Say You Love Me
Page 29
Derek was too impatient to wait. He hauled the man halfway off the floor and started shaking him and slapping his face. "Easy, lad," James cautioned. "We'll have him talking in a few minutes."
Derek let the man drop back to the floor, but looked at James bleakly. "It's killing me, Uncle James, that he's had Kelsey long enough now to-to-" "Don't think about it. We won't know till we find her, and I promise you, we will find her."
Anthony returned and dumped a bucket of water on the caretaker. The man came up sputtering and coughing, and quite cognizant, because he paused very warily when he noticed James standing by his feet.
James gave him a particularly nasty smile. "Ah, we meet again. Now, pay attention, dear boy, because I am only going to explain this once. I am going to ask you where Lord Ashford is, and if I don't like your answer, I'm going to put a bullet in your ankle. The bones will quite shatter there, of course, delicate as they are, but what matters a limp to someone used to deformity, as you most certainly are? Ah, but then, you see, I shall ask the question again. And if I again don't like your answer, I will put a bullet in your kneecap. The limp you will get from that will be much more pronounced. And then we will move on to your hands and other parts of your anatomy that I am sure you won't miss. Have
I made myself quite clear? Nothing that you need explained it further?"
The man nodded and shook his head at nearly the same time. James squatted down by his feet and put the nozzle of the pistol he held right against the man's ankle. "Now, where is Lord Ashford?" "He's downstairs." "Here?"
Anthony tsked. "Damn me, didn't think he'd lie, really didn't." "I ain't!" the man burst out. "I've been downstairs. The only thing there is a cellar," Anthony said. "And there's only one exit from it, the same stairs used to get into it." "No, there's another stairs, I tells ya. When the door's open, it looks like any stairs. When it's closed, ya only see shelves on the cellar side. The door's closed. It's always closed when he's down there." "Show us," James said abruptly, and yanked the man to his feet to shove him down the hall.
What happened then occurred too quickly to prevent. The caretaker tried to dash ahead of them down the cellar stairs, perhaps to get behind that other door and lock it. But he had been sitting in a wide puddle of water in the entryway, from the bucket of water thrown on him. His boots were still too wet to take those stairs that quickly. He slipped and tumbled down them.
Anthony raced to the bottom of the stairs and checked the rnan's pulse, then glanced up at his brother. " 'Pears to have broken his neck." "Bloody hell," James said. "We'll have to find the door ourselves now. Spread out. Check for hidden catches, obvious cracks, or strips of wood that could be used to hide the door seams. If we can't find it quickly-hell, start breaking down the walls."
KELSEY HAD TRIED EVERYTHING SHE COULD THINK OF, keeping in mind that Ashford had slipped far beyond reality. She took on the role of his mother, admonishing, apologizing, making up plausible explanations for what he was accusing her of, but it was set so deeply in his mind that his mother was evil that nothing worked. He wouldn't agree that his father was the one who had wronged him.
From some of the things he said, though, she gathered that the mother had deserted her husband and son, but it was possible that she had merely been trying to save her own life, running from a vengeful husband-at least until her demented son found her, years later.
He'd killed his own mother. He'd condemned her because his father had condemned her. He'd killed her because that was what his father had wanted to do. And at one point, he became his father. He spoke of his mother as his wife. His thoughts were his father's thoughts. And Kelsey had to wonder if he hadn't been in his father's mind when he'd killed her. The punishment, then the sex. Something his father would have done. And Ashford was reliving it again and again with each woman down there, with each tavern prostitute he'd paid to use.
He was a truly sick man. But she couldn't find any pity for him. He had killed people. Two deaths at his hands were all he had mentioned, but she ts certain there were more. He had made too many people suffer with his sickness, and she was going to be one of them.
In speaking to him as his mother, she had merely delayed her punishment. She was frantic to continue putting it off. Not that she expected some miracle to occur to stop it altogether.
