Madness (9 page)

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Authors: Sorcha MacMurrough

BOOK: Madness
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“Can you manage to eat, Simon? That ought to tide you over until we can come see you again tomorrow.”

 

He shook his head and sighed. “I'm grateful for the food, but as for the rest, please put it out of your mind. They’ll never let you. And it will be more than your life is worth to even ask.”

 

“Let us worry about that. We have friends. Powerful people who will be willing to help. Who can investigate why you’ve been put in here. Did your family do this to—”

 

“No, never,” he gritted out.

 

“Here, eat the cheese,” she commanded, when she saw his eyes going out of focus again. “Eat it, Simon.”

 

He obeyed, chewing mechanically, his eyes tightly shut against the pain, against the memories.

 

After a time she pressed the bread into his hands, and then a couple of squares of the chocolate. She made him sip the water, and when he next opened his eyes she was holding a small hand mirror in front of his face and asked him, “Better now?”

 

He gaped. “
Mon Dieu
. I scarcely recognise myself.”

 

“Just as well you didn’t see yourself all shaggy, then.”

 

“Thank you. You truly are a ministering angel.” He took her hand to place a warm kiss on the back of it.

 

“And you my avenging one. You saved us. I won’t forget that, or forget a friend.”

 

“You’ll wish you had by the time they’re through with us,” he warned with a grim look.

 

She raised her chin defiantly. “I don’t frighten easily.”

 

“And even if you don’t, your family—”

 

“Are pretty much all in this room, apart from my cousins Randall and Michael. Michael was really unwell for a long time with all sorts of nightmares after the war, but no one locked him away in a madhouse. Now he’s married and happy.”

 

“Then why did you put your sister in here?” he asked quietly, with a long look at the blonde still prone on the floor.

 

Gabrielle sighed. “Because I didn’t know any better. Her husband lied to me, said it was the best thing all around. That she would be safe." She gave a bitter laugh. "I thought they were going to help her. But some of the doctors are as mad as the inmates. I mean, forcing them to drink salt water, electrocuting them. It’s like torture.”

 

He shivered at the word, and met her gaze. He knew she had seen them. The scars all over his body. But of course she had been too polite to say anything.

 

They now showed mostly white against his flesh, but a few livid red ones where they had been particularly brutal demonstrated that a human hand had made them quite deliberately.

 

There were also a couple of small blue tattoos on his arms she couldn’t quite make out in the dim light of the room now that the sun was setting, but she knew what they meant.

 

“You were in the war too.” It was a statement, not a question. “So whatever happened to you is
not
your fault, Simon. You don’t deserve to be here. But please, eat up and then perhaps we can get a bit more comfortable. I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to feel a bit cold. There’s only the one boiler for water, and night is falling fast.”

 

“I might have some tea in my bag. That’ll perk us all up a bit,” Antony said, trying to sound cheerful. “But you’re right, we have little food left now, and night is coming down dark. If they were going to do something I would have hoped they’d have rescued us by now.”

 

Gabrielle located the tea, and a small beaker to steep the leaves in and dilute with more hot water. She poured it out into three beakers and filled them to the top with hot. Antony sat back on his heels and drank thirstily, then began to look through all the lower cupboards in the room for more useful items.

 

“Oh ho, a packet of bikkies and some more tea here, and a little thing of milk from this morning. And look, some sandwiches and a couple of meat pies. We can have a real feast. But this just makes me wonder all the more. I can’t understand where all the staff have gone.”

 

Simon shook his head. “I can’t understand it either. Between here and the kitchen there are always at least half a dozen people on duty. Where can they all be?”

 

“I think they gave the patients something and told them all to clear out. What did they say when you went to the gate, Antony?”

 

“That they didn’t have enough staff. Couldn’t let me out and couldn’t let anyone in.”

 

“So we’re trapped in here until someone comes to rescue us.” She handed Simon a meat pie, and then went over to check behind the small screen to inspect the toilet facilities, where she found several chamber pots and a drain and sink to empty and wash them. They had all they needed now except for blankets, and now began a search for them.

 

Her cousin nodded. “That’s my guess. Until whatever it is that’s provoked them into acting this way wears off.”

 

“So you agree with me. They were drugged.”

 

“Aye, I think so. I don’t know why, but it’s the only thing that could explain what we’ve seen here today.”

 

She sighed and offered another pie to Simon. He shook his head.

 

"It's untainted, safe, and there's plenty now. Go ahead. You need to keep your strength up."

 

"Not too much, dear," the doctor cautioned. "His stomach isn't used to it and might well rebel."

