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Sorin… She would happily go anywhere with him.
“You look lovely tonight, Eleanor,” said Yarborough, interrupting the pleasant thought.
She frowned. Hadn’t they just agreed there was to be nothing between them but friendship? At best? At worst, she disliked him. Intensely. He ought to be grateful she’d rejected him so politely.
“Thank you,” she said, turning away. But the quick movement unbalanced her, forcing her to grab the balustrade for support or topple over. What in heaven’s name is the matter with me?
“You know, I think you may have judged me wrongly,” said Yarborough, repositioning himself to again face her.
Once more, she tried to turn away but for some reason was unable to do so. Confused at her sudden immobility, she looked down to see that he had his hand on her arm. She hadn’t even felt him touch her. “Sir Yarborough, please. I don’t feel at all well,” she said, her tongue seeming thick and unwieldy. It was an effort to speak clearly. “I don’t think this an appropriate time for such a discussion. If I’ve misjudged you, then allow me to review my opinion when I am in possession of all my faculties.”
A slow smile stretched his lips as he moved closer, pinning her between himself and the balustrade. “Ah, but it is the perfect time for us to discuss our future, my dear, dear Ellie.”
She could only watch as he came closer. Her head spun, the ground felt terribly far away, and she now began to fear she would faint. “Sir Y—” She had to stop and take a breath, having suddenly lost all the air in her lungs. “Please…remove yourself at…at once,” she gasped.
He didn’t budge.
With great effort, she lifted leaden arms and pushed at him with all her might. But all strength seemed to have deserted her. Though it seemed her body could only move at a snail’s pace, her mind raced. Something was terribly wrong. She licked her now dry lips and recoiled at the bitter taste.
The punch. He put something in it. Alarm should have jolted her to action, but she found herself incapable of more than another feeble attempt to dislodge herself from his embrace. “No…I won’t let you…” It came out as a whisper.
“My darling, in your current state you will let me do anything I please,” he said, his smile sanguine. “You’ve had too much champagne, you see. And thanks to your lack of inhibition, your passion for me can no longer be contained or kept secret.”
Hatred slowly blossomed in her belly, burning there like a coal straight from the fiery pit. The force of her anger gave her a spurt of strength, which she used to lift and draw back her arm.
The bastard laughed and grasped her wrist, holding it away. “Now, now. Don’t start our marriage off this way. After all, once we are wed I’ll have every right to retaliate in kind. By the bye, you may be thankful I’ve chosen to forgive your previous transgression against me in that regard. I blame Ashford for not teaching you your place. That said, know that I will not be so lenient again.”
Dully, she registered shock at the implication of his words. Bully indeed.
“In truth, I have no desire to hurt you,” he said, his gaze drifting down to her décolletage, infuriating her further. “You’ve grown into a beautiful woman.” A fingertip followed the path his eyes had taken, and her stomach knotted in revulsion. “I can make it pleasant for you, if you cooperate. If not…well, I leave it to you to decide the temperature of our marriage bed. Warm or cold, I’ll still enjoy my time between its sheets—and your legs.” His eyes were full of gleeful malice.
Panic, pure and simple, set in. If something didn’t happen this very instant to stop this, she would be in serious trouble. She was already in serious trouble. But whatever he’d put in her punch made movement difficult. It was making thinking difficult, too.
Laughter filtered in from somewhere below and behind her. It took a moment for her to place it. The garden. People were coming up the stairs from the garden. If she faked a faint, someone might come to help. They were coming closer. Closer. They were almost here…
“Perfect timing,” murmured Yarborough.
Disgust filled her as he leaned in and his mouth ground against hers. She would have screamed in outrage, but the instant she opened her mouth it was filled with his tongue. Nausea struck, and bile rose in her throat. All attempts to dislodge him were in vain.
He’s so strong! There was only one thing to do. Determined to end the revolting contact, she bit down hard on his tongue. The salt tang of blood filled her mouth, and with a hiss of pain he withdrew. All strength left her. As she slumped to the ground, she heard Yarborough cursing and another familiar voice shouting. Strong hands grasped her about the waist and lifted her.
No! She began to struggle against her assailant.
“Lady Eleanor!”
Opening her eyes, she saw Marston bending over her.
“She was feeling faint,” she heard Yarborough say. She felt him beside her, but hi
s voice sounded so far away. “I brought her out for some air, and she—”
“Stow it, Yarborough!” hissed Marston. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t bloody well run you through for this. Lady Eleanor…Eleanor!”
Run him through? He must mean Charles. “No,” she mumbled. “Don’t tell Charles. He cannot know…the children, the babe…”
“Hush, now,” Marston said at her ear. “Can you manage to stand and walk a little bit? You don’t have to go very far, just a short way.”
He sounded so desperate that she determined to try, and though it was difficult, she managed to take a few steps. Now that she knew she was safe, she felt so warm and cozy. Sleep beckoned. Someone was shaking her.
