Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (79 page)

He looked at the ground for a moment then back at Emily. “And what of our relationship, fair lady. Does the truth I’ve presented persuade you enough to allow us to step back in time and rekindle the relationship that once grew between us? Do I receive a reprieve or remain condemned?”

Emily’s heart pounded; her mind staggered in confusion; anxiety burned in her stomach like a flaming torch. She swallowed, stared silently at him, blinked. “Hugh, what you have told me is indeed dire and of great import to the colony.” She swallowed hard again. “And when the truth of it is confirmed, ’twill truly embarrass me for hearing falsehoods and certainly compel me to think differently of you. But”—her face assumed a soft, tender, almost apologetic look—“ it can have no influence on what was between us . . . for . . . for I love another.”

The ends of his lips curved downward; his eyes clouded with sadness, disappointment. He held his breath, stared vacantly into her eyes. “And might I ask with whom you are in love?”

With a bland look, she said, “Hugh, I do not wish to be cruel, but that is immaterial to this discussion.”

His eyes flashed a crazed glare; his lips twisted into a harsh sneer; his face flushed red. “ ’Tis that Savage, is it not?”

Emily held her inscrutable look, felt a gush of fear rush down her back like a flood of icy water.

“I know ’tis so, for I’ve seen you with him.”

Her body tensed; her intuition screamed at her to stand and run, call for help.

“So I’ve lost to a Savage. How can this be? An uncivilized, mindless, primitive heathen? How can it be?”

Her hands and fingers trembled; she pressed them against the sides of her legs, so he wouldn’t see.

He again looked away, stared at the forest for a moment then back at Emily, now with a soft, composed, admiring look. “Emily Colman, you know that I love you with all my heart and soul . . . and that you mean more to me than anything in this world. We are meant to be together . . . and we
will be
together . . . and you will learn to love me as I love you.”

Fear gripped Emily’s face. Why had she been so foolish, let him lead her so far into the forest, away from help? She shook her head slowly, ignored her mind’s command to remain silent. “No, Hugh. It cannot be so.”

He canted his head slightly to the right as if to see her better, stared at her with intense, focused eyes, sneering lips, said nothing.

Emily sensed his agony, his churning mind, knew he was deciding something. Fear raced through her like an invisible gust of wind; her senses swirled in disarray. “Hugh, the sun is nearly down; we should start back.”

His crazed expression returned; he canted his head to the left.

Emily started to stand. “Truly, Hugh—”

He seized her shoulders, pulled her into a tight embrace, his right arm around her back and left arm, his left elbow over her right arm and his left hand behind her head and neck; he pressed his lips to hers. She tried to twist free, but he held her fast. His right hand slid down her back to her waist; he pulled her shirt and smock from her skirt, slipped his hand beneath them, caressed her soft back and side.

Terror flashed in Emily’s eyes; she twisted, squirmed, tried to free herself, felt his wild panting, her heart racing, pounding, her own breath quickening; she screamed, heard only a muffled moan.

He laid her on the ground, moved his right leg between hers, again feathered her soft body with a slow, lingering touch that unhurriedly drifted to her breast and nipple, tenderly fondled them like fragile works of art. His warm, rapid breath blew against her cheek; he reached down to the hem of her skirt, pulled it up to her thigh, smoothly caressed the outside of her leg and buttock then the soft inside of her groin, found the patch of hair above, the soft lips that shielded her virginity. He eased his fingers between the lips, spread them apart, found her
entrance, gently explored inside, smoothed and spread the dampness within, touched the tiny organ at the top where the lips met, brushed it briefly, softly, teased it with repeated, wispy touches, again . . . and again . . . yet again.

