A Riding Crop for Two (6 page)

They did not talk much
of their future last night, just that he wanted her in it. She desired the same.
In what capacity she would be with him and for how long was not something she
wanted to contemplate; she was too deliriously happy. All she knew was she
loved Gideon with her very heart and soul. There. She admitted her feelings to
herself at last. She loved him so very much.

The door to the bedroom
burst open, and two brawny men entered, closing it quietly behind them. One
carried a lantern, and the other carried a rather large knife.

“Not a peep, princess.
Or I’ll gut the first person that bursts through that door, understand?”

Cold fear gripped her
tight. Holding the blankets up to her chin, she nodded.

“Look at her, all
cozy-like in the master’s bed. I’ll bet it’s soft. I’ll bet you’re soft.” The
larger man grinned; yellow teeth were visible in the shadows from the
illuminated light.

Not again.
Two men.
The
memory of her brutal rape and sodomy flickered through her mind. She would not
survive another violation.

“Where are your things?
Speak up, bitch, we haven’t got all
bleedin
’ night.”

“Room down the hall,”
she croaked.

The other man grabbed
her arm roughly and pulled her from the bed so suddenly she fell to the floor.

“Here now, keep it
quiet. It’s past eleven, and we don’t want
no
disturbance. No harm to the staff if possible.”

“Right.”

The second man slapped
her face hard, and her head snapped back from the impact.
“He
didn’t say
nothin
’ about no harm to her, though.”

Yellow Teeth grabbed her
arm and brought her roughly to her feet. “Listen to me, whore. Lord
Cravenbrook
wants you gone from his home and bed. You are
never to return, nor contact him.” He laid the knife across her cleavage. The
cold blade pushed against the top of her breasts.
 
“If you do, I’ll cut off these pretty
titties
of yours, and then slit your throat for good
measure. Understand?”

No. Gideon would not do
this. She refused to believe it. She must have been shaking her head because
Yellow Teeth continued, “He said he got everything he wanted from you. He’s had
his fill. You know Lord Craven never stays with a woman more than a night or
two. Don’t tell me you believed his soft lies?
Women.
You are all
bleedin
’ stupid.”

The other man cackled
evilly, his gaze fixed on her bosom. She glanced down and saw the erection
pushing against his filthy wool trousers. Oh, God. She felt sick, nausea
churning her insides. A flicker of doubt began to pick at her. Could Gideon be
behind this? What did she know of him, really? Her mind raced, trying to go
over the time they had spent together. Was everything they said to each other
and what they shared physically all counterfeit on his end? Was she stupid and
gullible? The doubt began to spread through her like a virus.

A trickle of blood ran
from her nose and over her lip. Her tongue flicked the drop away. Yellow Teeth
pushed her toward Wool Trousers.

“The
room
down the hall, get
her gear, and let’s blow before the staff stirs.”

Wool Trousers took the
knife, passed the lantern to the other and held the blade at her throat as he
pushed her toward the door.

“Open it, and keep
quiet. Show me the room.” He came up behind her and rubbed his groin against
her backside. “Blimey, but you’re a lush one…”

“Never mind that, you
bastard.” Yellow Teeth hissed. “Just hurry up.”

She felt his hardened
cock and the tea and biscuits she had before bedtime churned in her stomach.
Her trembling hand reached for the handle and turned it. The door squeaked
open, and she was pushed through out into the hall. The place was deathly
silent; no doubt the staff already abed.

Olivia’s legs felt like
rubber, but she made her way toward the guest room. Once inside, Wool Trousers
whispered his foul breath into her ear.

“Gather up
everythin
’ you own. We’re
leavin
’.”

“I have to change…”

“Bollocks to that. What
you
wearin
’ is enough. Hurry up, or I’ll give you
another clout.”

He could not be serious.
It was the middle of October. The nights had taken on a decided chill. She only
wore a white, cotton nightgown. It had long sleeves and hung to her ankles, but
the fabric was thin. She would freeze. Her nipples were visible through the material,
and Wool looked his fill.

Stay calm.
She blinked back hot tears as she grabbed her carpet
bag. She didn’t bring much, once plans had been settled and in place, she’d
intended to return to The Riding Crop and gather the rest of her meager
belongings. Olivia stuffed her few pieces of clothing into the bag along with
her toiletries. Her memory flickered back to the cloth sack holding fifty gold
guineas that Gideon had offered her at The Riding Crop that first night. Damn,
she’d given it back to him when they’d departed.
Stupid woman!
She could use the money now. Her own savings were
still in James’s safe, and she hadn’t had the chance to collect it. Leaving it
there could be the wisest thing she had done. At least she would have a small
amount of coin to see her through. Depending what these disgusting men were
going to do to her.

The crop sat on the
floor. She couldn’t reach it without bending down. Then what, hit her attacker?
Raise a ruckus? They would harm the staff; she knew it deep in the chilled marrow
of her bones. She carelessly kicked it aside, and it skidded half under the
bed. Let Lord Craven keep it as a reminder or a memento, she thought bitterly.

Wool Trousers pulled her
from the room toward Yellow Teeth who waited in the hall. They were down the
stairs and out the back entrance before she could blink. She was then shoved
into a carriage. Yellow Teeth climbed in with her while Wool Trousers sat
behind the horses and snapped the reins. The horse’s hooves pounded on the
cobbles.

“Gideon is not behind
this.” Whether she said this aloud to convince herself, or to make the point to
Yellow Teeth, she was not quite sure. Her mind swirled in confusion. One moment
she was convinced Gideon had nothing to do with this abduction. The next, she
cursed his callous dismissal of her.

