No Choice but Surrender (12 page)

Moving like a timid rabbit, she went to the passage door and took an excruciating amount of time closing the lock behind her in an effort to be thorough. She would need all the time she could get, and she did not want to leave any traces of her having been in his room. Once in the south passage, she darted into the drawing room to hide from the old footmen in the hall. From there she peeked into the dimly lit long gallery. Finding it pleasingly empty, she found her way out the central door to the back of the house.

Once outside, she crept along the house to the stable block in the late twilight. There were no lights to be seen from any of its openings as it loomed before her, and she was amazed by her luck. Kelly was nowhere to be seen when she entered the stable, but Queenie stuck her gray head out from the closest stall to greet her.

Nervously patting the horse on her huge forehead, Brienne was momentarily stumped as to how to begin to tack the animal up. She walked over to where several saddles were stored against the wall, and seeing the only sidesaddle, she picked up the incredibly heavy leather piece and made her way back to Queenie's stall in the dark. She went back to the saddlery once again to search for the animal's bridle, but there she was completely confused: all the bridles and harnesses that lined the wall looked alike to her. Finally, exasperated, she took the closest one to her, thinking it would do just as well as any. She went back to Queenie and lugged the heavy saddle up onto her back, then went to the other side of the animal with the girth. After attaching this as tightly as she could, she examined the intricate bridle, losing several minutes of the precious dim twilight trying to figure out how to put it on the creature before her.

Turning the thing over in her hands until she thought she knew what to do with it, she slipped it over the mare's head. She was grateful that the animal took the bit automatically into her delicate mouth. But as she forced the crown piece over

Queenie's attentive
ears, Brienne was
dismayed. She had gotten the wrong bridle after all; this one seemed horribly right around the ears. But she congratulated herself for getting the confusing straps of leather onto the animal at all and silently led the mare out into the courtyard of the stable, thinking the light bridle would do no harm.

Brienne was startled when Orillion ran up to her from the stable wagging his tail. Playfully, she scolded the dog for frightening her. They had become great friends since spending the night together in the stable block.

"Now, don't you tell that master of yours that you saw me, Orillion," she said as she bent down to pat him good-bye on the head. She stood up and gave one last look at the house; its enormous windows were lit up with the light of hundreds of candles. For a flashing, poignant moment, she stood in the darkness with Queenie's reins in her small hand.

A house like Osterley had much to offer a young girl like herself who was starved for companionship and for a taste of the upper crust. But every time she found herself being seduced by the grandeur of Osterley, it wasn't the thought of Avenel that brought her out of the
reverie,
for he had yet to prove the ogre he seemed capable of being. But there was no relieving her mind of the imminent appearance of her father. She had much to fear from him. She wouldn't take the chance of meeting up with him, not even for the seductions of wealth and position.

Resigning herself to her fate, Brienne awkwardly managed to get into the saddle from the mounting block near the carriage drive. She took one last look at the Park as she turned her head toward the northwest woods. Then, with an uncomfortable feeling that there was still something left undone, she inexpertly guided Queenie into a steady walk.

Much too soon, however, she found that more skill was needed for horseback riding than one lesson could provide. Queenie's sensitive mouth rebelled against the tight bridle. The mare tossed her head constantly, chewing and salivating to ease her discomfort. The night noises—everything from an early hooting owl to a late-night gathering of squirrels among the tree branches—seemed to start the mare into an ungodly jog that left her passenger with absolutely no control.

They had hardly gotten past the first clump of trees when the animal calmed down. But then, as if seeing something utterly terrifying before her, Queenie came to a dead stop; her ears strained forward and her neck arched unnaturally.

"What is it?" Brienne whispered to the frightened mare. Becoming intimidated
herself
, Brienne nervously took the reins even more tightly in her hands, but there was no head response from the horse. Fearing what she could not see, she ungraciously kicked the animal's left flank, hoping to move her onward. Suddenly the animal reared forward in an effort to flee from whatever had scared her. Queenie wasted no time; she took off at a dead gallop toward a far clearing. In the mare's wild frenzy, Brienne was left terrified and, worse, completely unbalanced. There was nothing she could do to control her
mount
, and almost paralyzed with fear, she grabbed hold of the trim mane for dear life.

