Too Wicked To Kiss Part 40

Rachel burst into tears.

"For that," Neal hissed, "I just might visit you in in the pantry. You're nice and motionless when you're trapped in the dark. It'll be much easier to get what I want." the pantry. You're nice and motionless when you're trapped in the dark. It'll be much easier to get what I want."

He tore through a row of bushes, laughing as the brambles scratched Evangeline's exposed face and ripped one of her slippers from her feet.

"Evangeline!" came Susan's panicked voice from somewhere across the fields. "Evangeline! Come back! He's out there! He'll kill you!"

Too late.

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Gavin's relief at seeing the true murderer taken into the constabulary's custody warmed him throughout the long ride home, but his euphoria disappeared the moment Blackberry Manor rolled into view.

His sister, his nieces, the Stanton chit, and quite possibly every single one of his servants crowded the front lawn and ruined porch. As his homecoming never previously heralded an all-hands-on-deck welcoming party, Gavin doubted his afternoon was taking a turn for the better. Particularly since Evangeline wasn't present.

He leapt from the horse a few seconds too early and almost took a header into a clump of rocks. He hauled himself upright and ran toward his porch.

"What happened?" he shouted, trying not to fear the worst. Which would be what? That Evangeline had left forever? That would be the worst for him, him, but surely not cause for his servants and houseguests to await him out-of-doors, hands wringing, faces drawn. but surely not cause for his servants and houseguests to await him out-of-doors, hands wringing, faces drawn.

"It's Evangeline," the Stanton chit stammered, eyes watering.

No.

"What happened?" he demanded again. Instead of sounding fierce, the words came out...scared.

"The bad man cut her," Rachel said, voice quivering. "Then took her."

Gavin's hands convulsed into fists. No No.

"Neal Pemberton," Jane confirmed. "Her stepfather."

He was wrong. This This was the worst possible scenario. He'd sworn to protect her. And failed. was the worst possible scenario. He'd sworn to protect her. And failed.

"I'm sorry," Rebecca wailed, and threw herself into her mother's arms. "I'm sorry!"

"What happened?" he said again, wis.h.i.+ng the blackguard was right in front of him so he could tear the son of a b.i.t.c.h apart with his bare hands.

Jane took a deep breath. "When I went to see my miniature, the twins snuck outside to play hide-and-seek. We hunted for them right away-servants glimpsed them heading to the blackberry fields-but we could only find Rachel. She thought Rebecca was hurt, but Rebecca was just still hiding."

Rebecca's sobs grew louder.

"Miss Pemberton said if she could talk to Rachel, she'd find Rebecca, so I took her to the gazebo. Except when we got there, he had Rachel captive. Miss Pemberton sent me to get help."

"The bad man cut off my b.u.t.ton." Rachel's lower lip trembled. "Miss Pemberton made him take her instead of me, and he poked her with his knife two times."

Gavin's lungs seized. Oh, G.o.d. Why hadn't he been here to save her?

"He..." the Stanton chit began, then faltered.

"Just tell me," Gavin growled.

"She was trying to get away, so he hit her. In the face." The Stanton chit swallowed and pushed up her spectacles. "She stopped struggling and went limp. He shoved her into his carriage, and that's the last we saw of her."

Gavin whirled to face his staff. "Ready my carriage," he ordered his coachman. "We're leaving in ten minutes."

He stalked up the porch steps, pushed through the crowd of people, and headed toward his front door. Neal Pemberton had included his home's exact location when he'd requested Evangeline's immediate return. It was twilight now, but if he rode all night, he'd be able to make it by dawn.

"What are you going to do?" the Stanton chit asked.

Gavin stared at her over his shoulder. "What the devil do you think I'm going to do? I'm going to kill kill him." him."

"You can't just...kill him."

He snorted. "I'm fetching my pistol and a swordstick. One is bound to do the trick."

Rose stepped forward, one hand on each twins' shoulder. "He's her legal guardian, Gavin."

"Not if he gives her to me...or dies." He flashed a lethal smile. "His choice."

Evangeline drifted in and out of consciousness during the long ride back to the Chiltern Hills. Every b.u.mp, every rut jarred her until the vicious thudding in her skull swallowed her completely into darkness.

She hated hated the dark. the dark.