“What do you know of his
lordship? He’s a spoiled, pampered
aristo
who uses up
people and spits them out,” Yellow Teeth snarled.

“Please, let me go.” Her
voice shook. So did her hands. Cold, raw fear gripped her close.

“Not a chance. We’re
taking you back to
Whitechapel
to be among your own.
Now, shut your gob. You’re lucky I didn’t let him in here with you. He’d have
you bent over the seat quick as brass.”

This could not be
happening. Even though she kept repeating in her mind that Gideon could not be
behind this, the sliver of doubt grew, its tentacles curving about her heart.
If he did, then the last bit of her trust had just been smashed to bits.

Along with her
heart.

Chapter Six

Olivia was dragged from
the carriage and into a dark, filthy alley. She tried to get her bearings, but
could not ascertain her exact location.
Whitechapel
,
she figured that much out, but what street was anyone’s guess. She could hear
laughter, raised voices, and bawdy singing. Could she be near a pub? If so,
then she could be anywhere.

She blinked, trying to
make out any nearby buildings and chimney-stacks when a fist slammed into her
face. Yellow Teeth slapped her, and then his meaty fist pounded her
mid-section. Her blurred vision could make out Wool Trousers standing nearby,
cackling evilly while he rubbed his crotch. Another punch sent her reeling, and
she sprawled on the wet, grimy cobbles.
 
Already she was shivering. The October late-night air was cold and damp.
She could smell piss, vomit, stale beer and rotting rubbish from nearby
overflowing bins. A boot made contact with her ribs, and she cried out in
agonizing pain. Her carpet bag hit her in the chest and fell to the ground. She
grabbed on to it as a shipwreck victim clung to debris to keep from drowning in
the cold ocean.

“Here, she’s softened
up. Bend her over the crate there,” Wool hissed.

“We haven’t time for
this...”

“Bugger that, I’m ready
to blow. Couple of quick thrusts, then you
have
a go.”

Olivia’s insides twisted
in revulsion.
No.
She glanced up. Her
head spun, and her vision hazy and doubled. Wool Trousers had his cock out in
his hand, stroking it as the two men walked toward her. She clasped the bag
tighter.
 
She wished now she had brought
the riding crop. At least she could have used it as a weapon to fight them off.
She frantically looked about the dark alley for anything she could use to
bludgeon them.

Yellow Teeth wrenched
her to her feet and spun her around. She lost her grip on the bag. Roughly
grabbing her neck he pushed her down. She felt the disgusting stroke of a
hardened cock against her backside. Rough hands grabbed the hem of her
nightgown, pulling it up around her waist.

“Blimey, look at her. I
am
goin
’ to fuck that
arse
.
Hold her still...”

“Here! What are you two
doing?” a woman’s voice rang out. “There’s a copper round the corner. I think
I’ll whistle for him, eh?”

The men backed away, and
Olivia fell to the ground, her shaky legs not able to hold her weight. She
turned. There were five women standing at the head of the alley. Olivia could
not keep the bile down, and she vomited. A black fog covered her, but she
fought it. She could not fall unconscious, not now.
Fight.

“It’s just a bunch of
bleedin
’ whores. Fuck off, the lot of
ya
!”

A woman with long, red
hair stepped out in front. Lifting her skirt, she whipped out a large knife
from her garter.

“No, you fuck off. I
meant it about the copper. Leave now and I won’t call for him.”

The men cursed, and
Olivia heard their boots pounding away on the cobbles. The sound grew fainter
until he she heard the jingle of the harness as the carriage departed.

The red-haired woman
kneeled and cradled her close. “
Bleedin
’ hell, but
they worked you over.”

Another woman stood
nearby and glanced down at her. “
Ain’t
never
seen her before. What street does she work, I wonder?
One of the Nichol’s gang
prossies
maybe.”

“Give over,
Cath
! She’s in her nightdress. Here, help me. Can you
stand, love?”

It took Olivia a few
seconds to realize the question was addressed to her. She tried to speak, but
her lip was swollen and split. Blood dripped down her front.

“Can you...take me
to...The Riding Crop?” she managed to say.

The other woman snorted.
“I knew it. She’s a whore, same as us.”

They both helped her
stand. She wobbled, so the redhead grasped her arm tightly.

“Not same as us. The
Riding Crop is a posh place.
Classier than the alleys at any
rate.
It’s only a few streets over, I’ll take her. You lot get back out
there. We’ve shillings to earn. Pass me her bag, Cath.”

The other woman did and
then moved off. The walk toward The Riding Crop was laborious and slow as
Olivia could hardly stand.

“Chin up, love. We’re
almost there. By God, those pigs were about to rape you. Lucky I came along. We
have to look out for each other, sure as
shite
.” The
woman had a slight Irish accent. She smelled of beer and rose-scented soap.
Olivia could only see out of one eye now, the other swollen shut. The woman was
tall and attractive, her clothes shabby, but provocative.

“Thank you ... Please,
what’s your name?” Olivia rasped.

“My name is Mary Kelly.
When you’re feeling better, come down to the Ten Bells and we’ll share a bowl
of stew and a mug of ale. What do you say, love?”

Olivia nodded.

Finally, they arrived.
The woman banged on the door, and the small window slid open.

“It’s...Olivia. Get Pan.
Hurry.”
She managed to croak.

The blackness she fought
so hard overcame her at last.

****
   

Gideon caught the early
train back to
London
.
Be damned if he would stay in his father’s presence a moment longer.

Their final words were
acrimonious and bitter as usual, with the duke’s closing pronouncement he would
not suffer a whore as Gideon’s wife. Gideon, in not so many words, told his
father to go fuck himself.
A tender parting.