Page 94 of My Darling Rogue
In her pocket was a gold bangle bracelet inlaid with three opals, two ten-pound notes, and a ripe, red apple.
The apple was for Arion, just in case she was questioned about being in the stables.
In the early afternoon hours, the large, sprawling building was a quiet place. The stable boys usually finished their chores well before the noon hour and now caught little naps where they could. The stablemaster was most likely in his office handling the business of paperwork while the grooms and coach drivers gathered in the mews, playing cards while waiting to be summoned to work.
Celia twisted her hands together as she made her way down the long aisleway leading to Arion’s stall. It was the spot where Bryan instructed her to meet him, but she was a day early. She wanted to get this over with. Indeed, the quicker the better. Once he had his money and a bit of jewelry, Celia hoped the man would be on his way. Leaving her alone forever.
She nearly screamed when a hand clamped over her mouth from somewhere behind her. Bryan’s fetid, alcohol-laced breath was instantly recognized as his arm wrapped itself around her waist. In this manner, he carried her to a darkened portion of the aisle where a ladder led up to one of the numerous haylofts. There was surprising strength in his thin form, evident in the scrawny muscles that held her hostage as he manhandled her.
Setting Celia down on her feet, Bryan held her close while also pushing her forward until her chin rested on one of the ladder’s rough, wooden rungs.
“Climb, milady,” he gritted between clenched teeth.
Celia hesitated, but when he squeezed his arm around her until she could barely breathe, and the hand over her mouth clamped down even tighter, tears sprung to her eyes. She nodded the best she could and gulped in great drafts of air when he released her.
Hand over hand, clutching her skirts, she ascended the ladder with Bryan close behind her in case she considered changing her mind. Once in the hayloft, Celia moved as far away as possible. Eventually, she stood before a huge hook at the end of a thick length of rope. It was part of a pulley system, used to swing bales of hay up to that level of the stables.
Bryan followed, his watery blue eyes gleaming in the dust mote-laden dimness. An ugly grin split his features, his teeth yellowed and in need of cleaning. He’d declined so much in the past five years; it was difficult understanding how quickly it had occurred.
“Couldn’t wait to see me, could ya?”
Celia shivered. She’d not dressed for the chilly environs of a hayloft. It was much colder up here than it was down below where the horses’ body heat kept the stalls warm.
“Once I give you this money, you will leave and never come back,” she replied, pulling out the notes. She placed it on a hale bale, then added the bracelet to the small paper pile. “It is all I have,” she lied.
Bryan picked up the money, an expression of mistrust twisting his mouth into a scowl. “What’s this? I don’t want paper. I need gold. Gold sovereigns.”
Celia drew up straighter. She would not be afraid of this man. She was stronger than him, no matter that her hands were shaking. “It is more money than you would make in a year on a groom’s wage. And the bracelet is pure gold and opals. It is more than enough to buy your silence and give you a reason to go far away from here.”
“I don’t want paper.” He snarled again. “Hard to buy me drink with scraps of paper.”
“It is all I have. It is either this or nothing. It’s half the pin money the marquess gave me. I cannot give you any more. He will become suspicious of its spending if I’ve nothing to show for it.”
Bryan stared at her, frustration evident in the clenching of his teeth. He stepped closer, and Celia retreated until there was nowhere else to go. She now stood on the edge of the platform with the hard cobblestone floor of the aisleway far below.
“Half, eh?” A calculating glint lit his eyes. “Then you can get more?”
Celia choked on the bolt of panic swelling in her chest. “You must leave, Bryan! Please, I cannot deceive my husband in this manner. I cannot steal from him over and over to pay you. Your blackmail will cost us both our lives. Don’t you see that?”
The man moved so quickly, Celia did not realize his intent until he had her by the face, his hand gripping her cheeks and squeezing tight.
Please don’t let him leave bruises.
“Either you keep bringing the money I want, or I’ll take payment in other forms.” He brushed his mouth against hers until Celia gagged. “I’ve always fancied a tumble with a duchess. But I guess a marchioness will do just fine in your case.”
Celia grabbed his hands with hers, pulling hard until his grip loosened. “I-I will bring you money, Bryan. But I cannot do it this week. You must wait until I’m given more pin money.”
He released her with a cruel laugh. “I may hang around for a long time with that sort of motivation. But every now and then, milady, I need a bonus. The feel of your sweet cunny on my cock next time you bring me money will do just fine.”
Celia nearly vomited, overcome by fear and loathing and terror that Bryan would rape her as he had before.
“You want to keep this all a secret from your fine husband, don’t you? Don’t want all of London knowing you cuckolded him with the servants. That he married a whore.” Bryan sneered, seeing her pale features and delighting in them. “You’ll do whatever I say if ya want the bastard marquess to stand with his head higher than everyone else.”
* * *
“Sebastian and Ivywill arrive in London any day now,” Gabriel said over the meal they shared in the enormous dining room. “With Alan and Sara just behind them, no doubt. And if I don’t miss my guess, I imagine your brother and mine will appear at some point to assess for themselves how we’ve both taken to marriage.”
Celia smiled wanly while taking a sip of her wine. “It will be lovely to see them.”