Shock and panic hung in Emily’s mind like a long winter storm; she pulled her left arm free, pounded his shoulder, thrashed, squirmed, screamed another silent scream, felt his hard prick through his pants, throbbing against the top of her leg, wondered how something that large could enter a woman. She sensed her own involuntary arousal: gasping breath, pounding heart, tension, firm beasts, erect nipples, a warm craving in her body and mind, dampness where his fingers touched, the swelling of the organ as he gently caressed it, the strange anticipation of ecstasy rising within her. Her mind raced. How can it feel good? He means to rape me. Can’t feel good. Can’t happen to me. I’m a virgin. No! Dear God, make him stop. Must remain a virgin. Don’t want this. Only my husband. Isna. Mother, help me. She saw her mother’s words:
chastity . . . most wonderful possession . . . essence of you . . . given only to the one you love more than life
. His hands are gentle. Feels good. Can’t think. Can’t do anything. She pounded his ear with her fist, reached behind his head, grabbed a hank of hair, pulled his head back far enough to get her teeth around his lower lip, bit it with all her strength.

Tayler groaned, pulled his head back, rolled completely on top of her, sat on her stomach, pulled her arms under his knees, then pressed his left hand over her mouth. He noticed the blood dripping from his cut lip onto her shirt, wiped it with his forearm. “Emily, listen to me! Stop! You
will
be mine, and you
will
learn to love me. Fight me no more.” He wiped the lip again, held his right forearm against his mouth.

His weight forced the air from her lungs; she gasped for breath, twisted, tried to roll to her side. Can’t breathe; someone help me. This can’t happen. Please, God. Make him stop. I’m a virgin. Cannot do this. Isna, please!

He leaned over her, his face but an inch from hers. “Emily! Emily! Stop! Hear me! Listen carefully.” He held her chin with his right hand, forced her gaze to his eyes.

She stopped twisting, stared at him.

He spoke slowly, almost inaudibly. “Emily . . . I regret what I’m to tell you, but you’ve left me no choice. So hear me . . . and listen
very
carefully . . . I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth and get off of you. But if you scream or do not submit, something terrible . . . something unthinkable . . . will befall one you love dearly . . . one who is very small and helpless . . . and her death will torment you the rest of your days.”

Another frigid chill ripped through Emily, doused her involuntary glow of arousal; she felt as if a sword had been thrust through her heart. Virginia. He means to kill Virginia . . . no . . . he’d never do such a thing . . . yes, Emily . . . yes, he
would
. Oh, Lord, God, Mother, Isna. Help me. What am I to do?

Tayler felt his lip, saw that the bleeding had nearly stopped. “You see, Emily, my love is such that I shall let
nothing
, including an innocent young life, prevent me from having you.” He swallowed hard, looked suddenly unsure of himself. “And if I must, though I would detest it, I
will
hurt you. But one way or another, I mean to have you, and when you are mine, we will be bound together forever, for no other will have you once I’ve taken your soul and your body. So you see, you shall have no choice but to love me.” He paused, glared into her terrified eyes. “Now think of that beautiful young child whose life now lies in your hands. . . and make your choice.”

Emily stiffened like a deep winter freeze; her numb mind swirled like grains of sand in a windstorm. No one can save me. Virginia, my dear Virginia, so precious, so helpless. Must protect her. Oh, Isna, I wanted this for you. Please forgive me, find me, save me . . . now. Virginia must live. He’ll do what he says. No choice . . . my virginity, my life, my Isna, gone forever, unworthy of him . . . but I shall
never
love Tayler. Never. I shall kill him, be a whore . . . yes, and go to hell when I die . . . perhaps I should die now. Fight him, make him kill me . . . no . . . for then I’d be deprived the joy of killing him. Tears filled her eyes, flowed down her cheeks to her hair; her heart pounded. No escape. She took a deep, trembling breath, exhaled slowly, closed her eyes, nodded.

Tayler’s hard look softened to a compassionate one. He looked suddenly unsure, hesitant. “I shall be gentle, Milady; I shall
not
hurt you.”

She held her eyes closed, trembled; her voice cracked as she spoke. “And I shall
never
love you, Hugh Tayler. Do you hear me? Never! And one day, I shall kill you . . . now have your way with me and leave me.”

