Behind the Mask (93 page)

Abbi nodded and he removed his hand. “How did you get in here?” she demanded quietly, wishing her voice hadn’t sounded so afraid.

He only laughed close to her ear, and pressed his gloved fingers over her face. She attempted to retract, but he pulled her close to him with one hand, and continued caressing her with the other. “You truly are beautiful, Abbi,” he murmured as if they were lovers. “Although, you must know it was not your beauty I wanted.” He pressed a kiss to her throat and she squirmed, which made him chuckle. “That was just an added bonus,” he whispered. “But how could I resist such a precious opportunity to put your father in his place? He’s been a thorn in my side for
years.”
The malice in his voice reeked of evil. Then he laughed. “I will forever treasure the look on his face when I told him how thoroughly I had enjoyed your sweet kiss, and how pleasant our time together had been in my bedroom.”

“Pleasant for whom?” she countered hotly.

“Now, Abbi,” he muttered, “you know you enjoyed the way I kissed you.”

“That was before I realized what a depraved monster you are.”

He laughed. “Depraved, perhaps,” he said as if it were a great accolade. “But I resent monster.”

“Demon
then,” she spat and he laughed again. He resumed his gentle caress of her face and she stiffened, far preferring his verbal assaults. Again he kissed her throat and she pushed her fists against his chest, attempting to put some distance between them. But he only held her more tightly, almost painfully.

“Oh, Abbi,” he murmured, “you’re . . . breathless . . . and flushed. You can’t imagine how thrilled I am to know I still have that effect on you.” Before she could utter a retort fitting of her thoughts, he added, “Who would have dreamed that my brother was hiding you away all this time, making a woman out of you? And now that you’re not so naive, perhaps we could finish what we once started.”

“I would rather die,” she hissed.

“That
is
an option,” he said as if he’d told her he loved her. “But perhaps you should not make such hasty wishes, my sweet. You must think of Cameron. Would he prefer you living, or tainted? Or maybe once you give birth to his son, he wouldn’t care.” He pressed his hand into her hair and she wanted to scream. “Oh, my sweet Abbi,” he touched his lips to her face as he spoke, “do you have any idea how
valuable
you are? If the child you carry is male, he could dethrone me simply by his existence.”

“You’ve already been dethroned,” she snarled, and he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes.

“But that’s where your true value lies, my sweet. Don’t you see? Will he choose you, or his country?”

“I pray to God he chooses his country.”

“How
noble
of you!” he said with mocking admiration, then he lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “Give me what I want, Abbi, and I will let him keep my throne.”

“It’s not your throne to give,” she said, proud of herself for sounding brave when she was so thoroughly terrified.

“You know
nothing
of my power to give or take!” He tightened his arm around her, as well as his hand holding her hair. “Give me what I want and I’ll let him keep the country.”

“I might actually consider it if I remotely believed you would keep your end of the bargain. But I know you better than that. You’ll take what you want whether you have any right to it or not.”

He smiled. “You
do
know me,” he said as if it touched his heart.

“This country rightfully belongs to Cameron, and so do I. Because he
earns
what he takes, because he
deserves
it.”

The fury that rose in his eyes pressed Abbi’s fear beyond all reason. It took everything she had not to scream. Only believing he might kill her kept her silent. With an efficiency that hinted at much practice, he took both her wrists into one hand and pressed them above her head, while he put his mouth over hers in a way that had no similarity to a kiss. She squirmed and groaned and bit his lip. He cursed and slapped her before he did it again. Then he tossed the covers off of her and full-fledged terror further tightened her every nerve. While he held her completely powerless, her struggle and protest both amused and angered him.

“You’d do well to cooperate,” he snapped, and once again demonstrated his version of a kiss, crushing her mouth with a bruising intensity that hurt so badly it provoked tears. She sobbed and he laughed. Her nightgown and the glove on his hand were her only protection from his revolting touch. She knew her pregnancy had to be vitally evident to him. As much as she feared for herself, she felt far more concerned for the welfare of the child growing inside her.

Abbi relinquished her last grain of dignity, whimpering and sobbing. “I beg you, Nikolaus . . . please.”

“My sweet Abbi,” he murmured, and took a long moment to compound the pain on her lips, “there’s no need to beg.”

Her powerlessness became fully evident as he made no qualms about pressing his boundaries further. Abbi could only force her mind beyond this moment. Confronted with the choice between this and death, she couldn’t deny that she preferred to live in spite of what she’d told him. She resigned herself to face the worst and to survive it. But he drew back and growled close to her face, “You see how easily I can take what I want, whether I deserve it or not. Unfortunately we’ve wasted all our time talking, and it will have to wait.” He assaulted her mouth again with his own. “I just wanted you to have a taste of what you have to look forward to.” He touched the tears on her face with a mock tenderness that reeked of evil. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t defile you completely—not yet. What little remains of your virtuous loyalty to your husband makes a valuable bargaining tool, don’t you think? And you may get to keep what’s left if he makes the right choice.” He came to his feet and dragged her off the bed. Her relief was coupled with the fear of wondering what horrible intentions he had in store for her now, in order to go about making his bargain.

Standing face-to-face, he pushed his hands into her hair with intimate implications that felt as defiling as having him in her bed. Being on her feet restored a degree of her dignity, and now that her hands were free, she pushed his away. “Still a feisty wench,” he snapped.

Recalling the last time he’d called her a wench, she found great pleasure in saying exactly what he’d said to her at the time. “It’s
Your Grace
to you!”

That fury reappeared in his eyes, tenfold. “Never!” he rumbled and took her chin brutally into his hand. “You might reconsider your attitude.” He smiled cruelly and added, “His first wife preferred my bed to his; maybe you will too.”

