Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas(10)

Dominick grinned. "It took some persuasion, but once George agreed to help, he had even more fun than I did. What a stuffy lot those scholars were! It was amusing to lead them on."

Roxanne's hands knotted into fists, and she fought the temptation to hit him again. This was all just a game to Dominick. He was no more serious now than he had been ten years ago. All of her pain, all of her agonized, sleepless nights, had been wasted. She was a thousand times a fool!

Spinning on her heel, she marched toward the sunken lane. In two quick steps he was beside her, halting her progress with a hand on her elbow. "Where are you going?"

"That's a foolish question," she snapped. "Back to Plymouth. If I can't ride, I'll walk. It can't be more than four or five miles."

"No," he said flatly. His grip tightened on her elbow. "You are staying here until I've had a chance to say my piece."

Faint sun-baked lines bracketed his eyes. He looked older, harder, and far more menacing than when she had known him before. For the first time she felt uneasy.

Well, she had changed, too. She was no longer the adoring, malleable female who had agreed with everything her sweetheart said. Jerking her arm free, she said, "You dare to hold me prisoner?"

He scooped her up again and carried her toward the cottage. "Having kidnapped you in front of an inn full of witnesses, I can hardly be in worse trouble than I am already."

This time there were no potential rescuers in the next room, and she fought for her freedom in dead earnest. He grunted when she drove her elbow into his belly, then jerked his head back when she clawed at his eyes. Her fingertips raked down his cheek, leaving red marks in the flesh above his beard. "Stop that, you little hellcat!"

She redoubled her efforts and for a moment she thought he was going to release her. Instead, he changed his grip, locking her arms by her sides. To her fury, he seemed more amused than upset. "It's good to know that my darling vixen hasn't been obliterated entirely," he said in a dulcet tone.

She caught her breath, unnerved to hear his old, loving nickname. Ceasing her struggle, she said in a voice that could have chipped ice, "I am not your vixen, darling or otherwise."

He turned sideways and ducked his head as he carried her into the cottage. It was a simple place, but clean. The whitewashed walls, rag rug, and well-worn wooden furniture had a certain homely charm.

He set her down again. "You can either walk into the bedroom, or I can carry you. What is your preference?"

She gasped, truly shocked. "So the purpose of your masquerade is rape?"

He looked startled. Then, as he realized how she had interpreted his words, he flushed scarlet. "Surely you can't think that I would ever force you!'"

Her eyes narrowed. "Raping my body would be a mere bagatelle compared to what you did to my heart.'"

The blood drained from his face, leaving him pale beneath his tanned skin. "I'm truly sorry for what happened, Roxanne, but I had no choice.”

She retorted, "One always has a choice! The ones you've made do you no credit."

"Perhaps you're right," he said quietly. "But I did the best I knew how."

The pain in his eyes caught her off guard. This was the private, vulnerable Dominick with whom she had fallen in love. She vowed silently that she would not let him cozen her again, but she felt wry sympathy for Eve, beguiled by the serpent in the Garden of Eden.

Trying to conceal her weakness, she said, "If you’re not interested in rape, why do you want me in the bedroom?"

"So I can lock you in while I rub down the horse," he said with exasperation. "I want to insure that you're here when I'm done, and the bedroom windows are too high and small for you to escape." He surveyed her. "Though now that I think about it, you might be small enough to get out that way. It will have to be the pantry. It's the only other door that can be locked from the outside."

Wordlessly she stalked to a door that opened from the kitchen end of the room. Seeing that it was the pantry, she stepped inside and slammed the door shut with a force that made the shelves inside vibrate. As he latched the door, she scanned her surroundings, glad that a high, narrow window let in light. The shelves were empty except for a few basic supplies and utensils.

A flash of reflected light caught her eye, and she saw that a small round mirror hung on one wall. She glanced in, and caught her breath.

Earlier in the day she had looked at her image and felt old and dull. The reflection that met her gaze now was entirely different, with snapping eyes and blazing hair rioting around her shoulders. She looked ... wanton.

The image was even more disturbing than the earlier one. She turned away and yanked her hair back into its usual knot. She had enough hairpins left to secure it, though only just. As the minutes stretched on, she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the spring chill now that she was no longer in the sun.

Why on earth had Dominick abducted her? Certainly not for love, since he had never loved her. And in spite of the way he had hurt her before, it was hard to believe that he was simply being cruel, if for no other reason than that the effort involved was so great. The whole mad affair must be a product of his warped sense of humor.

Presumably he would release her soon, but nothing could prevent the story from spreading all over the British Isles. For the rest of her life she would be known as the spinster who was abducted by the savage. People would speculate in hushed, excited voices about what the Wild Man had done to her.