Rescue Me Please (24 page)

Persephone’
s eyes widened,
she raised her fingers to her mouth, horrified. “Oh, Piper.”
  Her gaze flew to Parker’s, humor li
gh
t
ing up
her eyes.

Parker
chuckled;
he liked seeing that hopeful look in her eyes
.  “Excellent
.  Someone else has been christened.”

“I have a better idea, Parker,” Rockwell called.  “Ring for the nurse!”

Piper kissed Tillie’s forehead.  “No, darling.”  She squeezed the baby tightly.  “I cannot bear to part with her.”

Rockwell stood and lifted Tillie from her arms.  “Release the babe, Piper.”  He chuckled.  “You can always visit again.”

“Oh, you’re a curmudgeon,
Graydon
Morgan!” 
Piper’s
lips fell in a pout as she held out her hand to her husband
accepting his
assistance
to rise
from her s
eat.

Piper turned to Persephone and grasped her hands between her own.  “I’ve had a delightful time with yo
u this afternoon, Persephone.”

Persephone squeezed back.  “I as well.”
  She was surprised by how much she truly meant those words.

***

Granville stood staring
at the portrait of the fourth e
arl. 
He remembered the look in his brother’s eye when he slid the ring on his finger after
their father’s death.  Pride.

He moved from portrait to portrait, the ring painted larger than life for anyone who admired the
artist’s
work to see. 
He moved to stand in front of his brother’s portrait.
The eighth Earl of Granville.

His brother hadn’t appreciated his role as earl.  He hadn’t understood the freedom such a title could give a man.  He choked back his cold fury.  Instead his brother had placed more significance on his wife and child.  He hadn’t needed the title to feel
powerful.  He had gained that from those he loved.
  A love match from the ver
y beginning.  It sickened him.

How she had survived it was beyond him, but he had taken care of his brother and his wife.  He had thought to only have a little fun with the
chit, then be done with her.

But she had
it
.

He could feel it in his bones.

He stared at the family portrait that he had slashed in ang
er.
He stared at her angelic face
.
A
frightening
smile curling up the corner of his mouth as he
remembered some of the things he had done to her
,
a dark spot of indignation colored his cheeks.  His cock tightened as he thought of her
cries for mercy.  H
er screams.

He ran his finger over her
face on the destroyed canvas.

“I will find you.”  He gave a bitter laugh.  “Perhaps I will brand you as
St. Claire has done.”
  He
said aloud on a groan
.  “You will never forget me.”

Hush-a-bye don’t you cry,

Go to sleep-y, little baby.

When you wake you shall have

All the pretty little horses.

Blacks and bays, dapple grays,

Coach and six white horses.

Hush-a-bye don’t you cry,

Go to sleep-y, little baby.

C
losing in
.  Smothering.  She tried to fill her compressed lungs with slow, deep breaths, but she couldn’t.  She was suffocating.  The hands around her neck cutting off her breath
once again
.  She w
as going to pass out again, perhaps this time she wouldn’t wake
.  She wouldn’t have to face what would come next.  But then what would become of Tillie?  Would he harm her daughter
too
?

“God, no.”
 
The pain was too much.  Had she done something wro
ng?  Why did he punish her so?

“Uncle!  Make them stop!”
  Even in sleep her breathing increased and fear trickled into her belly. 
Sweat bathed her body, and she shook uncontrollably.

“No more, please!”
she begged hysterically.  The sound of paddles cracking on bare flesh, the high pitched crying of caged women and men, and the moaning all seemed real in her dream.  The sce
nt of sex and sweat and fear made
her gag.

“
Leave me be.
A
way…
” 
She sobbed
, the pain
scuttled over flesh, leaving a fiery path
over her body
.
 
Nausea welled in her stomach
, twisting it around in knots.

Parker
passed by her door and heard her crying out and his heart raced from fear. 
He had been down in his study unable to sleep
when he finally decided to return to his bed
.

He k
nocked on the door.  No reply.

He knocked again.

“
Persep
h
one
,” he called through the door.  Trying t
he
doorknob, it wasn’t locked
,
so he opened the door
to
her
loud cries echoing
in the room. 
Her thrashing body
made
visible by the sliver of moonlight
filtering through the drapes.

He rushed to the side o
f her bed to see her
fighting off an unseen offender
, sweat beaded on her forehead even in the cooled room.
  The covers flung aside, her body tensing.  Her night rail had ridden up to reveal thighs covered in long, thin white scars
in various stages of healing.  The sight
nearly stole his breath. 
The wounds
h
ealed over time, but still visible to his eyes.
  He let out a hiss of anger.
  He stifled the urge to ram his fist through a wall.  Any wall.

