Page 23 of Pride of Lyons

Honoria picked up the basket and trudged back over to the Apothecary Rose, where she’d been interrupted when making her cuttings.

Perhaps she’d been wrong about Thomas. Perhaps his affections weren’t engaged. She picked up the shears and resolutely snipped two stems in quick succession. Just because he’d been unceasingly kind to her ever since they married didn’t mean he’d come to care for her. Thomas was a kind and generous person at his core. She doubted he could act any other way toward a woman. Which was wonderful to know about her husband, and yet it left her completely unsure of any deeper feelings or affections he might have for her in particular. She dropped the roses into her basket, then picked it up and started for the rose beds at the far end of the garden.

Three more stems and she’d have enough to replenish the vases in the large reception room. Carefully, she grasped the small, peachy pink Celestial rose and snipped, dropping the sweet-smelling blooms into the basket. Two more snips and she placed the flower shears beneath the cut flowers and hefted the basket.

A tall shadow fell over the Celestial bush. The shadow of a man. Thomas had changed his mind after all and come back. All her misgivings vanished, shaming her with her doubts as they left. She would make those doubts up to him.

“Thomas!” Honoria whirled around and stopped short, her breath halting in her throat as though a huge hand had cut it off with a single squeeze.

Before her stood Lord Danford, a sickening leer on his lips and jet-black desire in his ravening eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Convulsively clutching the handle of the basket, Honoria stared in horror at Danford. There could be only one reason he was here. Valiantly, she swallowed back the gorge that arose in her throat as fear slithered through every part of her body. Think, she must think. Here, at the far end of the garden, she had no hope of anyone coming to her aid. No one would hear her scream. What could she do to keep him away from her long enough to run toward the house and safety?

“G…good afternoon, my lord.” She darted her gaze around the garden. He’d come alone at least. There were no footmen to help him debauch her. That was something.

“I believe it will be a good one, my dear.” Smile widening, Danford started toward her, and Honoria backed away until the prick of a thorn from the rose bush behind her made her halt.

Nowhere else to retreat. So advance she must. “Lord Braeton has just returned to the house…oh, no, there he is.” Honoria made her face relax in relief and raised her voice. “Lord Braeton! I thought you had gone.”

At the hailing of her non-existent husband, Danford whirled around.

Honoria dodged to the left, leaped over the low hedge bordering the Celestial rose bed, and flew down the parallel pathway heading toward the garden entrance. Her own harsh panting in her ears, she dared not risk a glance over her shoulder to see how closely Danford was upon her heels. If she could just make it to the statue of the griffin just ahead perhaps—

An iron hand clamped down on her shoulder.

“No!” Honoria shrieked as she was pulled relentlessly backward until her back thumped against Lord Danford’s chest. Dislodged, the basket she’d been clutching tumbled to the ground.

“It’s a good thing I like a spirited partner in bed, my dear.” He chuckled as he snaked his arms around her until they rested beneath her breasts. “It would be a pity to have to stifle you while we took our pleasure together.”

“Let me go.” She brought her fisted hands down, pounding his upper thighs as hard as she could, but the attack had no effect. “My husband will kill you if you…harm me.”

“Your husband will never know what I have done or not done, my dear.” He slid his hands up to squeeze her breasts. “He won’t know a thing unless you tell him. So that will be up to you.”

“He will certainly know when he comes out here and finds you with me.” Honoria batted at his hands, but that only made him squeeze her harder, making her breasts ache. If only there was some chance that Thomas would arrive, but he’d only just left her. She couldn’t hope for rescue from him.

“Lord Braeton was far down the road heading for your neighbor’s estate when I saw him last, my dear. He won’t return for hours.” Danford set his lips against the nape of her neck, making her cringe. “We will have all the time in the world thanks to my little subterfuge.”

“What subterfuge?” A sudden dread seized Honoria, her already racing heart speeding faster.

“A letter purportedly from your neighbor to lure Braeton away from the house. And you.” He nuzzled her neck again. “Affording us time for at least one good bedding.” He raised his head and gazed about the garden. “And though we have beds aplenty here, I daresay they would be damned uncomfortable among those roses.”

“No!” If help could not come from her husband, then she must find a way to save herself. “Help! Help! Someone in the house. Help me!” Honoria screamed until her throat ached. She pulled at his arms, trying to free herself, but they merely tightened around her further.

“Shut up, harlot.” Shaking her like a terrier with a rat, Danford half dragged, half carried her to the stone bench beneath the statue of the griffin. He forced her onto the seat and plopped down beside her. “Scream again, and I’ll stuff your mouth so full you’ll choke.”

Terrified by the threat, though unsure what he planned to do, Honoria nevertheless opened her mouth again. “Help! Help me! Hel—”

Danford lunged at her, pressing her back against the cold stone, the full weight of his loathsome body on top of hers.

Lord, he was so heavy she couldn’t breathe. Opening her mouth to try to gulp in some air, Honoria was appalled when her tormentor took that as an invitation and clamped his lips over hers. Squealing, she tried in vain to push him off her, but he settled himself deeper and thrust his tongue into her mouth.

Gagging, Honoria thought she might die. She pummeled his back, but she might have saved her strength. She tried to roll them off the bench, but he was too heavy for her to move. God, what could she do?

He shifted his weight off her legs, and she hoped for a moment he was relenting, or coming to his senses. Instead, the sensation of cool air on her legs meant he was pushing up her skirts. Frantic, she twisted her head away sharply, finally breaking away from his wretched mouth. “Help! Somebody, help me!”

Face black with anger and lust, Danford raised his hand, and she closed her eyes bracing for the blow…that never came. Instead, he simply seemed to disappear.