A Promise of More (35 page)

“At this moment Christina is occupying your husband,” Dunmire said. “As she did last night. It would appear they have renewed their previous relationship.”

She moved away from the fire, trying to put the daybed between them while she began to hike up the side of her gown in order to get to the pistol.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked to buy more time. “I’m not worth bothering over. You know what Sebastian will do when he learns what you have done.”

“And how will he learn?” He shook his head. “Not from you, my sweet. This time I’ll leave no witness. You and I will be taking a little trip abroad. A trip that, unfortunately, you will not return from.”

Terror almost paralyzed her. “You’re going to kill me?”

“Not just kill, my dear. Rape, sodomize, and kill. I’ll only kill you once I tire of you. I’m not sure how long that will take, as I’ve never had a sex slave before. So a long sea voyage is a necessity.”

“You’re a monster,” she spat at him. “I knew that after you raped Lizzy, but I didn’t understand just how sick and twisted you are. I should have made Lizzy report you.”

They moved around the daybed, each circling the other. She had managed to reach the small pistol, and the fact that she now held it in her hand gave her courage.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why me? There are more beautiful women you could assault.”

“But none that hold me in such icy disdain. I intend to punish you for it.” He suddenly leapt across the daybed and grabbed her by the arms. “You stuck-up bitch. You, from a family that was destitute, thought yourself too good for me, turning my
proposal down.
Me, down
.”

With that, he backhanded her across the face and sent her spinning across the floor, her pistol flying out of her hand to the far corner of the room.

He advanced on her then.

She shook her head, trying to ease the dizziness from his attack. She barely had time to gasp before Dunmire advanced upon her, huge and menacing as a demon from her nightmares.

They stared at each other. Beatrice was filled with loathing, her heartbeat frantic. She tried to push to her feet but he was on her in one lunge.

Dunmire’s evil eyes grew darker and he looked insane.

He seized her by her throat, squeezing until she could barely breathe. “Get up before I snap this pretty neck.”

Choking for air, she could do nothing but obey. Once she was on her feet, he dragged her toward the daybed. “You know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you?” he said with glee in his voice. “I hope you struggle like Lizandra did. It is very invigorating to sense the fear.”

She winced in disgust but faced him. “I will not struggle and I will not scream. You may take my body but you’ll never touch me in here”—she touched her head—“or here”—then touched her heart.

He gave her a smile that made her bravado falter. “You’ll scream all right. Maybe not tonight, but soon.”

He threw her back on the daybed and she drew a deep breath, then let out a long, high-pitched scream, hoping it would be heard over the music wafting up from below. Maybe a servant would be passing; maybe Sebastian had noticed her absence and was already looking for her.

“Help! Help me, please!”

Dunmire began removing his coat. She took the opportunity to stretch, trying to reach her pistol, but she had barely risen off the daybed before his fist slammed into her stomach, knocking her breath from her body and sending her flying back down.

When she’d caught her breath, she said, “You’re a dead man, Dunmire. I don’t care what you do to me. I know Sebastian will make it his life mission to find you and kill you. He knows you set up Doogie.”

He hesitated in his undoing of the fly of his trousers. “He knows nothing.
You’re trying to trick me. If he knew about Doogie, why hasn’t he already confronted me?” he snarled, his eyes glittering. “You’re simply trying to delay me,” he said, and his fingers began to work the buttons with greater speed.

Then he was on her. He seized the bodice of her gown, ripping it open, exposing her breasts, his eyes wide and feral.

“Don’t worry, Marisa, I’m sure Beatrice is fine. She received a note from Sebastian and went to meet him somewhere. No doubt a lover’s walk in the garden. It would be pleasant to have fresh air this evening in this warm weather.” Aunt Alison fanned herself.

Marisa chewed her bottom lip and kept her eye out, scanning the crowded room for her sister-in-law. Just then she saw Sebastian come out of the cardroom with Hadley, Arend, and Maitland. There was no sign of Beatrice.

“Well, if she went off to meet Sebastian, he’s over there. So where is Beatrice?”

Her aunt started to look a little worried.

“None of us are safe, especially anyone close to Sebastian,” Marisa said, and with that she made her way through the crowd, not caring who she jostled to get to Sebastian’s side as fast as possible.

As soon as Sebastian saw her coming at such breakneck speed, his face started to pale. Marisa raced up to him. “Do you know where Beatrice has gone? Aunt Alison said she received a note to meet you somewhere.”

Sebastian felt his heart stop. “I never sent her any note. How long has she been gone?”

By this time Aunt Alison had caught up with them, and told them, “She left several minutes ago. She received a note and I assumed it was from you.”

The men looked at each other worriedly and Sebastian knew his wife had been lured somewhere. He looked around for Dunmire. He too was missing and rage filled Sebastian. If Dunmire hurt her, he’d kill him, information be damned.

