Sweet Release (45 page)

“There you are, Catherine. Don’t you look lovely.” Geoffrey rose to greet her as she entered. His gaze moved over her, resting on her breasts. “I knew the color would suit you. Do you like it?”

Cassie realized Geoffrey was awaiting her answer, as if something as unimportant as the color of a gown could mean anything to her now.

“Aye.” Speaking to him made her feel a traitor.

Taking the seat he pulled out for her, she unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap, her fingers knotting nervously around the linen. Steam rose from a tureen of soup and several meat dishes placed neatly around the table on silver platters, their mingled smells turning Cassie’s stomach. Candlelight from enormous brass candelabra flickered off the facets of a crystal goblet a young slave woman was filling with red wine.

“Catherine, are you listening?”

“ I . . . my mind must have been wandering.”

“I said I had the kitchen prepare your favorite—roast beef. I hope it’s cooked to your liking.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” She lifted the wine to her lips and took a sip. Its sickly sweetness nearly caused her to throw up. She took a deep breath, willing the nausea to subside.

If he noticed her discomfort, he said nothing, picking the most succulent pieces of beef and putting them on her plate like a dutiful host, prattling about the lengths to which he’d gone to ensure the meal was perfect. The pleasant tone of his voice grated on her already frayed nerves.

“The sauce on the lamb is a French recipe my father won from Robert Carter in a card game. The Carter’s on occasion use a French chef, brought directly from France, I’m told.”

She picked numbly at the roast beef, only half hearing Geoffrey’s self-aggrandizing account of his latest hunt. Sure she could not keep her food down, she put only the tiniest bite in her mouth and was surprised suddenly to feel quite ravenous. The first bite was followed by a second, and before she realized it she had cleaned her plate.

Geoffrey was laughing again, his smug voice intruding into her thoughts.

“I knew you were hungry, my sweet.” He shook a finger at her. “Let this be a lesson. When you refuse my generosity, you harm only yourself.”

“The inexcusable and horrid events of these past days have left me feeling unwell.”

“I see you’re feeling better now.”

It was plain he did not believe her. He thought she’d refused to eat simply to vex him, but she didn’t care. At least the babe was finally getting some nourishment. Little did he know that by forcing her to eat, he was also feeding Alec’s child. From that, at least, Cassie drew some satisfaction. She would eat when she could, and eat well, for the sake of her baby.

The slave woman removed her plate and replaced it with another, motioning to the kitchen slaves to serve the second course. Platters of meats were replaced by puddings and pies, bread and butter, sweetmeats and fruit.

“Hurry up, else the pudding will grow cold!” Geoffrey yelled to the slaves. “It is no wonder their race finds itself enslaved, as slow and stupid as they are.”

Cassie started to object, but held back her words with a bite of bread. Geoffrey was detestable.

“You find my manner disagreeable, Catherine?”

She said nothing.

“You’d best remember slaves and servants are not coddled here.”

Still, she ignored him. There was something about the bread. It was wheat bread. She swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. How had she not recognized it immediately? The taste, the smell—it was Nan’s bread, soft and sweet. Had Nan baked it, knowing she would eat it? God, how she missed them all.

Geoffrey rambled on, bragging about having beaten Landon Carter at whisk, tallying this month’s wins from gaming.

“Stop!” Cassie didn’t know she had cried out until she heard her own voice. “ I . . . I’m sorry, Geoffrey. But you promised me word from home if I dined with you, and I am here. Please tell me what I want to know. I’ve no interest in whist or hunting or anything else you do.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Cassie did not need to see Geoffrey’s face to know he was angry. She could not believe her ears when he began to chuckle.

“Tsk, tsk. Mind your manners, Catherine, or I’m afraid there won’t be much to tell.”

A sob caught in her throat, but Cassie vowed not to cry. Not in front of Geoffrey. Not again.

For what seemed an eternity he babbled on, complaining about his father, seeming not to notice she wasn’t really listening. She buttered another slice of bread, defeat sitting heavy and gray on her heart. Geoffrey would tell her nothing tonight. She’d been a fool to believe that he would.