It wasn't until they arrived and her stepfather dragged her from the carriage that she realized, at some point during the journey, he'd bound her at the wrists and ankles. She had to hop from the carriage to the house. Each awkward landing clacked her teeth together and set her brain pounding anew.

Her stepfather laughed and tugged her along faster.

He shouldered open the front door and shoved her inside so hard her chin bounced against the dusty wood floor. She lay there, tongue coated with blood from the impact, and fought the overwhelming sense of helpless desolation brought on by the unwelcome sight of her childhood home. After a moment, she pushed up with her bound fists and struggled to her knees.

Neal ignored her in favor of locating his bottle of whiskey. Evangeline spat blood on the floor. She watched him until he disappeared from view just behind her.

How could she have ever believed Gavin to be a monster? This This was a monster. Gavin was...Gavin was...wonderful. Although he'd made his fair share of mistakes, he'd risen above his past. He was capable of both change and love. Was she? She'd told him once that all wives were subjugated. Perhaps that wasn't so. Perhaps it depended on the men they chose as husbands. She'd lost a very, very good man. was a monster. Gavin was...Gavin was...wonderful. Although he'd made his fair share of mistakes, he'd risen above his past. He was capable of both change and love. Was she? She'd told him once that all wives were subjugated. Perhaps that wasn't so. Perhaps it depended on the men they chose as husbands. She'd lost a very, very good man.

Lost forever, because by trading her freedom for Rachel's, Evangeline had surrendered herself to her stepfather's custody. His legal custody. He'd never let her out of the house again, unless it was in a casket.

His footsteps prowled up behind her. Slow, precise thuds of his leather soles against the wooden floor. The footfalls stopped. His fingers twisted in Evangeline's hair, yanked upward. An involuntary squeak escaped her throat as several strands ripped from her skull.

She clamped her mouth shut tight. She hated to show pain. It brought him too much pleasure.

He let go, smacked her on the back of the head, circled into view. Smiling, of course. He'd always found moments of physical mastery both amusing and arousing. The latter scared her far more than his laughter.

Neal cast a slow, lascivious gaze over her body, beginning at her feet, up the length of her bound legs, lingering on her thighs, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her mouth. When his eyes met hers, he gave her a deliberate, mocking wink.

"All grown up, aren't you?" He drained his gla.s.s of whiskey and grinned. "Lucky for both of us, I'm feeling good enough to welcome you home nice and proper."

Gooseflesh erupted over Evangeline's limbs.

Neal arched a brow. "What's this? No tears? No pleading for me to 'just leave you alone'?"

No. She'd learned the hard way begging him to stop merely spiked his arousal. If Mama hadn't been there to protect her all those years...Evangeline's body tensed. Better not to think about those days. n.o.body was here to protect her now.

His legs bent until he nearly sat on his heels, face at her eye level, arms crossed over his knees. He tilted forward, licked her forehead, sniffed her.

She tried not to vomit.

He reached out and fingered the ribbon encircling her ribs. "Pretty dress. Too bad it's all dirty. We'd better get you out of this gown and into my bed."

Evangeline clenched her teeth and glared at him. He'd have to untie her to undress her. The moment her hands were free, she'd gouge out his eyes, and the moment her legs were free, she'd knee him in the b.o.l.l.o.c.ks and run out the door. She'd die before letting him touch her.

He rose to his feet, reached in a pocket, pulled out a ring of keys.

"I'd better go unchain a few servants. Cold enough to see my breath. We need a fire in here, a bath for you, more whiskey for me...Stay right here, darlin'. The fun will start the moment I come back."

With a smirk, he was gone.

Evangeline struggled to her feet and hopped toward the front door. She was just turning around to twist open the handle with her bound hands when her stepfather strode back into the room, another gla.s.s of whiskey in his hand.

"Now, now," he drawled. His brows arched. "What did I tell you I'd do if I caught you trying to escape again?"

Oddly, it took her a long moment before she could recall his threat. She'd no doubt blocked the possibility from her mind. She'd rather he kill her right here and now than lock her up in that G.o.dforsaken pantry.

"Ah." He smiled. "I see you remember now. It's not so very terrible in there, is it? So very dark, so very small, so very tight? We'll have to see if you still fit inside. I wager you'll be begging for my company once you've spent a night locked inside. Perhaps two nights. Or three." His fingers squeezed her upper arm as his voice dropped dangerously. "You'll stay in the pantry until you're ready to greet me proper."