It was the terror of that beating that she couldn't face, had tried to postpone. She'd never been beaten before, in any way. She had no idea what she could withstand. And what came after? Death, if he still thought she was his mother? Or if he was partly rational by then, rape while she was still screaming from the pain already inflicted? Or both? She honestly couldn't say which she would prefer.
At the moment, he was himself again, not his father. But he still saw his mother when he looked at her. And she was still desperately trying to trigger some remorse or fear in him that would make him let her go. "Your father won't be pleased if you kill me," she told him. "He wants to do it himself. He will probably beat you again if-when he finds out."
That actually put a degree of terror in his own expression. Kelsey's whole body leapt with renewed hope. "Do you think so?" he asked, confused. "I know he will. You will be robbing him of his vengeance. He will be furious with you."
A noise upstairs distracted him. He glanced back at the last bit of material that still clung to Kelsey and slipped the knife under it. Her shredded clothing draped each side of the bed to the floor. None remained to cover her.
"Did you hear me?" she asked frantically, her panic soaring19.
He didn't even look at her. He dropped the knife to the floor, done with it-for the moment. He then looked down for his whips and tsked when he couldn't find them right off. He had to bend down to lift the material of her dress to find one of them, but he stood back up with it in his hand. it was short-handled, with many long, thin strips of leather dangling from it. He rubbed the handle against his cheek fondly. "Answer me, damnit!"
He scowled at her tone. "Answer you?" "Your father is going to be furious with you. Don't you realize that?"
He chuckled. "I hardly think so, my pretty. The old man died quite a few years ago. His heart stopped while he was amusing himself. Not an unpleasant way to die."
Oh, God, he was back to his normal self again, which meant she was out of time. Would begging help? She doubted it.
He laid the whip across her bare legs so he could remove his coat. Her legs wouldn't bend enough to dislodge it. And just the feel of that leather on her bare skin started her trembling.
He laid the coat over her legs as well while he started unfastening his shirt. It didn't cover but a small portion of her shins. But she hadn't expected this. Was he going to rape her first after all? "What are you doing?" "You don't think I'm going to ruin a perfectly good set of clothes, do you?" he asked. "It's too tedious, getting blood Out of good broadcloth."
Kelsey blanched. He expected enough blood that he was going to be splattered by it? Then the buckets of water were Probably there to wash the blood from him afterward, not her. The fastidious bastard thought of everything, didn't he? But, then, he'd done this so often he'd learned how to keep things simple.
She couldn't stop him. There was nothing else she could do-but let him know her rage, "I hope when Derek finds you he cuts your heart out slowly. You're a pathetic excuse for a man, Ashford, as crippled as your caretaker is. You can't even-"
She sucked in her breath sharply. He'd picked up the whip and slashed it across her thighs. Welts rose up in several places, but the skin hadn't broken. And he laid the whip back on her to finish undressing himself.
He'd done it to shut her up, and it absolutely enraged her, that she wasn't even going to be allowed that outlet for her emotions. Like hell she wasn't. "Coward!" she spat. "You're even afraid to face the truth." "Shut up! You know nothing about me." "Don't I? I know that you wouldn't know what to do with a woman if she wasn't tied down for you. You're a sick little boy who never grew up."
He picked up the whip again. She stiffened, waiting for the blow. It didn't come. He glanced at the door instead, frowning. She followed his gaze but didn't know what had drawn it. She hadn't heard anything. But he had. "John, stop making that noise!" he shouted. "You know better than to disturb me when I-how did you get down here? You can't come down here!"
Kelsey burst into tears at seeing James Malory suddenly filling the doorway. Her relief was so incredible it controlled her utterly. All she could do was sob. Perhaps because she couldn't really believe it. And if her mind was playing tricks on her ...
But then Derek was there behind James as well, and pushing his way past him. Ashford, well, he was merely indignant that James was there. But Derek, Derek he was terrified of, because Derek he had already tangled with twice, and both times had lost.