“I had my men bring several loaves of old Nan’s bread. I thought you might enjoy it,” he said, pointing to the slice she held in her hand. “The cook said you’d be grateful. You are grateful, aren’t you?”

She nodded. Grateful to you, dear, sweet Nan.

Geoffrey seemed happy with her response and smiled. “You will be happy to learn Jamie was found, safe and sound.”

Cassie tried to hide her shock and dismay, but Geoffrey had delivered the news so suddenly. “Wh-where did you find him?”

“Hiding in the stables. Try not to look so disappointed, dear. Surely being safe and sound in his own home is better than knocking about the forest with that painted witch.”

“Is he well? Does he ask for me?”

“I said he was safe and sound, did I not?” Geoffrey bit off the end of a pastry and began to chew. After what seemed to Cassie an unbearable silence, he continued. “I seem to recall he has asked about you once or twice. I told him you were well and with me, and that seemed to put an end to it. He runs and plays as young boys do.”

Poor Jamie.
She’d thought him safe, far from Geoffrey’s reach. But Geoffrey held him prisoner, too. How Cassie ached to hold Jamie, to see his sweet smile, to know for certain he was safe.

“I should like to see him,” she said, adding, “Please,” as an afterthought.

“Perhaps. In a week or two.”

“Why not tomorrow? You would have brought him here that night had he not run off.”

“True.” Geoffrey dabbed the napkin at the comers of his mouth. “But your conduct of late leaves much to be desired. Perhaps in a fortnight you’ll have regained my favor. Until then—”

“But he is a child, and I am the only mother he’s known.”

“Aye, and you’ve coddled him, as you’ve coddled everyone else. It will do him good to be out from under your skirts for a time.” A new fear began to seep into Cassie’s heart. Geoffrey treated children much the same as he did animals and slaves.

“You’ll not lift so much as a finger to harm him—”

“As you and he are now my charges, I shall do with you both as I deem fit.” Geoffrey clapped his hands and called for a bottle of port.

Cassie found herself unable to breathe, unable to think, strangled by fury and frustrated by her own helplessness.

“Have you ever tasted a good Madeira, my dear? You haven’t touched your wine. Here, let’s have a glass of this instead. It will settle your nerves.”

Cassie ignored the glass he placed in front of her.

“I see you do not like my decision.”

“No.” She struggled to control both her words and her quavering voice. “I do not. It is cruel, as you are cruel.”

“Some would say I’ve been merciful.” He paused to take a sip of port. “You’ve not asked for word yet of the convict. Has your fickle woman’s heart forgotten him already?”

Cassie’s breath caught in her throat. “Would you answer me truthfully were I to ask?”

Geoffrey laughed, finished off his port with a gulp, and poured himself another. “For a price.”

Cassie felt her chest grow tight. She had known this would happen. “Tell me how to get through the marsh to your father’s island, and I’ll tell you whether the convict still lives.” His expression was cocksure.

“I’ll tell you nothing.” So Henry had seen. Her pulse beat an erratic cadence in her breast.

He leaned forward, his fingers brushing her cheek. “In time you will learn to do exactly as I ask. There are those who would suffer otherwise.”

“You are contemptible!” Cassie felt rage swell within her, anger keeping hopelessness at bay.

Geoffrey smiled. “Have it your way, dear. His pain will be upon your head.”

“Then he lives?” She hated the weakness she heard in her voice.

“For now. But tomorrow?” Geoffrey swallowed his wine, refilled his glass. “Come, my dear, you haven’t had a drop.”

“I’m afraid I’ve no taste for wine tonight.” Alec was alive. “Oh, come now.” Geoffrey moved closer. His gaze dropped to her cleavage, his eyes darkening with desire. “A bit of wine will do you good.”

Hoping to deflect his attention, Cassie picked up the small crystal glass and took a sip.

“That’s better.” Then Geoffrey reached over and began to caress her arm.

Cassie felt her stomach turn, and hastily pulled her arm away. “We could have so much happiness together, Catherine. If only you could overcome this stubbornness, I’m sure you could learn to love me as I love you.” He leaned over and tried to kiss her. Cassie drew back, pushing him away.

