Rebecca (49 page)

One of the no-longer-hooded men followed him to give their jailer extra protection. They recognized him as Jackson Edwards, Curtis' friend who had joined them for the picnic. None of the men was willing to test the strength and wiles of Lord Foxbridge.

Clarisse stared at Edwards, remembering that she had brought him to Beckwith Grange and her bed. When he grinned knowingly at her, she snarled out a curse which brought laughter from his comrades. She flushed. When she had thought she had seduced him, he simply had been using her.

Drawing the gun he had been afraid to reveal before, Curtis laughed victoriously. He shoved Clarisse into Nicholas' arms.

Quietly, he asked, “Are you unharmed, Clarisse?”

Daggers of hate glowed in her green eyes as she stated, “It is a little late for honesty, isn't it, Nicholas? You could have been more concerned with my welfare before you sucked me into this craziness.”

“I can only say I'm sorry. I had hoped to win Rebecca's release, but I miscalculated. She was free already.”

“Rebecca! It's always Rebecca!” She glared at the woman standing in the far edge of the light from the torches. “I hope you and your Rebecca burn in hell together, Nicholas Wythe!”

Curtis had been enjoying the exchange but, regretfully, he interrupted to say with false courtesy, “Excuse me, Miss Beckwith. You may be having fun venting your righteous rage on Lord Foxbridge, but I must halt it.” His smile widened as he used his gun to emphasize his words. “Strip! Miss Beckwith, to your chemise. You, my lord, to your breeches. Stockings and shoes off as well.”

“How dare you?” she cried. Her fury refocused on her captor. “I'm not going to undress to satisfy a half-witted voyeur like you, sir!”

“Now!” he ordered through clenched teeth. “Do so, or die! After all, it's not as if Lord Foxbridge hasn't seen you so before.” He chortled with malicious humor. “Maybe you can convince him to be your lover one last time tonight.”

Slipping his arms from his dark riding coat, Nicholas said, softly, “Do as he says, Clarisse.” It would be dangerous to retort to Langston's taunts. They must not make him so angry that he would order his underling to pull the trigger on the gun at Rebecca's head.

She swore loudly. “I won't! I don't care what they do to you or to your Yankee camp-follower bride. Let me go, Curtis,” she pleaded. “I won't interfere with your plans nor will I tell anyone what I have seen. You don't want me. It is the Wythes you want.” With a sneer, she added, “You are welcome to them. I would be glad to help you strangle both.”

Grasping her arms, Nicholas shook her sharply. He had to force her to see that, no matter how much she hated him for putting her in the midst of this, the Wythes were her allies, not her enemies. Although she did not realize it, she was the first Langston would kill if the situation became unmanageable. He had not gotten what he wanted from the lord and lady of Foxbridge Cloister.

“You damned fool,” he said sternly. “Langston can't let you go. You would own him forever, for you could turn him over to the sheriff to hang at any time.”

“I wouldn't!”

Nicholas's ebony eyes glowed with fury. He would not let her selfishness destroy them. “Do what he says! You aren't stupid normally! Don't be stupid now!”

Fearfully, she looked up into the tight face of the man she had longed to have for her own. He was right. If she did not do as she was told, she would be murdered. When she looked past Nicholas to their jailer, she knew she would face complete debasement before she died. For the first time in her life, she had to accept that her pretty face and full curves were not going to bend a man to her will. Neither Nicholas nor Curtis would allow her to manipulate them one against the other to gain her freedom. With a sob, she reached for the hooks of her ruined costume. Her fingers trembled violently.

“Let me help,” offered Nicholas, softly, as he saw her struggling with the many small fasteners. He had undressed to his dark breeches as had been ordered.

His kindness completed the destruction of her composure. She burst into tears and clung to him as he undid the dress. Although she had dreamed of him doing exactly that, she had never expected the dream to darken to this nightmare.

With her face against his bare chest, she could not see that, as he helped her remove her clothes, his eyes remained on Rebecca's. The gun pointed unerringly at her temple. He wondered why she was not being treated the same as them. A flash of horror erupted through him. Langston had something planned for her far worse than the death they faced.

