Chapter 13 #2
He leaned against her, laughing. “Skylar, you continually miss the point. You have been a thorn in my side forever. You might well die an accidental death, but surely, after all these years, I deserve at least a bit of entertainment from you. You could be quite amusing. I wouldn’t think of killing you until after I had discovered what charms you may or may not possess. ”
“You idiot bastard! I will get away—”
“I’ll track you down. And have you locked up.”
“I’ll—”
“Notice, Skylar, I have you by the throat. I could squeeze my fingers tightly now, and you would pass out. I could do whatever I chose to do. Ah, imagine. Were you to go making accusations against me, I could build a case of dementia against you. Then they’d lock you up.
In one of those places. Skylar, have you ever visited such a place?
The insane! So pathetic. We must do our Christian duty by them!
Yet how horrid to live among them. So many of them hosed down rather than bathed.
Poor creatures, crying, screaming into all hours of the night!
I, your loving stepparent, would visit. Why, my dear, they’ve not really rooms in most of those establishments.
They’ve cages and cells. With locks and keys.
I could come, and we could play for hours.
And no one would ever hear your screams.”
“God, you are wretched! But I will get away—”
“Umm. If you should, well, actually, I have always preferred Sabrina. And the poor dear. It’s amusing, really.
I’m her legal guardian. She’d have to be very, very far away to escape me, wouldn’t she, Skylar?
How would you ever do it? How would you manage the resources to do it?
I’ll follow you to hell, girl, and so help me, I’ll have it all my way. Are we understood?”
Understood. Oh, God.
And it had gotten worse from there. Or better. If only Sabrina would arrive here quickly now. She could see her sister, standing behind Dillman, trying to tug him away from Skylar. She could see Dillman laughing. Turning on Sabrina. Threatening, promising, touching…
She remembered herself flying into action. She could see it all again, relive it. See Dillman falling, falling, falling, screaming. She could see his legs, twisted, and hear her sister. “Go, you have to go! If he lives, he’ll have you hanged, imprisoned, put away—”
“I can’t leave you—”
“Skylar, you’ve got to! You’ve got to get completely away, disappear!
We’d be too visible trying to escape together, and he’d get the law out after both of us.
He still has a legal claim on me. He’s still my guardian.
But I’m safe for the moment! He can’t hurt me now.
Go! Find us a way out, a new life, Skylar, not a prison sentence! ”
“I can’t—”
“Then we’ve got to kill him!”
“No! It would make us what he is! We can’t—”
“Then you’ve got to run. Can’t you see, he can’t hurt me now.”
“I’ll get word to you as quickly as possible. Go to Pike’s. Jimmy Pike is our only friend.”
“Go! My God, go! Get far away before he can send someone for you, before he can come, before—”
Words faded, darkness swirled around her. There were hands, reaching for her, dragging her down, pulling at her. She heard his laughter, felt herself falling, unable to breathe. She saw his face, and felt his touch…
There was a bursting sound as the door to the room swung open. She heard it dimly, far in the back of her mind. Then her name.
“Skylar!”
She fought the web of sleep that wrapped around her. Someone was touching her. Hands, strong hands were upon her. She screamed, her eyes flying open. Darkness seemed heavy all around her. She was being held while shadows hovered in the hallway.
“Skylar!”
Oh, God! She woke fully and exhaled raggedly.
It was Hawk. She realized that she was shaking, a fine sheen of perspiration bathed her flesh.
He was holding her. Fingers threading through her hair.
He wore a crimson smoking jacket, the V top loose.
He drew her against the bare flesh of his chest, stilling the trembling that seized her.
“It’s all right,” he said to the shadows in the doorway. “She was dreaming.”
Shadows melted. The door was closed.
“Oh, God!” she breathed.
She swallowed hard, fought the emotions the vividness of the dream had brought home once again. She bit into her bottom lip, preparing for the onslaught of questions he would snap at her now.
But amazingly, he was quiet, fingers running gently through her hair.
“I think the entire house heard you screaming,” he said softly at last.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
She opened her mouth, still seeking an explanation.
But to her amazement, he spoke first again.
“One might have thought I was in the act of scalping you. Are you that afraid of coming with me over the hills?”
