Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8 (12 page)

She’d told him she would meet him in the basement that night.

Rudolf watched her go, laughing inside to think of how disappointed she was going to be. Gerda had, indeed, given the note to Cord Brandt—but not before reading it herself. She had then divulged the contents to Hanisch, who, in turn, told Rudolf. Rudolf had then ordered Gerda to lock the door behind Elenore when she went to check on Amalia, confining her till morning. Cord would eventually give up waiting for her, thinking she had been detained by social obligations.

Rudolf felt no remorse in thwarting the lovers’ rendezvous. He wanted Elenore with Amalia, should she awake and become too loud and abrasive over discovering she was locked in her room with no vodka, and Ulda nowhere around to fetch it for her.

The brandy worked effectively—and quickly. Jade began to yawn even before coffee was served. “I’m sorry,” she said, motioning for Gerda not to pour for her. “I’m really more tired than I thought.” She looked at Rudolf and Marilee and teased, “You two won’t be too angry with me if I retire early, will you?”

“Of course not.” Rudolf graciously stood to pull out her chair for her. “We want you feeling good for our sightseeing tomorrow. I’ve got a full day planned.”

Marilee was also feeling a little sleepy but was actually relieved to have another chance to be alone with Rudolf to try and explain the way she felt. “Go on, Aunt Jade,” she urged. “I’m not going to be up much longer myself.”

No, you aren’t.
Rudolf wickedly smiled to himself as he escorted Jade as far as the arched doorway.
You’re going to be in bed a lot sooner than you think, my dear…but not to sleep.

He watched as Jade made her way down the dimly lit hall, then turned to go back into the dining room. He nearly ran right into Marilee who was on her way out. With fingertips to her forehead, she apologized, “I think I’ll say good night, too, Rudolf. I’m more tired than I thought—” A yawn consumed her voice.

“No!” he objected, sharper, louder, than he intended. Firmly grasping her arm, he urged her down the hall and into the parlor. Hanisch had obligingly made a cozy fire, and Gerda had turned out all the lamps and lit candles to provide overall ambience conducive to seduction.

The burgundy velvet settee glowed like a giant waiting and caressing hand in the soft light from the crackling flames. Rudolf drew Marilee down beside him, slipping his arm about her shoulders to pull her close.

Marilee felt more relaxed than sleepy. At first she enjoyed the crackle of the fire, the warm atmosphere. Another glass of the delicious plum brandy magically appeared, and she sipped it, liking the delicate fruity taste. But then Rudolf drew her even closer, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and was suddenly repelled. Stiffening, she moved out of his embrace and whispered, “Please, Rudolf, not now—”

Rudolf did not miss the lack of resolution in her voice, knew the drug was doing its job. He nuzzled her neck, hands moving up and down her back as he whispered, “Enjoy, my darling…enjoy the kisses of the man who loves you…wants to marry you…enjoy and let me take you to paradise.”

Gently he maneuvered her down until she was lying on her back.

It was so easy, Marilee dreamily, dizzily, thought, to let his hands move over her body, to succumb to his kisses, to feel wanted, needed, and, perhaps most of all, desired. But then she felt his hand inside the scooped neckline of her gown, heard the way he gasped, deep in his throat; then, almost fiercely, he manipulated his body on top of hers. She could feel his hardness pushing against her, and he began to shove up her gown, attempting to render her exposed and vulnerable.

Struggling with all her might, she pushed against his shoulders, tried to scream in protest, but he had covered her mouth with his in a hungrily bruising kiss. She then began to beat on his back with her fists, writhing and twisting beneath him as he pressed her down.

He lifted his lips just enough to taunt, “You know you want me, darling. Stop pretending you don’t. It’s all right. We’re going to be married soon—”

“No!” she managed to cry before he clamped a hand over her mouth.

