “Bloody fucker, ain’t ye a piss whipper.”

He reached under his shirt, pulling up on the thick chain that held keys. The chain came around his head, and he promptly dropped the keys on the stone floor.

He went to his knees, fumbling in the darkness.

Reanna stuck her free hand in his hair, rubbing. “Yes. Do it. Do it, now, Wallace. I want you. Quick.”

He unlocked her ankle first and then dropped the keys three more times before he could free her wrist. The whole while, Reanna continued her prodding. As soon as the metal from her wrist clunked to the floor, he grabbed her by the waist, pushing her back against the wall. His mouth went on her neck, drooling or kissing, Reanna wasn’t sure.

She let him paw at her body, taking his brutal roughness, moaning for effect, until she heard the iron click. His movement didn’t pause.

Hands in his hair, she pulled up his head, looking him straight in his lazy eyes. “Wait. I want my dress off. I want your hands on my naked body.” She slipped along the wall, but his hands followed. “Here, let me. You enjoy.”

She bent over, grabbing the bottom of her tattered skirt as she slid further along the wall. She was just out of his reach, when Wally realized his leg was now shackled.

With a raging scream, he lunged at Reanna, grasping the hem of her dress and jerking it. Reanna fell, and Wally’s fingers instantly dug into her ankle. She kicked, but his grip only tightened.

In the next instant, Gertie flew, diving at Wally’s arm. Her teeth sank into his skin before Reanna could blink, and she was free, scrambling backward in the cell as she watched Gertie spit out what looked like a chunk of flesh.

Reanna and Gertie tumbled out of the cell, and Reanna jumped at the door, pulling it closed. She slid the long lock in place and grabbed Gertie’s arm, pulling her down the hall, away from Wally’s painful shrieks echoing against the walls after them.

Fortunately, shrieks were commonplace in the asylum, and Reanna and Gertie encountered no one as they stumbled barefoot along the corridors, eventually finding a door to the outside.

Night air, fresh with grass and trees, hit Reanna, and she almost froze she was so overtaken by the reality of open air around her. But Gertie kept pulling, and within moments, they were deep into the nearest tree line.

Both gasping for breath, Reanna stopped, wedging Gertie’s fingers from her arm. “This is where we must split.”

“But—”

“No. You know why.” Reanna was glad she couldn’t see the disappointment on Gertie’s face in the dark. It would only cause her to reconsider what she was sure was the best plan. Reanna knew they would both be better off apart, blending in as best they could, once it was discovered they had escaped and searchers came.

Reanna also figured Gertie, especially, could blend into any environment with ease. People rarely looked directly at characters they didn’t want to deal with. And Gertie’s chances of disappearing—with her wild hair and constant talking to spirits—would be much better without Reanna.

She gave Gertie a quick hug. “I will see you in London. I swear. You will be careful?”

Gertie nodded. “Aye, dove.”

“And if you are worried, or lonely, listen to your spirits. They will show you the way.”

Gertie grabbed Reanna’s hand, clamping it between both of hers. She brought it up to her mouth, giving it a quick kiss. “Aye. And I be sending some with ye, dove.”

Reanna nodded, and Gertie dropped her hand, turning to disappear into the dark.

Spinning, Reanna took a deep breath, and began to run.

“Reanna. Reanna.”

Her name. Someone was calling her name. Killian.

She fought her way out of the darkness, out of the exhaustion from running half the night. A stick in her back, poking her. Something in her mouth. Grass, not hay, not dirt. She was still outside.

Before her eyes could open, she unconsciously began to smooth her hair, then realized the ridiculousness of it. No smoothing of her hair, rat’s nest that it was, was going to help the appearance of a woman shackled to the floor for a month in a crazy house.

Her eyes cracked open and she rolled away from the stick, looking up.

Her arm went over her eyes, shielding them from the bright sun coming down on her. Her eyes went down. Feet. She looked back up.

“Killian?”

The figure moved out of from in front of the bright light, and the sun blinded her.

“No, Reanna. Not Killian.” The figure bent, balancing on his heels.

She turned her head, her cheek resting on the grass. Was that the road she saw?

She blinked hard. She thought she was deep in the woods, well hidden from everything. It was fuzzy with the sun blotch in her eyes, but she definitely saw the shape of a carriage through the trees.

She closed her eyes, disgusted. Apparently, she was really bad at hiding.

The voice cut into her ears. “Killian does not want you, Reanna. He left you in that place.”

Reanna blinked, looking up at the figure, willing her eyes to adjust to the light. She didn’t recognize the voice. Slowly, the face came into focus.

Smiling. Gold tooth.

Nettle.

Reanna closed her eyes.

“Easy or difficult way? Your choice.”

Reanna’s mind went into a flurry. She knew what the difficult way was. And who knew where she would wake up. If she wasn’t knocked out, maybe she could fight her way free when she got her bearings about her.

She opened her mouth, forcing air from her lungs. “Easy.”

“Excellent. I was hoping you would say that. I do not want you bruised.”

The sneer in his voice chilled her spine.

