The Haunting of a Duke(85)

Emme hadn't drawn breath the entire time he'd been in the room. Now, lightheaded with panic, she drew in a deep shuddering breath and rested her forehead against the cabinet door. She shook with relief and shock. It wasn't an admission of guilt and there was certainly nothing in his behavior to indicate his guilt. But given Melisande's reaction to his approach, Emme was left with little doubt. The question now would be how to prove it.

After several minutes, when she felt somewhat steadier, she carefully opened the armoire and stepped out into the room. Her knees were shaking but she moved forward regardless. She reached the doorway and though her pulse raced and she felt physically ill with fear, she peered into the hallway. Seeing nothing, she heaved a sigh of relief and moved forward into the corridor. As she made her way back toward the main section of the house, a noise just ahead of her sent her heart stuttering. Looking down the hall, her heart sank as the large figure steeped from one of the many alcoves that dotted the hallway.

Alistair loomed in front of her, a black ribbon twined through his fingers. “Hello cousin."

She fastened a falsely bright smile onto her face and said, “Alistair, what are you doing here?"

He laughed, the menacing sound echoing through the room. “Don't play coy. It doesn't become you. You know why I'm here. I've seen the way you behave, the way you whore yourself."

Emme couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was as if he were mimicking what had occurred with Pommeroy earlier. “Whore myself? Really, Alistair. You mustn't speak to me that way."

She backed away, toward the open door of the drawing room. If she could get to the window, she could at least get outside and have a chance at escape. He continued his approach, following her back into the sitting room.

He moved closer. Emme sidestepped, trying to get away from him but he grasped her arms and shoved her roughly against the wall. He stood so close she could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her.

"I've watched you. This house is riddled with secret passages, and some of them are uniquely equipped with peepholes. When she would come to town, Elise and I would go to brothels and pay ridiculous sums of money to watch expensive whores service men the way you serviced your husband."

She felt positively ill. “You are repulsive. Let me go,” she demanded.

He laughed cruelly, his grip tightening, bruising her arms. “Oh, no! Bedding Elise was sweet revenge against my dear cousin Rhys, but taking you, whom he actually seems to give a damn about, that will be the sweetest revenge at all."

Emme groped behind her, hoping that there would be something that would serve as a weapon. Her hands closed around a porcelain figurine on the shelf behind her. “I would never permit your filthy hands on me!"

There was glee in his eyes when he said, “Of course you wouldn't. But then I wasn't really asking your permission. In fact, I prefer not to have it. Fight me. Struggle, scream! It only makes it better."

Swiftly, Emme brought her knee up. She didn't hit her intended target, but in ducking the blow, he loosened his brutal hold on her upper arms. She twisted her right arm free and brought the figurine down, landing a staggering blow against his temple. He was between her and the window so she turned to her only other avenue of escape.

Jerking away from him, she ran for the door. Her slippered feet were sliding on the dust-covered floor as she ran down the hallway. She could hear him behind her. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She had almost reached the door, her outstretched fingers brushed against the wood to push it open, when hands fisted in her hair and yanked her back. She screamed as he pulled her to the floor, her skirts tangling around her legs.

He slapped her, the back of his hand striking her cheekbone with such force that it made her ears ring. She tasted blood and realized that her teeth had cut her lip. She struggled against him, using her hands, her feet, anything that she could to get him off of her, and then the ribbon was around her throat. He pulled it tightly, just enough that her breath was restricted but not entirely cut off. She clawed at it but she couldn't get her fingers beneath the satin.

"Have you any idea,” he whispered harshly, his breath hot in her ear as his weight crushed her, “what a beautiful sight that is?"

She gasped, struggling for air, when he loosened the ribbon slightly.

"We don't want it to end too quickly,” he said. “That would spoil all of my plans for you."

"You killed them! You killed Melisande and Elise!” she said, confronting him with the ugly truth.

"Shut up,” he growled, and pulled the ribbon tighter. His hands were rough as he pulled her to her feet. “She deserved everything that happened! Everything!"