Sweet Bondage (9 page)

She arrived at the boat, her cheeks red from the intense cold and the exertion of running. Before untying it from its moorings she thought it best to step aboard and see if she could figure out the controls. It was more than a step, actually, it was a heart-in-the mouth jump. The first hurdle over, she gave herself a moment to regain her balance and get used to the motion of the boat before going over to the wheel.

She was biting her lip in absorbed confusion over the instrument panel, wondering which lever to pull and which knob to turn, and she didn't hear the step behind her announcing an alien presence. The first intimation she had that she wasn't alone came when a hand touched her arm. She jerked away in revulsion, just as if her senses had darted ahead of her reasoning and told her that it was someone to cringe from. She swung round and looked in dismay into Andy's weasel-eyes.

‘Going somewhere?' he sneered.

She
could have screamed at her own stupidity. She ought to have known that Maxwell wouldn't have got deep into conversation, leaving her to her own devices, with the boat unattended.

Quite apart from the fact that she had seemed so near to escape, it was frustrating to realize that once again Maxwell would have the last laugh. She remembered how he had let her go before, knowing she was running smack into the arms of his helpers, and his delight in watching her realize the fact

Andy was small for a man, not much taller than she was herself, and slightly built. She wondered for a reckless moment if she could overpower him and go ahead with her plan to escape. Almost immediately she dismissed the idea as being preposterous. These thin, wiry types often possessed superhuman strength and she suspected that in a clinch of that nature, or any nature, Andy would be cruel.

Almost as if he'd dipped into her mind and taken out the dark thoughts hovering there, his eyes flicked over her in a sensual way that was full of implied meaning, and she shuddered at what might happen if he overcame her. He was watching her intently. She could feel the lecherous probing of his slit eyes even though she had averted her face. The way he looked at her made her feel unclean. If he offered to touch her she didn't know what she would do.

‘Thinking of taking a little trip, were you?'

‘Yes.'
There was little point in denying the obvious.

‘Back to the mainland?'

‘Yes.'

‘The laird said you came of your own free will.'

‘Then I want to leave of my own free will.'

‘You said he was kidnapping you.'

‘Did I?'

‘Know how to handle a boat, do you?'

‘What's it to you?'

‘I just thought you might need some help.'

‘Would you help me?'

‘I might. He's no right to keep you here if you don't want to stay, even if he is the laird.'

She didn't trust him, but what alternative did she have but to enlist his help—if that were possible? She couldn't get it out of her head that he wasn't sincere, that he was playing a macabre game of cat and mouse with her. That he was having a bit of fun at her expense and hadn't the slightest intention of assisting her.

‘Will you take me to the mainland, Andy?'

‘How badly do you want to go?'

She swallowed tightly. ‘I'll pay you well. I haven't any money on me now, but I'll make a note of your address and when I get home I'll post it on to you.' She silently cursed herself for not having the foresight to bring Glenda's handbag with her. Her bid to escape had been the impulse of a moment's thought. She'd
needed
to get away quickly, before Maxwell realized what she was doing and before she lost her nerve. It hadn't entered her mind to go upstairs to her bedroom to fetch the handbag, even if she would have dared to waste the extra precious minutes. ‘I've a tidy sum saved up in the bank. It's yours if you'll help me to get away now.'

His head went from side to side in refusal. The hot gleam in his eye sent cold shivers down her spine. ‘Promises are no good.'

‘Trust me. I'll send the money.'

‘I want payment now.'

‘How can I pay you now? Be reasonable. I've just told you I haven't got any money on me,' she said, trying to keep annoyance out of her voice.

‘Who said anything about money? Did I? There are other ways to pay. If you set your mind to it I'm sure you'll think of a way that's acceptable to both of us.'

‘Are you saying what I think you are?' She hoped, forlornly, that she was mistaken in what she thought.

He smiled slyly. ‘What's good enough for Mr. Ian is good enough for me.'

‘Forget it!'

She made as though to go, but his arm shot out, barring her way. She tried to duck underneath, but his fingers, long and as powerful as she had dreaded they would be, gripped her by the shoulders.

