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She bore his rejection passively and made no stand against his mean and cruel ways. He flaunted his affairs openly. His mistresses made veiled comments at parties, and she retired to her lonely bed too much roused to sleep. She had been left with a dowry, which her husband had almost immediately appropriated.
Finally, she knew.
He had married her for money. She made new sketches of him. Unlike the earlier ones he seemed more narrow-faced and haughty.
Then her child died—she didn’t say why or how—and her entries were filled with her unspeakable loss and grief. It was harrowing and disturbing to witness the way the diary had changed from breathless anticipation to this bleak bitterness. Face in both hands she knelt on the carpet and wept because, she wrote, My heart is broken and can never be repaired.
She was locked up in her room for being quite deranged, but her diary did not reveal her as the least bit mad. She was just too, too sad. The richly decorated diary became sparse.
Her collapse into despair was total.
My life is gone. The loss and pain are indescribable. Indescribable. And insufferable.
Her last line was disturbing.
I had a glass of sherry, which has given me a confused, smothering headache. I weary of myself and yet I cannot die. Prayer and silence shall alone be mine. My hand is as cold as marble.
And after that there were no more entries even though there were more pages.
Chapter 17
That night I lay in scented bathwater thinking of Isabella Thorn Dufferin. The water felt slippery with all the oils and powders I had poured into it. I thought of the Count, the way he had used his cane to remove her hands from her most intimate parts. Then I thought of Guy.
I got out of the bath and dressed in my green robe. And then I had a thought. I went to the box and took the pearl necklace out. I put it around my neck. I pulled my hair into a knot at the back of my head. Let it be the necklace that draws him. Let me see if I can hook Guy Hawke the way Isabella Thorn had hooked the Count. I looked foreign. My neck looked too long and delicate. The pearls had their own luster. I knew I looked different. I looked as if I belonged to a different time.
Misty came into my room.
‘Wow,’ she exclaimed. ‘Where did you get that from?’
‘I found it,’ I told her.
‘Where?’
‘The dresser in the Countess’s room has a secret drawer.’
‘I see.’ She paused. ‘It’s beautiful, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
I touched the necklace protectively. ‘Why not?’
‘What if he doesn’t like it? My instructions are to take you naked.’
‘I am naked. This is just a piece of jewelry.’
‘All right. I suppose it doesn’t matter.’
I smiled at her. ‘I’ll take the blame.’
‘Damn right you will,’ but she smiled to take the sting out of the words.
On the way to the room Misty looked at me sideways. ‘Does this mean you are falling for him?’
I stood in shock. ‘Why ever would you say that?’
‘Why would you adorn yourself if not to attract someone you are attracted to?’
We reached the room silently. Misty blindfolded me and left. I heard the door shut and I took off my dressing gown and sat on the bed. Being blindfolded is a strange thing. It gives you a wolf’s sense. What I would not have normally heard felt heavy in my ears. The sound of the fire roaring and the wind howling outside. Ren had said that there might be another storm tonight.
Even though the room was lovely and warm I shivered slightly.
Then, in the corridor, I heard the sound of his footsteps. It was strange how acute my hearing had become. Nervously, I waited for the steps to pause outside, for the door to open, and for him to stand inside the room. As always he closed the door and leaned against it, watching me. It seemed to me that he leaned against the door watching me longer than usual.
He strode toward me and I felt not lust or admiration, but anger coming off in waves from his body. His fingers brushed my throat roughly and the necklace chain was ripped from me. In a daze I heard the pearls land on the floor and roll away in every which direction.
He leaned close to my ear. His voice was harsh. ‘Don’t adorn yourself for me,’ he said, and slowly swiped a pearl along my bottom lip.
‘Why?’ I whispered, hurt and confused. The pearl slipped and made a tapping sound on my teeth.
‘Because,’ he said very softly, ‘you are already too unendurably beautiful.’
My heart tripped in my chest.
‘And I don’t want you to play any little games with me either.’ His voice was laced with sensual menace.
I frowned. ‘I wasn’t playing games.’
He caught my earlobe in his teeth. ‘No?’
So quickly had his scent become familiar. ‘No.’
‘And another thing. Don’t put your hair up again while you are with me. I don’t like it.’
I drew a sharp breath. He yanked the pin holding my hair in its knot. It fell heavily onto my shoulders.
I licked my lips. It was insane how seductive was the call of desire, how much I wanted him to touch me, kiss me, fuck me.
He rubbed hi
s palms lightly on my nipples. ‘So sweet and so innocent. Little Lena: never been with anyone.’
Zara flashed into my mind. And the things she did to me.
His hand stilled. There was something dark and predatory about his stillness, like an animal that crouches before it lunges. ‘You have been with someone?’ His voice was silky, but oh! So alert.
My lower lip trembled. ‘The woman… The woman who kept me in the cage. She did things to me and I to her.’
He expelled his breath in a furious hiss. His fingers pinched my nipples.
I bit my lip. ‘I had to. To survive.’
His hands relaxed suddenly. ‘Of course,’ he said softly, and ran his palm lightly on the tips of my breasts again. The touch was so delicate that I shuddered. Gooseflesh scattered on my skin. But some violence lurked behind the gentle caress.
‘Have you never done something shameful to survive?’ I asked defiantly.
‘Yes.’ His voice was unemotional and cold.
I was shocked. I had not really expected him to answer me. ‘What?’ I whispered.
‘I bought you.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked gazing into the darkness of the blindfold. There was nothing there but darkness and the unknown. I could feel him frowning, thinking… Furious.
‘The woman who kept you in the cage… Did she hurt you?’
I thought of Zara. Of the sickening smell of her, of the skin that was like that of rotting apple or the things she had made me do for a tomato. I thought of how she had degraded me and humiliated me, taken my clothes, turned me into an animal. At that moment I rose above my own pain and realized that it was a terrible way to go through life. I knew I didn’t hate her. She was profoundly sad and lonely. I pitied her. I thought of her in her farmhouse and I wondered who would be in the cage now.