Bloody hell.

~~~

Water splashed onto Reanna’s face.

“Wake up.” Nettle’s voice was in her ear.

Reanna’s eyes flew open at the blast of wet cold.

She realized instantly that this was worse than the last time she woke up after being knocked out. This time her wrists were tied behind her back, a rag was tight across her mouth, cutting into her tongue and tied behind her head, and her eye was pulsating, pain reverberating through her head with the tiniest movement.

Trying to fight her way out of the carriage had not gone well. She wasn’t good at hiding, and she was even worse at fighting. And now she was at the mercy of wherever Nettle had dragged her.

She realized she was on her side on a ratty bed, but only for a moment as Nettle grabbed her and pulled, dropping her to the ill-spaced wood planks on the floor. Cringing into a ball, Reanna gasped through the rag as it jarred her bruised eye, pain overwhelming.

Nettle knelt over her, voice in her ear. “You need to listen hard for Southfork’s voice, Reanna. Listen closely. Closely. I believe it will clear up some delusions you have about your husband.”

Eyes shocked, she turned to Nettle, unable to talk through the rag, but desperate at the same time. Killian was here? She had to get to him. She tried to sit up, avoiding Nettle’s chest in her way.

He pushed her back down.

“Even if he did see you, he wouldn’t recognize you like this, Reanna. You look like a rat catcher. And the things that are crawling all over you. I am going to have to burn my carriage.” His mouth pulled back, menacing. “He does not want you, Reanna. No man does. And you need to hear this, so stop your squirming.”

His hand went over her temple, forcing her head to the wood boards, pressing her ear to the sliver of space between the planks.

~~~

Killian walked into the inn.

Except for the few candles in the two front windows and a few lanterns by the entrance, the place was dark. Dark and empty.

As he surveyed the low-ceilinged room, his hand slipped under the front of his jacket to finger one of his pistols. An old inn, he saw from the outside that it was half-collapsed in the back. He had been told the place was still in business, but someone had clearly been mistaken. There were still chairs surrounding several wooden tables, but beyond that, the bar area looked deserted, no spirits, no glasses.

“You are late, Southfork, and I did not take you as a man who condones tardiness.”

Killian eyed Halstead. He sat on the far end of the room, casual at a table. He had a half-full glass of brown liquid in front of him that he fingered, but did not grasp.

“I arrive when it is convenient for me, Halstead. Be grateful that I am here, even if it is only to allay you of some misconceptions you may have about me.” Killian walked across the room, pulling back a wooden chair and taking a seat opposite Reanna’s father.

Halstead’s fingers moved from the glass, and he settled his hands across his stomach, clasping them. “I have something you want, Southfork, and I know you will pay dearly for it.”

“I assume you speak of my wife?”

“I do. To the point, Southfork, you may have her back when my demands are met.”

Face nonchalant, Killian threaded his fingers in front of his ribs, mimicking Halstead’s posture. “Demands?”

“Yes. Simple, and not too much to ask in the current situation. I merely demand my wealth and status be re-established.”

Killian sighed, shaking his head. “You are assuming, Halstead, that I have not enjoyed this last month without her presence. On that, you would be mistaken.”

A thud from above drew Killian’s attention, his eyes moving upward. “Is someone else here?”

“What? Oh. The noise?” Halstead waved his hand. “No. Not that I know of. This place is abandoned…unless…” His eyes narrowed. “Are you alone as requested?”

“I am.”

Halstead relaxed slowly. “As you were saying, Southfork? My daughter?”

“Frankly, Halstead, I have been reminded that is easier to not have a wife underfoot.”

Halstead laughed. “You were clever before, Southfork, when you ruined me. But you are clever no more. Your activities have been observed since the day Reanna left with me. You are not a man who has forgotten his wife. You are, in fact, a man that has done everything possible to find her. Even now you cannot hide your desperation.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I think you are now ready to negotiate.”

“And you, Halstead, are a man that has made a serious mistake about his current position.” Killian stood and leaned forward, knuckles on the thick oak table, leveraging himself above Halstead. “You can have her, Halstead. She means nothing to me, and you are now the lucky one that can deal with her and her myriad of problems.”

Killian’s words hung thick in the air, and the two stared at each other, seconds ticking by.

With a quick smile, Halstead pushed back from the table, going to his feet. “I am sorry you feel that way, Southfork. It appears my business here is done. I will give your regards to my daughter.”

With a slight nod of his head, he stepped around Killian and walked to the door, whistling.

~~~

“Have you heard enough?” Nettle’s vicious whisper sent hot air into her ear. He loosened his hold on her temple.

Cheek rubbing the wood floor, Reanna nodded. Numbness had set in immediately at Killian’s words. Her whole world had just crumbled to nothingness, and she couldn’t think past the blinding pain in her head, past her aching heart making it hard to breath.

“Good. I will never hear you speak his name again. Is that understood?”

Nettle gripped her upper arm, yanking her to her feet. She landed, leaning in to him, and he swore, pushing her from his body.

“You are still too filthy to touch in those clothes. We will fix that.”

He yanked her arm, pulling her, stumbling across the floor and down a narrow set of rickety stairs.

Eyes shut tight against the horror in her heart, the reality of what had just happened, Reanna let Nettle lead her out into the darkness.