Chapter Nine #2
He moved closer, slowly removing one glove, finger by finger. “You know why I’m here. Your husband is concerned and I convinced him I would help you. But what do I want?” He chuckled. “I think you know the answer to that.”
For every step he moved closer, she took one away, circling the room toward the closed door.
At some point her mind rejected the arrow slit and the death that decision awaited.
Would she have time to open the door and run down the hall?
What would she do after that? How would she hide from Lucien and the men her husband sent after her?
She breathed deep to control her racing terror. She should have run before the meal, when she had the chance. Now she was trapped with Lucien. A man she had angered too many times to count.
He tilted his head. His light brown hair fell across his shoulder and over one eye. “He says you have been weak, my lady. He believes you haven’t fought the devil hard enough. You need my help.”
She lifted her chin. “I am perfectly well, thank you.”
With a wicked smile, Lucien moved fast, backing her against the wall so suddenly her palms scraped against the rough stone.
Her skirts brushed his breeches. The toes of his boots crushed her slippers.
His fetid breath made her want to turn her head away.
The remnants of his last meal were stuck in his front tooth.
She’d been dodging his advances for so long she could hardly believe he’d finally caught her. Tears pushed against the back of her eyes but she blinked them away, instinctively knowing he would want to see her cry.
He grabbed her chin in a bruising grip, causing her to gasp. Dark, feral eyes smiled at her. A smile promising retribution and satisfaction. A smile that had her heart racing so hard it made it difficult to breathe.
Excitement flared in his eyes. He pressed his hips forward, silently showing her what she had to look forward to. Sickened she turned her gaze from him.
He squeezed her chin tighter until she feared her jaw would crack. She tried to pull away but the movement merely shoved the back of her head into the rough stone behind her.
The rigid outline of his manhood ground into her pelvis.
His gaze raked her mouth and he licked his lips. Saliva pooled in the corners of his mouth. Slowly he began raising her skirts, his fingers brushing her leg. His moist breath panted against her neck.
“No.” She slapped at his hands, but her meager protestations merely made him laugh.
“It’s the devil in you, my lady.” His voice became deeper, raspier. “It’s telling you to fight me. It’s telling you to fear me.”
He was too excited by what the devil was telling him.
“Please,” she whispered, knowing he wanted to hear her plead and willing to do whatever it took to get away. She’d beg if she had to.
“Please what?” He bent his head until his nose touched her neck and inhaled deeply. “Please what? Tell me what you want.” His tongue darted out and licked her neck. “My lady.”
“Please, don’t.”
His arm snaked around her waist. He began to pant, his hips pumping. His eyes darkened, lost focus.
“No!” She twisted away and shoved him.
He stumbled back, but not far enough. His hand circled her neck, fingers digging into her skin, cutting off her air supply. The room grew dim and Madelaine struggled to breathe. She clawed at his hand, but his muscles were rock hard and trembled with the force of his exertion.
His face filled her vision, dark eyes glittering with a terrifying combination of hate and lust. His mouth twisted into a sneer. She was so close she saw the small hairs of his patchy beard and a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone. She smelled the oily sweat of him.
“You walk this castle with your pretty little nose in the air and those delicious hips swaying beneath your skirts. The devil has his evil claws in you and only I can save you from him.”
Her lungs were bursting with the need for air. She pulled at the hands circling her throat, tearing his skin with her nails.
Present Day
Lainie gasped. Her eyes flew open and her body went rigid, sending a wave of pain through her that made her groan. She breathed deeply, drawing air into her lungs. Breathing it out, pulling it back in. Slowly her body relaxed, the pain receding enough to stop the room from spinning.
She could still feel the imprint of Lucien’s fingers on her neck and the air being squeezed out of her. She tried to raise her hand to touch her throat, but it hurt so much to move she let it drop to her side with a grimace.
Lainie tried valiantly to control Madelaine’s fear pulsing through her because the fear made her muscles tense and tense muscles caused the pain to claw its way back up.
“How do you feel?”
She jumped and whipped her head to the left. For a moment the room dimmed, black dots danced before her eyes and her stomach heaved at the sudden movement.