“Sweet Jesus,”
he swore
, his jaw tightened in fury
.
What had happened to her?  He’d heard of such things, of course.  Perversions were everywhere, but he had never witnessed it
firsthand. 
He d
idn’t have the stomach for it. 
She whimpered deep in her throat, her arms wrap
ped protectively around herself, every m
uscle in her
body
tense.

He would ki
ll the bastard if he knew who he
was.  At that moment he swore to God that if he ever found the perverted son of a bitch that had done this to her he would kill him. 
He would relish the feel
of his life leaving his body and h
e would harbor no guilt.

Her sobs ripped his
heart out.

Her eyes were squeezed closed, her forehead furrowed in pain and a shudder wracked her body.

He
moved cautiously to the side of the bed, extending his hand, he
pushed her tangled hair from her
damp
forehead and
gently
touched her shoulder.  “Persephone?” he breathed out softly.

Panicked, she kicked and flailed. 
“Get off,”
she screamed; trying to push at him, but his chest was as hard as granite.  He tightened his fingers on her shoulder. 
“Please, no more,”
she sobbed.
“No more!”

“Persephone, wake up, darling,” he croaked, his throat hoarse.  He gathered her in
his arms.  “It’s only a dream,” he whispered against her hair.  “They can’t hurt you anymore.”
  She shuddered against him and he tightened his hold until she was pressed so tightly against him you couldn’t see where one ended and the other began.

Persephone felt a strong hand stroking her hair.  Comforting, but firm.  And
his
voice.  Not her uncle’s. 
His
.

She stilled.

“You’re safe, my darling,” he whispered, his voice nearly silent, but the words soothed the part of her that was fighting.  “Just breathe.”
  He wiped the tears running down her cheeks. 

She sucked in a deep breath and with great
effort
she managed to return
her
labored
breathing to normal, as he
ordered
her to do.

“Just breathe,” he repeated in a gentle voice, massaging her shoulders.
  Gradually her heartbeat slowed and he could no longer feel the erratic thump of her pulse. 
He brushed his lips across her hair in an
unconscious gesture of comfort.

“Parker.”  She blinked at him, breathing his name, as she softened into his chest. 
She took a deep breath and exhaled again. 
“You’re here.  You saved me.”  She snuggled against his chest
, listening to his low, soothing murmur
as it rumbled against her ear
.  “You saved me,”
she repeated.

He climbed up on her bed and propped his back against the headboard dragging her between his thighs
.  H
e wrapped his arms tightly around her body and just held her.  He nuzzled her temple and inhaled her fragrance.  Just whispering against the soft silk of her hair, an
ything.  Nothing.  Everything.

As his arms tightened around her, she sighed and rubbed her cheek against his chest.  His heart squeezed and he didn’t think he would be able to breathe.  He ran his fingertips down her arm.  She jerked.

“Ea
sy, love,” he murmured
,
his warm hand
stroking
her eyebrows,
her cheek
,
and then her hair
as he gathered her in his arms and rocked back and forth, murmuring soothing sounds in her ear
.

She sighed as his breath brushed her ear
,
then
his arms tightened around her
and warmth spread throughout her body.  H
e kissed the top of her head
, her hair soft against his lips
.

“Persephone.”  His
rough
voice
was
so insistent.  “Persephone.”  The demanding, deep voice pulled at something inside her, tugging at her heart, her soul.

“Parker.”  Her tongue didn’t feel like it was working right, she was so relaxed i
n his arms.  She felt so safe.

“Tell me
what you were dreaming
of
,
”
he said in a thick voice.
  The horrors inflicted upon
her body nearly broke him. 
He felt
utterly
helpless.

Her eyes fluttered open and she stared into his
penetrating
blue gaze. 
She leaned back against him feeling
enclosed in safety wrapped in Parker’s
strong
arms as he ran h
is fingers lightly down her arm in long comforting strokes.
  “Parker,” she whispered.

“What were you dreaming about, Persephone.”
 
The knot in his throat threatened to choke him as he
tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 
“What must I do to prove that I am worthy of your trust?”  The words whispered over her hair.

Her
brow knitted together
,
her entire body stiffened
.  She
wanted to tell him everything.  Nothing.  Both. 
She took her time considering her words
, hesitating
. 
“He hurt me.  They all hurt me.”
  Her delicate features creased with
disquiet
.

“Who?”  Parker frowned at Persephone.  Her bre
athing slow, he could tell she w
ould sleep at any moment.

“The men.  They all hurt me.  They all laughed.”

“Who, Persephone?  Who hurt you?”

Her brows drew toget
her, and she blinked.  “He did
, my uncle
.  The others.  The Devils.”

The words hit him like a bullet in the chest
and he grunted at the impact.