He looked at her silently, uncertainly, then slid off to her side; unbuttoned the remaining buttons of her shirt, the tie strings of her smock; bared her chest, stared at her full, erect breasts; leaned down, gently kissed her neck then her chest. His right hand caressed her stomach then her left breast and nipple. He eased his lips down her chest to the other breast, kissed it, caressed it with his tongue, sucked gently on it as it stiffened further.

Emily lay still, sobbed, trembled with dreadful anticipation; she felt her heartbeat and breath racing, the wet warmth inside her, the hardness of her breasts and nipples. How can I feel so? I’m sinning, giving myself to a man I hate, ruining my life. Forever a whore. Hell awaits me . . . body, mind drunk with uninvited pleasure, must resist, hate him, love Isna . . . Mother . . . dear Lord . . . please help me.

His hand again lifted her skirt and smock, this time to above her waist. He caressed her inner thighs, found the lips, the small, firm organ, fondled it sparingly, tenderly, then continuously, spread the rising dampness inside her entrance.

Emily panted, sensed her hips moving with his touch, the wetness inside her, the lips swelling tight around his fingers as they probed within her, her heart’s runaway pounding, tension gripping her entire body; she reviled the moment but couldn’t exorcise the insatiable, burning desire that flooded her mind, heightened her senses beyond pleasure. She craved something but knew not what. Losing my mind, something must yield inside me lest I die. My God, make it stop. Forgive my indulgence. My senses, no control, can’t stop the feeling, wild ecstasy, something
must
happen. Oh, God, don’t let me enjoy this so. Make me hate it. I’m a whore.

Tayler suddenly removed his hand from between her legs, hastily unbuttoned the small flap at the front of his pants that covered his throbbing cock. As it burst free of its enclosure, he rolled over her onto his forearms, gently nudged her legs further apart with his knees, moved forward until he touched the wet lips of her entrance, moved the tip of his prick in a slow, small, circular motion, then pressed it gently forward until it entered her.

Emily felt him inside, felt herself moving with his motion, wondered why it didn’t hurt. Hate myself. God, stop him. She felt him increase the pressure as he penetrated deeper, met a barrier, felt him push harder but enter no further, then withdraw slightly. Perhaps God stopped him; perhaps he cannot enter me; perhaps—a sudden, hard thrust pressed into her maidenhead, jarred her senses with a stab of pain; she groaned loudly as the barrier tore, allowed him to surge deep within her to his groin; their bodies pressed firmly together as one. ’Tis done, a virgin no more, a slut. God save me. She moaned again, felt him pull back, nearly withdraw, then thrust forward again as far as he could go, then again, and again, and again, quicker, ever quicker. She felt their panting, their hearts pounding together, her insides tightening about him, her hips rising to meet each thrust, heighten the pleasure. She gasped for breath, unthinkingly squeezed his back, clawed him with her fingernails, wrapped her legs around his. Sweat drenched her body, rolled off her forehead and cheeks; she sensed a strange, acrid odor, heard herself moan loudly, felt her mind and senses suddenly falling through the air. She arched her back, pulled him close with all her might, felt his warm, surging seed shoot deep within her. A euphoric sense of well-being immersed her body and mind like a gentle flood of warm water; her tension yielded to limp exhaustion.

Tayler emitted a long sigh, delivered four more slow, weak strokes, lay silent for a moment, then rolled to her side.

A moment later, wispy inklings of anxiety drifted into Emily’s mind like the opening scenes of a bad dream; tears again filled her closed eyes, trickled down her cheeks; she whimpered softly as she pushed the front of her skirt down to her knees. Betrayed you, Mother . . . Isna . . . Father. Betrayed myself. Should have fought, died. A filthy whore without worth. Never face you again. Life . . . future . . . gone forever. Must die . . . shall die.

Chapter 18

A
llie screamed, sat up, popped three electrodes off her head. Her hair was wet and matted, clothes soaked with sweat. She hung her feet over the side of the bed. “That dirty bastard! He raped her . . . just pinned her to the ground and raped her.” She sighed. “God, I’m whooped.” She started to stand. “Whoa . . . dizzy.”