Curtis watched with pleasure as they obeyed his orders. He kicked the pile of discarded clothes into the gap in the tunnel floor. “Very good. Now you have no means of escaping my little cage. I will leave you here alone to enjoy yourselves as you wish. As I said before, you, my dear Clarisse, shall have the night to convince Lord Foxbridge that he wants you again. You need have no worry of chaperones. I'm afraid it won't be comfortable, for Lady Foxbridge destroyed the comforts I offered her. I surmise the cot she used is at the bottom of the chasm.”

He signaled to his crony. Together they crossed the plank and started to pull it away to maroon the prisoners. Nicholas leapt forward. He was not quick enough to halt them. With a curse, he gripped the board as it hung partway over the chasm. The well-honed muscles of his back stood out against his skin as he fought to bring it back toward him. In the first seconds, as he surprised them with his attempt, he pulled it toward him.

The two men on the other side battled him in a deadly tug of war. Rebecca watched in wide-eyed fear. She was afraid to make a sound to break her husband's concentration and send him hurtling into the pit.

Nicholas strained to hold the board, but his sweat-encased hands slipped on its rough surface. The muscles along his bare body tightened with the effort. When he saw small hands grasp hold also, he grinned with renewed determination. Clarisse had joined him to effect their escape.

It was useless, for Langston called for help. All but the one who held Rebecca swarmed to him. With a mighty jerk, they pulled the plank to their side. Nicholas caught the woman beside him before she could topple over the edge. Together they dropped to the floor. As he gasped for breath, he put his arm around the sobbing Clarisse. She buried her face against his bare chest. They huddled in defeat on the damp floor.

Across the impassible chasm, tears rolled down Rebecca's cheeks. Her husband had tried to save them, and it hurt her to see him fail. At a laugh, her eyes rose to her captor's. He grinned a snaggletoothed smile as his hand ran enticingly along her body. She screamed.

Langston turned at the sound. “Keep your hands off her, Dobbs! If you can't wait, you won't get your opportunity to enjoy the widowed Lady Foxbridge.”

Her face blanched at the dual threat. She had not thought that Curtis would turn her over to his men to be ravaged. Then she realized it was the punishment he had devised to make her pay for escaping his prison and causing him to look like a fool before his men.

“Please,” she begged, “don't do this to us.” It was no time for pride. If he wanted them to debase themselves before him, they had other options. “I have told you I will do whatever you wish if you don't hurt Nicholas.”

He laughed and sauntered over to where the chastised man had tightened his grip painfully on her. Waving aside the gun, he put his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to look into his eyes. “My sweet, naive Rebecca, you have no idea how infuriated it made me to discover that you had fled from my little cage.”

“Langston!” demanded Nicholas. He was on his feet again. His fists were clenched impotently as his side. “Leave Rebecca with us.”

“No, no, my lord. Lady Foxbridge will be helping me prepare for your demise.”

“You will never have Rebecca.”

He laughed in response. “I shall and my men shall and the hangman as well. When it is learned that Lady Foxbridge murdered you and your mistress in a fit of jealous spite, she will meet her end quite nicely in a hangman's noose.”

“I will them the truth!” cried Rebecca. Her voice trembled as she fought her fear. “You will hang! Not me!”

“Who would believe a traitorous Yankee determined to destroy the man who played her false from the beginning by taking her away from her family and the man she loved? After the scene portrayed by Nicholas and his so willing Clarisse tonight, nobody will suspect that you didn't discover them dressed as they are now together in bed.”

Clarisse shrieked, “Curtis, reconsider! Marry Eliza, then get rid of her, too. You have made it clear on more than one occasion that you are interested in me. Marry me. That will protect your secret, for a wife cannot testify against her husband. You will have the Cloister and a wife who brings you more wealth.”

He did not even pause to consider it. “Thank you, but I am not interested in you or any of your most tempting offers. Believe it or not, I am quite fond of young Eliza. She will be the perfect next lady of Foxbridge Cloister when her husband assumes the duties of its lord.” His eyes caught Nicholas', and he grinned superiorly. “In addition, I want the present Lord Foxbridge to spend his time in hell knowing that his sweet little sister is mine to use as I please.”

