“What have I done?” she cried. “You should have known I’d try to escape if I had the means. I have no idea who helped me, but I would have been mad not to take the chance.”

He moved then, walking around her in a slow, deliberate circle, and his eyes were hard and merciless in the shadows. He reached up and began unfastening the heavy silver buttons of his vest, using his left hand. “Did I not tell you to remove your clothes?”

For a moment she watched, almost in a dream, as his strong, pale hand moved down the buttons of his waistcoat. “You told me you hadn’t raped in decades, my lord,” she said in a measured voice. “Are you so devoid of novelty that you want to experience that particular unpleasantness?”

“Unpleasantness for you, Miss Harriman, not for me,” he said smoothly. He shrugged out of the waistcoat. The blood on his chest was darker, and it looked as if it had slowed or even stopped. His arm was still dripping blood, soaking into the linen sleeve. “But no, I’m not going to rape you.”

She stared at him for a long, indecisive moment. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because unlike you, Miss Harriman, in matters like these I keep my word.”

She was beginning to hate the sound of her own name, particularly when spoken in that contemptuous voice. But she knew he’d spoken the truth.

He took a seat, still watching her. “Your clothes, Miss Harriman,” he said again, in that silky voice that still made her uneasy.

She was wearing a high-necked demimourning gown of pale gray, with narrow hoops and lacing up the back. “Then I assume you simply want to make certain I don’t attempt to leave again, and leaving me in my undergarments should ensure that. Not that half your household doesn’t wander around in undergarments or even less, but they don’t attempt to leave the house.”

“Your assumptions don’t interest me, Miss Harriman.”

“Then what does?”

“Your obedience.”

As nervous as she was, she laughed. “Never one of my strong points. And I’m afraid I can’t take my clothes off. I need a maid to unlace me.”

“You forget the vast amount of experience I have divesting women of their most elaborate toilettes,” he said. “Come over here and I’ll unlace you.”

The very idea was repugnant to her, but she wanted this horrible nightmare to be over quickly, so she nodded, starting to get to her feet.

“On your knees, Miss Harriman.” His voice was calm, almost bored.

Her choices were not many, and they were all unappealing. She could move on her knees like some kind of supplicant. She could rise and run—he’d left the door unlocked and in this deserted corridor she ought to be able to find a hiding place, at least for a while. Or she could gather her lost dignity around her, rise and let him decide what he was going to do with her. Surely his fury must be fading. But his eyes still looked empty, as if someone else inhabited his body.

She made the calm, sensible decision not to incite him further. She slid across the floor, turning her back and presenting it for his hands, pulling her thick braid out of the way.

He pushed her hand aside, catching the heavy braid and pulling it, and she saw the flash of the knife. She cried out, putting her hands up to her head, certain she’d find nothing but short strands. Instead, her heavy mane of hair flowed loose around her shoulders. She let out a small sobbing sound of relief, hating her own weakness.

He pushed the hair over one shoulder, and she could feel his hands on the back of her dress, the knife slicing through the laces. “What did you think I was going to do, Miss Harriman?” he said in a silky voice. “I’m hardly likely to stab you.”

“I thought you’d cut off my hair,” she said.

His hands paused their work. “How interesting. Why should you care?”

She turned her head to look at him. “It’s the one pretty thing about me.”

“And why should you care whether you’re pretty or not?” He went back to cutting through her laces, and she took small comfort in the fact that he was taking his time, being careful not to cut her skin. He was favoring his wounded arm, and she wanted to ask him what had happened, but she was afraid to. Whatever it was, it had set this whole nightmare in motion.

She looked straight ahead, into the darkness. There was a bed, she could see the outlines of it. He’d brought her there for that, she thought, whether it be rape or not.

Her chest felt tight, and there was a low twisting in her belly that she realized with shock wasn’t fear. It was something far more shameful and elemental. It was longing.

“Every woman cares whether they’re pretty or not, my lord,” she said in a low voice. He’d finished with the dress and he pushed it off her shoulders. She slid her arms from it and let it pool around her, all without asking, knowing what would come next, but he expressed no approval. He was cutting through her stays, closer to her skin, with the same exquisite care.

