Night Fire (27 page)

But Rendel Hall was never your house. It was his. Only his
.

She flung her head back and shouted, “And you're dead, you miserable old bounder.”

She took the steps quickly then, nearly running. When she reached the landing, she turned and looked down into the entrance hall. It was shadowy and grim and silent. A stupid old house with a musty atmosphere because no one lived here.

Arielle turned back to look down the long corridor. Toward the end of it, on the right, was her former bedchamber, and adjoining it, Paisley's master bedchamber. She forced herself to walk down that corridor. She looked neither to the right nor to the left, but she paused every few steps to listen.

Nothing.

Quietly she opened the door to her bedchamber and stepped inside. Again all the furnishings were covered with white Holland covers. The room looked eerie and somehow frightening. If Burke had been with her, it wouldn't be at all frightening. That realization made her angry with herself. She wasn't a weak, helpless fool. No, she was strong.
Only in the dream. Not here. Here it is real, and real is dangerous
.

“Stop it.” The sound of her voice, high and a bit shrill, made her smile. “There's nothing here to be alarmed at. Don't you see, you ninny?”

She walked quickly toward the adjoining door and flung it open, making as much noise as she could manage. She peered into Paisley's bedchamber. It was filled with shadows and bizarre shapes and airless cold. She heard that strange noise again and paused.

She stepped into the room. She could hear her heart pounding. God, this room. Such fear, such hoplessness and pain she'd felt in here. But the room wasn't to blame, it was him. Only him. He was the evil. She looked toward the fireplace and saw something there; no, someone was there, someone who was weaving slightly, someone garbed in billowy, filmy clothes.

“Who's there?” Her voice was a thin reed of sound. “Who are you? Who's there?”

The figure moved.

Arielle couldn't help herself. Her hands flew out in front of her to ward it off. She screamed.

The figure leaped toward her and she turned, bent only on getting through that adjoining door and escaping. She felt fingers close over her upper arm and she shrieked again, whirling about to face her attacker.

Before she could even look up, she felt something hard and stiff come down on the side of her head. She saw brilliant flashes of white light then nothing.

She fell to the floor, unconscious.

 

They hadn't found either Hannibal or his two ladies, but there was still an overabundance of high spirits. Even George Cerlew, normally the most staid and reticent of men, was laughing at one of Joshua's tales of his and Burke's adventures in Portugal. He was spinning it out outrageously.

“So I'll tell you it's true,” Joshua said, eyeing his appreciative audience before delivering his final line, “the goat bit him. Bit him right on the butt. Left side.”

Burke was still grinning when they pulled into the stable yard. “No luck,” he called to the stable lads. “We'll rest a bit before we have another go at it.”

“I don't think we should bother,” said Joshua. “By now somebody's caught those fool squawkers and thrust them in the Sunday pot.”

George chuckled.

“Give Ashes a good rubbing,” Burke said to Harry, the newest stable lad, a young man with a wide gap between his front teeth.

“My lord.”

“Yes, Geordie. We didn't find Hannibal, if that's your inquiry.”

“No, it's Miss Arielle.”

Burke tensed. “What about her?”

“She hasn't returned yet. She went out to hunt for Hannibal on her own. She's been gone two hours now, and I'm worried about her.”

“She went out by herself?”

“Aye, insisted, she did, that who would care a farthing about her now and she didn't want to be a prisoner anymore.”

Oh, God, Burke thought. Oh, please, dear God, no. Aloud he said in the calmest voice he could force, “Two hours? Well, I fancy she's simply lost track of time. We shan't worry until—” He broke off, then cursed. “Saddle up Khan, Geordie. Ashes is too blown for further riding.”

Ten minutes later, Burke, George, Geordie, and Joshua were riding east.

“You're certain, Geordie?” Burke asked yet again.

“She was riding east, milord,” Geordie said.

 

It was a ghastly smell. Something rotten, something sticky and wet and rotten. She gagged on the stench. It was so close. Arielle opened her eyes. She lay perfectly still, trying to regain her senses. She was lying on a hard, cold floor. Her hands were bound behind her, as were her ankles. She turned her head slowly, aware of the throbbing pain behind her left ear.

