Authors: Bobbi Smith
Like a man possessed, he strode down the hallway, not stopping until he stood before Delight’s closed door. With as much restraint as he could muster, Martin carefully turned the silver-plated knob and pushed open the heavy six-paneloak
door. He held his breath as it swung silently to one side. The door had been the last tangible barrier between him and the prize he coveted. Now, nothing stood in his way. He grinned, evilly…triumphantly…as he paused to savor the thought. A tremor of anticipation shook him as he realized the object of his desire lay not ten feet from him—vulnerable and ready.
No longer would Delight be only the substance of his dreams. From this moment on, she would be his.
Stepping into the room, Martin closed the door behind him and approached the bed. His breathing was labored as he stood over her. Asleep, Delight seemed even more beautiful, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch her. Hesitantly, he stroked the black satin of her hair, rubbing the lustrous strands sensuously between his fingers. It was as soft as he had thought it would be, and with that touch came the rush of forbidden passion that he had been controlling with some difficulty for a long time.
In the beginning, he had honestly tried to fight the desire he’d felt for her. But soon, living in the same house and seeing her every day had become too much for his meager self-control. Martin had always lived his life by one rule and one rule only—if you want it, take it. And he definitely wanted Delight.
The fact that she was an innocent, trusting him completely, meant nothing to him anymore. He was driven by lustful demons. Demons who would settle for no less than full possession of Delight’s ample charms.
Turning away, Martin moved to lock the door and then hurriedly stripped off his jacket and cravat. He slipped into the bed next to her. With trembling, questing hands, Martin turned Delight to him. When she stirred only briefly, he waited, holding himself in check. But the moment passed. The potion had taken effect! Thrilled that Delight offered him no protest, he quickly finished unbuttoning the bodice of her gown. She lay limply beside him, unresisting as he parted the material and pushed it off her slim shoulders. The sight of
her bosom, so full and round, pressing against her chemise encouraged Martin even more. Dipping his head, he pressed hot, wet kisses down her neck and across the tops of her barely concealed breasts.
Delight came awake slowly, as if from the bottom of a deep pool. Blinking, she tried to focus…to remember where she was, but her mind was so foggy that serious thought was impossible. She almost drifted back to sleep and would have save for the shocking sensation that jarred her back to reality.
Delight twisted in violent surprise as a strong masculine hand slid beneath her skirts. Eyes wide with fright, she finally recognized the man who loomed over her.
“Martin?” Her voice was broken as she tried to understand what was happening.
Mistaking her husky tone for passion, he ceased his caresses for a moment and smiled down at her.
“Yes, my precious. Lie still and everything will be fine,” he soothed.
His tone was soft and coaxing, and she almost relaxed trustingly against him. But as he moved, Delight felt the coldness of the night upon her bare flesh and she started in surprise to discover that her clothes were in disarray.
“Martin! What are you doing?” She panicked, trying to free herself.
“Hush, sweet. You’re mine now, as you always will be.” He was fumbling with her skirts as he sensed her growing agitation. “I’ll take care of you.”
He held her forcefully as she tried to squirm from beneath him.
“Let me go! Are you crazy?” She was scared and disgusted by his unwarranted assault. “No, Martin! No!”
“Yes, Martin, yes,” he spoke, ready at long last to claim her.
Tears fell unheeded as Delight sobbed brokenly, sure that at any moment he would violate her. It was only the muffled cry from the master bedroom that saved her from that terrible fate.
Martin froze…waiting…his body tense with unreleased passion.
“Martin!” Clara’s call held him immobile. “Martin, I need you….”
With a violent curse, he threw himself from the bed, knowing that if she was lucid and he failed to answer her call, she might ring for a servant.
“Wait here,” he ordered tersely. Then, recognizing the fear in Delight’s eyes, he threatened, “Don’t move. If you do, there’ll be hell to pay!”
Delight lay on the bed unmoving as he stormed about throwing on the rest of his clothes.
“I’ll be back,” were his final words as he left to see to his wife.
