Once a Rake (Drake's Rakes) (37 page)

Minette Ferrar.

Sarah realized then that terror had a taste.

“Ah,
madame,
” Minette greeted her, stepping into the room. “I recognize you from the little village,
non
? You were there with the giggling girl. I remember, me.”

She motioned to the big man with her, and he brought forward a chair. Holding her hand out in an oddly stiff fashion, the woman settled herself on it before Sarah and arranged her lovely red gown over her knees. “You do not greet your guest?”

“No,” Sarah said thoughtfully, a snake of dread uncurling in her belly. “I don’t believe I do.”

She expected anger from the beautiful woman. Instead she got a brisk nod. “
Et bien.
There would have been no enjoyment with quick surrender. But I will have cooperation. I have promised that, me, and Minette does not lie.”

Bringing her hand forward, she tilted it to show Sarah what she held. Sarah sucked in a breath. It was a knife. Long, thin, wicked-looking. Dripping in gore. Her stomach flipped with the sight. She could even smell its warm coppery tang.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Minette asked, her smile social as she tilted the blade this way and that to better show the congealing blood. “A tool for a master craftsman,
n’est-ce pas
? I, Minette, am this craftsman. I create terrible beauty with my little friend. I created terrible beauty in your colonel just now.”

Suddenly Sarah couldn’t breathe. “My what?”

Minette actually giggled like a girl sharing secrets. “Ah, no,
madame,
do not dissemble. Not to Minette. She knows that you have a fondness for the colonel,
oui
? She knows you will miss him, which Minette regrets. I left him, you see, bleeding from a thousand cuts on my floor. He will not come for you,
madame.
Not anymore.”

For a moment Sarah thought she might do what she never had in her life, and faint. Her vision went thick, and she was hot and cold. She battled a terrible sense of confusion. That was Ian’s blood on that knife?

“I don’t understand,” she said, amazed at how calm she sounded. “What do you think I can do?” She turned to her brother, who was actually trembling. “Ronald? What part do you play in this? Isn’t it bad enough you tie me up like a felon when all I wished was to see my sister? Do you think to terrify me with tawdry drama as well?”

Oddly, Minette leaned forward and inhaled, as if she were testing the air for smoke. “
Hmmm,
yes. You will, I think, provide much enjoyment. Go now, Duke. Your work is done here. You will be avenged.”

Even more oddly, her brother paused, evidently torn about his actions. Sarah met his gaze and saw guilt, shame, anger. No redemption, though. He turned around and left, shutting the door after him.

Minette beamed, her knife held wide. “No one, you see, will save you,
bâtarde.
Not from Minette, and not from Raul. You see Raul here? Raul, do you think you will enjoy this tender flesh?”

“
Oui,
madame,” he answered, stepping forward to finger Sarah’s hair. “Raul prefers the yellow.”

Sarah jerked her head back, struggling for composure. She had to think. She had to outsmart them and get away. She had to breathe past the terror that choked her.

If what Minette said was true, Sarah could not wait for Ian to come for her. Her heart lurched. Could this madwoman possibly be telling the truth? Could Ian be dead? Sarah couldn’t think of anything but him, her great, courageous Scot, his life’s blood seeping away in the dirt. Rage began to build in her chest. Despair.

“Now, madame?” Raul asked, catching Sarah’s attention.

He stepped around, as if to untie Sarah.
Yes,
she thought, holding perfectly still.
Untie me. If I’m free, I will have a chance.

Minette tilted her head. “Why, yes, Raul. In a moment.”

The man nodded. “Will you mark her first, madame?”

Sarah’s breath seized in her chest, and she swore her vital organs had liquefied.

Minette focused on Sarah. “Not on the face. It does not do to mar the merchandise. I know a man, though, who enjoys scars on a woman. Especially her breasts,
non
? You would enjoy marking her pretty breasts, I think, Raul. Is this so?”

His eyes grew black. “
Oui,madame
.”

She smiled. “Would you enjoy earning Raul’s mark on your breast,
bâtarde
? Or will you tell Minette where your colonel has hidden his gift of the silver?”

