Part 15 (2/2)
”I made promises to you once. I shan't do so again.”
Edward snorted as he sawed through the rope at her ankles. ”You had no intention of ever obeying me. Or honoring me or loving me. Our marriage was based on the flimsiest of foundations. It's time we set ourselves on a different path. We're older now, wiser.”
”La la la,” said Caroline. If her hands were free, she'd stick her fingers in her ears.
”You will listen to me. I'll make you.”
”Do you intend to keep me a prisoner? For how long, Edward? How did you wriggle out of your duties to the king's business anyway? I thought all peers had to be present in Parliament for the Bill of Pain and Penalties.” A Bill of Pain and Penalties indeed! If her hands were not still tied, Edward would feel the full weight of her wrath as lead crystal rained down on his head. She had exceptional aim from years of practice. ”I'll show you pain, my lord, and you've not begun to pay the penalty for kidnapping me.”
”See here, Caro. I haven't harmed a hair on your head, although it could do with a good brus.h.i.+ng.”
”I've been drugged! Blindfolded! Tied up, threatened, and scared out of my wits!”
Edward cleared his throat. It must have discomfited him to talk in such a villainous, ungrammatical way. ”It was necessary. I know you too well.” He avoided her feeble kick and moved up to her wrists.
”You don't know me! You know nothing! And I hope the king throws you in jail, if not for kidnapping me, then for leaving the trial.”
”He won't. I told him I had a death in the family.”
”Yours, I hope, because I am going to kill you!”
Edward put the knife back in his pocket. ”Really, Caro, now who is threatening whom? If you want to be untied, you'll have to change your tune.”
”This is unconscionable. You know I have to-oh, good Lord. Please hurry, Edward. I won't do anything.” For now. But as she said, she'd make no more promises to him.
Chapter 17.
”I am not afraid,” Tatiana brazened. ”Do your worst, my lord.” His obsidian eyes glittered as brightly as the knife he held.
-Lord Lancaster's Lady.
Despite her shrieking, the fiend had tied her right back up again. He left off the blindfold and gag, removing the dark cloak before he set her back on the bed. He dragged out a large copper tub from the adjoining room, then paraded back and forth s.h.i.+rtless with pitchers of steaming hot water. The sheen of perspiration on his muscled torso was quite gratifying, but she was not about to express any admiration. No matter what provoking thing she screamed at him from her perch, he ignored her, though his cheek muscle jumped at every word. He had taken a vow of silence, but at a cost. She had no such compunction, and would harangue him until her tongue fell off.
”Edward, I demand that you let me go on to Dorset. There is a cottage in Dorset for me, is there not? With a charming garden as you described? Hollyhocks? Hydrangeas?”
He poured the water into the tub. His ill-fitting pants slipped, and she caught a glimpse of his bare backside before he hiked them up again. He'd overlooked something critical in his grand plan-a pair of braces.
On his next return, she queried, ”How did you persuade the Hazletts to be in league with you in this criminal enterprise? It must have cost you a fortune. A pity, for the money will not be of any use to them in jail.” She said the last in her loudest voice, just in case they were hovering in the hallway. Her loudest voice, however, wasn't very loud-she'd hollered herself quite hoa.r.s.e. Even from across the room, she could see the cotton batting in Edward's ears. Of course he wasn't responding, vile vermin that he was.
Why waste her breath when she could plan her escape? There were still three vases to throw, although the rest of the furniture looked impervious to breakage. Edward had tramped on and crushed the flowers on the carpet with his inferior boots, releasing their perfume. Under other circ.u.mstances, she would find the atmosphere impossibly sensual-a half-naked man toiling on her behalf, a well-appointed room in a remote country house (she was up high enough on the giant bed to see out the open window-nothing but rolling meadow and distant sheep), a bed large enough to contain any acrobatic activity she could dream up. But if Edward Allerton Christie the Elder had designs upon her battered and bound body, he was to be sorely disappointed.