 

"He's right. A little at a time, later. And you ought to eat, Gabrielle,” Simon said.

 

She sat down beside Antony on the floor, sharing his warmth and her sister's. “I’m fine. How’s Lucinda?”

 

He shifted around to peep under her skirts. “So far, so good. I wonder if they have any candles in here.”

 

“Ah, yes, silly me.
 
I’ll look.” She got up and began to gather everything she would need to make them comfortable for the night, or at least try to. It was going to be damnably cold without any fuel, unless they could hack apart one of the wooden tubs and use it for kindling.

 

“Good idea,” Antony said when she suggested it.

 

He had a couple of small saws in his bag he usually used for amputations, and he and Simon soon had the tub in pieces, and started on a second one for good measure. Then they filled the boiler and felt the difference in the chilly tiled room at once.

 

While they sorted out the fuel and heat, Gabrielle made up two pallets out of towelling and sheeting. At the top of the cupboard she at last found a couple of blankets. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

 

Having laid out the bedding by the boiler, there remained only having to get Lucinda onto one of them.

 

To her surprise Antony insisted on staying with her. “You and Simon can bed down on that pallet. I need to know if she wakes in the middle of the night.”

 

Gabrielle blushed and Simon looked away.

 

“Unusual family you have,” he muttered. “Letting you sleep with a madman.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

 

Gabrielle sighed. “You’re not mad, Simon, and I’m perfectly safe. More’s the pity.” She gave him a small shy smile. “You’ve seen what he can do with that saw.”

 

Simon cringed and laid down on the blankets. He felt both enervated and inexpressibly weary. “No, in behind me,” he said shortly, shaking so badly that his teeth almost chattered.

 

“What is it? Are you ill again?”

 


Non
.
J’ai envie de toi,”
he whispered.

 

She translated his words quickly and shivered herself.
I want you.

 

“I’m sorry. I can make up another—”

 

“Not on your life!" he growled in a husky tone, then laughed again.
 
"Just lie down with your chest to my back and we’ll be fine. I’m damned if I’m going to let you freeze just because I’ve got a horn the size of a rhino’s,”

 

She giggled and earned herself a long stare from Antony. She made sure her hands were above the blankets while he watched, but as soon as her cousin curled himself around her unconscious sister carefully, she let one hand slip down into the top opening of Simon’s shirt.

 

He flinched and gasped. He cleared his throat as Antony raised his head to look at him.

 

“Another seizure?” the doctor asked, a frown of worry creasing his brow.

 

“No, I’m fine. Just getting comfortable on this hard floor,” Simon said tightly.

 

Antony tilted his head slightly, listening.
 
At length he said, “They seemed to have settled down a bit for the night. They must have spent their fury. Still perhaps one of us should sit up and keep watch—”

 

“It’s too cold for that and we really have had a long day. I’ll take the first turn. I’ll wake you if I need you.”

 

"All right, if you're sure."

 

"The food has done wonders for me. I'll be fine."

 

“Warm enough?” Gabrielle asked as he settled down facing the door.

 

“Steaming,” he said through gritted teeth, earning himself another stroke of Gabrielle’s hand.

 

She didn’t like to think she was teasing him or leading him on, but if anyone was in need of some human comfort it was Simon.

 

She stroked his chest, arm and hand. He clasped her fingers against his chest. When he was sure Antony wasn’t looking, he brought it to his lips to plant a long, lingering wet kiss upon it.

 

Gabrielle could feel her hips thrusting against his backside and her knees coming up even more tightly to fit into his curled body. She couldn’t imagine how it seemed so natural to be lying with this man in such a way.

 

But ever since they had met she had been drawn to him irresistibly. All he had to do was look at her and she felt sure she would melt into a puddle at his feet.

 

It was a good comparison, she decided, for she felt the most incredible moist heat flooding through her now as he pushed backwards against her, filling her lap. Her breasts were flattened against his back intimately. Boldly she unlooped the bib of the apron from around her neck, and dragged the loose shirt up to his shoulders.

 

She pressed and glided her breasts along the scarred flesh of his back, wondering as she did so just how much he could feel. Her nipples peaked at the contact and she shivered with longing.

 

He grabbed her hand now and thrust it down between his legs. She started and would have pulled away, but he had already released her wrist, giving her a choice.

 

She touched his manhood again, softer than satin, harder than steel, and felt it pulsing into her hand. Fascinated, she insinuated her fingers under the waistband of the trousers. She could hear him grind his teeth.

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