She choked down a scream. Hannibal, his throat neatly cut, lay on a table beside her. His long neck and head were hanging over the side of the table. Blood was dripping slowly, rhythmically, landing to splat on the flagstone floor just by Arielle's head.

She moaned and jerked away, to her other side.

“Shush, my baby. It's all right now. Dorcas is here. You're safe again.”

Dorcas
. Arielle didn't move. She felt fear so deep, so paralyzing, that she couldn't speak. Dorcas was on her knees beside her, her fingers stroking through Arielle's hair.

“Dorcas,” she whispered. “You're all right. I've been so worried about you.”

“I know, I know, my baby. I'm all right. As are you.”

The old woman was rocking back and forth over her. Arielle saw that she looked like an old hag. Her hair was filthy and matted to her head. Her body smelled, and her clothes were stained with food and grease. And her eyes were quite vacant. She was mad.

I must reason with her, Arielle thought, but a wave of hopelessness gripped her. Reason with a madwoman? Dorcas had tied her up and dragged her into the kitchen. There were kitchen knives everywhere. Hannibal's throat was cut. She would kill her. Soon, now, just like the gander.

“Dorcas, won't you untie me?”

“Yes, I'll untie you, but I'm afraid of
him
. He might hurt me again.”

The old woman rose, looking furtively around her. “I'll see if he's here,” she said in a hushed whisper. And she left the kitchen, her steps shuffling and awkward.

She was no longer Dorcas, Arielle thought. And who was
he
?

“Please come back and untie me,” she whispered, but there was only silence now, silence and the stench of blood.

Her arms were growing numb. She tried to pull her wrists free. For five minutes she tugged and shifted and pulled. All for naught. Think, Arielle. She needed to cut the ropes. She saw a knife up on a shelf at least five feet above her. She rolled into a tight ball, then jerked upward to her knees. Slowly, trying to keep her balance, she managed to get to her feet. Her ankles were tied tightly; she'd have to hop to the counter. She managed two tiny steps and fell on her side to the floor, the wind knocked out of her. She lay there for a moment, trying desperately to block out the pain in her hip. Once again she managed to get to her feet. This time she hopped three steps before she again toppled. Five falls later, she finally reached the counter. She stretched her bound hands toward the knife.

She couldn't reach it. Three inches. That was what separated her from the damned knife, from freedom. She nearly pulled her arms from their sockets trying to reach the knife. It was no use. She searched frantically for another knife. There were three, each one farther out of reach than the other. Her chest heaved and she felt a wave of hopelessness wash over her. She wouldn't give up.

She looked back at the table and saw Hannibal. She made a vow at that moment to release all the geese and ganders. They were penned up, with no power, helpless, just as she was. It was silly, but her vow lifted the numbing despair for a short moment.

A sharp edge. Wasn't there a single one in the entire wretched kitchen? She noticed the filth then, the scraps of rotted and rotting food on every countertop, the layers of dust and dirt and grease. Dorcas must have come here immediately. She'd lived here for the past week and a half. Like something less than human, like an animal. Arielle felt her flesh crawl. Then she saw the small paring knife that was wedged between a pot and a skillet on the far counter. She used the edge of the counter to keep her balance as she moved with agonizing awkwardness toward it. She was breathing hard when at last the small knife was within her reach. She grabbed it. Her heart was pounding, churning with fear, excitement, hope.

It was difficult to turn the knife so that its sharp tip could slice through the ropes. She cut herself two times in the process. Finally she settled into a rhythm. Back and forth. Back and forth. She felt pains shooting through her wrists, but she kept at it. She felt the ropes loosening.

Then she heard footsteps. These weren't shuffling and awkward. These were firm and quick. A man's footsteps.

She heard a raised voice from outside the kitchen. A man's voice. She stared toward the kitchen door, unable to look away.

“M
y, my. And here I thought the old woman was making it up. Hello, my darling girl.”

