Chapter Forty-Five
She had been imprisoned in the whorehouse for almost two full weeks.
She spent her days in a restless, angry state, planning an escape or a murder—whichever opportunity arose first. When she wasn’t plotting, she found herself daydreaming of Jack.
Sometimes Lorna came to visit. The second time she had come—after that first visit with Kincaid—Candice had smacked her when she had tried to touch her, and now Lorna kept a wary, hungry distance.
Once she offered to help Candice escape if Candice would let her come to her bed.
Candice had managed to laugh in her face at the absurd and disgusting proposition, but she was shaken.
Lorna hated her as much as she lusted after her, and it was another thing for Candice to have to worry about.
She was afraid that her rejection of Lorna would make the other woman do something to hurt her in some scheming way.
About the only bright side to her life was that Kincaid hadn’t passed her around—yet.
It was his latest threat, to tie her up and let Lorna at her.
It worked—and it didn’t work. It would temporarily make Candice submissive.
But submission wasn’t in her nature. Soon she would be fighting him again, tooth and nail.
Once she had bitten him. He had beaten her soundly for that, leaving her body black and blue. It had been four days before Kincaid had forced himself on her after that, so in a way, the beating was worth it.
Kincaid enjoyed seeing her submissive. Sometimes the threat of Lorna—combined with a few hard slaps—brought Candice temporarily to her knees, obeying his whims. He forced her to do the things she hadn’t even done to Jack, taking him in her mouth until she choked on his seed.
Even if she escaped first, one day she would return to kill him.
It was the dream that sustained her and kept her spirit alive.
And she still hadn’t gotten her monthly flow.
She could feel the life growing in her, and it strengthened her resolve, made her determined not just to survive, but somehow to extricate herself from the situation she was in. She had the baby to think of. It nourished her.
It was midafternoon when Kincaid entered her room.
Candice stiffened every muscle and looked at him, hating him.
He was unperturbed. “I’ve ordered you a bath.
” He walked to the wardrobe and flung it open, riffling through the costumes within.
“Tonight I want you downstairs. You’re going to entertain a friend of mine. ”
“What?”
He threw something crimson and black on the bed, facing her. “Tonight I want you downstairs, dressed like a whore, acting like a whore—charming my friend until he can’t see straight.”
“Charming him? And what about later—when he wants to take me to bed?” She was horrified, thinking that her worst fears were going to come to pass—Kincaid was letting Lorna use her as a whore for the customers.
Kincaid grabbed her chin cruelly. “Perhaps, darling, if you showed a little enthusiasm in bed, I would be more inclined to keep you as my private stock. To be totally honest, raping you is like fucking a board, and it bores me.” He turned away.
Candice couldn’t react for a flat second, and then she was lunging after him frantically. “Virgil! You don’t mean …”
He laughed. “I do mean it, Candice. You’re beautiful and clean—I can make a lot of money from you. Tonight we start with Dick Anderson.”
“I won’t do it.”
“No?” He raised a brow. “Do I have to beat you to make you behave?”
She thought of her baby. She stared at the floor, her eyes swimming with tears. He laughed again and shut the door.
Candice sank onto the bed in despair.
Her worst fears were coming true.
“Dick, this is Candice,” Kincaid said, smiling, his hand tightly clasping Candice’s elbow.
“You were right,” Dick Anderson said, staring at Candice unblinkingly. “She’s gorgeous.”
“And feisty.” Kincaid grinned, his hand moving to her hip.
Anderson grinned. Feeling horribly self-conscious in a scarlet satin corset and a black beaded skirt that came to mid-thigh, Candice could not smile until Virge stared at her—and then she had no choice.
Kincaid led her into the salon, already full with patrons and prostitutes, and set her in a chair.
He and Anderson each took one on either side of her.
Anderson was in his late forties, husky but not fat, with a weathered face and gray hair.
His hand settled on Candice’s knee, kneading her flesh.
Feeling Kincaid’s warning look, Candice managed to smile again.
“Why don’t you sit here, honey,” Anderson said, patting his lap.
Kincaid was signaling for drinks. Candice got up and settled gingerly on Anderson’s lap. The man promptly placed one hand low on her abdomen, fingers spreading. They dug into her flesh.
“Have you talked to Arnold?” Kincaid asked.
“Sure have. He says he’d sell out for two thousand, not a penny less.”
“Hmm.” Kincaid sipped his whiskey.
“’Course, what with the rustling and Indians, he might feel obliged to change his mind soon,” Arnold said, his hand sliding up to lift Candice’s breast. She stiffened. He began fondling it, his fingers searching out her nipple and stroking it to hardness.
“Why don’t we make sure that he does?” Kincaid said.
“To partners,” Anderson agreed, raising his drink. Glasses clicked and they drank. “Honey, you are so quiet. How about a whiskey for the lady,” he called to Lorna. He nudged her neck with his cheek. “You like that idea, honey?”
“Just fine,” Candice managed.
The next half hour passed at a snail’s pace.
Anderson kept stroking and pinching her breasts.
The two men discussed business and the current news, especially the latest slaughter led by Geronimo and his renegades.
Anderson shifted Candice off his lap and excused himself.
“But I’ll be back.” He grinned at Candice and gave her a kiss on the lips. She kept her mouth shut.
Kincaid grabbed her wrist and twisted it. “You’re not living up to my expectations of you,” he warned menacingly.
“You’re hurting me,” she protested.
“Do I have to take you back upstairs again?”
“No.”
He pulled her closer, then glanced down her bodice reflexively.
“I have some business to attend to. I’ll be back in two hours.
Don’t think of doing anything foolish—Jim is going to keep an eye on you.
You are going to let Anderson drill you tonight, Candice.
I don’t expect you to show enthusiasm—just spread your legs. ” He released her.
Candice forced down her hysteria.
Kincaid stood as Anderson sat, pulling Candice back on his lap. “Dick, I have something to attend to, but I’ll be back later.”
“Fine.” Dick beamed, wrapping his arms around Candice’s waist. “We don’t need him, do we, honey?”
Kincaid walked out.
“Mmm, you smell good,” Anderson said, nuzzling her neck. Candice sat stiff and willed herself not to cry. His hand plunged into her bodice and lifted out a full, ripe breast. He squeezed and nibbled her neck. Candice closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she thought she was dreaming.
Standing in the doorway of the salon was Jack Savage.
And he was staring right at her.