“Let’s split up,” Sebastian said. “Marisa and Aunt Alison, you check the retiring room, and any room where women may go together. Don’t separate at any
stage. Hadley and I will take upstairs.”

Without waiting to see what anyone else would do, Sebastian was making for the stairs.

Dunmire captured her hands as they beat at him with little effect. Holding them with one of his giant ones, he forced her arms back over her head. She tried to buck him off but he was too strong. His body weight held her pinned and hopeless.

He is going to rape me with Sebastian, ignorant of my fate, enjoying the ball below
.

She tried to rally herself to fight him. She needed time. Time to be rescued. She had every faith that Sebastian would come for her.

Pain focused her. He had her nipple in his mouth and he bit down hard. She refused to give him the satisfaction of screaming. His other hand found its way under the remains of her torn gown. She felt his sweaty palm high on her thigh, trying to tear at her silk undergarments. Bile rose in her throat.

She closed her eyes as his hand moved up her thigh, trying to reach where only Sebastian should touch. Tears leaked from her eyes even though she tried to stop them.

Beatrice couldn’t help it. She screamed, “No!” with all her might.

Her cry egged Dunmire on. His fingers fumbled in her draws and she screamed again. This time to her joy she heard an answering cry—“Beatrice!”—followed by pounding on the locked door and “I’m here!”

Dunmire cursed and rose off her body. She lay trembling with relief and said, “I told you he’d come for me.”

Her smug retort was met by a punch to her face that made her see stars. Then Dunmire was gone.

She lay dazed, her lip split and bleeding. Nausea rolling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of how far Dunmire’s indecencies could have gone had Sebastian not found her.

Just then the door splintered open and Sebastian all but fell into the room. He stumbled and his gaze fell on her, his eyes full of unmitigated wrath, his face hard,
angular, like that of an avenging angel.

“I’ll kill him. I should have killed him this morning. Look at your face.” Then his eyes took in her torn dress, and the fact her skirts were bunched at her waist and she was crying.

The pain in his eyes was her undoing but she shook her head through more tears. “You got here in time. He did not rape me.”

He gathered her gently in his arms and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Why did you not find me before going anywhere on your own?”

“I thought I could handle him. I had a pistol but I lost it in the struggle.” She pointed to the corner where her pistol had fallen, but frowned when she noted it was no longer there. “He must have taken it.”

Sebastian looked round the room and noted the open window. Just then Arend arrived in the doorway and took in the scene. His face also became a mask of fury.

“He went out through the window,” Sebastian said.

“I’ll find him.” Arend simply turned and left.

Beatrice saw the restraint and need to pursue in Sebastian’s eyes. “Go. I want you to get him. When you catch him punish him for me and Lizzy.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” he hugged her tight.

“I’m fine. A little shook up but I’d feel better knowing you’d caught him. Go. Finish this.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you so much. Here,” and he took off his coat and helped her slip it on over her torn gown. “Are you all right here for a few minutes? I’ll send Aunt Alison up to escort you home.”

She nodded. “Be careful. I don’t think he’s quite sane and I let slip you knew about Doogie.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and moved to the window. “I’ll be careful. Wait for me at home.” With that, he left through the window, following Dunmire’s trail.

She made herself stand, although her legs shook like jelly. She was cold and she moved toward the fire, trying to warm herself. She knew she was in shock, but she was safe. It was Sebastian she worried about.

Before she reached the hearth, a hand wrapped around her throat, and another covered her face with a cloth, pressing down so she could barely breathe. She didn’t see who had attacked her; fear made her struggle until blackness took over.

Arend turned his head to the right at the snap of the twig in the silent garden, signaling where his sniveling target was moving.

The dark was his friend. It allowed his other honed senses to come to the fore. He moved like a silent predator, a black panther, sleek, nimble, hunting …

Dunmire would not get away from him. Dunmire deserved to die for what he’d done to Beatrice tonight, but not before Arend got the answers he sought. Then he would gladly stand back and watch Sebastian kill him. It was Sebastian’s kill.

Arend hated the hunt. It reminded him of his family’s desperate and degrading escape from France. Even though he had been a young boy then, the memory of the despair and fear on his parents’ faces remained with him.

Dunmire wasn’t even a worthy opponent. Arend spat in disgust. The man was heading directly for the delivery lane that ran along the back of the property. He probably had a carriage waiting. Arend veered off the path and cut through the undergrowth, knowing he’d get to the gate in the back fence long before Dunmire.

His prey didn’t even sense him. Dunmire was too busy looking over his shoulder to see his enemy was ahead of him. Arend lifted his sword and in Dunmire’s haste he almost ran onto it. Arend’s sword dug into his neck, the point drawing blood.

Arend laughed in soft bitterness, his face hidden in darkness but his voice clear and deadly, like his sword. “Well met, Dunmire. Now, if you please, drop your weapons and turn round. You and I are going to have a talk on the way back to the house. If I don’t like the answers you give, I shall cut you. Cut you where no man wishes to be cut. Do you understand?”