They reached the clearing in an impossibly short time; she was sure the crazed pace would be the end of them both. Rearing once again as they reached the darkened meadow, the terrified mare tested Brienne's ability to stay on her back. But she threw Brienne completely off balance, and the girl tumbled to the hard, black ground of the clearing, stunned and desperately trying to breathe with lungs that simply refused the air. Brienne watched as the mare, having disposed of her rider, galloped madly away into the dark surrounding forest, her tail held straight with fright.

Finally, when Brienne thought she would surely smother from lack of air, the cold night breeze swept into her chest. She sucked it in with terrifying quickness and lay there on her belly, panting and crying, until she heard hoofbeats behind her, coming from the opposite direction of where Queenie had gone. Not even daring a look behind her, all at once Brienne felt hopelessly frightened by the horseback ride, the threat of the earl, and the black rage that must surely be on the face of the man behind her.

"Damn you, woman!"
Avenel whispered harshly as he dismounted. Swinging the reins angrily back into Idle Dice's face, the animal reared in fright as his master threw a lather- covered whip to the ground behind her. "You little fool! I should beat you senseless!" He stood over her and looked down at her wracking shoulders; his legs were slightly parted in an angry stance. He pulled her up from the ground and tried to discover if she was injured, but she violently turned away from his touch.

"If you have any decency at all, you will leave me alone!" she cried out, her face muddied and stained with tears. "Can't you see that I must get away from here? Why must you continue to stop me?"

"We have been through this already. You may leave when I am through with your father," he said sternly.

"My father!
I'm no bait for my father! He hates me! He abandoned me as a child! He will not come here for me now," she said, trying not to reveal too much of her past. Again those terrible parting words Lord Oliver had uttered echoed in her mind:
"I'll have you both, both,
both
."
Brienne put her hands over her ears in an effort to shut them out. How would she ever endure a visit from her father? How had her mother been so brave?

"I have no need for you to entice the earl here. He will show up whether you are here or not." Again Avenel tried to pull her to her feet.

"Then you have another use for me in this demented scheme? Pray tell, what is it?" She swerved from his grasp and got up by herself, planning to run from him and hide in the blackness of the surrounding woods. But she did not get far, for her ankle had been wrenched and was now swollen and weak. Falling squarely into his waiting arms, they both fell to the ground; this time Avenel's greater weight pinned her down.

"Where is the comb, Brienne?" He looked down at her, his eyes glowing like two full moons despite the dark, overcast sky.

"I don't have it." She tried to get up, but he wouldn't let her.

"Hand it over now, or I'll strip you naked as a babe in order to find it." He started with her cloak, pulling the hood from her back.

"No, please . . . wait!" He began on her bodice; the lace that edged her shift started to tear with his recklessness.

"Give it up, Brienne." He smiled a sinister smile and ran his hand lightly down the front of her chest.

"Oh . . . you're an absolute cad!" She wrestled with him, trying to keep him away.

But it was a futile exercise. Although her chest heaved from the exertion, he dominated her easily. With her hands held down, she groaned as she felt him loosen her laces. Her unsupported shift fell down to one shoulder, and then his warm, searching fingers roamed over the intimate swells and valleys within her bodice.

"Well, it's not in here," he murmured wickedly, his hand lingering over one of her breasts.

"Then stop touching me!" she demanded, blushing to the tips of her toes. But when he refused to comply, it was anger, not humiliation that drove her to the final rash act. Her teeth clamped down on his roving hand.

"Ugh!" Avenel grunted, and pulled his fingers from her teeth.

Angrier still now that he had forced her into such unladylike behavior, Brienne found new strength. While Avenel examined his bitten fingers, she wiggled from beneath him, scrambled to her feet, and started to run.

