Page 138 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
She sagged against the mattress, giving up the fight.
He said something to her, but she couldn’t understand the words. He was going to win. He was going to rape her when he wanted and there was nothing she could do.
Her hand dropped off the bunk, knuckles brushing the floor.
No, not the floor. Something he’d brought on board. The metal box. A heavy metal box that made a thunk as it hit the floor. Would it work? She didn’t have time to worry about it because he was unfastening his trousers.
She hooked her fingers in the handle, grabbed it and prayed she was strong enough. Lifting the strongbox in an arc, she slammed it into Paul’s temple.
He didn’t make a sound as he crumpled to the side.
Pushing him off her, she slid out from beneath his weight. Had she killed him? Dear God, she didn’t care. No, she hadn’t, because he made a sound.
She scrambled from the bunk, ran to the door and escaped up the stairs.
The deck was crowded with people, men and women, sailors and servants, all standing at the railing watching as the sails caught wind. She could feel the movement of the ship beneath her, knew they were leaving the harbor by the panorama of masts they passed.
“Help me, please.”
Several people turned. A woman cried out, and soon the entire crowd was staring at her. As well they should, since she was dressed only in a ripped shift.
A man came forward to offer his coat. She took it with gratitude.
“I need to speak to the captain,” she said. “I need help. I’ve been kidnapped.”
“That’s not necessary,” Paul said.
The man who gave her his coat stepped back.
She turned to see Paul standing in the doorway, blood from his head wound coating the side of his face. Two people rushed up to him, but he pushed them away, grinning as he approached her.
“Virginia, dear, you must dress. You know you shouldn’t appear in public in your undergarments.”
She grabbed the lapels of the coat, holding it around her as she stepped away from him.
“My wife has been ill lately,” Paul said. “You’ll have to excuse her. I’m taking her home to be with relatives.”
She glanced around and saw only concerned faces. He was going to convince them they were married. Or worse, that she had delusions and he was caring for her.
No one was going to help her.
She felt where her lip was still bleeding.
“You brought me here against my will. You hit me and tried to rape me.”
The word caused several gasps from the onlookers. She could just imagine the story they would tell. Let them talk. Let her be the brunt of a thousand jokes. Just let her escape.
“Come, Virginia, you know that’s not true,” he said. “You’re just overwrought.” He glanced at the crowd. “She’s a new bride and a bit shy.”
More than one man chuckled, but the women looked either worried or horrified.
“Get away from me,” she said when Paul took two more steps.
“You’re making a scene, dear. People are scandalized.”
“He kidnapped me,” she said to the closest woman, a matron dressed properly in traveling coat and hat. For a moment she thought the woman might help her, but then she said something to the man next to her and moved away.
“I’m not your wife,” she said to Paul, the comment eliciting gasps from the assembled women. “I’m the Countess of Barrett.”