Arielle wasn't surprised, not really. “Etienne,” she said, barely moving her lips. She felt the ropes begin to give. She held her hands perfectly still, held her body still, afraid that he would suspect, afraid that he would see something in her face.

“What are you doing, if I may ask?”

“Nothing. I couldn't bear to lie there, smelling the blood.”

“I see,” said Etienne.

“What are you doing here?”

He smiled at her. He knew she was afraid. He'd thought and thought and schemed until both he and Evan had been blind drunk more times than he cared to count. How to get her? How to abduct her from that armed fortress that was Ravensworth Abbey? And here she was, all tied up, waiting for him in the kitchen of Rendel Hall. He laughed, unable to help himself. He strolled into the room and leaned his hip against the kitchen table, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I've been staying here for several days now. I am conducting what you might call an inventory. After all, my father owned Rendel Hall and all its furnishings, as did his father before him. I will take anything that pleases me. It is only just and fair. As for your half brother, why, I believe that old Evan has given up on getting to you. I have never seen him so enraged as when he came back to Leslie Farm, his nose swollen and bruised. Your husband smashed him up quite well.”

“
I
hit Evan in the nose.”

Etienne looked clearly startled. “You?” He laughed then. “By all the saints, that is wonderful. Well, it is a good thing you are with me and not with your brother. He isn't a gentleman, Arielle, not at all.”

“Did you force poor Dorcas to come here?”

“I? Not at all. When I came I discovered she was living here. I didn't mind sharing with her because she gave me ideas and new hope. I hoped you would come here looking for her. I had heard, everyone has heard, that your precious husband has had men out searching for her for the past week and a half. So I let her stay. Not upstairs, she's far too filthy to be that close, but in the kitchen. She does well down here.” Etienne looked at the dead goose. “Our dinner, I suppose,” he added. “I should tell her to do her killing outside. The smell is offensive.”

“My husband will be coming here soon, Etienne. You must release me and you must let me take Dorcas with me. She is ill. She must be cared for.”

Arielle tugged again on the ropes. They had slipped down, even looser now. She was nearly free.

“What is this? Pity for that old bedlamite? After she tried to kill you and ended up nearly sending your dear husband to his heavenly reward? Such an overflowing of good and kindly spirits, Arielle. I find it nauseating, if you would know the truth. No, my dear, I'm not about to let you walk out of here. You will be my guest. Yes, I like the sound of that. My guest. I will ransom you eventually of course. Your husband is a wealthy man. He will pay dearly for you—at least he'd better.

“No. Do you hear me, Etienne? You won't do that.”

“You excite yourself, Arielle. I have not liked it, knowing that he has been enjoying you, taking you whenever he wished, having you service him at his whim. No, it has infuriated me each and every time I have pictured you on your knees in front of him.”

She moaned, then bit down hard on the bottom lip, appalled that she had allowed him to terrorize her with words. That was all they were, simple words.

“Would you like to know, my darling girl, what we will do before I ask your husband to ransom you? No curiosity? Well, I will tell you so that you may accustom yourself to the idea. You will become my mistress, finally. You will caress me and stroke me and kiss me as you did before.”

His voice was trembling slightly before he finished his speech. Arielle stared at him. She'd known, deep down she'd known, that Etienne wouldn't give up all that easily. But it made no sense. She said, “I don't understand you. I never in my life did anything to harm you. Your father made me do that to you. I hated it. Why would you be so cruel? Why would you want to hurt me? I repeat, Etienne, why are you doing this?”

He looked pensive, his gray-blue eyes narrowing on her pale face. “I told you once, but I see you didn't attend me properly. My father gave you to me. I will take you and plant my seed in your belly. You will bear my child. He won't, unfortunately, be master of Rendel Hall, but he will be a future earl, a wealthy and powerful man. And you will have been mine, just as my father had planned. Once your husband pays for your return, I will leave England. I believe I've a fancy to live in Naples. Yes, it is warm there, and the women are as lush as overripe fruit, or so I've been told by Evan. He plowed his way through Italy, he told me. I don't know if I believe him, though. Women don't take to your brother. His personality isn't all that amiable.”

