Devil's Daughter (Devil 2)

Rayna began struggling against him. Adam bowed his head close to hers and whispered, “Stop it, for God’s sake. Hold still. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Instantly she quieted.

Adam took the stairs two at a time. The second floor of the house was shadowy and dim, lit with but one branch of candles set on an old table in the hall. He remembered Celestino telling him that they occasionally brought women here for trysts. He saw a door partially open and strode toward it. He stepped into a small room that held but a wide bed and a commode with a basin on it. He kicked the door closed behind him and searched in vain for a lock.

Adam eased Rayna to her feet and quickly unfastened the gag over her mouth. She swallowed convulsively, her tongue swollen and dry in her mouth. He was staring down at her, his face taut and pale in the candlelight.

“What is this place? What are you doing here?”

“I cannot tell you,” he said as he untied her wrists. “But you must trust me, Rayna.”

“Trust you.” For a moment, her anger overcame her fear. “I was waiting for you, marchese, in the garden. Did you guess I would be there? Did you send the comte to get me?”

“Don’t be a fool.”

“He laughed at me, taunted me. He touched me.” She clutched her hands over her gaping nightgown.

Adam wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her, but there wasn’t time.

He clamped his hand over her mouth. “Listen to me, Rayna, for we haven’t much time. Remember you once told me that you trusted me?”

She looked at him, her eyes nearly black with fear.

“You must do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand?” He lifted his hand from her mouth.

“What are you going to do to me? Rape me?”

“We are going to pretend that I raped you. Dammit, Rayna, you must trust me.”

“I am so afraid,” she whispered.

“So am I. Will you do what I tell you?” As he spoke, he chafed her wrists.

“Pietro, why did the comte do this? What is he to you?”

He drew her against him and kissed her temple. “No one is going to touch you, cara, I promise.”

He prayed that his promise would not be his last, and pushed her away from him. “Now, you must do exactly what I tell you.” He nodded toward the bed. His nostrils flared at the smell of sex and old sweat. “Take off your clothes and get under the blanket.”

Rayna stared at him. “You want me to take off my clothes?”

He took her shoulders in his hands. “Listen, Rayna, you are here to be raped, by me. We must make them think that is what is happening. Now, do as I tell you.”

It was a nightmare, she thought as her fingers fumbled at her torn nightgown. She looked from the corner of her eye toward Pietro as he stripped off his clothes. She saw urgency in his movements, and quickly jerked off her gown.

Adam paid no attention to her. He heard the bed creak and the rustling of the bedclothes. He turned quickly, sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled off his boots. He paused only a moment before standing to unbutton his breeches.

Rayna pulled the cover to her chin. For a moment she thought she was somehow outside of herself, watching a trembling girl and the man who soon would be as naked as she.

Her eyes met his for a moment, then fell to his naked chest. “No,” she whispered. “Please, Pietro.”

He paused, his fingers on the buttons of his breeches. “I am sorry, Rayna. I have no wish to shock you, but there is no choice.” He quickly turned his back to her and shrugged out of his breeches.

She stared at his body, lean and olive-tinted, so different from her own. His back and thighs were banded with muscle, his waist narrow, his buttocks smooth and sculptured as if by an artist’s hand.

“Stop enjoying the view,” he said.

She saw him draw a dagger. “What are you doing?”