Blackthorne. Ruth Langan

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      As she started to protest, his mouth covered hers, stifling her words. His hot breath filled her lungs.

      A sense of panic welled inside her. This couldn’t be happening. Not here in the home where her mother grew up. Not in a place where servants bustled about in the hallways just beyond the door.

      She struggled, harder now, as the panic grew. She kicked and bit and scratched, managing to draw blood along his cheek. But each time she fought him, he became more aroused.

      This was what he’d wanted. The chase. The duel. The chance to subdue his opponent. And then the humiliation. That final act of domination was, to him, the ultimate reward.

      He moved so quickly she had no time to react. Within minutes he had thrown her to the floor. With one hand he pinned her arms up over her head while the other hand fumbled beneath her skirts.

      The boyish smile had been replaced by a look of evil. “Now, cousin, I will show you how I intend to bid you welcome. And when I’m through, you will sign anything, if you know what’s good for you.” His eyes narrowed to slits as he straddled her and shot her a look of triumph.

      He was suddenly doused with a bucket of cold water. It poured over his head, causing him to gasp in shock. As the water spilled down his tunic and immaculately tailored waistcoat, he rolled to one side, releasing his grip on Olivia. She sat up, shoving damp hair from her eyes.

      Old Letty stood over them, holding an empty bucket.

      “Forgive me, m’lord,” she said apologetically. “I was coming in to help the young miss with her bath, and I seem to have stumbled over the rug.”

      “Why, you old hag! No one takes a cold bath.” His voice thundered with rage.

      “The young miss specifically requested cold water, is that not so, miss?”

      “Y-yes. Indeed it is,” Olivia managed to say as she struggled to her feet.

      Wyatt’s eyes were dark with fury. “You old witch. I ought to...”

      “I summoned your father and mother.” Letty’s eyes bored into his. “His lordship should be upstairs any moment.”

      “What is it, Letty?” came Robert’s voice from the hallway.

      At once Wyatt scrambled to his feet and rearranged his soaked clothing just as his father stepped through the doorway.

      “A bit clumsy I was,” the old servant explained. “And the young lord was kind enough to help me clean up my mess.”

      “So I see.” Robert arched a brow at the puddles of water on the floor. Then he flicked a glance over Olivia, pale and trembling, and his son, one cheek scratched and bleeding, working frantically to straighten his soaked clothes. “Come along, Wyatt. Leave that for the servants.”

      Wyatt’s eyes were chips of blue ice, his voice a whisper for Olivia’s ears alone. “One day soon we’ll meet again. Without the old hag to protect you. And then you’ll pay. Oh, little cousin, how you’ll pay.”

      When the two had gone, Olivia turned to Letty. “How can I ever thank you? I thought...” Without warning she began to weep.

      “There now, young miss.” The old woman drew her into her arms and held her until the tears had run their course. “Everyone here knows about Master Wyatt. He has despoiled many of our young servants. All of them fear him.”

      “Why doesn’t someone tell his parents?”

      “No need. They’ve seen for themselves. But they choose to look away, and blame others for their son’s flaws. ’Tis always the servant’s fault, and the poor young woman is dismissed and branded a slut.”

      “Is that what they will say about me?”

      The servant shrugged, unwilling to inflict more pain on this distraught young woman than she already bore.

      But though the words were unspoken, Olivia knew. “Why don’t you fear him, Letty?”

      The old servant sighed. “What can he do to the likes of me?”

      “He can have you dismissed.”

      “Aye. And then I’ll be forced to go to live with my brother, who is already overburdened with a sick wife. But I think Lady Lindsey has a need of me, or I’d have been gone long ago.”

      Olivia shuddered. “I can’t stay here, Letty. I have to go.”

      “Aye. Ye’r not safe as long as Master Wyatt is here.” The old woman thought a moment. “There may be a place, though from what I’ve heard, ye may be going from a fire to an inferno.”

      “Please, Letty. Tell me. I’ll go anywhere, do anything.”

      The servant paused a moment longer, then seemed to come to a decision. “I’ll speak to Lord Lindsey. If the past is any indication, he’ll be eager to be rid of you. This will relieve him of his obligation to you, and free you, as well.”

      With a swish of skirts she was gone, leaving Olivia to huddle behind closed doors, jumping each time she heard a footstep along the hallway.

      She knew, without a doubt, that she had seen, in Wyatt’s cold, unemotional features, the face of pure evil. A cruel heartless creature who would take what he wanted. With no apology. No remorse.

      The trembling started in her limbs, until her entire body shuddered. Still she forced herself to remain standing as she waited and watched and listened.

      A short time later there was a rap on the door. “Who...who is there?” Olivia kept the width of the room between herself and the door as it was thrust inward to admit the servant.

      The old woman’s heart went out to the girl who stood pale and shivering across the room.

      “Lord Lindsey agrees that it would be best if you were to go quickly. Even now the coach is being prepared.” Letty gave the young woman a sympathetic look. “Ye’ll need a cloak, young miss. ’Tis a long, cold ride to Cornwall.”

      Chapter Three

      

      

      Cornwall

      The English countryside, shrouded in darkness, rushed past the windows of the carriage in a blur. Occasionally Olivia could glimpse the lights of houses in a distant village. Such scenes brought a lump to her throat.

      How she missed her little cottage in Oxford where life had been so simple, so peaceful.

      “Oh, Mum. Oh, Papa.”

      There had been no time to grieve. No time to bid a proper goodbye to the villagers who had been her friends and neighbors for a lifetime.

      She leaned back in the carriage and closed her eyes. She had slept through part of the journey, but her dreams had been troubled, robbing her of rest. And so she sat on the hard seat of the swaying carriage, tense, frightened, overcome СКАЧАТЬ