“Afraid of the hills?” she repeated. “No, of course not, I’m not—” she broke off, realizing far too late that he had assumed she had been dreaming of an Indian attack! “I—”
He pulled away from her, lifting her chin. The firelight was low, and it was all that illuminated the room. Still, she knew that he saw quite well in the dark, and that he was studying her now. It seemed too late to dissemble now.
“I’m not afraid of going with you.”
“Why were you screaming?”
She managed a smile. “I really didn’t mean to convince the entire household you were scalping me.”
“Then?”
She was startled by the warmth that filled her as his thumb moved over her cheek.
She lowered her lashes, shaking her head.
“Monsters,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t really know.
It was a nightmare. Dreams are so terrible, but then they fade so quickly.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb everyone. ”
“And you’re not afraid? Of riding with me?”
She shook her head again, sighed, and admitted, “No—I’m not afraid.”
“You just don’t want to come.”
“I—” She paused, trying to study his features in turn. But he gave nothing away. His eyes seemed almost as dark as his countenance in the shadows. Yet his very austerity seemed to offer her a strange sense of security now. His force and body heat offered a strange comfort.
Her lashes swept her cheeks. “Lord Douglas, I do strive to be a good wife. If you wish company on a journey, then I would most obediently oblige you.”
“Ah! At least until the wire is sent, Lady Douglas?”
She glanced up at him, but he laughed softly, drawing her against him. “You really need to sleep, Skylar. Morning will come quickly. It probably would help if you’d tell me the truth about that dream.”
“I—I told you—”
“Monsters. Umm. It’s amazing, Skylar. I seem to be able to force almost anything from you—except the truth.”
“You don’t want to believe the truth.”
“Want to tell me about the dream?”
“I told you—”
“What? You told me what, Skylar?”
“It’s—gone. I don’t remember the dream.”
There was a strange disappointment in his eyes as he looked at her then. “Never mind, Skylar. Whatever—or whoever—those monsters are, I promise, you’re safe. They’ll not get by me.”
He drew her closer, moving his fingers through her hair, over her cheek. “Skylar, try to sleep. I’ll be here. Nothing will hurt you. No one can hurt you.”
But she sat up, looking at him in the shadows.
He was a man of so many contrasts. With his ruggedly hewn bronze features and straight ebony hair, he might have appeared strangely out of place at Mayfair.
Yet he did not. He looked very much like his father as well, wore the smoking jacket with complete ease, lay upon the handsomely carved bed with natural comfort.
Likewise, his temper could flare so quickly, his violence surge, yet in startling moments, he could betray a gentle touch of tenderness.
“I swear to you, I never hurt your father,” she told him. “I didn’t hasten his death in any way.”
He sighed softly, reached for her, and drew her down to the covers against him once again. Her cheek lay against his bare chest. She was grateful for the warmth. Glad to lie against him.
He stroked tendrils of hair from her forehead. She thought that he would not reply. That he did not believe her.
“Skylar, you’ve got to sleep. You’ll be sorry if you don’t, I’m telling you.”
“Do you believe me?”
“I’m not sure that I want to believe you now,” he said softly.
“Why not?”
He hesitated. “Then I’d have to apologize for attacking your stagecoach, wouldn’t I?”
She smiled and closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“But then again, maybe not. You were out here to lay claim to my property, hmm?”
“Have I managed to claim any?”
“You might be surprised,” he murmured. “Go to sleep, Skylar.”
She lay with her cheek against his heart and listened to its beat.
And slept.
It was early when he awakened her, ridiculously early.
She’d fallen into a deep, restful sleep, so she was especially irritated when the covers were wrenched from her and she heard, “Up, Lady Douglas. Thirty minutes, and we’re on our way.”
She grabbed the covers, dragging them back over her head.
Once again, they were wrenched away. She still didn’t bother to open her eyes. “I can’t!” she murmured. “You’ll have to go without me.”
Then she felt a stinging swat on her backside. Indignantly, she leaped up to a sitting position, staring at her tormentor.
Hawk was dressed in dark buff buckskin, his jacket and boots fringed. His head was bare, his black hair falling loosely to his shoulders.
“Lady Douglas,” he told her, his impatience held in check with mock gallantry, “your mule awaits.”
“Mule?” she gasped.
“Thirty minutes. I left you a mug of coffee by the water ewer. Get going.”
“If you’re serious about a mule, it had best keep waiting!” she warned.
“Thirty minutes. The mule may be patient. I am not.”