“Not you,” he murmured. “You insist no man would ever want you. You pretend you’re above such things, you ignore who you are and what you want.”

“What do I want, my lord?”

The corset dropped around her, and she was wearing nothing but the thin cotton shift and her stockings and garters and the ugly shoes.

“You want me, Miss Harriman. You have since you first saw me. You are simply too dishonest to admit it. Take off your shoes.”

She’d been kneeling in front of him, and she sat back, reaching for the sturdy shoes that had been part of her escape. They were the wrong size for her, too big. The shoes that Rohan had supplied had been perfect. Whoever her aborted savior was, he didn’t know her very well.

She took off the shoes and set them to one side, then looked up at him. He was unbuttoning his shirt, and she knew this was going to happen, nothing would stop it. And she knew he’d spoken the truth. She wanted him, in ways she hadn’t realized she was capable of feeling.

She started to rise, and he caught her, keeping her down. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to lie on the bed,” she said. “You needn’t worry, I won’t fight you. I promise I won’t move and disturb you while you do it. It would help if you had laudanum—I was lucky enough that one of Sir Christopher’s housemaids gave me some the nights he chose to visit. But I’ll try hard to lie very still and not make a sound.” She even managed a shaky smile.

He froze. He’d pulled his shirt free from his small clothes, and he paused in the act of unbuttoning it, staring down at her in disbelief. And then he closed his eyes. “Oh, poppet,” he said, and put one hand to the side of her face, and she let out a choked sob of relief, turning her face into his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a raw voice. “If it were only about me I never would have tried to leave, but I’m responsible for Lydia. I have to take care of her, and I couldn’t be sure…I can take risks for myself. Not for her. Please, my lord…”

“Don’t,” he said. “I’ve hurt you.” His voice was filled with self-loathing. He rose, pulling her with him, and clothes fell about her feet, leaving her covered with only the light chemise. And then he stepped away from her. “Cover yourself. You’ll get cold. I’ll call your maid.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Why?”

“Why? Do you need to ask? I was about to take out all my anger and pain on you. I hurt you, I know I did, and I didn’t care. You’re just fortunate I came to my senses. There are blankets on the bed. Go get under the covers until someone comes.”

“No.”

He was in the midst of turning away when her flat, simple word stopped him. “No?” he repeated.

“Not unless you get on the bed with me.”

“Child, I’m not in the mood to provide comfort,” he said shortly.

“I’m not a child. And I don’t want comfort.” She wanted to move closer, but the mound of clothing lay between them. “If I have to do…that…again, then I want to do it with you.”

She was starting to see traces of the old Rohan, as he smothered a laugh. “As flattering a confession as that is, I believe you’d be better off if I forgo the honor. Get in bed,” he said, and moved away from her toward the door, leaving her trapped in the welter of discarded clothing. “There are no servants allowed in this hallway, so it will take me a moment to find someone to assist you. I’ll leave you the candles.” And before she could stop him he went out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

She stood there, frozen in disbelief. And then she kicked the clothes out of her way and went to sit in the middle of the bed. She counted to ten, and then began to scream at the top of her lungs.

22

It was only a few moments later that Rohan slammed open the door, looking as if he was ready to battle demons. Only his own needed defeating. “Are you all right? What’s happened?”

Elinor’s voice was raw from screaming, and she cleared her throat. “Rats,” she said.

“Rats?”

“I saw a huge rat in the corner. The size of a hedgehog, and he was staring at me out of his evil little eyes, and if I hadn’t started screaming he would have…”

Rohan had closed the door behind him by then, moving slowly toward the bed. “And you’re terrified of rats,” he said in a voice devoid of inflection.

“Absolutely terrified. There’s nothing worse than rats. Nothing. And this room is infested with them. They’re everywhere. I need you to rescue me.”

She saw the smile curve his mouth, slow, reluctant. “Do you know what you’re telling me, poppet?”

“Yes, my love… Come have your wicked way with me.” And she lay back, closing her eyes, bracing herself.

She felt the smoothness of the covers against her body as he slid in next to her. His hand on her face made her jerk, and she opened her eyes, startled. This wasn’t part of it. He was looking at her with such tenderness.