Their talk that last night in the garden should have put an end to any hope of reconciliation. Despite the tender kisses, despite the scorching heat between them, they had agreed any further contact would be impossible. Caroline couldn't be his mistress, and certainly not his wife. Clearly Edward had forgotten and lost his sanity, but she was determined to remember and keep hers, for both their sakes.
At last he seemed satisfied by the volume of water. He sat down and wrestled off his boots, peeled off his stockings, stood up and dropped his horrid pants. Caroline shut her eyes, but not before noticing he was aroused beyond reason.
She waited in rigid resignation for him to carry her to the bath. Instead she heard a splash.
She cracked open one eye. He was scrubbing his armpit with his lime-scented soap, whistling. Whistling! She tried to shriek, but croaked instead.
”You know,” he said conversationally, as if she were not tied up like a rabid dog, ”I've become a terrible creature of habit. Some find the scent of bay rum pleasant, but give me my own lime cologne. My playacting the villain was as much torture for me as it was for you. I itch all over. I'm going to have Hazlett burn that suit.” Water sluiced down his brown chest, beading on his nipples.
He lathered his bristled face and unkempt hair. This new, unimproved Edward confused her. He had never shared so intimate an act as bathing in front of her, except for the one time she'd barged into his dressing room and slipped into his tub uninvited. She'd made him like it in the end, but he was a man who thrived on a strict routine, and she was usually an unwelcome interruption. She had spent their year of married life weighted down by his continuous disapproval.
”b.a.s.t.a.r.d.” Caroline's old sense of humiliation fluttered to the surface. Perhaps he'd get soap in his eyes and go blind, she thought sourly.
He leaned back and poured water on his head, slicking back his long dark hair until every beautifully chiseled plane of his face was revealed. Then he pulled the wet cotton from his ears, tossing it among the flattened roses on the floor. ”Did you say something?”
Caroline bit her tongue.
”This bath is so refres.h.i.+ng. I find travel arduous in the best of circ.u.mstances, don't you? You know, the water is still hot.”
Caroline tasted blood.
”The tub is large enough for two. If you like, we can share it. Get the road dust off.”
Caroline would like. She found herself furiously jealous of Edward's liquid display. ”Will you untie me?”
”Unnecessary. I believe I'm perfectly capable of was.h.i.+ng you. Everywhere.” His smile was purely satanical.
”Absolutely not then.”
”Don't be stubborn, Caro. I know how you like your baths. Do you remember the morning you surprised me in my bath at Christie Park?”
G.o.d, he remembered. Or could he read minds? ”You were appalled at the disruption of your daily regimen. And your old valet-what was his name? The one before Cameron-couldn't look me in the eye for months.”
”Well, as I said, it was a surprise. Poor Melrose didn't expect to find us in such a tangle when he came to barber me.”
”I wish he'd cut off your-” She snapped her lips shut.
”Pardon? I must have water in my ears.” He shook his head like a glossy spaniel.
”Nothing. Edward, while I appreciate your effort to get me in your clutches, I don't want to be clutched. I made that perfectly clear several weeks ago.”
”I know what you said. I don't agree anymore. We may not be ideally suited to each other, but I'm sure we can find some common ground with a little work.”
”The only time we'll find common ground is when we're both buried under it in the family plot. I a.s.sume there's still room for me at the churchyard?”
Edward looked a bit sheepish. They once had a discussion about her eventual placement. As an ever-organized Christie, he had dispa.s.sionately informed her of her future. Edward was to be the jam husband to his two wives' bread. The headstone was already in place, just waiting for the requisite dates. In Edward's case, Caroline hoped it would be soon.
”We have decades to go before we need worry about that, I trust.” Edward rose from the tub, glistening like a pagan G.o.d. He bent, took the knife from his discarded pants and dripped across the carpet.
”You'll ruin the rug.”
He glanced at the long water stain and the broken flowers. ”I'd say it's already ruined. Bradlaw won't like it.”
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