Derek took one look at Kelsey, then at Ashford behind her with the whip in his hand, and he tore across that room. He didn't even go around the bed to get at his target, but dove over it, taking both him and Ashford to the floor, where Kelsey couldn't see them very well, could only hear ...
James came over to the bed, removing his jacket as he did so to cover her with when he reached her. "Shh, m'dear, it's over now," he said gently. "I-I-I know! I-I can't help-it!" she cried.
He smiled at her, keeping his eyes tactfully away from any of her still-exposed limbs. And he made haste to unbuckle her straps. Anthony Malory was there, too, she finally noticed, standing by the end of the bed and watching his nephew pound away at Ashford. "Bloody hell, he's not going to leave any for us, is he?" Anthony complained to his brother.
James chuckled. "You might as well break that up, Tony. I don't believe the bastard is feeling any of those blows just now, and I hate to see good retribution going to waste, especially when he deserves so much. Besides, the lad needs to take Kelsey out of here."
Kelsey was sitting up by then, and quickly slipped into James's jacket. She could see for herself that Ashford was unconscious. But that wasn't stopping Derek from hitting him.
Anthony had to literally pull Derek away. It took a moment for the fury to fade from the younger man's eyes. But the moment they met Kelsey's, he came to her and held her close, very, very close ... and she burst into tears again.
James rolled his eyes. "Women. She was giving him hell as we walked up the hall, now she's safe, she cries. I will never figure that out, dan-Ln me, but I won't."
Anthony chuckled. "It's a womanly thing, old man. We ain't supposed to understand it."
James snorted, but he glanced at his nephew again and nodded toward Kelsey. "Derek, take her out of here-back to town, if you like. Tony and I will see to this scum."
Derek hesitated, glaring down at Ashford again. "He hasn't suffered enough yet." "Enough? Believe me, youngun, he hasn't even begun to suffer."
Derek stared at his uncle for a long moment, then nodded in satisfaction. Whatever James had planned for the man, it wouldn't be the least bit pleasant.
Derek gently lifted Kelsey and carried her out of the room and down the hall. Her arms had wrapped tightly about his neck, almost in a death's grip. "I can't believe you came-that you found me," she whispered. "How?" "My uncle had men following him." "There was mention of trespassers," she said as they mounted the stairs. "The caretaker put them in the stable. One might be dead. Your uncle's men?" "One of them was, yes. The other was your coachman. But they're both alive. The other of James's men came to tell him that you'd been taken. And they had followed Ashford here before, so we knew this was one place to look for him."
He didn't mention that he had feared they would be too late. She didn't mention the hell she'd gone through to postpone her "punishment."
She gripped his neck harder. "There are other women locked down there. This place has been their prison. We have to release them." "They will be."
"He's truly sick, Derek. He killed the proprietor of that house, the one who auctioned me." "He admitted it?" "Yes. He killed his mother, too, and God knows who else." She trembled again. "Don't think about it, luv. You won't ever see him again, I promise you." it was much later when Anthony and James came upstairs. Both of their expressions were still grim, after what they'd witnessed in that prison under the cellar. James had hoped to find one of Ashford's victims. He'd had men searching the wharf taverns and brothels all week. He had not hoped to find what they did, four women so terrorized and tortured that it was doubtful they'd ever fully recover.
Amazingly, they were in much better condition than would have been expected-aside from the scars they had been given. Raw wounds had been regularly tended before they were reopened. They'd been fed. Their cells weren't warm, but they weren't unduly cold, either, which had possibly kept down infections and the growth of germs. The stench they lived with and were accustomed to came from old congealed blood merely washed under the floorboards, and buckets for bodily wastes that were emptied only infrequently.
Only one of the women, a pretty young blonde, still had raw wounds and was the most terrorized. The others were covered in scars from their waists down, but they were fully healed and less fearful, since Ashford had stopped paying them visits long before. And what the caretaker did with them, well, it was nothing that they hadn't already experienced.