‘Don't
tell me you're not missing it! Your man on his back and no telling if he'll be of use to you again.'

‘Take your hands off me.'

She realized that, although he was by no means drunk, he had been drinking—enough to impair his judgment, give him the courage, or the foolhardiness, to step out of line.

She couldn't think where her judgment had been in thinking that he would help her in the first place. He worked for Maxwell. He wasn't going to put his job at risk by assisting her to escape. Maxwell wouldn't stand for that. Even if the bargain Andy was making had been acceptable to her, which it wasn't, he wouldn't have kept his side of it

But Maxwell wouldn't condone this, either. Didn't he know that he was putting his job in jeopardy by even touching her? His alcohol-laden breath filled her nostrils, its unevenness telling of his sexual arousal.

‘Don't be a fool, Andy. Let me go.'

‘Mr. Ian's got good taste. All I want is a little kiss. Surely you can't begrudge me that?'

His lips were slippery against her cheek as she turned her face away and deflected the kiss from its intended target

‘You're a bonny wee lassie,' he groaned thickly. ‘The laird must be half out of his mind, holed up with you and him with the burden of misplaced loyalty to that weak brother of his forbidding him to take a bite. Unless . . .
maybe
you haven't been missing it at all. A man's own needs can strain the fiercest loyalty and the laird's a man, true enough. A fine, virile specimen at that.'

Wave upon wave of distaste and abhorrence washed through her. She could hardly believe that this conversation was taking place. The firm hold he had on her didn't give her a lot of room to maneuver. She managed to lift her hands to push him away, but he was quicker that she was and his hands left her shoulders to catch hold of her wrists. His mouth came down and this time there was no evading his hot, wet lips covering hers in a bitter kiss. He let go of her wrists, but that was no release because he'd got her back sharply up against the wheel. She hadn't realized that he had unfastened her coat until she felt his rough hands pushing up her sweater and touching the bare flesh of her ribcage.

‘Get away from me,' she yelled at him, her voice shaking with disgust

‘Be nice to me, bonny lassie, and I'll be nice to you. I'll take you to the mainland.'

‘I wouldn't trust you to take me anywhere. Be nice to me and let me go. Then
I'll
be nice to you by not telling Mr. Ross.'

‘It will be your word against mine. I've never lied to him. Leastways, I've never been found out,' he added, grinning evilly.

Whereas every time she opened her mouth to protest that she wasn't Glenda Channing
Maxwell
thought she was lying. She was fully aware of Maxwell's low opinion of her.

She decided to change her tactics, play on his vanity. ‘Why, Andy? Why are you doing this? You're an exceptionally good-looking man. The girls must be queuing up for you. You don't need to take an unwilling woman.'

‘I don't go short,' he said boastfully. ‘But a man likes a challenge. It's more fun. And there's a bit more icing to you than there is to the lassies I usually go out with.'

That hadn't achieved much. The motion of the boat was in her head and a heaving sickness was in her stomach as she renewed her struggle to free herself. She kicked and punched and pummeled, but he was stronger than she was. She knew that although their wild thrashing about was causing the boat to pitch it was too big and sturdy to capsize. But she wished it would. She would rather have an icy ducking than endure this scuffle for much longer. It was like some horrible nightmare, the kind when you're trying to run but your feet are weighted, and in any case there's nowhere to run.

She couldn't believe it when Andy suddenly released her. She stared at him through the wild disorder of her hair, unable to comprehend this new turn of events, incapable of coherent thought

He was saying something to her, spitting the words out with an urgency that demanded to
be
obeyed, but it was a moment or two before anything registered in her brain.

‘Are you deaf, woman? Straighten yourself, I tell you. It's himself coming.'

Did he mean Maxwell? Yes, there he was, his face as black as thunder, taking his anger out on the ground as he strode forward.

She smoothed down her sweater and her hair, then rebuttoned her coat with clumsy fingers that wouldn't move quickly enough for pride's sake. She gave heartfelt thanks that Maxwell had missed her at the house and had come looking for her, but she bemoaned the price she was being made to pay in lost dignity.