In the firelight, his brown eyes burned like embers with his lust and fury. “Listen to me,” he said between clenched teeth, words pouring forth in a torrent. “It’s mental, believe me, a sickness of the mind. I heard the famous psychiatrist, Sigmund Freud, lecture about it once when I was in Vienna. He says women like you are what is known as frigid. You are not capable of enjoying lovemaking, but I’m going to change all that you for, I promise.”

Her eyes were wide with terror as she stared up at him, struggling to breathe against his pressing hand.

Rudolf realized the drug had not worked as quickly as he’d thought. She was nearly hysterical, and there was no way he was going to be able to get her to submit. He decided there was only one thing to do: let her go. Later, when she was asleep in her own bed, he’d carry her to his, let her wake up there and think they’d made love, whether they had or not. Hopefully, the drug would continue to be effective.

He released her, turning to sit with face lowered to his hands in a pretense of shame and embarrassment. “Forgive me, my darling, forgive me,” he whispered in anguish. “I just love you so much, need you so much. You don’t know what it’s like—I’m so lonely. My father is dead, my mother’s an alcoholic, I was driven from my homeland. I need you, need your love…please don’t hate me…”

Marilee struggled to stand, felt a wave of revulsion as she stared down at him. “What you said…” she hoarsely cried, “it’s not true. I’m not what you said.”

He gave her a piteous look and made his voice thick with patronizing regret. “Yes, it is, my darling. You are what is known as a frigid woman. You can’t help it. And your only hope is a patient, understanding man. You have that in me. We’ll work together to make you normal, and—”

“Stop it!” she hissed, covering her ears as she backed out of the room. Everything was whirling around her, and though she had not fully grasped the meaning of his words, did not understand everything that was happening, she was filled with a sense of desperation to escape.

“Marilee, wait—”

She turned, began to run down the hall, but instinct for survival took over, propelling her almost unconsciously into an empty statue nook in the stone wall of the corridor. Pressing herself back as far as possible, she held her breath as Rudolf rushed by in pursuit.

Too much to drink, both of them, she fiercely told herself. Rudolf was to be pitied, not censored. He had called her—what? Frigid? She shook her head to dispel such a ridiculous thought. Tomorrow, she thought giddily, she would set him straight on many things, but tonight, she was too weary to attempt to cope with him. But, as tired as she was, she did not dare go to her room lest he look for her there. Surely there was some other room in the castle where she could hide and sleep till morning.

She stepped into the hall. She had heard Rudolf’s footsteps as he went up to the second floor in search of her, so she decided not to go there. Instead, she moved along, trying each door, only to find them all locked.

She reached Jade’s room, was not about to waken her and let her know how ridiculous Rudolf was behaving, but knew she had no other choice except to go upstairs, where he was, no doubt, waiting.

Then she saw the door leading down to the basement. Ordinarily, the thought of going down into an unknown region would have been terrifying, but Marilee’s senses were dulled by the drugged brandy. Slowly, cautiously, she made her way down the narrow steps. The sound of something unseen skittering in the darkness made her flesh crawl as she imagined all kinds of repulsive creatures…but she kept going.

When she reached the bottom, an antiquated lantern hanging from a hook on the stone wall illumined the cobblestone floor—but not well. She could make out an open door and moved hesitantly in that direction.

It was a small chamber with a cot. It was so inviting, with its carefully folded blankets and soft white pillow. Her eyelids felt heavy, her head was spinning. She could not resist; she made ready to lie down, then hesitated. If Rudolf came in search, she wanted no light for him. Let him stumble about in the dark so she could hear him and be forewarned. She went back and extinguished the lantern, then made her way in the darkness and lay down.

Later she would not even remember laying her head on the pillow, for sleep was waiting like a giant, invisible cloak to descend and wrap around her and take her away to blessed oblivion.

Warm.

Flowing.

Like a river of silk she felt the touch of his fingers upon her skin, causing great waves of delicious ecstasy to move over her body. With slow and tantalizing caresses, she felt the embryo of strange, unfamiliar emotions come alive, her senses raw raging, crying out silently, desperately, for pleasures yet unknown.