Derek let the man drop back to the floor, but looked at James bleakly. "It's killing me, Uncle James, that he's had Kelsey long enough now to-to-" "Don't think about it. We won't know till we find her, and I promise you, we will find her."
Anthony returned and dumped a bucket of water on the caretaker. The man came up sputtering and coughing, and quite cognizant, because he paused very warily when he noticed James standing by his feet.
James gave him a particularly nasty smile. "Ah, we meet again. Now, pay attention, dear boy, because I am only going to explain this once. I am going to ask you where Lord Ashford is, and if I don't like your answer, I'm going to put a bullet in your ankle. The bones will quite shatter there, of course, delicate as they are, but what matters a limp to someone used to deformity, as you most certainly are? Ah, but then, you see, I shall ask the question again. And if I again don't like your answer, I will put a bullet in your kneecap. The limp you will get from that will be much more pronounced. And then we will move on to your hands and other parts of your anatomy that I am sure you won't miss. Have
I made myself quite clear? Nothing that you need explained it further?"
The man nodded and shook his head at nearly the same time. James squatted down by his feet and put the nozzle of the pistol he held right against the man's ankle. "Now, where is Lord Ashford?" "He's downstairs." "Here?"
Anthony tsked. "Damn me, didn't think he'd lie, really didn't." "I ain't!" the man burst out. "I've been downstairs. The only thing there is a cellar," Anthony said. "And there's only one exit from it, the same stairs used to get into it." "No, there's another stairs, I tells ya. When the door's open, it looks like any stairs. When it's closed, ya only see shelves on the cellar side. The door's closed. It's always closed when he's down there." "Show us," James said abruptly, and yanked the man to his feet to shove him down the hall.
What happened then occurred too quickly to prevent. The caretaker tried to dash ahead of them down the cellar stairs, perhaps to get behind that other door and lock it. But he had been sitting in a wide puddle of water in the entryway, from the bucket of water thrown on him. His boots were still too wet to take those stairs that quickly. He slipped and tumbled down them.
Anthony raced to the bottom of the stairs and checked the rnan's pulse, then glanced up at his brother. " 'Pears to have broken his neck." "Bloody hell," James said. "We'll have to find the door ourselves now. Spread out. Check for hidden catches, obvious cracks, or strips of wood that could be used to hide the door seams. If we can't find it quickly-hell, start breaking down the walls."
KELSEY HAD TRIED EVERYTHING SHE COULD THINK OF, keeping in mind that Ashford had slipped far beyond reality. She took on the role of his mother, admonishing, apologizing, making up plausible explanations for what he was accusing her of, but it was set so deeply in his mind that his mother was evil that nothing worked. He wouldn't agree that his father was the one who had wronged him.
From some of the things he said, though, she gathered that the mother had deserted her husband and son, but it was possible that she had merely been trying to save her own life, running from a vengeful husband-at least until her demented son found her, years later.
He'd killed his own mother. He'd condemned her because his father had condemned her. He'd killed her because that was what his father had wanted to do. And at one point, he became his father. He spoke of his mother as his wife. His thoughts were his father's thoughts. And Kelsey had to wonder if he hadn't been in his father's mind when he'd killed her. The punishment, then the sex. Something his father would have done. And Ashford was reliving it again and again with each woman down there, with each tavern prostitute he'd paid to use.
He was a truly sick man. But she couldn't find any pity for him. He had killed people. Two deaths at his hands were all he had mentioned, but she ts certain there were more. He had made too many people suffer with his sickness, and she was going to be one of them.
In speaking to him as his mother, she had merely delayed her punishment. She was frantic to continue putting it off. Not that she expected some miracle to occur to stop it altogether.