Silver? What was she talking about? Sarah lost even that thought, when Minette slowly rose to her feet and bent to lift Sarah’s skirt. Sarah froze. Minette smiled and proceeded to wipe the blood from her knife.

“The silver,
ma petite.
A flask of the most loveliness with a small painting inside.”

The flask. Oh, dear God. What had Ian done with the flask?

Sarah frowned, as if she didn’t understand. “Silver gift?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. He bore no gift, silver or otherwise. I would know, after all. I had to undress him when he was injured.”

Minette’s smile grew coy. “It is not wise to disappoint Minette,
petite.
”

Sarah drew in a tremulous breath and shrugged. “It seems I have little choice.”

Minette nodded absently and dropped Sarah’s skirt. Sarah felt her breath whoosh out. She was just relaxing, even minutely, when Minette stepped right up to her. Eyes dilated, nostrils flared, the woman bent to nuzzle her face right into Sarah’s neck. Sarah instinctively cringed. Minette chuckled and brought her arms around Sarah, as if she meant to embrace her. Slowly, sensuously, Minette inhaled. Sarah shuddered in revulsion, her body shrinking from the woman’s touch.

“Ah,” Minette breathed, running her tongue down Sarah’s throat. “There is nothing as delicious as the taste of terror. It is of the greatest piquancy,
non
? Delectable.”

Sarah could not stop trembling. She felt her stomach lurching and wondered if she would vomit on the woman.

She had almost reached a breaking point, when suddenly she felt that knife at her hands. Sarah gasped. Minette laughed. The knife tugged at the rope, and suddenly the knots were gone. Sarah was loose.

“You are free,
petite,
” she whispered against Sarah’s ear. “If you can reach the door, you can escape.”

Minette straightened and backed away, never taking her gaze from Sarah’s. Sarah fought another shudder. She wasn’t fooled. Minette had no intention of letting Sarah go. Sarah didn’t know how she knew this. Possibly the avid light in the woman’s eyes. A hunter’s eyes. A cat’s eyes as he looked upon his helpless prey. Sarah hated her at that moment. Even so, she got to her feet.

“Oh, one more thing,” Minette said with a huge smile.

Lightning quick, that knife flashed again and swept down the front of Sarah’s dress, neatly slitting it down the middle and slicing a gash down her chest. So tidily was it done that Sarah only realized she had been cut when she felt blood slide down her belly.

Again she froze, suddenly confused, overwhelmed. Terror swamped her, the taste of it rancid in her mouth. Despair, dark as death, sucked the light from the room. From the world. She was bared to these two monsters, caught in an impossible game. And they were smiling, jackals perched at the edge of the light, waiting their moment.

She clutched her dress together. She would fight; she had no choice. But she would lose. This beast, even now unbuttoning the placket of his pantaloons, would take her up against the wall like a two-penny whore. He would slice her into obscenity, and the woman would watch, enjoying every whimper of pain and degradation.

Minette would expect Sarah to plead for mercy, to beg for release, ready to offer anything in exchange for her freedom. What Sarah suddenly realized as she considered the dark, thickening blood that stained her only evening dress, was that the game would be pointless. Sarah had nothing left to offer. Not hope, not honor, not truth. Ian was gone, taking with him any hope she might have had. Any light in a bleak world.

She would fight. She had to. She would never give this offal the satisfaction of seeing her beg. Pride, the only possession she still owned, demanded it. But if she did gain her freedom, it would make no difference. Nothing would.

Ian was gone.

“Now,
madame
?” Raul asked, his hand inside his pants.

Minette swept her hands out in acquiescence. “With my blessing, Raul.”

Minette moved her chair to the wall and sat. Her avid expression made Sarah’s stomach heave.

Oh, Ian.

She had one chance. Raul was distracted by the gaping dress. He approached relentlessly. It was no feat to look terrified. Sarah merely had to make him think she was frozen with it. Easy prey. She hated to move farther from the door, but as he approached, she backed up. She whimpered, one hand up. She watched Minette put away her knife and ease back on her chair as if she were settling for a night at the opera. Ian had been right, Sarah thought distractedly. The woman truly was a monster.

