Authors: Jo Goodman
Nights were the most difficult. Jenny's sleep was troubled. She woke often only to discover that she had been fighting the manacle that kept her chained to the bed. Her wrist was chafed and swollen from her battle, and her waking mind told her what her sleeping mind refused to believe—there was no escaping this iron bracelet.
Amalie examined Jenny's wrist impassively and ordered John Todd to bring some ointment. "You should have told me," she said. "There is no intention to harm you."
It was late in the evening on the third day of Jenny's confinement, and given her circumstances, Amalie's statement struck her as particularly odd. She might have laughed if she had not been afraid she would sound like a hysteric. Instead, she withdrew her hand from Amalie's grasp and cradled it and the manacle against her chest. "No harm? You are going to allow Stephen to murder me."
Amalie rose from the edge of the bed. "You are speaking nonsense. Stephen is here now, and believe me, what he's interested in is not murder." Ignoring Jenny's sharply indrawn breath, Amalie crossed the room to the dressing screen. She disappeared behind it for a few seconds, then reappeared dragging Maggie's wooden tub with her. "He has met my price," she said. "You should be flattered. He has gone to great lengths to have you. Not many women can say they truly know how much a man desires them, but you must have no doubts about Stephen. He's proved it by agreeing to my terms."
Jenny heard little of what Amalie said. She stared at the tub Amalie deposited at the side of the bed. Realizing her captor's intent, her throat constricted.
"One million," Amalie said. "Can you imagine that he thinks you're worth so much? I suppose you could say that in a way the money is yours, but Stephen doesn't think like that. He believes it's
his
pockets I'm picking." She chattered away while she filled the tub with water from the adjoining bathing room. Jenny's withdrawal had no impact. "Did you hear that, Stephen?" she asked, staring pointedly at the cleverly concealed panel where Stephen was watching from the next bedroom. "But it's not his money, is it, Caroline? Perhaps it is all better left in the hands of lawyers. There will be many particulars to be settled once you and Stephen are married."
Even Amalie's last statement did not rouse a response from Jenny. She watched the last bucket of water being poured into the tub. Amalie added a few drops of attar of roses to the water. The sweet, cloying fragrance made Jenny's throat tighter. Her breathing became labored.
John Todd walked into the room without announcing himself. His attention was immediately drawn to Jenny's distress. He shut the door behind him and crossed the room quickly, tossing Amalie the ointment. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, watching Jenny closely from the foot of the bed.
Todd's tone forced Amalie to take notice. Her forehead creased as her brows drew together. "I don't know. She wasn't like this a few minutes ago."
Their conversation, conducted as if she weren't present, pulled a response from Jenny. Her troubled glance darted from Amalie to John Todd. "I won't get in there," she said. "I won't."
Amalie threw up her hands, her frown fading. "Lord, but you gave us a scare there." She turned to Mr. Todd. "She must be shy about bathing in front of you. Why don't you wait with Stephen? I'll call if I need you."
When John Todd was gone, Amalie sat on the bed again and took Jenny's wrist. She smoothed the salve on the chafed skin and then put the medicine away. "There," she said briskly. "That's better. It's not so painful now, is it? Do you need help getting into the tub? The chain will reach that far."
"I won't." Jenny drew her knees up to her chest. The hem of her shift covered her toes. "I told you I won't."
"Do not be ridiculous," Amalie said. "Of course you will. I told you Stephen's here. He's waiting to be with you, and it's only fitting that you're made ready for him. Is it because he's watching you now?"
"Stephen can see me? Now?"
"Haven't you been listening to me?" She pointed to the opposite wall. "Just beyond there, in the next room. The opening is difficult to see, but then that's the idea. The occupants of this room never know when they're being watched. You and Mr. Marshall never knew, did you? Stephen told me earlier tonight that he saw you New Year's Eve. Remember? Maggie gave you this room."
Jenny hugged her knees closer to her chest. Her stomach roiled at the thought of Stephen playing the voyeur. She thought she might retch. Instead, she closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip. Her hands folded into tight, bloodless fists. She swallowed hard, tasting the bile that was pain and humiliation.