Sprawled on the bed like a broken, lifeless doll, Delight didn’t stir. It was only when she heard him enter his own bedroom that she spurred herself to sluggish action. Her arms were leaden as she pushed herself up and off the bed. Staggering dazedly, Delight leaned weakly against the wall. She had to get away. There was no doubt in her now active mind that Martin would return, and when he did…swallowing nervously, she moved to the door and peeked out into the hallway. Although there was no sign of him, the door to the master bedroom was ajar and Delight knew she would have to use the servants’ steps. With thought to little save escaping Martin, she fled her room.
The chiming of the mantel clock in the front parlor as it sounded the quarter hour startled her as she made her way furtively down the narrow, curving stairway. Breathless in fearful anticipation of being discovered, Delight hurriedly buttoned her bodice. Racing as silently as possible through the kitchen, she paused only long enough to grab Sue’s cloak. With shaking fingers, she unlocked the bolt and fled the only home she’d ever known.
Delight knew not what awaited her in the blackness of the frigid winter night, but surely any fate would be better than
submitting to Martin’s lecherous advances. Clutching the cloak about her, Delight ran out into the shadowed darkness of the back alley.
Panting, straining to breathe in the bitter night air, Delight paused in the narrow passageway to listen. When she was certain no one followed closely, she leaned heavily against the rough-hewn siding of the shanty. She was safe…for the moment. Drawing an agonized breath, she pushed herself upright and struggled on. There was only one place she could go, and she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to stay. Rose’s house was bound to be one of the first places
he
would search.
A sense of peace welled inside of her, temporarily easing her feelings of panic, as she thought of her friend Rose O’Brien.
It had hurt Delight when she’d returned home and found that Rose was no longer in the family employ, but Martin had assured her that Rose had only left because she’d gotten a better job. Delight had visited her at her home several times since her return, but their conversations had been strained somehow, and she had had no idea why.
A sudden thought of Martin caused Delight to shiver with disgust as drug-clouded memories of his hands and mouth upon her continued to assail her. She wanted to bathe…to scrub every reminder of his slimy touch from her body. She felt dirty—soiled—and she wondered if she would ever feel clean again.
Hurrying onward, Delight was relieved to see a soft light shining from Rose’s window. Hiding momentarily, she watched the street to make certain that Martin wasn’t already there, waiting. When she finally felt it was safe to venture forth, she moved quickly to the deeply shadowed door and knocked softly.
“Rose?” her voice was hushed yet full of panic. “Rose, it’s me…Delight. Please…open up!”
“Delight?” Rose questioned, her voice muffled through the door.
“Yes, Rose. Please…let me in!” she pleaded, glancing nervously down the deserted street.
The moment the door opened, Delight rushed inside and quickly pushed it shut behind her. She took the time to slide the bolt back into place before turning to her friend.
“Thank you,” she breathed in relief. “Oh, Rose, thank you.”
“Delight…what’s wrong? Why are you here? It’s practically the middle of the night!” Rose demanded.
“I had to leave….”
“It’s not your mother? She isn’t…?” Rose had heard that Clara de Vries was ill.
“No, no,” Delight hastened to reassure her. “It’s nothing like that….”
“Then what?”
A noise sounded outside and Delight jumped guiltily.
Her eyes wide with fear, she spoke, “I’ve got to get away…will you help me?”
Rose looked at Delight, her confusion evident. “Of course, I’ll help you. But what’s happened? Are you sure you don’t want to go back home?”
“No!” Delight exclaimed, her tone desperate. “I can’t go back.”
“Well, sit down. I’ll get you a hot cup of tea and then we can talk,” Rose instructed as she moved to put the kettle on her small stove.
Delight nodded mutely and somehow, with numb fingers, she managed to unfasten Sue’s cloak.
“Let me take that.” Rose took the wrapper and looked at it questioningly. “Why this isn’t yours.”
“No—it’s Sue’s—I had to—um—borrow it,” Delight tried to explain, but she started to shiver uncontrollably as the shock of the past hours became a reality to her.
Rose hung the cloak on a peg by the door and hurried to pour the hot tea into the mismatched and chipped china cups.
“Here you are.” She handed Delight the soothing brew and watched the trembling of the young girl’s hands worriedly. “Are you still cold?” Rose sat down beside her and took back the cup. Setting it aside, she took Delight’s hands in hers and rubbed warmth into them.