Too soon Sarah found herself backed against the cold, unyielding wall. She waited, sweating, even with the cold, dank air on her breasts, until the moment Raul stepped so close she was assaulted by the stench of him. Until he pulled his engorged member from his pants. Until he smiled, showing her the missing and rotten teeth in his mouth.

He took one step too many. Sarah rammed her knee straight up into his crotch. He screamed and fell forward. She clasped her hands and rammed them into his nose. Then when his head came up, she slammed the top of her head against that same appendage and heard the satisfying crunch of bone.

He screamed, a high, furious sound. She ran for the door. Minette was chuckling, as if she were watching a farce. She was also standing right in front of the door, her knife drawn. Sarah bunched her fist. She had no qualms about breaking Minette’s nose too, knife or no knife.

But Sarah never reached the woman. Raul caught her. Grabbing her hair, he yanked her off her feet. He back-handed Sarah so hard, she slammed against the wall and crumpled to the ground in a senseless heap.

Her eyes were open. She could see him stride up to her. She felt him drag her into the middle of the floor. She couldn’t seem to stop him. She couldn’t seem to make her arms or legs move. She knew she would pay for her attempt to escape. She knew it was a game. How many times, she wondered, would they almost let her go? How many times would they punish her? She saw the blood pouring from his nose and was glad.

Minette must have given him a sign, because suddenly he backed away.

“You have injured him,
chéri,
” Minette purred from where she had reclaimed her chair. “Many fail. I shall reward you, me. You may try again. I will not intercede.”

Sarah tried twice more. She failed, ending up back on the floor with her own nose bleeding.

“Tell Minette where the flask is,” the woman said, “and Raul will let you go.”

Sarah didn’t bother to answer. Raul would do no such thing. Circling her throat with one hand, just as Ian had that awful Briggs, he lifted her against the wall.

Ian.

“You may punish her, Raul,” Minette said from the corner in dulcet tones. “But do not forget. Only I may kill her.”

Lights flashed at the periphery of Sarah’s vision. Her feet didn’t touch the floor. Again Raul’s hand went down his pants. She only had seconds.

When Ian came, he came as a berserker. The door slammed in on its hinges so hard it bounced right off. Bodies poured into the room. Raul dropped Sarah. She collapsed to her knees, gulping air in great, ragged gasps, barely able to see.

Ian was all bloody, his eyes wild. And if that was the Highland battle cry, it was no wonder people ran from it. His roar ricocheted from the stone walls in a terrible wave as he barreled into Raul, who was even taller than he.

Sarah could barely see it, but she laughed. He was alive. He had come for her, just as he’d come for his sisters, not giving up ’til he found her. He would punish these terrible people. And then he would take her into his great arms, and she would be safe.

Someone dropped a coat over Sarah’s shoulders and lifted her onto the chair by the door. Someone else shoved Minette out the door as the woman laughed.

“Stay where you are,” Sarah heard, and nodded, never taking her eyes from Ian. Wild-eyed Ian. Battling, punishing Ian, who was beating the life out of Raul as inexorably as Raul had robbed the breath from Sarah’s lungs.

She couldn’t take her eyes from him. He had come.

“Chuffy,” someone said. “Stop him before he kills the blighter. We need him alive for questioning.”

Sarah turned to see Chuffy had indeed entered the room and stood alongside her, as if to protect her from the melee. “You tell him?” he asked her. “Turn me into talc.”

She turned back to see Raul on the ground cringing beneath Ian’s attack. Was she a terrible person that she felt such visceral satisfaction? Wiping the blood from her split lip, she shook her head.

Out in the hallway, there were new voices, thundering feet. Lights came and went. Sarah didn’t move. She was waiting for Ian. When he was finished with Raul, he would come for her. He would warm her and chase away the terror.

“Ian!” Chuffy finally yelled. “Mrs. Clarke needs you!!”