It was a dream, for she saw nothing but black mist hovering over a never-ending sea of delicious, torturing bliss. It was not real, could never be real, for such delectation could only exist in her imagination, her fantasies.

Her body arched, endeavoring to get closer still, welcoming the assault, the violation of velvet recesses starving for yet unknown joy and fulfillment.

A kiss.

Oh, dear God, never had she known such a kiss existed. Warm—no, hot, very, very hot lips brushed across hers so lightly, like fairies tiptoeing on a dewy lawn, afraid to touch too hard…like the whisper of a spring breeze teasing her flesh.

Then, almost with brutal assault, the mouth claimed hers, and she welcomed the bruising sensation of such pressure, such hunger, and she parted her own lips to receive the probing tongue, the hungry tongue…the wonderful tongue that opened new tastes of wonder.

Instinctively, for the thought of resisting never occurred to her in her wonderful dream, Marilee reached out to wrap her arms about him. Such a broad back. Muscles. Sinewy. Tight. She reveled in just the man smell of him as she pulled him yet tighter, delighting in the taste and sensation of her own tongue exploring his sweet, hot mouth.

Then he moved his lips to her neck and began to suckle gently against her throat.

His hands were fondling her breasts…but suddenly froze.

She tensed.

What was happening?

Why had he stopped?

Was it morning?

Was her wonderful phantasm going to flee at dawn like a legendary vampire?

“Please, no…” she whispered through the fog that clung to her like a spider’s confining web. She could sense his hesitancy to continue the magic. “Don’t go…not yet…”

Quickly the hands explored, darting beneath her dress to almost roughly fondle her hips and buttocks, then boldly groped between her thighs.

Abruptly, the searching fingers moved up to trace her face.

A masculine voice, slightly accented, hoarsely uttered a curse.

His lips were no longer upon hers.

She could no longer feel his touch, could sense his sudden retreat back into that mysterious realm where dreams hide while being nurtured.

She sat up, groping about her, realized she was awake, and felt a wave of terror. Was there someone in the room? Did she actually hear the sound of ragged breathing, fading as someone retreated?

No.

A dream.

Nothing more.

Too much brandy.

She shook her head to clear it, then once again lay down, allowing the invisible cloak of sleep to claim her, carry her away.

Marilee was sure it could not have been real. For such wonders, she sadly acknowledged, did not exist…for her.

Chapter Thirteen

Throughout the seemingly endless night, Marilee dozed fitfully on the cot. Every so often she would awake with a start, to stare dazedly into the dark abyss, wondering where she was, how she had come to be there…until, ultimately, it would all come rushing back in heated waves of passionate remembrance.

The stranger…the overwhelmingly sensuous stranger who had held her, kissed her, awakening alien senses and emotions.

Had it only been a dream?

Though she was exhausted, she was able to think more clearly as the hours wore on. It was difficult to recall much after the dinner hour, for her memory seemed shrouded by an impenetrable mist. Vaguely she recalled Aunt Jade retiring early, and then there was a flickering scene with Rudolf somewhere. Though the details were indistinct, she knew they had argued—no doubt about his persistence. So she had run away and somehow found her way to the cellar.

Where the stranger had been waiting.

Her phantom lover.

That part of the night seemed startling clear, for she still savored his scorching kisses…his burning caresses.

Dear God, she silently cried as a wondrous tremor swept her, who was he?

Certainly not Rudolf.

Rudolf might be charming, handsome, and he professed to love her, but never, ever had he ignited the feelings she had experienced. Oh, no, it had not been Rudolf.

She had not realized the room where she lay had a window till the first exploring fingers of dawn crept through the dirt-caked glass. As soon as there was light to see her way, she left the cold chamber to go upstairs.

As she rounded the corner on the second floor, where her room was located, she froze at the sight of Rudolf sitting right outside her door. He rested against the wall, head lolling to one side, eyes closed. His deep, even breathing told her he was asleep, so, moving quietly, stealthily around him, she was able to slip inside, locking the door behind her.