Seducer. Kayla GrayЧитать онлайн книгу.
And utterly alone.
As the dinner wore on endlessly, the sense of survival that had gotten her through her worst months, days and hours began to awaken. She hadn’t called on it for some time, and she suddenly realized she’d been existing in a semiconscious state. If she hadn’t been, she would have seen this coming. God, she could have prevented this entire nightmare.
In that moment, she knew there was only one way she would survive this ordeal—alone. By her own wits.
So she made a promise to herself. Never again would she allow her fate to be in the hands of a man. Every woman she had ever known lived under the control of the men in their lives.
And love? What about love? Madelaine’s innocent visions of that fairy tale had been destroyed more than once. She wouldn’t be fooled again.
No, there was only one person she could rely on for all the things she needed in this world. Only one person she could trust with the freedom of thought and choice she desired more than anything else.
That person was her—and she vowed from now on she would never answer to another man as long as she lived.
Chapter Two
Madelaine jerked awake as the clock in the foyer struck three. She had heard the chimes ring every hour since she’d been shown to her room at eleven o’clock. Refusing to go near the bed, she chose to spend the hours in a brocade wingback chair by the fireplace. An unseasonable chill filled the room, and she got up to poke at the fire, then returned to the chair and tucked her feet up under her dress.
She had been dreaming about the twins. She often dreamt of her brother and sister when she was troubled. It was as if Robert and Katherine knew she needed them to give her comfort. Madelaine couldn’t help but think about what her family would have been like if the twins hadn’t died. Mother wouldn’t have taken to running the roads in that damn carriage, always trying to hide from her sorrow. And Father wouldn’t have started to drink and gamble until he lost everything, including his soul. Right now she’d be at home with all of them, snug in her comfortable bed, dreaming of a happy future.
Instead, she was fighting sleep, trying desperately to think of a way out of this disaster her father had brought on her. So far, the night had brought her no answers. Leaving Geoffrey’s home was imperative, but once she did, that’s when her true problems would begin.
Where was she to go? She couldn’t go back to her father. Even if she believed he’d had second thoughts and might help her, she wouldn’t go back. Never. As much as it hurt to admit, he was lost to her now. He had sunk to selling the last of his family—his child—so he could continue to drink and gamble.
She could try to find work, but where? She would have to leave Charleston, but without a recommendation and with only the small amount of money sewn into her petticoat, she would have to find something right away. With all of the Intolerable Acts, it would be difficult at best. People weren’t spending money on luxuries like music and dance lessons. Their thoughts and finances were going to various war efforts—building a navy and strengthening the army were uppermost in many people’s minds.
Aunt Elsie and her cousins in London seemed to be her only option, but getting to England was going to be a tricky proposition. Blockades were increasing in number on both sides of the Atlantic, making travel dangerous. Few passengers were still able or willing to find their way across the ocean. People were having to declare their allegiance and then scramble to get to whichever side of the Atlantic their loyalties demanded. But at this point, Madelaine’s situation couldn’t get much worse. If she died trying to get away, then at least she wouldn’t have surrendered to becoming the mistress of a man like Geoffrey Townsend.
Aunt Elsie might not be thrilled to see her, though. An old feud that Madelaine had little knowledge about had kept the families apart since Madelaine was an infant. She wasn’t even certain of her aunt’s address.
A sound at the door startled Madelaine and she sat upright, listening intently. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled as she heard a key turn and the lock give way. The door cracked open and there was Geoffrey’s form in the firelight. His profile was directed toward the bed. Madelaine felt her skin crawl.
“What do you want, Geoffrey?”
“Do you find some fault with the bed?” he asked, looking with meaning at the covers, folded neatly back. “In other words,” he said, his ire rising, “why aren’t you in it?”
He relocked the door and replaced the cord around his neck, then tucked the key inside his nightshirt.
“I’m not tired.” She kept her voice level, recognizing the danger lurking in his tone.
“I see. Waiting up for me, hmm? I must say I’m surprised. But very pleased,” he said, appeased. He came to stand over her.
He placed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned down to kiss her. She turned her head, leaving his lips puckering in the empty space.
“So, that’s how it’s to be. You’re going to play the reluctant whore. How long do you think that will amuse me, Madelaine?”
“I’m not a whore, and I’m certainly not trying to amuse you. My preference would be that I have no effect on you at all, Mr. Townsend. And that you realize the folly in trying to purchase my affections.”
Madelaine gasped as Geoffrey gripped her arms and yanked her to her feet.
“That’s too bad, dear-heart, because you do affect me. And as for your affections, they are not what I paid such a ridiculous sum for,” he said, his lust-filled eyes raking over her body.
“It’s the middle of the night, Geoffrey. I’m tired. I want you to leave.”
“I know the hour is late. But it seems I can’t wait. I’m here for a taste of what I’ll be claiming tomorrow night and I don’t intend to leave until you oblige me. Willingly…or not.”
“I will never come to you willingly.”
His brown eyes filled with dark fury and before she could sense his intention, he shoved her to the floor and slammed his foot against her. She lost her breath as pain exploded through her midsection. She would have cursed at him, but words wouldn’t come as she struggled for air to breathe.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” he said, dragging her across the Oriental rug to the foot of the bed. She struggled wildly as he picked her up and threw her onto the mattress. Recovering her balance, she leapt up and backed away. He was on her before she could reach the door. He pulled her to him and held her while his lips assaulted hers in a wet, brutal kiss.
Madelaine felt the bile rise in her throat as he placed sloppy kisses down her neck. He smelled of brandy, and a strong, musky cologne clung to his robe and bedclothes.
When his lips reached the top of her bosom, she could stand no more. She shoved him away, inadvertently scratching him.
“Bitch,” he growled, slapping her hard across the face. “I’ll make you sorry for every second you continue to resist me. And I’ll start with the last ten minutes.”
“You haven’t been here ten minutes,” she said, pressing her palm to her abused cheek. She quickly moved to put one of the twin wingback chairs between them. She knew that goading him wasn’t smart, but she couldn’t help herself. The entire night had been a deliberate practice of patience and hers had run out. Her nerves were raw and the final insult was standing on the other side of the chair, demanding she surrender the only piece of her she had left to herself.
She would die first.
“I want you to know something about me, dear-heart,” he said, shoving the chair aside. It tipped and fell sideways with a loud thud. “I’m not a merciful man. It’s important you know that.”
The savagery in his voice gave Madelaine chills. Her breath was coming in shallow gulps as he advanced on her with excruciating leisure.
“I