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Fraser leaped for her like a starving man spotting a heel of bread.
“So eager you are. ” She slipped from under his grasp, darting to the window. She stole a peek through the glass, but the ship had sailed past, and though Fraser’s house fronted the sea, the view didn’t encompass the harbor.
She prayed Aidan was out there. She’d brought this on herself, and regretted it deeply. Why hadn’t she waited for him? He’d have helped her find a way clear of her problems without having to marry Fraser.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were watching for someone. ” He approached her from behind, spinning her roughly to face him. “But it’s time to attend to me. ”
She sputtered, struggling to formulate yet another excuse. Where was Aidan? In her mind, she urged him to come faster. She was running out of ruses, and didn’t know how much longer she could put Fraser off. As it was, her skin crawled and her stomach lurched to be in such close contact. “No … I …”
“Remember, Elspeth. Will you come to me willingly?” He nodded to his leather satchel, lying open on the floor, revealing the dull metal cuffs. “Or must I make you?”
“I am willing, of course, sir. ” She held her chin high, as though naught were amiss. “But I find”—once more she slid from his clutches—“you move much too quickly. ”
He raked an impatient hand through his hair, leaving him looking like an aging madman. “What’s the delay?”
“No delay. ” She watched as his eyes narrowed in suspicion, and quickly added, “It’s simply that a woman likes her man … to take his time about it. ” She swallowed hard, feeling revulsion at her own words.
“Take my time?” He snatched her back, his fingers curling painfully into her arms. “You’ve made me wait long enough. ”
He dove in to kiss her, but she tipped her chin at the last moment, and his mouth landed on her jaw. Undaunted, he ravaged her neck instead, then, kissing lower, he brought a hand to her breast, cupping her roughly.
He lifted his head to tug at her bodice, and soon discovered the laces were tightly knotted. He pawed and fumbled, demanding, “What have you done? You wretched girl. ”
She tried to duck away, but this time he wouldn’t let her go. Panic consumed her. Never had it dawned on her how weak she really was. He was too strong—she couldn’t get away.
Taking both hands to her bodice, he tugged hard, and the front of it began to rip apart. She used the opportunity to wriggle free, and ran to the hearth.
He stalked after her. “You postpone the inevitable, girl. ”
Her heart was exploding in her chest. She couldn’t dash about all night—he’d eventually catch her. And what would happen then?
No, Aidan would come. She knew it. She just needed to keep her wits about her until then. Fight until then.
“Inevitable perhaps. ” She hopped behind a sofa, putting it between them, and nodded to the window at his back. She forced a coy smile, and it felt like a rictus on her face. “But must we proceed before an open window?”
She could tell by his shifting expression that this mollified him. But there was only so much more stalling she could do before she’d be unable to stop him. He was a man, and just too strong.
“Then I shall take you on the settee,” he said.
She pulled her hands from its upholstered back as though they’d been burned. She was light-headed, now, her breath coming in frantic pants.
How would an epic heroine act? What would a heroine do? Calm. Her thoughts had grown hysterical, and she forced her mind to calm. Surely, there was a way to overcome. Surely there was a story like this one, a tale of weak triumphing over strong. Like David and Goliath. Or …
Her eyes went bright, flicking from settee to side table. And the fat candlestick burning there.
Like David and Goliath. Or Odysseus and Polyphemus. She looked back at the candle, her mind spinning furiously. Odysseus had blinded the giant Cyclops with a flaming stick. She swallowed hard, flexing her hands. She was no Greek hero, but the candle burned brightly, with a thick puddle of hot wax beneath the wick.
Fraser edged around the couch, closing in. But this time, instead of dashing away, she stood her ground.
He jumped for her, and she braced her legs against the back of the sofa, leaning and snatching the candlestick. Molten wax splashed on her thumb, and it burned her, focused her.
She swung for his face. The flame shrank but it didn’t go out, making a whip-whip sound like a candle in the wind.
She connected, stabbing him in the eye, and he screamed. Hunching into himself, he staggered backward, clutching his face in his hands.
She sprang back, shocked by the contact. Terrified he’d recover, she flung away the candle and grabbed the bellows. She dove for him, swinging it with both hands, slamming the back of his head, a hollow wooden blow that knocked him to the floor.
She stood over his limp body, breathing hard, her heart kicking furiously against her chest. She had overcome him.