It was the terror of that beating that she couldn't face, had tried to postpone. She'd never been beaten before, in any way. She had no idea what she could withstand. And what came after? Death, if he still thought she was his mother? Or if he was partly rational by then, rape while she was still screaming from the pain already inflicted? Or both? She honestly couldn't say which she would prefer.
At the moment, he was himself again, not his father. But he still saw his mother when he looked at her. And she was still desperately trying to trigger some remorse or fear in him that would make him let her go. "Your father won't be pleased if you kill me," she told him. "He wants to do it himself. He will probably beat you again if-when he finds out."
That actually put a degree of terror in his own expression. Kelsey's whole body leapt with renewed hope. "Do you think so?" he asked, confused. "I know he will. You will be robbing him of his vengeance. He will be furious with you."
A noise upstairs distracted him. He glanced back at the last bit of material that still clung to Kelsey and slipped the knife under it. Her shredded clothing draped each side of the bed to the floor. None remained to cover her.
"Did you hear me?" she asked frantically, her panic soaring19.
He didn't even look at her. He dropped the knife to the floor, done with it-for the moment. He then looked down for his whips and tsked when he couldn't find them right off. He had to bend down to lift the material of her dress to find one of them, but he stood back up with it in his hand. it was short-handled, with many long, thin strips of leather dangling from it. He rubbed the handle against his cheek fondly. "Answer me, damnit!"
He scowled at her tone. "Answer you?" "Your father is going to be furious with you. Don't you realize that?"
He chuckled. "I hardly think so, my pretty. The old man died quite a few years ago. His heart stopped while he was amusing himself. Not an unpleasant way to die."
Oh, God, he was back to his normal self again, which meant she was out of time. Would begging help? She doubted it.
He laid the whip across her bare legs so he could remove his coat. Her legs wouldn't bend enough to dislodge it. And just the feel of that leather on her bare skin started her trembling.
He laid the coat over her legs as well while he started unfastening his shirt. It didn't cover but a small portion of her shins. But she hadn't expected this. Was he going to rape her first after all? "What are you doing?" "You don't think I'm going to ruin a perfectly good set of clothes, do you?" he asked. "It's too tedious, getting blood Out of good broadcloth."
Kelsey blanched. He expected enough blood that he was going to be splattered by it? Then the buckets of water were Probably there to wash the blood from him afterward, not her. The fastidious bastard thought of everything, didn't he? But, then, he'd done this so often he'd learned how to keep things simple.
She couldn't stop him. There was nothing else she could do-but let him know her rage, "I hope when Derek finds you he cuts your heart out slowly. You're a pathetic excuse for a man, Ashford, as crippled as your caretaker is. You can't even-"
She sucked in her breath sharply. He'd picked up the whip and slashed it across her thighs. Welts rose up in several places, but the skin hadn't broken. And he laid the whip back on her to finish undressing himself.
He'd done it to shut her up, and it absolutely enraged her, that she wasn't even going to be allowed that outlet for her emotions. Like hell she wasn't. "Coward!" she spat. "You're even afraid to face the truth." "Shut up! You know nothing about me." "Don't I? I know that you wouldn't know what to do with a woman if she wasn't tied down for you. You're a sick little boy who never grew up."
He picked up the whip again. She stiffened, waiting for the blow. It didn't come. He glanced at the door instead, frowning. She followed his gaze but didn't know what had drawn it. She hadn't heard anything. But he had. "John, stop making that noise!" he shouted. "You know better than to disturb me when I-how did you get down here? You can't come down here!"
Kelsey burst into tears at seeing James Malory suddenly filling the doorway. Her relief was so incredible it controlled her utterly. All she could do was sob. Perhaps because she couldn't really believe it. And if her mind was playing tricks on her ...
But then Derek was there behind James as well, and pushing his way past him. Ashford, well, he was merely indignant that James was there. But Derek, Derek he was terrified of, because Derek he had already tangled with twice, and both times had lost.
