Vixen (44 page)

What did he think had happened to her? It was well past dinnertime. Would he guess? But how could he? How could he possibly connect Denis with Jasper? He’d assume there’d been an accident of some kind and that she was taking shelter somewhere. It was not unusual with the roads as bad as they were after the snowstorm. He’d wait for a message … how long would he wait before he’d begin to worry in earnest?

“I can’t feel my hands,” she said in a small, fierce voice as she fought with her tears, determined not to break down in front of her captors.

“Would you like your wrists untied?” Jasper inquired almost casually, as if he were offering her a second helping at dinner.

“What do you think?” she snapped.

Her brother merely leaned back on the opposite seat and closed his eyes.

Chloe bit her lip. The ache in her arms was becoming unbearable and the lack of sensation in her hands was frightening. “Please,” she said.

Jasper opened his eyes. “You are an ill-mannered brat,” he observed. Leaning over, he caught her chin
and examined her face in the fading light. “However, I intend to remedy that with all due speed. If you attempt to use your hands again in that fashion, you’ll journey all the way to Shipton with your wrists bound day and night, do you understand?”

Chloe nodded. There seemed no alternative.

“Untie her.” Jasper leaned back again and Crispin pulled her out of her corner, manhandling her across his lap again as he unfastened the cravat. His wandering hands were on her body, and she squeezed her eyes tightly, biting her lip hard to keep herself from screaming abuse at him, struggling to prevent herself from flying at him with nails and fists and feet.

But at last he released her and she sat up, shrinking back into her corner, massaging her wrists, her hands stinging with pain as the blood flowed back. She rolled her shoulders back to ease the knot between her shoulder blades and tried to think clearly.

When did they intend the wedding to take place? Presumably not until they reached Shipton. What methods of persuasion would Jasper use to get her to the altar? And how much could she endure?

She had no idea of the answer to the latter question and dismally decided that she would find out empirically soon enough.

It was full dark when the chaise drove into the courtyard of a small inn just outside St. Albans.

Jasper leaned forward again and again took Chloe’s chin with hard fingers. Holding her face steady, he slapped her cheek once. It was not a particularly hard blow, but it was completely unexpected and the tears that sprang in her eyes were tears of shock rather than pain. Denis drew breath sharply and Crispin smiled.

“That’s a reminder, little sister,” Jasper said softly. “You will keep your eyes on the ground, your mouth
shut, and if you take one step out of line, I will give you a beating you will remember for the rest of your life.”

He didn’t wait for a response, simply released her and jumped to the ground. The others followed, Chloe, still numb with shock, climbing down last. Jasper put his arm around her shoulders, turning her face toward his chest so that the mark of his hand on her left cheek couldn’t be seen. The other two stepped close around him as the landlord bustled out to greet them.

“My sister is unwell,” Jasper said. “I need two adjoining bedchambers and a private parlor.”

The landlord bowed, hi£ nose almost touching his knees, as he assured the travelers of the best his inn had to offer. “And my wife will be glad to assist the young lady to bed, sir,” he said, moving backward toward the door. “A tisane should set her up nicely. Will you be wanting dinner, sirs? There’s a shoulder of mutton with red currant sauce, and a compote of mushrooms, if it would please you.”

Jasper didn’t trouble to respond to this, merely followed their garrulous host upstairs to inspect the accommodations. He kept Chloe close to his side, and she made no attempt to move away. Two adjoining chambers, one with two big beds, the other with only one were presented and approved.

“No, my sister needs no assistance.” Jasper declined the renewed offer of the landlady’s help. “Just bring hot water to both chambers and have dinner on the table in half an hour. And bring up a bottle of your best burgundy,” he called as the landlord rushed off.

“All right.” He turned to his companions. “You two can have this chamber, my little sister and I will bear each other company in here.” He pushed her ahead of him through the connecting door into the smaller of the two rooms.

“You’re going to sleep in here with me?” Chloe managed finally to find words.