“You must let me go, Etienne. Now. Burke will kill you if you don't.”

“Burke? Ah, yes, Burke Drummond. Tell me, Arielle, does he appreciate the exquisite training my father provided you?”

“Stop it. Damn you, let me go.”

He straightened and she pressed backward against the counter. He was coming to her, his expression determined, and in a mad effort, she yanked as hard as she could on the ropes. She felt them split open. She was free.

As he reached out for her, she whipped her right hand out, the knife raised. She slashed at him, but he ducked, jerking to the side. The knife cut through his shirt, nicking his upper arm. He feinted to the right, lunged at her, and smashed her back against the counter. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it until she dropped the knife. He kicked it across the flagstone floor.

He backhanded her. Her ankles were still firmly tied, and his blow sent her toppling to the floor. He slammed down on top of her, his legs straddling her, and he slapped her again. “So you wanted to knife me, did you.”

She didn't make a sound. He'd knocked the breath out of her. Pain shot through her back and shoulder from the crash against the stone floor. Her cheek was stinging from his blows. He raised his hand, stared down at her face, then slowly lowered his arm.

“No,” he said, more to himself than to her. “No, no more.” He rose, pulling her to her feet and supporting her. “Dorcas,” he shouted. “Come here.”

Arielle heard the shuffling steps. Dorcas had been standing outside the kitchen door listening to him abuse her. When she stepped inside, she looked at Arielle and slowly shook her head. “It's all right, Miss Arielle. I'll take care of you just as I always did with him. You'll be safe now.” Her voice was a croon, soft, without inflection.

“I want you to fetch hot water. Your mistress needs a bath. I want her to bathe upstairs, in the master's bedchamber. Do you understand?”

“Aye, I understand.”

“Dorcas, wait. Don't.”

Etienne began to squeeze her ribs until the pain swamped her. But pain could be controlled. She'd watched Burke do it. She could as well. She had but to concentrate and breathe deeply. She had to focus herself inward.

“Don't try to escape me, damn you. I want you aware of everything I do to you. I will make you feel, Arielle, really feel, unlike my father. You won't retreat from me; I won't allow it.”

He pulled her against him then, clasped her chin between his fingers, and kissed her once, hard. He hefted her over his shoulder, and when she reared up, he slapped her buttocks hard.

Etienne came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the stairs. She heard him curse. “I just remembered—your damned horse. Well, my dear girl, you have a brief respite. I must needs take care of your mare. If anyone comes around, I don't want her within view.” Etienne lowered Arielle to the bottom step, pulled off his leather belt, and tightly secured her wrists to the railing.

“Do wait for me, Arielle,” he said, and left the Hall.

Arielle leaned her forehead against her bound wrists. What to do? One tug on the belt assured her that pulling free was impossible. She felt tears sting the back of her eyes. No, that would solve naught. She heard Dorcas's shuffling steps on the stairs above her and forced herself to look up.

“It's all right, Miss Arielle.” She felt the old woman's fingers stroke through her tangled hair. “I'll take care of you just as I always did. I wonder what I did with the cream? I must find it. I don't want you to scar.”

She moved past Arielle, across the entrance hall toward the kitchen.

Arielle tried to block out her words. She tried to focus on Burke. Surely he would know that she was missing, and he would scour the countryside for her. He wouldn't give up. Would Geordie remember she'd ridden Mindle east?

And when he finally finds you? And you've been raped by Etienne? Used by Etienne? Will he still want you? What will he say if he learns you're pregnant with another man's child
?

She felt a low, deep keening sound fill her throat.

“All secure, my dear girl.” She didn't look up. Etienne strode through the front doors and locked them behind him.

He rubbed his hands together. He felt excellent, just excellent. At last things were going the way they'd been intended. He walked over to Arielle and lightly patted her cheek. She jerked away from him as far as her bonds would allow.