“No.”

His face went rigid, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You spread your legs for that convict and haven’t so much as a kiss for me?”

“I do not love you.”

“You loved me once. Don’t you remember?”

“I was a child. I did not know the heartless man you would become.”

“I only did what you forced me to do.” His hand moved to caress her fingers. “In time you will come to see that.”

She tried to pull her hand away, but his fingers tightened around hers and held them fast. “There isn’t enough time in eternity to forgive what you’ve done.”

For a moment Geoffrey seemed genuinely taken aback. His expression turned into a predatory sneer. “I could take you here, in this room, on the table, and no one would stop me.”

“It matters not what you do, here or later. I could not possibly hate you more than I already do.”

“You say that because you are angry, but you will grow to like my touch. Women do.”

“I will never lie with you willingly, Geoffrey. Each time you touch me, it will be an act of rape.”

His face hardened into a grimace. His fingers squeezed her hand painfully. Then he released her with a snort of disgust and stood, turning his back to her. “You are wrong, dear Catherine. It will not be rape. One week hence you will become my wife, and then you will have no say in the matter. When I wish to have you I shall, and the law will smile upon it.”

Cassie sprang to her feet. “Whom have you found to perform this sham of a ceremony?”

“A man who understands the value of good coin—and who truly wishes to save you from yourself. He believes you are carrying my child and wishes to spare you shame.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him it was not
his
child she carried, but Cassie held back, certain that he would harm her—and the babe. Then the terrible truth dawned: If she did not escape soon, she would have to lie with him in order to convince him the babe was his when her belly began to swell. The child’s life might depend on it.

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. “No! God, no! Damn you, Geoffrey! I will never consent to marry you, not in this life or the next!”

When he turned to face her, he was smiling. “Oh, but you will. The convict will pay the price should you resist.”

The room spun. Cassie sank back into her chair, Geoffrey’s voice nothing more than a buzz in her ears. Gulping breaths of air, she tried to calm her stomach and clear her head.

“Come now, Catherine, control your womanly hysterics.” But control was impossible. Cassie bent over and lost her dinner on the dining room floor.

Alec brushed Aldebaran’s coat, trying to ignore the pain that shot across his back with each movement of his arms. His skin was not yet healed, and he hadn’t yet regained his full strength, but the fever had broken two nights ago, and Takotah could force him to stay in bed no longer. He’d lost so much time already. God only knew what hell Cassie had been forced to endure these past eight days.

Alec closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his heart to become as cold and hard as a blade. He’d be no good to her if he could not control his emotions. Already his feelings had run the gamut from blistering rage to self-loathing. He’d known that loving her could bring her to ruin, and still he’d given in to his need. Whatever she suffered now, she suffered because of him.

He would leave at sunset.

Aldebaran snorted and stomped his feet nervously as a mouse scurried amid the straw and disappeared through a crack in the wall to the fading light beyond.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of mice, old boy.” Alec stroked the stallion’s silky chestnut coat.

How he wished he could take Aldebaran, but Takotah had urged him to leave the stallion behind, sure the horse would give him away to the dogs. If he wanted to make it to Crichton’s lair undetected, he would have to travel by foot, a good day’s journey if he stuck to marsh and woodland, as Takotah had advised. The Indian woman’s help had been invaluable. While Alec had lain unconscious with fever she’d traveled the distance herself and learned from one of Crichton’s kitchen slaves that Cassie was being kept prisoner in a room on the third floor. Takotah had drawn a map for him in the sand and shared with him her secrets for eluding the hounds. Then she’d pressed a leather pouch into his hands. Its contents, she told him, would ward off sleep and dull pain. Alec’s plan was simple: he’d arrive under cover of night, free Cassie, and be back in the forest before sunrise. Takotah said he’d need not fear resistance from Crichton’s slaves, who were so abused as to loathe their masters. No one would sound the alarm or block his path, but neither would they to come to his aid. With any luck he and Cassie would be safely within this island sanctuary before evening tomorrow. As soon as he had fully recovered, Alec would take her and Jamie north and sail for England.