Through the thickening shadows of the dark hospital room she recognized Christian sitting in a chair next to the bed. It took a few moments for her vision to clear to see he was bent forward, elbows on knees, hair mussed, eyes bloodshot, face pale.
“Like I was hit by a car.”
“That’s because you were.” His voice was tight with emotion. She didn’t know if it was anger or something else and at the moment wasn’t in the right frame of mind to figure it out. “Should I call the nurse? Do you need something for the pain?”
She shook her head, her back teeth coming together at even that small movement.
“There’s no need to be heroic, Madelaine. If you are in pain take the medication.”
She ignored the admonition. While she wanted the pain medication, she didn’t want the side effects.
Pain pills made her violently ill and while she didn’t have much pride left lying in this hospital bed wearing a gown covering only the front of her, she had enough to know she didn’t want to be bent over a bed pan retching her insides out in front of Christien.
“What’s the prognosis?” Experimentally she moved her legs and breathed a sigh of relief. Her hip was stiff and probably had the mother of all bruises, but she could wiggle her toes. They were the only thing on her that didn’t hurt.
“Mainly bruising. A bad case of road rash on your left arm. A bump on the head they want to monitor so they’re keeping you overnight.”
“No broken bones?”
“No broken bones. Miraculously.” His rough voice dipped low.
She looked at the clock and discovered several hours had passed since the accident. “You don’t have to stay with me.”
He made a frustrated sound and stood to pace to the other side of the small room. “Do you really think I would leave you? My God, Madelaine, I’m not that cold.”
She twisted the blanket, confused by his apparent anger. “I didn’t say you were cold and I don’t want you to think you’re obligated.”
His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. “I’ll pretend that’s the medication talking.”
Lainie’s head fell against the pillow and she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just—” She raised her hand, let it fall to the bed. Tears pressed against her eyes. She willed them away.
“Thank you,” she whispered, beyond relieved he was here, that he wasn’t going to leave her alone. That he wanted to be here. She’d never been in a hospital before and the thought of spending the night alone was disconcerting.
He sat in the chair he’d just vacated and blew out a weary sigh.
For the first time she noticed he was holding her necklace, the chain laced through his fingers, the key swaying back and forth.
Instinctively her hand went to her bare throat.
She’d never taken it off before and she felt vulnerable without it.
“What happened?” His voice was quiet but commanding in the hushed silence of the hospital.
Lainie’s hand dropped to the bed and she freed the memories she’d been holding at bay. Immediately her body tensed and the pain ricocheted through her. Christien placed his hand over hers and she grabbed on, probably squeezing his fingers too tight but he didn’t protest.
“I was standing at the curb waiting for the light to turn so I could cross and then I wasn’t standing on the curb anymore.”
She closed her eyes, remembering the hand on her back, the shove that sent her into traffic. In her mind she heard the squeal of tires, the shout of the people around her. “I think I was pushed.”
His fingers flexed beneath hers. “How do you know?”
“Because I felt a hand on my back. I turned to see who it was and suddenly I was bounced off a car.”
His hand slid from hers and he pressed his fingers into closed eyes, muttering to himself. “I was afraid of this.”
Lainie’s eyes had started to drift closed, but they snapped back open. “Afraid of what?”
He stared at the floor, elbows on knees, fingers steepled.
The meager light reflected off the tiny diamonds in the swaying key.
For a moment Lainie had no trouble picturing him sitting like this in prayer in a candle-lit chapel with a rosary dangling from his hands.
The image quickly faded, leaving the man before her, exhausted, weary and with a look of worry so intense it made her stomach muscles clench.
“Talk to me, Christien. What are you afraid of?”
His silver-eyed gaze met hers, far too serious for her peace of mind.
“You’re scaring me,” she whispered.
He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and took her hand, staring intently at their interwoven fingers. “You are shaking. Do you need another blanket? Should I call the nurse?”
“You should answer my questions.”
“It’s…complicated.”
“I’m pretty intelligent. I think I can figure it out.” The shaking was making her head hurt and her shoulder ache and her stomach turn. Although the stomach-turning part had more to do with the conversation.
“A man was sitting across the street while I was eating lunch,” she said. “He looked familiar.”
His head jerked up. “Can you describe him?”
“About average height. Blond hair. Pale skin.”
“Where had you seen him before?”