Page 68 of Masquerading with the Duke
‘You can’t hide from me,’ Redrow said in an angry hiss, his breath smelling of whisky as it peppered the side of her face. ‘I told you to expect me.’
Martina struggled like the devil. He took his hand from her mouth and used both arms to crush her against his body, his eyes glinting with malice behind his mask. She screamed at the top of her lungs, but knew it would do her no good. The noise of the ball in full swing, and the rain pounding on the hard earth drowned out all other sounds.
‘Let me go!’ she hissed.
He chuckled. ‘Not a chance. Fight all you like. I enjoy a challenge. The passive ones become dull.’
‘You’re supposed to be in London,’ she blurted out.
‘What the devil…?’ A trace of fear was reflected in his tone. ‘What is it that you think you know?’ He shook her hard enough to make her teeth rattle and her stomach churn. ‘Come on, you little jade. Out with it.’
Martina was fully aware that he intended to rape her and that she wasn’t strong enough to fight him off, especially as he had learned from the previous day and kept his body out of range of her elbows. Her only chance of escape was to keep him talking in the hope that someone would happen upon them and save her. Surely, as soon as the rain stopped, more people would spill outside. But her dark gown blending in with the night now worked against her. No one would find her here unless they were specifically looking.
The feel of his vile hands pawing her body gave her courage. She had not survived this long and avoided becoming a victim only to fall prey to his advances in such otherwise civilised surroundings. He wanted an explanation. All right, she would embellish the truth and provide him with one that would hopefully alter his priorities.
‘Why do you think I took up that position in your household?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Your girls didn’t really need a language tutor but the duchess knew that if she recommended me to your ambitious wife, she wouldn’t hesitate to take me on. Of course,’ she added, improvising wildly as she watched what she could see of Redrow’s expression darkening, ‘it was Lord Romsey who really wanted someone to watch you. That’s how they know you are a traitor in the pay of the French.’
He slapped the side of her face so hard that her head snapped backwards and made painful contact with the wall behind her, causing her senses to spin and a scream to escape from her lips.
‘You’re lying,’ he said, sounding as though he was attempting to convince himself.
‘Have it your way.’ She affected a casualness she most certainly didn’t feel. ‘You have made clumsy attempts to cast suspicion upon Mr Braden by manipulating his brother.’ She sent him a scathing look. ‘Did you really think that anyone would be deceived by those silly letters? Besides, the French have no further use for you and have betrayed you much as you betrayed king and country.’
‘Benoit would never…’
She could see now that she had given him pause for thought, and that he was a very worried man. She had told too many truths for him to dismiss her claims out of hand. He fractionally released his hold on her, sufficient for her to crudely grab the most sensitive part of his anatomy and squeeze with all her might. She had not survived the horrors of post-war Spain without learning how to protect herself against men with lustful intentions.
He yelled and pulled away from her, leaving a slither of space between the wall and freedom. She dived for it but he was too quick for her, pulling her back by the loose curls she’d left spiralling around her face as the fingers of his other hand grasped her bodice. She heard the fabric rip.
‘Damn it, you bitch!’
He raised his hand to strike her again and her opportunity for escape evaporated. Pressed against the wall by the weight of his body, there was nowhere for her to go. Martina cowered, covering her head with her hands in a futile attempt to protect herself when the blows rained down.
They didn’t come. Instead, she heard Redrow bellow.
‘You!’ he said.
‘Me,’ said an achingly familiar voice seconds before a fist planted itself in the centre of Redrow’s face and knocked him out cold.
Martina fell into Jared’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
‘Hush,’ he said, his arms closing around her. ‘You’re safe now. Did he hurt you?’ Someone held up a lantern and Jared scowled when he observed her face, presumably red and swollen from the ferocity of Redrow’s blow. ‘Damn it, I’ll kill him!’ Jared kicked the prone figure of Redrow hard and was rewarded by a dull groan as Redrow curled himself into a tight ball.
‘Steady,’ Lord Romsey’s calm voice adjured. ‘We’re collecting quite an audience. Best take Martina up to Zach’s study so that she can recover. I will deal with this.’ He pushed at the still prostrate Redrow with his toe. ‘And then I will join you.’
‘I couldn’t find you and was going out of my mind,’ Jared said as they took the servants’ stairs to the main part of the house to avoid Martina being seen in her dishevelled state. She held the ripped edges of her bodice together as best she could to retain her dignity. Jared slipped out of his domino and draped it around her shoulders. It shrouded her much smaller figure but Jared’s distinctive masculine aroma clung to its folds, reassuring her. ‘I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t make yourself vulnerable,’ he added on a note of mild censure, her hand tightly enfolded in his.
‘You told me he would not be here,’ she responded with asperity.
‘Ramsay sent word that they had arrived very late. You were dancing at the time, and afterwards you were engaged with the duchess. Then I couldn’t find you or him, so Romsey and I instigated a search. Here.’ He opened the door to the duke’s library, where his dogs slumbered. They got up and came to investigate, their tails wagging. ‘Sit down and let me make sure that you really aren’t harmed.’
‘I am all right, just a little shaken.’
Jared roared with laughter when she explained how she’d protected herself. ‘You pretended that you were in the government’s employ, placed in his house to spy on him.’ He shook his head, admiration evident in his expression. ‘That was ingenious.’
‘I had to do something. It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment. I thought if I mentioned enough facts, he would have to believe me and would then have more to worry about than evening a score with me.’
‘When Romsey hears of this, he will want to recruit you.’
