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“Did you see what the bitch did to me? She deserves...”
“Charles!” Newbury said again in a sharper voice that silenced him. He looked back at Alexa and smiled. “So you are quite capable of defending yourself—when you want to? And when you choose to, you’ll let any man bed you? Ah, there’s nothing worse than a depraved, wanton bitch who’s a liar into the bargain! Look what you have done to my poor nephew, who treated you honorably and offered you marriage. And then, of course...shall we ask our silent Nicholas what he thinks? After all, we must not forget that he has been the one to suffer the most for his misguidedly foolish notion that you might need protection from... Well, at any rate, instead of speaking the truth in his own defense he chose to uphold your lie in yours. And all for nothing, as it turns out. Such a wasted, useless sacrifice. Being chained like a dog to be flogged daily...”
Her face turning white, Alexa repeated in a stunned whisper, “To be... Oh God, no! Every day? Why? Why wasn’t I told? Why wasn’t I put on trail and questioned also? If I had thought...”
“Why,” Charles said behind her in a voice filled with vindictiveness, “you were on trail in a way. It all depended on what Embry might say, you see. And had he told the truth, why then, my dear Lady Travers, I might have had you many more times by now, but under vastly different circumstances; especially since you seem to enjoy frequenting brothels and receiving your payment in gold chains to flaunt about your hips. And I would not have been the only one to mount you either, bitch!”
“Charles, Charles! She’s your fiancée, after all, and we must remember that the trial is over and the sentence has been passed but not yet fully executed. It’s not pleasant to be made whipping boy for a confessed whore, is it, Nicholas? Tell me again, do you enjoy being flogged?”
“No!” Alexa cried out frantically, pulling at the door. “Oh don’t! Don’t!” But Newbury had already looked at Brown and nodded, and she had to watch all over again and feel her own body flinch as if the lash had embraced it too at the same time.
“Well? That was enjoyable?”
“No. Damn you, no! I—do not find it—enjoyable in the least. Does that please you?”
He’d had to force the words out. He was in agony, and his torment was all because of her. I cannot stand it, Alexa thought. I cannot stand it! How can he? She saw Newbury watching her again as if he waited, and knew what he waited for.
“What are your conditions?” This time it was her turn to force words to emerge from her dry throat. “Tell me what they are and I will meet them, damn you! But if all you needed was my admission that I lied deliberately, then you have it already and you can let us go.”
“Us? Why you’re quite free to leave when you please, of course, but there is unfinished business here, I’m afraid. I’m sure my nephew will be glad to loan you his carriage, if not his escort as well.”
“And the alternative?” It was a question she had not really needed to ask, and as he answered it and the door was unlocked for her Alexa was conscious of their eyes on her. Not Nicholas, who had never once acknowledged her presence there; but the man Newbury called Brown— and Charles—and another man who was introduced as Partridge, of all things—and New
bury himself, her whoreson father. All of them on one side of the scale and on the other herself—her body and her wits staked in a last, desperate gamble that might still lose her the only prize that she wanted above all.
“Nicholas?” She had not dared to touch him, seeing the way he flinched almost instinctively when she had stretched out her hands to him. “Please, try to understand? Please—I could not stand...”
He was sitting on the floor where they had left him, with his knees drawn up; and his newly bearded face, concealed by his clasped hands, rested on his knees as he remained hunched over and silent. Until she said on a despairing note, “Please, I...I love you, Nicholas!”
And then, without lifting his head, he said indifferently: “Then I’m sorry for you, poor Alexa, for there’s not much of me left that is as I was, and that not worth the marring of your soft and silken skin. I have had enough time to grow used to the whip, and you should have let them finish what they started and thought only of yourself. Two fools are worse than one, I think.”
“Brown!” She felt herself suddenly grasped around the waist from behind and carried roughly backward until she was set on her feet in the center of the floor, gasping from having her breath cut off. “I said a minute, and you said you were more than willing. I’m impatient to find out if you’re still as great a liar as before.” Alexa heard Charles whisper something and Newbury laughed. “Strip her for us, Brown. She’s bashful as well as being slow.”
“Two fools are worse than one,” Nicholas had said without troubling to lift his head. But now he had. Was the thought of seeing her forcibly stripped of her clothing what it took to make him notice her? As Brown, a grin on his face, approached her, Alexa flung her head up and looked challengingly at Newbury. “I can do it myself, and you would enjoy it better if I did! Besides, I did say ‘willingly,’ didn’t I?”