“Yes.” It was a flat affirmative. Jasper glanced around the room and went to the window. The ivy was thick outside, certainly thick enough to bear Chloe’s slight weight. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I will not marry Crispin,” Chloe said, finding her courage. But she flinched as Jasper crossed the room toward her.

He stopped in front of her and she tried to keep still, to meet his eye. But it was impossible to hold his gaze as his eyes slid over her. Her knees shook as she waited for another blow. Jasper read her expectation and then laughed.

“You’ll do as I bid you,” he said almost indifferently, turning away from her as a servant came in with the portmanteau that had been strapped to the roof of the chaise, followed by a maid with a jug of hot water. He waved them away impatiently, cutting off their offers of further assistance. “Just bring the burgundy.”

“You’ll find all the necessities in there,” he told Chloe, gesturing to the portmanteau. “You may use the screen for privacy.”

Chloe found tooth powder, hairbrushes, clean linen, and a nightdress in the portmanteau. The servant brought the burgundy while she was gathering together what she needed. She stood uncertainly, looking at her brother as he poured the wine. The connecting door between the two chambers was also open and she could hear Denis and Crispin moving about.

“Are you going to stay in here?”

“I told you you may use the screen,” Jasper said, sipping wine. His eyes ran over her, and he said with a slight smile, “For as long as you behave yourself, I’ll grant you that privacy for the rest of the journey. But don’t test my clemency too far.”

“Could you at least close the door?” She must keep calm, sound reasonable, refuse to be either intimidated or enraged by Jasper.

He glanced carelessly toward the open door. “What are you afraid of, little sister?”

“I’m not afraid,” she declared stoutly. “But I’m accustomed to closing my bedroom door.”

“Well, you may have to become accustomed to many new experiences.” Jasper shrugged. “If you don’t wish to refresh yourself, then I will do so myself.”

Her need was too pressing to make a stand. Chloe whisked behind the screen. There was a commode and dressing table with mirror, basin, and ewer. Telling herself it was no more public than the retiring room at Almack’s, she used the commode, bathed her face in warm water, brushed her hair, and smoothed down her dress. The marks on her cheek had faded, but there was a welt around her wrists where the cravat had bitten deep.

She couldn’t afford that to happen again. Jasper had made it very clear that he would hurt her without compunction if she gave him an opportunity. The other two were acting under his authority, and she didn’t sense that they would do anything unilateral, although when she thought of Crispin holding her down in the carriage, of his hands moving over her, she shuddered with a bone-deep revulsion. Jasper had permitted that. It was clear that she would have to endure some degree of humiliation, but if she pretended it wasn’t happening, then she could manage not to react … she hoped.

Emerging from the screen, she asked neutrally, “May I have a glass of wine?”

“Certainly.” He poured it for her. “Now, take it into the other chamber so Crispin and Denis may keep an eye on you while I refresh myself.”

She shrugged with an appearance of nonchalance
and strolled into the connecting room. “Your pardon for disturbing you, gentlemen, but I understand you’re to keep watch over me while Jasper is otherwise occupied.”

Crispin and Denis were drinking wine by the fire. Unconsciously, Denis rose as she entered as if he were still in a fashionable drawing room. Crispin chuckled and Denis sat down again, flushing.

“Come here,” Crispin commanded, snapping his fingers.

“I’m not a dog,” Chloe said, deciding that Crispin could probably safely be defied … at least for the moment.

“I owe you a lot,” Crispin said quietly, his hands going to his throat, remembering those steely fingers squeezing the life from him. “And I can promise you, Miss Gresham, that you will get everything that’s due you.”

“I don’t doubt your intention, Crispin,” she said coldly, leaning against the doorjamb as she sipped her wine. “But forgive me if I doubt your powers.”

Crispin sprang up with an exclamation. She stood her ground, knowing that if she kept total silence, offered total submission, she would lose the will to endure. And when the time for true endurance came, she would need every fiber of will.

