Page 44 of A Landscape of Love

Fidelia gasped and turned, feeling the colour drain from her face as Lord Malmsey entered the room. She supposed some would consider him a fine-looking man, tall and broad-shouldered as he was, with jet black hair and dark eyes. Yet those eyes were too closely set, his lips thin with a tendency to turn down, and there was nothing in his face that spoke of warmth or kindness.

“As you see,” Fidelia said, with more courage than she was feeling. From the first, this man had made her feel afraid. The way he looked at her set her skin crawling. It was a possessive look, one that made her believe he wanted nothing less from her than complete submission. “Which you must know is unacceptable. If you will excuse me, my lord, I will fetch my maid as chaperone if you wish to talk.”

She hurried past him, but not quickly enough as his hand shot out and grasped her, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her upper arm hard enough to leave bruises.

“Oh, no, love. I don’t wish to talk,” he replied, a curl to the thin lips that made her heart skip. “We’re to be married after all, and a woman of your experience has no requirement to observe the proprieties. That horse has bolted,” he added with a sneer.

“How dare you,” Fidelia breathed, tugging at her arm. Richmond, she thought in disgust, for surely her father would not have confessed such a thing to Malmsey, though for the sake of his own pride and for no other reason.

Malmsey only laughed and backed her up against the nearest bookcase, his sour breath reaching her nostrils and making her recoil further. Seeing her look of revulsion, he grinned nastily. “Come, pretty one, don’t pretend you don’t want the same thing I do. You couldn’t wait for the marriage bed before, so I see no reason to disappoint you now, hmmm?”

“You disgusting pig,” Fidelia spat at him, with more courage than good sense, and was rewarded with a stinging slap that made her ears ring. Tears sprang to her eyes, her cheek burning as Malmsey regarded her with cool contempt.

“That was just a little warning, sweetheart. Don’t try me. I don’t suffer fools and I don’t let little sluts pretend they’re anything but what they are. I’ll have no air and graces, no coy modesty. Your father may have been less than forthcoming, but I know I’m being paid to take damaged goods, and by God, if I want a taste before I commit to the arrangement, you’ll bloody well give me one.”

Fidelia stared at him in horror, knowing everything she had feared was nothing less than the truth. Hart, she thought, with her own heart beating furiously. She must get to Hart. If only he were here now, Malmsey would never dare speak to her so. Hart would see to that. She must get to him. Yet, Malmsey was bigger and stronger, and she doubted her chances of getting away from him if she tried to fight. Instead, she pretended to sigh and look resigned to her fate.

“Oh, very well,” she said flatly. “But not here. My father could come in at any moment and, as disappointed as he may be in me, he won’t take such an insult as that with equanimity, I assure you.”

“Ah, you are a sensible creature, after all,” Malmsey said approvingly. “Where, then?”

“My room, I suppose. If you’ll give me a moment to ensure my maid isn’t there, and then you may come and—”

“Oh, no, my pretty one,” Malmsey said with a chuckle. “I’m not as foolish as that. I’ll come along with you. If your maid is there, I’ll simply wait around the corner.”

Fidelia gritted her teeth against the oath brewing on her tongue and returned a taut nod. “As you wish,” she replied coolly.

“Let us away then, sweetheart.” Malmsey put her hand firmly on his arm, holding it in place as he escorted her from the room.

Fidelia’s mind raced as they walked, trying to figure the best way of getting free of the odious man. Turning the corner onto the corridor that led to her room, Fidelia had begun to despair when she saw movement upon the stairs. A pale golden head of hair came into view and Fidelia called to her brother urgently.

“Alex!”

Turning towards his sister’s voice, Alex started, his boyish face darkening as he saw Malmsey escorting her.

“Fidelia, I was looking for you,” he said, glancing from her to Lord Malmsey. “I want to show you something.”

“Oh, really, dear? I beg your pardon, Lord Malmsey, but my brother—”

“Your brother is a big boy now and well able to entertain himself,” Malmsey said, his tone one that suggested Alex mind his own business. “Run along, child.”

He really could have said nothing better calculated to make Alex furious.

“Child?” he repeated in disgust. “I’m no child, sir. And I’ll thank you to unhand my sister.”

“Your sister has business to attend to,” Malmsey said, leering at Fidelia in a way that made her stomach twist. She tugged away from him, trying to free herself from the iron grip he had taken of her hand.

“Let me go,” she said furiously, pulling harder despite the pain that lanced through her as his punishing hold on her tightened, grinding her bones together.

“Let her go,” Alex said, in a voice she had never heard from her gentle brother before.

His blue eyes flashed with fury, and he ran at Malmsey headfirst, taking him by surprise and tackling the fellow so hard Malmsey staggered back and let go his hold of Fidelia. The two of them crashed to the floor, Malmsey letting out a muttered oath as Alex landed heavily on top of him.

“Run!” Alex shouted at her. “Go to the picnic spot. Go now,” he yelled, bracing himself as Malmsey got to his feet.

“But, Alex,” Fidelia said in alarm, knowing he was no match for a grown man.

“I’ll manage,” he promised her with a devilish grin. “Go!”