“I'm not a bad-looking man, Arielle. Surely you'll admit that. Unlike my father, I'm not fat and I don't have any rotted teeth. Women have told me I'm a good lover. Perhaps not as good as you are a whore, but I shan't fail you. Come, now, don't carry on so.”

“Let me go.”

“We'll see how long your stubbornness lasts.” As he spoke, he unfastened the belt from the railing and loosened her wrists. She bent down to the bonds on her ankles.

“Oh, no, my dear, not just yet.” He pulled her to her feet and once again hoisted her over his shoulder. “You're light, Arielle. I will soon see if you're too thin. I remember you so well from that night, your body gleaming so pale and fine in the candlelight. You were very slender but not thin. Ah, and your breasts. I remember thinking they were so full for such a slender girl. And those long legs of yours, Arielle. I dreamed so many nights of feeling your thighs lock about me.”

She couldn't bear it. She reared up, smashing her fists against his head. He jerked her down to stand in front of him. “You do that again and you will regret it. Do you understand me, Arielle?” He shook her, and her head snapped back on her neck.

She understood him and she believed him. She sagged where she stood. This time he didn't heft her over his shoulder. He forced her to take short, hopping steps beside him down the long corridor toward the master's bedchamber.

“There, now you can concentrate on not falling on your lovely face instead of taking exception to what I'm saying. Now, where was I? I will tell you again, my dear girl, that I'm not a brute like my father. There will be no question of punishment.” He paused a moment, then added, his voice sounding a bit odd, almost dreamy, “Unless, of course, you force me to it.”

Again she felt that odd keening sound coming from deep inside her.

“Ah, here we are. I do hope that old crone has prepared your bath for you. You do smell like your horse, my dear. You even have some of the stench from that damned goose.”

Etienne dragged her into the master bedchamber. All the draperies were pulled back from the windows. Bright summer sunlight flowed into the room. A copper tub had been placed by the fireplace. This room, unlike the others, had no Holland covers, but there was dust on the wooden floor and the smell of disuse.

“I believe I'll tie up your wrists again. It won't hurt, I promise you. You remember that hook up there? My father told me of how he would fasten you on a long rope from that hook and just look at you. For hours sometimes, he told me. You'd be there, naked, for him and only him.”

“No, Etienne. No.”

“Finally you speak to me. Well, I should prefer other words from your beautiful mouth. I will do as I wish, Arielle. Accept it.”

He found a long thin rope in the armoire. He wrapped it about her wrists, then stood on a chair and tied the top of the rope to the hook embedded in the ceiling. He adjusted it until she was able to stand comfortably, her arms drawn up above her head.

“Now,” he said. He bent down and unfastened her ankles.

She felt numbing pain, for Dorcas had tied them very tightly.

Etienne rubbed them until the stinging feeling made her want to cry out. She didn't make a sound.

He leaned back on his haunches for a moment, and without thought, without consideration for the consequences, she kicked out at him, connecting with his groin.

He stared at her for an instant, disbelief in his eyes. Then he howled with pain and fell back. He doubled over, holding himself.

She stared down at him. Fool, a thousand times a fool. She was helpless and she'd still hurt him badly. She closed her eyes and waited.

She hadn't long to wait. Etienne got hold of himself. The roiling nausea receded. He managed to rise, then finally to stand straight again. He looked at her. She realized, he knew, that what she'd done was stupid. He smiled at her.

He walked close and lightly rubbed his knuckles over her white cheek. “You kick out again and you will regret it more than you can imagine. I am right now deciding whether or not to take revenge for the pain you caused me. You try to inflict more, and I swear to you that you will be the one howling in agony. Do you understand?”

Her eyes were tightly closed. She made no movement.

“Do you understand?” He grasped her chin in his hand and shook her head until she opened her eyes. “Well?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I understand.”

“Good.” Then he kissed her. She gasped, trying to pull away from him, but it was no good. He kissed her until he was through. He'd tried to thrust his tongue into her mouth, but she'd kept her lips tightly closed. He stepped back. He looked lost in contemplation. “It has been so long since I've seen you. I can't decide which part of you I wish to see first. Have you any suggestions, my dear girl?”