.
“My lady, your beauty remains unmatched.” Lord Stephen Dews smiled at Rachel in a way that didn’t sit well with her. She also didn’t like how flushed he looked, and the sweat that marked his brow and upper lip made him appear slightly mad.
It was unfortunate that she needed to get around him in order to rejoin the party.
It was two nights after Castell’s party, and Rachel had attended another event with her aunt. She’d just finished relieving herself, having dismissed the footman who followed her, because some things she simply couldn’t do with an audience, when she was cornered. She pressed her fan in front of her exposed chest, forcing Lord Stephen’s eyes back up to her own, before she tilted her lips up at the ends.
If only Reuben had come, her heart thought. He’d missed every social event for the last week, even though he was quite attentive during the day. Whatever job he’d been asked to do kept him very busy, and kept Rachel worried.
It had been two days since their day at the docks, and Rachel was anxious for the paint in the rooms to dry, so she could hang the paintings where they would please her most.
Almost as anxious as she was, for Lord Stephen to leave her alone.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you for the compliment, my lord, though I’m sure there is one lady you think more beautiful than I.”
For a moment, Lord Stephen looked puzzled by this, then his eyes widened. “Oh, you mean Lady Annie.”
“Your fiancée,” she reminded him, loathing that she had to remind him at all. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She tried to pass him, but he blocked her way. Her pulse jumped in fear.
He licked his lips, as a dog would do, when he was presented with what he deemed a quite tasty bone. “My lady, I believe it’s time we stopped with the games and simply acknowledged the truth.”
Her blood ran cold, even as she tried to keep her features pleasant. “The truth?”
He moved in closer, and Rachel was forced to stop her retreat as her back hit the wall. “My lady—”
“Lord Stephen.” She placed her hand on his chest and tried pushing away, though he wouldn’t budge. “Sir, you are far too close.”
“Am I?” He leaned his face toward her, and his breath singed her nose, heavy with the smell of strong drink. “I fear that to have been my mistake all these years. I’ve been too much the gentleman, when obviously what you’ve always needed, was a savage.”
Savage?
She dropped her fan then and started to push him with all her might. “Stephen, stop.”
He moaned, his look feral. “I love it when you say my name, Rachel.” He closed his eyes and his body trembled. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but you always played the wallflower. No more. It seems now is our time.”
Was the man deranged? “I’m engaged,” she reminded him. “As are you.” She wanted to shout and draw attention, but didn’t want a scandal. She was unsure of what to do, and prayed her footman could return at any moment.
He laughed. “Yes, we are engaged, and finally we can do what we’ve always wanted. We can be together. Society deems it all right.” His hands went to her hips, holding her in place. “Do not play as though you are virgin, my lady. We all know where Lord Eastridge comes from. He’s nothing more than a dog, humping whatever is in sight. We know he’s already deflowered you.”
Who was we? “My lord, unhand me.” She lifted her hand to strike him, but he grabbed it.
And his slippery mouth was upon hers, his body pushing hers into the wall and squeezing the very breath from her lungs.
Terror grabbed hold of her limbs as she began to fight.
His mouth trailed down her throat and she shivered at the sick feeling of it. “Yes, fight me,” he whispered. “Do you fight your barbarian of a fiancé?”
“Stop, please.” Tears were running down her face.
She closed her eyes and his mouth reached her collarbone, and then suddenly he was gone.
Rachel paused, and then opened her eyes to find Stephen leaning against the other wall, his throat in Lord Castell’s grip.
She watched Stephen struggle for breath, but found she could do nothing about it. She felt dirty to have had his mouth on her, and now he knew what it felt like to have his air restricted.
“How dare you accost a lady!” The Earl of Castell, looking more powerful than ever, shook Stephen and slammed him against the wall once more. Rachel had never seen the man do such a thing before, or use such strength. Often, he reminded her of a Scottish collie with pale fur, who always looked happy to see its owner. Now, she knew he not only had sharp teeth, but was not afraid to bite.
When Stephen’s face turned a ghastly shade of blue, and his eyes began to droop, Rachel knew she could stand no more. “Let him go.”
The prince did as she’d requested immediately. “Come near her again, and I’ll finish this.”
Stephen dropped to all fours and fought to breathe.
Rachel glared down at him, for how long she didn’t know, but then Lord Castell was there.
“Let us get you cleaned up.” His voice was soft, and she clung to his lean muscled arms and allowed him to take her away.
She mindlessly allowed Frederick to lead her upstairs and into a private red sitting room, hardly noticing when he sent someone to get water and a cloth, or when they returned.
“My lady?”
She looked up at him and found him to be holding out a damp rag, his eyes gentle.
“Are you all right?”
She took the cloth but didn’t know how to answer. The moment she placed it on her neck, she began to feel better, and quickly she found herself scrubbing Lord Stephen away, though she couldn’t scrub her tears away fast enough. They kept coming, and then she was sobbing.
Strong arms went around her, and she heard Castell’s voice whispering to her that she was all right, that she had nothing to fear, that no one would breathe a word about what took place tonight.
She wasn’t sure, but perhaps a half hour had passed before she was calm again.
“Would you like me to get your carriage?” he asked. “We can slip out the back door, so no one sees you. I can go and get your aunt, as well.”
She looked up at him, and finally felt brave enough to meet his eyes. “You’re too kind, my lord.”
He smiled at her. “I’m simply being a gentleman, my lady.”
She tilted her head and didn’t know why she said what she did next, but knew she must. “Why do you taunt Lord Eastridge?” And then she knew why she’d said them. Frederick was his brother. Surely, they should get along.
The prince’s eyes widened, and then the very tops of his cheeks colored in embarrassment. “Excuse me, my lady?”
She grabbed his hand. “I like you as a friend, Castell.” And though no one would ever know it, he was also to be her brother-in-law. “Please, try and make peace with Eastridge.”
Castell blinked, and then inclined his head. “For you, my lady, I will try.” He smiled. “And since we are friends, you may call me Frederick.”
She grinned. “Only if you extend the same curtesy to Reuben.”
Prince frowned and made no comment. Then he stood and held out his hand. “Let’s get you home.”
She took his hand.
They used the back stairs, and the moment she stepped outside, everything went black. Something was thrown over her head, and her scream was muffled by a strong hand.
Still she fought, trying to shout for Castell, for the footman, even for Reuben, but it was of no use.
And then her movements became weak, and she fell asleep.