"I won't go in there," she whispered. "I can't."

"You will."

When he pulled on her arm, Evangeline's knees gave way beneath her. She thudded heavily to the ground, legs limp, eyes wide with terror.

"Get. Up."

Her lungs wheezed. Her body shook. Her pulse faltered. She couldn't move.

Neal bent down, hooked the fingers of his free hand through the rope binding her ankles, dragged her dead weight across the room feet-first. He hauled her down the corridor to a tall narrow door that haunted her nightmares.

He flung open the door.

An icy draft rippled across her skin. The gaping maw of the long-abandoned pantry yawned blacker than ever in the absence of both sunlight and candles. What if he lost the key? What if he never released her? What if he left her to die?

He tugged her toward the open doorway. "In you go."

"Not again." She shook her head from side to side. "No. No!"

He hauled her forward by her ankles, dropped her legs, kicked her shoulders inside with the heel of his boot.

She thrashed, ready to die before being confined in that tiny slice of h.e.l.l. When he reached down to shove her face into the darkness, she bit him. Hard.

"Little b.i.t.c.h b.i.t.c.h."

He hurled his gla.s.s of whiskey over her head. It shattered behind her, sending a pungent spray of sticky liquid and tiny shards against the back wall. He kicked her the rest of the way inside, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to maybe break the bone.

No. He hadn't broken any of her bones this time. She was lucky. Ha Ha. Lucky. If she was lucky, he wouldn't shut the door and lock her inside. If she was lucky, he'd just kill her and have done with it. If she was lucky- The door slammed shut with enough force to blow strands of damp hair from her face. Keys jangled. The lock snapped in place.

Evangeline opened her mouth, but the darkness swallowed her scream.

It was worse than being lost in the walls at Blackberry Manor. So much worse. The pantry was darker. Smaller. Tighter.

Her limbs were bent. Cramped. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. The air was cold, dank, stale. The shadows smelled like sweat and liquor and fear. Or maybe that was her. She was a shadow now, too. She was nowhere. She was nothing.

Cobwebs clung to her cheeks and arms. Were there spiders in her hair? On her face? In her clothes? She yanked at her bound wrists. The twine dug into her skin until blood coated the bindings, but still she could not break free.

Something brushed against her toe. A rat? There. Skittering across the floor. She couldn't see, but she could hear them. Lots of them.

Rats could smell blood. Her wrists and ankles were wet.

They'd be on her soon. Sniffing her. Licking her. Biting her. She couldn't fend them off. She couldn't get away. She couldn't do anything but suck in great panting lungfuls of dry, dusty air and flail her bound limbs against the locked pantry door.

And scream.

Evangeline awoke in total blackness.

She reached out for Gavin and-couldn't reach, hands bound-pantry-Gavin just a dream. The back of her head thumped dully against the floor. She writhed in the dark, struggling against the twine that bound her bruised ankles and raw wrists. Strong. Tight. Impossible.

No. Never. She would escape even if she had to chew off her arm. Where were the rats? Perhaps they could chew her arm off for her. She bit back a hysterical giggle. No chewing. Rats must be asleep. Focus.

She rolled to her side. Twisted. Grappled for her ankles. The binding was too tight to slip more than the pad of one finger beneath the cord. Too tight. Too tight. Digging into her skin. Hurt. Pull anyway. Pull Pull.

Nothing.

Her heartbeat quickened. She tugged on the twine. Sweat dampened her skin. The shadows s.h.i.+fted. She couldn't breathe. Listen. Wheezing gasps. Her breathing was too shallow. Short, rapid, desperate gulps of air. Calm down. Try Try. No panting. No pa.s.sing out again. Must escape.

Her ankles throbbed. Her feet were numb. Her wrists were numb. Could she free her hands? Keeping her elbows tight together, she folded her arms until the back of her right wrist grazed her chin. Tight. Hurt. Ignoring the biting pain and the slick, tangy blood coating the cording, she bared her teeth and sawed at the twine, tugging and pulling and yanking and chewing.

She gasped. Recoiled. Spat. What the h.e.l.l was that? Cobwebs? Hair? No. Thread. A bit of the twine had unraveled. Good. Try again.