Part 10 (2/2)
”Easy to say now. We'll see what happens after your virtue is in tatters.” He loomed closer. She'd never considered Tranter a particularly impressive physical specimen. Now he dwarfed her.
On a surge of movement, she lurched forward, going for his eyes.
”You d.a.m.ned cat,” he gasped as her nails scored his cheeks.
Without stopping to see the damage she'd done, she twisted free, taking advantage of his shock. She dashed through the foliage, slippered feet skidding on the tiles.
She heard him behind her, blundering through the greenery. There was a loud crash as a pot smashed in his wake. Panting, she reached the gla.s.s doors and dived for the latch. Before she touched it, rough hands grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her around.
She cried out in terror and pain, then again when Tranter slapped her face. Fire exploded in her head. When alertness returned, Tranter clutched her to his chest and her hair fell around her face. She struggled, but he seemed to have a hundred hands. With a sharp rip, he tore her bodice.
”Let me go, you savage,” she gasped, biting and scratching until he took her by the scruff of the neck like a cat and forced her head still.
”I'll happily hit you again if you don't stop this foolishness,” he said breathlessly.
He no longer looked in control. Worse. His eyes blazed with excitement and blood trickled down his cheek. As he mashed her into his body, a hard weight poked her belly. Bile rushed into her throat.
She swallowed hard, opened her mouth and screamed her lungs out. The harsh sound bounced off the gla.s.s. So did the echo of Tranter's next slap.
”It doesn't have to be like this,” he grated, placing a hand over her mouth. ”Agree and you'll save yourself a deal of trouble.”
She remained taut, faint with pain, wanting to kill him. His other hand imprisoned her wrists. She shrank away when his eyes dipped to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, bare under her tattered dress.
”You've always been a clever little b.i.t.c.h, Marianne.” He licked his lips in a way that terrified her. ”Give up the fight and admit you're beaten.”
She made herself nod and he smiled with an approval that made her gag.
”Good girl.” He s.h.i.+fted his hand from her mouth to squeeze her breast and she screamed again, kicking him. But her satin slippers did no damage and he easily subdued her by wrapping his arms around her.
”Bad show, my dear, bad show.”
He jammed her face into his chest so she couldn't breathe. The sour stench of his sweat made her head swim. She battled his hold, but this man she'd always dismissed as a cream puff contained her wriggling without apparent difficulty. She told herself to keep fighting as blackness edged her vision.
Then she was free and staring into her father's appalled eyes.
Chapter Twelve.
”What the devil is going on?”
Marianne still gasped for air, giving Tranter the chance to answer her father's outraged demand. ”My lord, we got carried away.”
Through the buzzing in her ears, Marianne could hardly believe that he sounded like her urbane dance partner and not the man who had hit her. Her agitated gaze settled on Elias who pushed through the crowded hallway. The shock on his features filled her vision. He looked ready to commit murder. His dark face was stern as she'd never seen it and a muscle jerked in his lean cheek. She hardly noticed the other people jammed into the corridor around him.
”Shut your foul mouth or I'll shut it for you.” Tugging off his dark blue coat, Elias shoved past her father who stood fuming in the doorway. ”Are you all right, Lady Marianne?” he asked roughly, wrapping his coat around her shoulders.
”Thank you,” she muttered. Sick humiliation cramped her belly. She cringed away and her shaking hands fumbled uselessly with the shredded bodice. s.h.i.+vering as if she had a fever, she hunched into the coat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elias reach for her. She couldn't endure his kindness without breaking down completely. She backed off on shaky legs. ”I can't-”
”I'll kill the b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” Elias hissed.
”No,” she begged. ”No, for pity's sake, that will make things worse.”
”By G.o.d, I'll know the meaning of this,” her father spluttered.
Casting Elias a nervous glance, Tranter grabbed her hand. ”I'm overjoyed to tell you that Lady Marianne has consented to be my bride.”
She jerked free and regarded Tranter with abhorrence. ”I'll never marry you, you brute.”
”You will d.a.m.n well marry him,” her father bl.u.s.tered. ”There's no hiding that he's compromised you.”
”My love, I know you're upset that we've been found out.” The spurious sympathy in Tranter's face turned her stomach. Raising her chin, she struggled to retain some dignity. Almost impossible when she'd been caught half naked and her face felt like a hive of bees had attacked it.
”Can't you see that there's been some plot?” Elias asked, whirling on her father. At least he didn't try to touch her again, or attack Tranter. The toad deserved a beating, but a brawl would only deepen the scandal. ”We all heard her scream.”
”Lord Tranter enticed me here under false pretenses, Papa,” she forced out. ”He's a stinking liar.”
The avidly curious audience craned their necks to see more of the confrontation-and of Marianne. Burning color flooded her smarting cheeks and she huddled into the coat. Elias's distinctive scent enveloped her. Right now, that reminder of him seemed like a reprimand for her rank idiocy. Impulsiveness had lured her into this disaster. Perhaps it was better to be a compliant little coward.
”I wanted a private moment with Lady Marianne so I could propose.” Tranter had the temerity to smile at her. How was it that she felt so dirty and wrong, and he looked like he was on the side of the angels? It wasn't fair. ”A mere formality, of course. Our mutual affection is no secret.”
”Stop lying,” she snarled.
”My dear, all will be well when we marry. I'm sure these good people can overlook a lapse between a newly engaged couple.”
”A torn dress and violence go beyond a lapse,” she spat.
”Did this b.a.s.t.a.r.d hurt you?” Elias bit out, curling his hands into fists at his sides.
”Not your concern, Wilmott,” Tranter snapped. ”You've been sniffing around Marianne for months, but you've lost.”
”Fascinating as this discussion is, perhaps it should continue in private,” Lord Hillbrook said magisterially from the hallway.
”If you'll all move away.” Richard pushed forward to stand beside her father and face the onlookers. ”I'm sure you've heard more than enough.”
Marianne could see that few people agreed with him. She'd loathed being the brunt of last year's tattle. The talk would be worse this time round. Especially when she didn't marry the author of her downfall.
”Sidonie, will you take Lady Marianne to her room and look after her?” Hillbrook suggested. It sounded more order than request. ”Lord Tranter, Lord Baildon, shall we retire to my office?”
”Excellent idea,” Richard said, and he and Genevieve started to herd the listeners away with a steely charm that Marianne was in no mood to admire. The excited buzz of conversation receding down the corridor confirmed her fears of scandal.
Tranter had been so clever. And she'd been so fatally stupid.
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