“It’s not the cold,” Delight finally spoke, her voice quivering. “It was Martin.”
Rose was stunned. How could he? Rage shook her. It had been bad enough when she’d been forced to quit her job at the de Vries home. Martin Montgomery had made his intentions toward her clear shortly after marrying Clara, and the only way for her to retain her virtue was to leave their employ. She might do scullery work and take in laundry and mending, but she was no whore! No matter what that filthy man had thought.
Delight was not so unaware that she didn’t sense the change in Rose.
“Rose? What’s wrong?” She was concerned at her friend’s pale, stricken features.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Tell me what happened. How can I help you?” Rose’s concern was real.
“Did you know that Mother has been ill?”
“Yes,” Rose responded sympathetically.
“Well, I’ve been nursing her. She was so weak.…And Martin was helping, too….” Delight frowned as her concentration faded. Why couldn’t she think straight? Surely, she wasn’t that tired. Rubbing her forehead in a gesture of confusion, she continued, “I’m sorry, Rose…I can’t seem to remember….”
Rose, wise to the ways of men like Martin Montgomery, asked gently, “Did you have anything to drink earlier?”
“Why—yes. Martin brought me a hot drink before I went to bed.”
Rose nodded, “Just relax and take your time. I’m sure it’ll all come to you as your mind clears.”
Delight lay back against the sofa, closing her eyes. Again she
shivered with revulsion as she remembered his touch, and she looked at Rose quickly, a wildness in her eyes. Her voice was low and laced with determination when she spoke. “I’ve got to leave…to get away. This will be the first place he’ll come, and then he’ll force me to do those awful things again!”
“Did he take you, Delight?” Rose questioned gently.
Delight, her eyes cast downward, shook her head. “No.”
Rose breathed a sigh of relief and said a quick prayer of thanks. “Good.”
“It was so close. Thank God, Mother called out for him and he had to go to her. But he told me not to move or he’d do something terrible to me….”
“Darling, you did the right thing. If you had stayed, something terrible definitely would have happened to you.”
“He was like a crazy man.”
“I know,” Rose said flatly.
“You do?”
“Why do you suppose I quit working for your mother?”
“Martin told me that you’d gotten a better job.”
“If I had, do you really think I’d be living like this?”
For the first time, Delight was aware of her surroundings. She’d never noticed before. On her previous visits, she’d been so glad to see Rose that she’d paid scant attention to the furnishings in the small two-room home. But now, it struck her glaringly.
The wind picked up just then, rattling the poorly fitted windows. Both women looked up startled.
“Rose, I’m so sorry…”
“Don’t be. I can take care of myself. I always have. It’s you we’ve got to worry about. How quickly do you think he’ll come after you?”
Delight could feel her sanity slowly returning, and she looked up at Rose, a plan forming in her now-clearing mind. “I’m not really sure. It all depends on Mother. If she fell back asleep right away, he could be here at any time. But if she’s restless, we might have until morning.”
“We can’t take the chance. What ever we’re going to do, we have to do now.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Delight began.
Rose listened intently as the younger woman explained.
A half an hour later, Rose stood back, staring in disbelief at Delight.
“If I didn’t know….” She shook her head in amazement as she circled her, studying every angle.
“It’s the only way. Martin will never expect this.” Delight managed a smile, feeling better now that she had bathed and taken charge of her life. “Do you think I make a good boy?”
“Yes—but your hair…” Rose surveyed Delight’s short-cropped curls. “It was so beautiful.”
Delight ran a hand through what was left of her long, silken hair and shrugged. “It’ll grow back.”
“Well, I’m just glad those boy’s clothes fit you. It was a stroke of luck that I even had them. I mended them for a woman, but she never came back to claim them.”
“Thank you, Rose,” Delight told her in earnest and hugged her tightly. “I’d better go now. Martin might show up any minute.”
“Delight,” Rose stopped her. “Think about what you’re doing.”
“I have. There’s nothing else for me to do but run,” she responded sadly. “At least until Mother’s well. Check on her for me, will you?”
“Of course. And you’ll be back?”
Delight nodded, “As often as I can.”