Derek took one look at Kelsey, then at Ashford behind her with the whip in his hand, and he tore across that room. He didn't even go around the bed to get at his target, but dove over it, taking both him and Ashford to the floor, where Kelsey couldn't see them very well, could only hear ...
James came over to the bed, removing his jacket as he did so to cover her with when he reached her. "Shh, m'dear, it's over now," he said gently. "I-I-I know! I-I can't help-it!" she cried.
He smiled at her, keeping his eyes tactfully away from any of her still-exposed limbs. And he made haste to unbuckle her straps. Anthony Malory was there, too, she finally noticed, standing by the end of the bed and watching his nephew pound away at Ashford. "Bloody hell, he's not going to leave any for us, is he?" Anthony complained to his brother.
James chuckled. "You might as well break that up, Tony. I don't believe the bastard is feeling any of those blows just now, and I hate to see good retribution going to waste, especially when he deserves so much. Besides, the lad needs to take Kelsey out of here."
Kelsey was sitting up by then, and quickly slipped into James's jacket. She could see for herself that Ashford was unconscious. But that wasn't stopping Derek from hitting him.
Anthony had to literally pull Derek away. It took a moment for the fury to fade from the younger man's eyes. But the moment they met Kelsey's, he came to her and held her close, very, very close ... and she burst into tears again.
James rolled his eyes. "Women. She was giving him hell as we walked up the hall, now she's safe, she cries. I will never figure that out, dan-Ln me, but I won't."
Anthony chuckled. "It's a womanly thing, old man. We ain't supposed to understand it."
James snorted, but he glanced at his nephew again and nodded toward Kelsey. "Derek, take her out of here-back to town, if you like. Tony and I will see to this scum."
Derek hesitated, glaring down at Ashford again. "He hasn't suffered enough yet." "Enough? Believe me, youngun, he hasn't even begun to suffer."
Derek stared at his uncle for a long moment, then nodded in satisfaction. Whatever James had planned for the man, it wouldn't be the least bit pleasant.
Derek gently lifted Kelsey and carried her out of the room and down the hall. Her arms had wrapped tightly about his neck, almost in a death's grip. "I can't believe you came-that you found me," she whispered. "How?" "My uncle had men following him." "There was mention of trespassers," she said as they mounted the stairs. "The caretaker put them in the stable. One might be dead. Your uncle's men?" "One of them was, yes. The other was your coachman. But they're both alive. The other of James's men came to tell him that you'd been taken. And they had followed Ashford here before, so we knew this was one place to look for him."
He didn't mention that he had feared they would be too late. She didn't mention the hell she'd gone through to postpone her "punishment."
She gripped his neck harder. "There are other women locked down there. This place has been their prison. We have to release them." "They will be."
"He's truly sick, Derek. He killed the proprietor of that house, the one who auctioned me." "He admitted it?" "Yes. He killed his mother, too, and God knows who else." She trembled again. "Don't think about it, luv. You won't ever see him again, I promise you." it was much later when Anthony and James came upstairs. Both of their expressions were still grim, after what they'd witnessed in that prison under the cellar. James had hoped to find one of Ashford's victims. He'd had men searching the wharf taverns and brothels all week. He had not hoped to find what they did, four women so terrorized and tortured that it was doubtful they'd ever fully recover.
Amazingly, they were in much better condition than would have been expected-aside from the scars they had been given. Raw wounds had been regularly tended before they were reopened. They'd been fed. Their cells weren't warm, but they weren't unduly cold, either, which had possibly kept down infections and the growth of germs. The stench they lived with and were accustomed to came from old congealed blood merely washed under the floorboards, and buckets for bodily wastes that were emptied only infrequently.
Only one of the women, a pretty young blonde, still had raw wounds and was the most terrorized. The others were covered in scars from their waists down, but they were fully healed and less fearful, since Ashford had stopped paying them visits long before. And what the caretaker did with them, well, it was nothing that they hadn't already experienced.
