Touch the Sun (27 page)

"You swine," she hissed, eyes smoldering with contempt, "I would die before letting you use me."

Gardner's face grew so red that Meagan wondered if he might explode. Still holding her arm in a punishing grip, he brought his other hand up to strike her full across the face.

Meagan felt her neck snap backward and her ears began to ring from the force of the blow. At first, the entire side of her head seemed numb; then it began to throb and burn so that scalding tears stung her eyelids. Through a blur, she tried to focus on the huge form in front of her, raising her chin a notch and straightening her shoulders. "Such treatment serves only to reinforce my opinion of you."

"You little baggage! You forget yourself! I'll see you humbled yet. You'll be begging to do my bidding and share my bed before I am through!" His eyes began to glow as he ranted on, but Meagan was too furious to feel any fear or apprehension.

"Never!" she vowed through clenched teeth. "You will have to kill me and bed my corpse."

His face swollen with hot blood, Gardner pulled her against his belly and bent to kiss the lips that so tempted him. Meagan angrily brought her knee up sharply to his stiffening groin, smiling with satisfaction when his hands dropped away and he fell backward against the doorjamb.

Henry Gardner held himself, whimpering as he rocked to and fro. Meagan was not quite sure what she had done to cause him such agony, but she had once seen a stable boy quickly dispatch a quarrelsome young footman with just such a tactic.

Intent on escape, she made for the dressing-room door, thinking to exit from the other end of the hall. However, Gardner's pain was apparently more intense than prolonged, for he caught her as she came dashing out the door of his adjoining suite.

"Vixen, you shall rue this day," he choked, inflamed with a consuming rage.

"I rue the day you were born, you ogre!"

As he hauled her roughly back down the stairs, Gardner growled under his wheezing breath. Meagan resisted him, dragging her feet and clutching at the fancy mahogany balusters and an occasional piece of heavy furniture. They passed through the opulent parlors with their carved marble mantelpieces, crossed a deserted kitchen, and finally reached the pantry and its attached storeroom. A door broke the wall between the rooms and Gardner flung it open.

Damp, musty air assailed Meagan's nostrils and, wrinkling her nose, she peered into bottomless, inky darkness.

"Charming spot, isn't it?" he sneered, pleased with her instinctive reaction. "Certainly not vulgar, or what was it? Garish? Oh no, it's not garish in the least down there!" He laughed at his own wit, then thrust her onto the wet stone steps.

"At the bottom, you'll find my dungeon. Every now and then I have cause to punish some of my seamen, for they can be as stubborn in resisting my authority as you have been. A day or two down there usually brings them around; they decide that even I am preferable to hungry rats!" His laughter sent a chill down her spine. "As it happens, there are a half-dozen being brought in tonight, so you are in for a double treat, missy! You'll get your fill of the damp, the darkness, the rats and the spiders down there and—after a few hours—the sailors will be along to amuse themselves with you." Slowly, he was closing the door, leering maliciously. "Who knows? They may never want to come out!"

The door shut with a thud and Meagan was engulfed in total darkness. Suddenly it opened again, letting in a thin ray of white light and the rank smell of Gardner's breath.

"Listen, missy, I am going to prove to you that you've misjudged me. I'll allow you to come out and start fresh with me, whenever you call. Take a few minutes to think about that rich chamber waiting upstairs—and the seamen who will be arriving soon to join you. I'll be waiting."

With that, he slammed the door in her face and Meagan heard the bolt slide across.

Gardner's lumbering footsteps receded as she shouted, "Loathsome vermin! Odious gargoyle! Noxious, slimy scum!"

If she could have thought of any more epithets, she would have employed them. The sound of his retreat had ended by the time she fell silent and now all Meagan could hear was a steady dripping in the dungeon below, accompanied by an odd squeaking from time to time.

Rats, she thought in revulsion. Ugh!

There was no light whatever and even after several minutes passed on the step, her sight had barely improved. She could make out the gray outline of stone walls and steep, wet stairs that curved downward into more blackness.

Meagan was afraid to sit down or lean against the slimy walls, imagining that great hordes of rodents or spiders would swarm over her. The air was cold, its chill increased by the dampness. Through her black dress, Meagan's skin prickled, and after a short time she grew stiff. She waited tensely for the arrival of the seamen, all hardened criminals—murderers perhaps—in her imagination. At length, she decided that some course of action was called for. Summoning every ounce of courage from within, she descended haltingly to explore the dungeon below in hopes of discovering either a hiding place or an effective weapon.

Once on the cobbled floor, the sound of scurrying rats intensified. When one nibbled at the toe of her slipper, Meagan thought she would die of fright. Convulsively, she kicked out, feeling stiff wet fur brush across her foot before the rat came loose and flew against the far wall.

"Dear, merciful God!" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hammering of her heart. "That Gardner monster was right. He does begin to look good next to this place!"

But Meagan knew she would never give in to him. Since the day she had left Fairfax County, she had been forced to compromise her standards again and again until her once fierce self-respect and pride were badly eroded. She knew now that this was the one time she would have to stand firm, for if she submitted to Gardner she would despise herself even more than she despised him.

Feeling more determined, Meagan began to move slowly through the dungeon. She discovered chains and shackles bolted to the stone walls and shuddered as she thought of the poor men at Gardner's mercy who had suffered here.

There were no tiny storerooms or closets for her to hide in, but she did discover another huge room annexed to the dungeon. It was filled with wooden crates and barrels which were packed with wine and liquor. Meagan was elated. She decided she could stave off a dozen men with the bottles, using them full as clubs or empty and broken to stab her attackers. She chose two hefty quarts of burgundy and perched atop a barrel to wait.