Would he remember, in spite of everything, that she had once told him she could not undress herself? It was for Nicholas that she defiantly removed her clothing now, item by item and layer by layer. The green velvet gown that she had bought only because that particular shade of deep green reminded her of the color of his eyes. Five petticoats and a crinoline—corded, lined with horsehair and finished with braid straw at the hem. The very latest thing, she had been told; but perhaps men did not appreciate such things. Removing her tightly laced corset was more difficult than all the rest, and in the end Alexa had to call on Brown to help her. Why was the human body supposed to be kept hidden? Was it only for the secret excitement of the prurient, since anything natural and open was no longer exciting? It felt good to be rid of her clothes again, even if she had to shiver slightly from the cold. Let him see her now as he had seen her for the first time and still remain indifferent, if he could!
“Well, gentlemen?” The gold chain encircling her hips caught the light from the lantern and turned bronze to match Alexa’s hair. It seemed strange to her how her mood of bravado had actually turned into fearlessness, Alexa thought as she found herself posing for their inspection.
“Bravo!” Newbury applauded sarcastically. “And now, I hope, there will be no last-minute regrets?” It seemed as if Brown, like a well-trained dog, responded to every slight signal his master gave.
“Come along, milady,” he said, grasping her wrists firmly before her, and felt a momentary pang of regret at being forced to put scars on such magnificent golden skin. But then, perhaps she was one of those who might enjoy being treated like a bitch. What a bold and brassy piece of goods she’d proved to be so far, stripping her clothes off without seeming to turn a hair. But how long would that last once his Lordship wanted her whipped in certain different ways? Ah, it was almost a pity indeed, until he got to thinking about it. They wanted her looking at them to begin with, and allowed enough slack to squirm—and that was always fun.
Chapter 48
She had undone her hair as well as her clothes, and it fell almost to her waist in a rippling bronze river. He hated the color of her hair to the same degree that it made him desire her—desire to have her subjugated and cringing. All the more now, since the bitch had managed to surprise him and leave his poor nephew gasping like a beached fish. He should, in fact, start her first lesson off by allowing Brown and Partridge to explore and handle her thoroughly until she lost some of her arrogance. And it was, of course, partly that arrogant air of hers that reminded him of his mother, along with her hair.
“Tie up her damned hair or cut it off!” the Marquess said irritably to Brown, who seemed to be taking an unconscionably long time to make sure she was secured—by the ankles first, and then by the wrists above her head— leaving her helpless and, by now, probably quite frightened. “I love you, Nicholas!” he had heard her whisper, and Nicholas, well-trained by him, had not shown any reaction except indifference. The Marquess smiled suddenly, an ugly smile. Brown seemed to be having difficulty with her hair. Why not...? He had already given Nicholas a swig of brandy from his silver flask, and now Newbury insisted that he must have another and get to his feet.
“I thank you for the brandy, but I’m afraid that I cannot, Newbury. Your disciplines for the good of my soul have made me weak. Don’t you have another and more willing victim to play with now?”
“I watched you watching her body as it emerged from her clothes,” Newbury said softly. “Didn’t the sight of it arouse some emotion in you? Even pity, perhaps?”
“She has a beautiful body and a skin like gold silk that it would be a shame to spoil, but you will do as you will, I suppose. Why ask me for an opinion when you have taught me that I should have none of my own? Perhaps she enjoys putting herself on exhibition. Why should I care?” And then, pushing his fingers through his hair almost angrily, Nicholas said, “Oh damn! I have not had brandy to drink for so long that I’m probably a little drunk; and if I must be on my feet to please you, then you will have to help me.”
“Tie up her hair so that it will not get in the way,” the Marquess had instructed him. “Brown does not seem able to manage, and you, I am sure, have had some experience with it. And if you cannot either, then we will cut it off, although that would be a shame, don’t you think?”
Everything about her was familiar, from the faint trace of her perfume to the high, pointed breasts he had loved so well. She stood as he had stood every day for what now seemed like his whole life, waiting for that first and least expected scorpion sting of the lash and anticipating each stroke after that. He had been afraid. Why wasn’t she? And then he closed his mind off to any thought that meant feeling, because his arms ached from having been almost dragged out of their sockets and his back and chest felt as if someone had dragged a lighted brand across them. He managed, fumblingly, to make a clumsy knot in the lantern-bright hair that hung against the nape of her neck.