Angus was with him, but it was Maxwell's reaction she was most concerned about and which caused her the most pain. His eyes scored over her, taking in every detail of her disheveled appearance and she held her breath in anticipation of the severe dealing that Andy could expect.

Andy was shuffling his feet and there was fear on his face.

Maxwell barely gave Andy a glance, so absorbed was he in looking at her, his keen penetration reading the shame and degradation in her heart. But something was not as it should be. The sympathy that ought to have been there was missing. His contempt flicked, over her and she knew that he had drawn the wrong conclusion. He had mistaken her natural feeling of outrage and humiliation
at
being the innocent party in Andy's little game as guilt and anger at being caught.

As always, where she was concerned, he had prejudged. His mind was quite made up as to where the fault lay and whom to blame, and to her dismay and further frustration, it wasn't Andy.

Andy was quick to sum up the situation and even quicker to take advantage of it. Before Gemma's eyes he changed from the lecherous hothead into a bewildered boy who didn't know what was happening to him or how it had come about.

‘I couldn't help myself, Mr. Ross, sir,' he sniveled. ‘She egged me on. She said she thought I was an exceptionally good-looking man and that the girls must be queuing for me.'

Maxwell turned to Gemma. ‘Did you say that?' he asked curtly.

‘Yes, but not in the way—'

‘Andy?'

‘She said that if I was nice to her she'd be nice to me,' Andy replied, letting his eyes drop painfully away from Maxwell's at just the right moment. How touchingly ashamed he looked, how wronged.

I won't ask what Miss Channing meant by being nice to you, Andy. It's better left unsaid. What—' he paused deliberately—‘service were you asked to perform in return?' Maxwell inquired, grim-mouthed.

‘She
wanted me to take her to the mainland, sir.'

Maxwell's eyes swung round to fix on Gemma. ‘What have you to say to that?' he demanded, his countenance harsh, his mind closed to her even as he invited her to speak in her own defense.

This was the ultimate injustice. It was patently obvious that he wasn't going to believe her, that his sympathies were with Andy, who was giving an Oscar-winning performance of a green country boy.

‘You know what I've got to say,' she replied hotly, bristling with indignation. He was so quick to condemn her that he asked to be taken in. ‘Of course I tried to get Andy to take me to the mainland. But all I offered in return was money.'

‘Where is it?' he demanded, his assumed patience and silky sarcasm setting her teeth on edge.

‘Where is what?'

‘The money you offered him. Did he pocket it?'

‘I didn't have any money to give him.'

‘I see.'

‘Not on me. I was going to send it to him later.'

She was fuming and all too aware of the triumphant smirk on Andy's mouth. She cast a fleeting glance at Angus to gauge his reaction, but all that was apparent was his acute
embarrassment
at being forced to witness this sordid scene. This increased her fury. Wasn't it enough that she had suffered at the hands of that sex-obsessed beast? Did Maxwell have to humiliate her in front of Angus, whom she liked and whose good opinion mattered to her?

‘You never see anything because you never listen to what I say,' she accused. ‘You're consistent in that you always condemn me without a hearing. You made up your mind at the beginning about me, about who you think I am, and you're too damned bigoted, too high and mighty to concede that you just might have made a mistake. The infallible Maxwell Robert Bruce Ross doesn't make mistakes; he's much too superior and so I must be lying. Oh, what's the use?' she said, sweeping her hands in a gesture that conveyed the futility of going on. ‘You'll believe anyone but me. You're easy to convince because you want to think the worst of me. The dice were loaded against me from the start. Believe it if you want to! Believe that I enticed Andy and offered my body to him as a bribe! I j-just don't care.'

The break in her voice threatened to take her into pathos. That would have been too horrible to bear and she desperately sought to control this weakness by digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands to stop their tell-tale trembling and swallowing deeply
to
keep her voice steady. At the same time she was conscious of the fact that Angus was staring at her open-mouthed. Even Andy's pleased smirk had been swallowed in a comic grimace of surprise. Perhaps they'd never before heard anyone speak up to Maxwell, Laird of Glenross, in this way. As if to confirm that thought, they both looked to Maxwell, transparently waiting to see how he was going to answer the attack.