"Use your teeth again, and I'll put you in a cage." With natural grace, his hand reached out and grabbed her petticoats. There was a rending tear, and Brienne screamed as she felt several of her underskirts rip off in his grasp. This tripped her up, and soon she was down again—but this time, on top of him.

"If you don't give up the comb, love, I'll be forced to rip everything off you. Shall I begin here?" He clutched the front edge of her bodice.

"Would you believe I've lost it? Perhaps it fell when Queenie bolted."

"
A lady like you lose
her only jewels? I think not." He swept the curtain of her hair away from her mouth. "Give me the comb, or suffer the consequences."

"I haven't . . ." Her words dwindled away as his mouth rose to capture hers. Violently she turned her head away. But by rejecting his advance, she only allowed him a better view of her gaping bodice as she lay over him. Eventually, however, her attention was called back to him—not because of the hungry stare that seemed to eat her alive, and not because of the grip that held her better than a ball and chain, but rather because of the roaming hand she felt on her backside. Beneath her ripped petticoats, Avenel's hand was ever so slowly sliding up her bare thigh.

"Is no place sacred to you? Dare you look even under my skirts?" she asked venomously.

"I dare" was all he said before his hand finally cupped her smooth, naked buttocks. The chill of the night on her skin, skin that was always warm and well protected under several layers of clothing, was a strange sensation. But the touch of his palm, like a brand on her flesh, shocked her to her very core. Yet as he fondled her, even her prudish core seemed to melt and grow hot with his expert caresses. Her unreliable body was betraying her again. She was so stunned that she hardly noticed that he'd begun to kiss her.

First her neck, then her chin, and finally her tear-stained cheeks accepted his gentle assault. Releasing an incoherent, shuddering plea, she felt his tongue, hot and enticing, in the hollows of her throat.

"Where is the comb, love? I fear, should we continue, that your first experience with a man will be in the cold, and on the ground," he whispered in her hair. His fiery hand still stroked the smooth flesh of her derriere.

"Damn you!" Half sobbing, she stood up and fumbled for her modesty. When her skirts were back down and her laces retightened, she slipped her hand into a hidden pocket in her cloak, and flung the comb at him. "May you rot in—
!
"

"Careful! We cannot have you talking like a lusty barmaid."

She watched through teary eyes as he took the jeweled hair ornament from the ground and placed it securely in the waistband of his breeches. She found bitter consolation in the fact that her escape had forced him to dress in a hurry. He'd obviously not even had time to tuck in his shirttails properly, nor to don a jacket, despite the coolness of the evening. Perhaps he'd freeze to death on his trip back to Osterley, she thought hopefully.

"How did you know I had gone?" she asked, not bothering to hide her hostility.

"I had a feeling that you were in my bedroom while I was bathing. I suppose that was when you got the comb. When you didn't appear for dinner, Cumberland went to fetch you and found you were missing. I guessed you had gone this way since the last time you tried to leave I saw you go in this direction from the gallery."

"Then the next time, I will try a different route." She backed away from him, wishing she could stop feeling so frightened of the future, but it loomed before her now, as dark and brooding as he was.

"There will be no next time." Without warning, he picked her up and placed her on Idle Dice's back.

"There
will
be a next time," she cried, beginning to dismount until he stopped her.

"There will not. I shall make sure of it." He shook his head and for once seemed to speak his mind. "You little fool, galloping off on Queenie in the middle of the night. Did you know you could have been dragged? As it is, you've injured your ankle getting it loose from the stirrup. I have seen it before—an inexperienced rider getting her leg caught and being dragged for miles.
'Tis not a pretty sight when they finally catch the horse."
He snatched up her soiled cloak and swiftly mounted behind her. Quashing any further rebellion with the muscles of his arms, he wrapped the cloak tightly around her. He pressed himself so closely against her back that she was forced to ride on the pommel with her limbs resting on the animal's shoulder. They started back to Osterley, with Idle Dice taking a leisurely pace toward home.