As luck would have it, barely an hour passed before she heard the door creak, followed by footsteps on the stone staircase. There was low, indistinct conversation, and then, as the men drew nearer, Meagan recognized the bluff voice of Henry Gardner.

"Where could the little she-wolf have gotten to?" he wondered, then called out, "Missy, show yourself!"

They approached the door and Meagan stationed herself, bottles poised and heart pounding, around the corner from it. As the first man came into view, she brought the quart of burgundy crashing down over his head and he crumpled to the floor at her feet.

Chapter 22

There was no time for shock. Meagan disposed of the dripping, splintered bottleneck and instantly grasped the second one with both hands. Even as she raised it, peering in the darkness for her next target, a steely hand caught her wrist. Pressure was applied until Meagan exclaimed aloud in pain and her fingers opened to surrender the heavy instrument. However, if her attacker thought that she would be a willing captive, he was in for a surprise. As powerful arms held her fast, drawing her near, she began to kick, wriggle and claw the air in search of his cheeks.

A familiar, dry chuckle broke the tension. Meagan's eyes went wide as she drew back, trying to confirm the man's identity. Through the dense shadows she perceived the gleam of a familiar smile and wondered how she had not recognized those warm strong hands, arms that had held her so many times before.

"My little vixen!" he laughed softly, enfolding her in an embrace that Meagan willingly accepted. "How fortunate for both of us that I chose to allow Major Gardner to lead the way!"

Her bones seemed to melt as she sobbed, "Oh, Lion!" and pressed her face against the clean-smelling expanse of his shirt. "Please take me away! Do not force me to remain here—I simply will not! I refuse!"

Suddenly she shuddered, swept by a cold, prickling chill, and huddled closer to his muscular frame.

Lion lifted her off the ground so that he might study her face in the gray light; he found it filled with the warring emotions of anxious fright and rebellious determination.

"Meagan, what could make you imagine that I would force you to remain in this place? Why do you think I am here? To pay a social call on the ingratiating Major Gardner?"

"B—but—Mrs. Bingham told me you agreed that I should work here—"

"Don't be a fool!" he broke in, his voice hard. "You know me better than that. I came to take you away as soon as I learned what she had done."

Meagan's shuddering subsided into a few last tremors of pure relief as Lion scooped her up like a child and moved confidently through the darkness toward the curving stone steps.

"You can see in the dark!" she accused him happily. "Like a cat! A lion!" Boldly, she snuggled her face against his neck, the collar of his fine linen shirt and touched his hair. "Thank you for rescuing me, though I should have managed myself somehow."

Lion was grinning as they came into the brightly lit pantry and he set her on her feet.

"That I can believe! And Major Gardner will have the swollen head to prove it."

She held fast to his arm during their brief tour of the house to retrieve her belongings and inform the butler of his master's whereabouts. Lion laughed out in great amusement when they entered the vulgar red bedchamber.

"I can see that the good major had high hopes for you! I gather that you preferred the accommodations belowstairs?"

"You seem to find much humor in my troubles, Captain Hampshire," Meagan retorted, flushing. "You might not laugh so, were you in my position."

He gave her one of his dazzling smiles, sea-blue eyes sparkling, as he replied, "It is only that you get into trouble so frequently and with such irresistible charm—"

"The last time I believe you described me as 'comical.' "

Lion tried to appear thoughtful. "Yes... well, on that occasion I was privileged to witness the performance. This time..." He gestured with a dark hand to indicate the ostentatious bedchamber, "I can only use my imagination."

"There is little to imagine," she replied in a scathing tone. "I simply made my position known and Major Gardner hoped that a stay in that hideous dungeon might change my mind. But I should make it clear that rats could have eaten me alive and I would not have given in to that swine."

"Egad!" Lion exclaimed. "What courage! What fortitude! I am only glad to have spared Major Gardner such an agonizingly endless wait."

Meagan bit off a tart rejoinder when she saw the affection in his eyes. Instinct told her that his mocking banter masked a fair amount of admiration.

As they started toward the stairway, Lion hooked an arm around her tiny waist and commented, "You know, little firebrand, it occurs to me that I seem to be greatly occupied with your safety and welfare of late. Snatching you from the jaws of death, so to speak."

"So to speak," she repeated in a voice heavy with irony.

Lion allowed her a half-smile before continuing, "This may come as a tremendous shock to you, but I do have other things to do besides check on you and tend your various battle wounds."

"This may come as a shock to
you,
but I could look out for myself! I never asked for your protection. I could have easily done without that unique cure that you administered when I twisted my ankle at Markwood Villa! You seem to think—"

A hand came around to cover her mouth and Meagan glared up at him. Lion arched an eyebrow in seeming disbelief. "Didn't anyone ever teach you that women are supposed to keep quiet when a man speaks?" Somehow he managed to keep a stern expression. "When I desire your opinion, I will ask for it. Understood?"

Meagan jerked the hand down. "Certainly not! And you stop making a jest of every word I utter!"

They came out of the house and into the sunlight. Lion let her march along down Fourth Street, breathing with heated passion.

At last she demanded, "Where are we going?"

"I thought you would never ask! Home, my minx. You are going to remain where I can keep an eye on you and see that you stay out of trouble—at least for as long as that is possible!"

* * *

It was not an arrangement that Meagan could pretend to approve of, but secretly, within her deepest self, she was excited. Living in Lion's house! Seeing him every day and doubtless spending a fair amount of time in his company... When she pondered that, Meagan felt all her hard-won pride dissolve. It irked her to realize how her heart sped merely at the thought of spending her days surrounded by his things, eating at his table, breathing the air that he breathed which held the intoxicating scent of him even after he had long departed from a room. On the surface, it seemed enough, but Meagan knew that the giddy pleasure she felt now could not last.