Abbi took advantage of the opportunity to slap him hard, fully prepared for the evil glare he gave her in response. “You are going to regret that more than you can possibly imagine,” he said and she spit in his face. If there was a price to pay for defying him, she intended to get what she paid for. He immediately backhanded her across the side of the face with such force that she fell to the floor and screamed.

“Shut up!” he said, and took hold of her arm, hauling her to her feet. She hoped the noise might have been enough to arouse the suspicion of the officers outside her door, but apparently he wasn’t going to stay around long enough to find out. He forced her to walk while her head was still swimming too much to even stand up straight.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, wishing it had sounded more firm than terrified.

“We’re going to find your husband.”

“No, Nikolaus, please!” she cried as he forced her roughly toward a door that seemed to open right out of the wall, where a tapestry had been pushed aside.

“Keep your mouth shut!” He pointed a threatening finger at her. “Or we can just finish what we started, here and now, and make him wait.” He took hold of her face so hard it hurt, and spoke with his lips almost touching hers. “Or I could just kill you now and be rid of
one
possible impedance to the throne.”

Nikolaus dragged her through the door and closed it behind him before he grabbed a torch that had been hanging on the wall. With the torch in one hand and her arm firmly in the other, he dragged her down a stone passageway that was long and narrow with a significant downhill slope. Her bare feet felt icy on the cold floor that seemed to go on forever. She wanted to sob and scream, if only to vent the fear burning in her chest and throat. But she forced herself to silence, and only an occasional whimper accompanied her silent flow of tears.

As they emerged into fresh air, Abbi felt dirt beneath her feet. She was thinking it felt good in contrast to the cold stone, until Nikolaus pushed her from behind and she fell to the ground. Pain bit her hands and knees and spurred a harsh sob from her throat. She wondered if she would live to see another day. Or if she did, would he do as he’d threatened and finish what he’d started? The memory of his assault prompted another sob.

“Shut up!” Nikolaus said, and slapped the back of her head.

“Is that necessary?” another voice asked—familiar, but too gruff with anger to recognize from those three words.

“Get her on her feet,” Nikolaus ordered, ignoring the question.

Abbi felt strong hands take hold of her shoulders and help her stand. In the torchlight she looked up, and a gaspy scream escaped her. She drew back her hand and slapped Lance hard across the face, oblivious to the pain already in her hands from falling.

Nikolaus laughed as if he’d never seen anything so funny. Lance slowly turned back to look into Abbi’s eyes as Nikolaus said, “After what you did to him this morning, my sweet, I wouldn’t get too uppity. You’re no better off with him than with me.”

“Damn you,” Abbi hissed in Lance’s face. He only looked down, focusing his attention on her hands as he tied them together in front of her.

She saw regret in his eyes, but she couldn’t believe it was genuine, even when he bent close to her and whispered, “You must trust me, Abbi.” He took her chin into his fingers, and she saw his countenance become something that frightened her. “Brute force?” he said to Nikolaus, tilting her face more toward the light. Apparently the throbbing in her cheek had visible evidence. “Always a gentleman,” Lance added with sarcasm, but not disapproval.

“She’s riding with me,” Nikolaus said and handed the torch to Lance before he forced Abbi onto his horse. “And I’ll be needing this,” Nikolaus added, and took the dagger from the little scabbard on Lance’s belt.

“Help yourself, my friend,” Lance said with that same sarcasm, but his tone and demeanor made her wonder what kind of mask he’d been hiding behind all this time. Did she even know him at all? Were his friendship and loyalty to Nikolaus more suited to him than she’d ever believed? If so, what had his motives been all this time in regard to Cameron? And to her? The thought made her so nauseous she nearly lost the contents of her stomach.

“What took you so long?” Lance growled while Nikolaus tucked the dagger into the side of his belt and Lance doused the torch.

Nikolaus chuckled and mounted behind Abbi. She cringed from his nearness. “Oh, my friend,” he said, “use your imagination. I would have preferred to take a little longer, but we must keep our priorities in order.”

Abbi hung her head and turned away, unable to even look at Lance. But she couldn’t be certain whether it was from shame over Nikolaus’s inference, or disgust at Lance being an accomplice to such atrocities.

Abbi leaned her tied hands onto the saddle horn, trying to keep some distance from Nikolaus. But he heeled the horse to a gallop and wrapped an arm around her, slamming her back against his chest. She fought to keep her tears quiet, vaguely aware of Lance riding beside them while she wondered what her fate would be. And where was Cameron? Did he have any idea what his brother was conspiring to do? Just as she’d told Nikolaus, she prayed to God that he would choose his country. The people of Horstberg deserved better than to be ruled by the vile fiend now holding her life in his hands.

Cameron and his men came into the clearing where they were supposed to meet the two officers they’d left behind. He found them bound and held at gunpoint. Their faces showed evidence of the physical force that had been used to subdue them. And the man holding the gun was Wurtzur—who had been out of the country with Nikolaus. With him were three other men that Cameron could add to the list of officers who were not to be trusted. Cameron glanced around discreetly, attempting to gauge the situation, while his heart pounded painfully with thoughts of Abbi. Beyond the circle of light created by a torch stuck in the ground, he could see nothing.

“You’re outnumbered, Wurtzur,” Cameron said with authority.

“Perhaps, but . . . I know you better than to think that you would stand by and see one of your men needlessly harmed. If one of you even twitches, they die. If you try to leave, they die. I’m certain you’ll be willing to wait patiently.”

“For what?”

“I’ve got orders to hold you here until . . .” he paused for a caustic laugh, “the duke arrives.”