He gripped her shoulders and brought his mouth down on hers, grinding her lips against her teeth with savage violence. She tried to wrench her head sideways, tried to create enough space between their bodies to bring her knee up.

Then abruptly he let her go, looking sheepishly over her shoulder to where his stepfather stood in the doorway. Chloe gasped for breath, her lips stinging, every inch of her body throbbing with the sense of violation.

“She is insolent,” Crispin declared with an air that
reminded Chloe of a schoolboy telling tales to escape censure.

“Really,” Jasper said, holding up his wineglass to the light, subjecting the contents to an interested examination.

“Insolence goes without its dinner,” he murmured indifferently. “But you will leave disciplinary measures to me in the future. Is that clear?”

Crispin flushed. “Yes, sir.”

“Then let us go in to dinner … even those of us who will not partake.” He took Chloe’s arm and pushed her ahead of him across the corridor to the private parlor. “Sit down.” He pulled out a chair for her in a parody of chivalry.

The promised shoulder of mutton sent up the most enticing aromas from the sideboard, filling the air with the scent of fresh rosemary. The compote of mushrooms, a bowl of red currant sauce, and a dish of roasted potatoes sat in the center of the table.

It was past nine o’clock and Chloe had eaten nothing since noon. It was one thing to be deprived of her dinner, she thought, battling with tears of rage and disappointment. Quite another to have to sit and watch while others consumed. The tormenting aromas set her saliva running, her stomach cleaving to her backbone.

Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, folding her hands neatly in her lap, and took her mind out of the parlor and away from the company of her captors. It was not an entirely successful ploy from her own point of view, but at least it ensured her companions didn’t have the satisfaction of her obvious discomfort.

But the ordeal was over at last. Back in their bedchamber, Jasper locked both doors and pocketed the keys. Chloe prepared for bed behind the screen. When she emerged in her nightgown, Jasper was standing in
his britches by the fire. He’d pulled off his boots and was now unbuttoning his shirt. He tossed the garment aside and strode toward the bed.

Chloe stared at his chest … at the tiny coiled snake pricked into the skin above his heart.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Jasper demanded, struck by her arrested expression. “I suppose you haven’t seen a man without his shirt before. Well, you needn’t worry, little sister, you stand in no danger from my bare chest.”

“That—” Chloe said, her voice sounding strangled. She pointed at the device. “That … that snake … Hugo …”

“What?” Jasper gave a sudden crack of laughter. “Oh, so you’ve seen your esteemed guardian in a state of undress, have you? I suppose it’s not surprising that drunken sot failed to observe the proprieties.”

“Don’t call him that!” Chloe said fiercely. “He is
not.”

“Such a vehement defense.” Jasper’s voice was suddenly very soft, his eyes narrowed. “Now, whatever could Lattimer have done to earn such violent championship?”

“He was kind to me,” Chloe stated, praying she wouldn’t blush, that nothing would be revealed in her expression. Rushing her words, she demanded, “But why do you both have that snake?”

“Ahh, so Hugo didn’t think to let you into his little secret,” her brother mused. He gestured to the bed. “Get in.”

“Are we sh-sharing the bed?”

“You will sleep in it, I will sleep on it,” Jasper said impatiently. “Now, hurry up.”

Chloe pulled back the sheet and slid between the covers. She lay on her back, very still.

Jasper lay down on the cover beside her. “Give me
your wrist.” He had his belt in his hand and quite calmly fastened one end around Chloe’s wrist and the other around his own.

“Now,” he said softly, “I’ll tell you a story, little sister. A bedtime story …”

W
HEN
J
ASPER’S MESSENGER
arrived at Mount Street at eight o’clock the following morning, Hugo and Samuel had been on the road for four hours. The letter with its seemingly innocuous information that Chloe was safe and sound in her brother’s charge and on the way to Shipton lay on the hall table to await Hugo’s return. Jasper was leaving nothing to chance. He wanted Hugo to pursue Chloe to the crypt, and if drink had addled his brains to such an extent that he failed to put two and two together on his own, his ward’s captor would help him out.