There was no possibility that she would be able to maintain the taut control she had managed thus far, and Jenny had only the vaguest sense of how, when, or whom she would strike before the moment to act was upon her. Her legs uncoiled first, targeting Amalie squarely in her midsection and knocking her flat so that she lay sprawled on her back across the bed. The blow was sufficient to squeeze the air from Amalie's lungs, and while her mouth opened, no cry emerged. Jenny pounced, light and graceful as a cat, and caught Amalie by the shoulder, circling her neck with the iron chain. Amalie sputtered, still gasping for air, and raised her hands, reaching behind her to claw at Jenny's arms and face. Her manicured nails, sharp as talons, scored Jenny's forearm. Jenny keenly felt the pain but did not loosen her hold. She pressed one knee hard into Amalie's side, and Amalie was the one forced to give up her grip. Jenny twisted the chain tighter around Amalie's throat and watched dispassionately as the madam's eyes began to roll back in her head.
It was the intrusion of Stephen Bennington's deep and derisive chuckle that pulled Jenny's attention. Simultaneously, she felt John Todd's large hands begin to peel her away from Amalie while Stephen unwound the chain. She struggled, flailing wildly, but from her first awareness that Stephen and John Todd were in the room, she had known this fight was lost.
John Todd pulled Jenny off the bed. His leg bumped the tub and water splashed the carpet and the hem of Jenny's shift. Todd recovered his balance and yanked Jenny hard enough to make her lose hers. Quickly moving behind her, he took her by the wrists and crossed her arms in front of her. With a second sharp tug, he locked her elbows and held on, restraining her with relative ease. As a precaution, he shifted his stance so that Jenny's weight rested on her heels. She was now totally dependent on him for support. His superior height and strength guaranteed it would remain that way for as long as he wished.
Recovering her breath, if not her composure, Amalie refused Stephen's outstretched hand and went straight to the vanity where she sat and examined herself in the mirror. With only a few anchoring pins left in her hair, the coiffure she had carefully crafted that morning now resembled a nest for vermin. Her complexion was mottled. She tilted her head and examined the tiny lines that whitened the corners of her mouth and eyes. She felt every one of her fifty years, but it pained her more to know she looked like them. She held one hand to her throat and gently explored the abraded skin of her neck with her fingertips.
"She
is
mad. Quite mad." Amalie spoke to no one in particular. She could still feel the individual links of iron at her throat. Raising her eyes, she caught Stephen's reflected gaze. "She meant to kill me."
"Yes, I believe that was her intent," Stephen said dryly. He turned away from Amalie and studied Jenny. His eyes were remote, his thoughts his own. "You should not have been alone with her. It is fortunate that Mr. Todd and I were watching."
Amalie threw a brush at him.
Stephen sidestepped the missile easily. "Be reasonable, Amalie. Even you must appreciate that if she killed you, my troubles would most likely be at an end." He addressed Jenny. "Well, Caroline, it seems that you have at last shown your true nature—and for an audience. I suppose it was inevitable."
Jenny tried to wriggle away from John Todd's grasp. She strained, rearing her head like a filly being forced to accept the bit for the first time. Her thick, dark hair swung forward across her face and a strand of it caught between her lips. She spit it out and made the gesture contemptuous, as if she were spitting at all of them.
"That is hardly becoming. You do not look so different now than you did in the hospital. I think that in some small, sane corner of your mind you know it's where you belong." Stephen raised his eyes to John Todd. "Do you honestly believe she will eventually wear herself out? I can tell you it won't happen. I know that in the lunatic ward they found that restraining her, just as you are now, only increases her agitation. Caroline requires a different sort of cure."
Jenny's eyes fell on the tub. Her knees sagged, but John Todd did not allow her to fall. "No, Stephen. No. You mustn't. You don't know what—"
Stephen ignored her. With casual indifference to Jenny's presence, he adjusted the cuffs of his white shirt. "I hope the water is not too warm, Amalie. It is more efficacious cold."