Rebecca snarled, “Do you think Eliza will want you when she learns you murdered her brother? The jury may not believe me, but Eliza will.”

Curtis grasped her and pulled her tight to him. “Are you expecting that you will be returning to Foxbridge Cloister immediately, my dear? No, no. I am going to keep you for myself here for a while. Then my men will be able to enjoy you. Only when we are finished with you will we release you to the authorities.”

“No,” she whispered. “Curtis, don't do this. Let me stay with my husband this one last night before you destroy us all.”

“I don't think it would be a good idea to leave the resourceful Rebecca unattended. It shall be much more fun to take you with me while I set the stage for your husband's so timely death, my lady.”

“Keep your filthy hands off my wife, Langston!”

He smiled broadly at Nicholas' shout and, twisting Rebecca to face him, forced her mouth under his. Her hands clawed at him, but he refused to release her. When his hand crept along her side to encircle her breast, her scream, muted by his lips, resonated through the cavern. Looking at Nicholas, he laughed. “I intend to put far more than my hands on your Rebecca, my lord. I intend to have her and your sister and your Cloister. I have worked long to arrange this.”

“Arrange?” whispered Rebecca.

He grinned victoriously at her, but spoke to his enemy. “Your brother Brad was simple, for his life as a roué garnered him enough enemies who wanted him dead. No one suspected there had been no duel. I wonder if he knew what would happen when I continued to ply him with drinks to make him so drunk that I could kill him readily. Your bereaved mother never did ask whom it was that Brad supposedly fought. It saved me having to devise some lies that might have been revealed as untrue.”

Rebecca watched her husband as the unbelievable story unfolded. Nicholas's face became hard with the cold fury which masked the much hotter rage beneath. Trying to pull away from Curtis, she cursed at him when he tightened his grip on her arms. Again he simply laughed at her.

Langston continued to smile as he admitted, “You, my lord, were much more difficult. You see, when I picked Eliza to bring me the wealth I wanted, I thought she would have only one brother to deal with. It wasn't until I came to the Cloister for the funeral of my dear friend Lord Foxbridge that I learned you possibly were still alive. My prayers for your demise were to no avail. How was I to know that you would survive the prison hulks and come back to England with a wife?”

She gasped. “The duel!
You
fixed the gun to jam!” She closed her eyes in agony as she recalled how blithely she had given him the weapon. Thinking he was their friend, she had not questioned his report. She should have realized that he could not have fired the gun behind the stable without her hearing it by Nicholas' bedside.

“Royce owed me a favor that I decided to collect on painlessly. He knew there was no danger to him.” Langston clutched Rebecca's face between his fingers. Squeezing her cheeks until she gasped in pain, he glared at her shocked face. “You saved Nicholas that day by being there to aid him as soon as he fell. Otherwise, he would have been returned to Foxbridge Cloister as a corpse.” He smiled. “I didn't want to kill you then, Rebecca, for I have been very anxious to enjoy what you offer.”

“I won't—”

“But you will, my dear.” He turned to mock the man who had been listening in silence. “Did you know you had an enemy plotting against you, my lord? Is that why you made a will leaving all of Foxbridge Cloister to a pretty lass named Rebecca Wythe?” He laughed at her astonishment. “You didn't know that? The estate isn't entailed. It goes to whomever the present lord decides. When Nicholas dies, it's yours. Only when you are dead will it go to Eliza. You have stymied me too many times, Rebecca!”

“It should have taught you that neither Nicholas nor I are willing to die for your ambitions!” she snapped. She could tolerate no more of his gloating. “You are more stupid than I guessed!”

With a growl, he swung his arm back and struck her so sharply she fell to the hard floor. Through the thick heat of her pain, she heard Nicholas' raised voice. She huddled in agony, unable to interpret his words. She groaned as a boot against her side rolled her onto her back. In horror, she gazed up at the blurred face of Curtis Langston and watched helplessly as it came closer to her.

“Nicholas!” she moaned as she felt her sister-in-law's fiance's fingers on the buttons of her riding coat. There was no one to aid her. Her fists struck out blindly, but hit him. Her heel kicked him sharply in the shin.