"What are you planning?" asked Amalie. She continued to eye Jenny warily even though John Todd's hold was inflexible.
"It is part of her treatment, of course. I've been assured by Dr. Morgan that under Dr. Glenn's care, she responded very well to it. Water calms her, you see. It is called a plunge bath."
Jenny was frantic now. She tried kicking backward but only succeeded in unbalancing herself. Her arms felt as if they might be yanked free of her shoulders. "Don't do this, Stephen! Think!" Tears welled in Jenny's eyes and spiked her lashes. She blinked them back. "Christian will find me, and when he does, he will find you. Think about that, Stephen. Before you put your hands on me, think what he will do to you."
One corner of Stephen's mouth lifted in a parody of a smile. He closed the gap that separated him from Jenny, and when he stood directly in front of her, he raised his right hand. He watched Jenny's chin come up, watched her eyes darken as she silently dared him. Accepting it, Stephen brought the flat of his hand hard against her cheek. Jenny's head swung sideways, and the stinging imprint made the tears in her eyes finally spill over. "I'm not afraid of Christian Marshall," Stephen said. "Perhaps
you
need to think about that."
John Todd retreated a few steps, taking Jenny with him. "There's no cause for slapping her, Bennington."
Amalie, who could still feel the bite of Jenny's stranglehold, disagreed. "If slapping is what it takes to calm the bitch down, then it is not for you to object."
"Unless you're afraid of Marshall," Stephen said, studying Todd's grim features. "No? Good. Let Caroline go and take Amalie out of here. You can watch from the other room. I'll expect you to be here if I need help. Otherwise, allow me to handle my fiancée in the manner I know is necessary."
"As you like," John Todd said. Releasing Jenny's wrists, he pushed her toward the bed. He backed away quickly, skirted the tub, and escorted Amalie from the room.
"And here were are alone, Caroline." Stephen sat at the foot of the bed. "What is that name Marshall calls you? Jenny? I don't know if I can get used to it. I am not sure I even like it."
Jenny was turned partially away from Stephen. Her knees were drawn up protectively and she made furtive, impatient swipes at her damp cheeks.
"I can appreciate that you are overwrought. You shouldn't have attacked Amalie, though. That was a mistake. You can't seem to resist showing others this dangerous side of your temper. I wonder if your illness can be cured or merely contained. I wonder what will people think when I marry you."
"Probably that you're after my money."
"Do you think so?" he asked rhetorically. "Perhaps it's true. But I pity you as well. There is no chance that any other man will have you. Not when he'd have to worry that you'd murder him in his sleep."
"Why aren't you afraid of that?"
"Because I know how to deal with you." Stephen stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles. He ran his thumb and forefinger along the crease in his trousers. "I can have a minister brought here who will perform the marriage ceremony," he said. "You and I can be wed after Amalie has her money. What do you think of that?"
"Go to hell," she said softly.
"I know you're not married to Marshall," he said as if she hadn't spoken. "That was a quick invention on his part to keep me away from you."
"What makes you think that?" Jenny's fingers twisted in the fabric of her shift. Her face was drawn and dry; her eyelids were puffy. She angrily accepted the handkerchief Stephen held out to her and blew her nose.
"I saw the way you looked at him when he said you were married. It startled you. Lying has never been your strong suit." He said the last as if it were a serious defect in her character. "So... about our marriage... have I your agreement?"
"I am not marrying you."
"Aren't you?" Stephen looked pointedly at the tub of rapidly cooling water. "I'd rather not go to the trouble of forcing your compliance, but I will if I have to. I know everything that was done to you in the hospital. Morgan described the techniques that Dr. Glenn was using to ease your agitation. I am confident the same technique can be used persuasively." He sighed softly, his smile faintly rueful. "But I am no doctor. I do not know all the fine points of the treatment. There is always the possibility that I could injure you. I thought you should know that before we begin."
Jenny averted her head and remained mutinously silent.