“What is?” Jules demanded.
“That you are married, my dear. I wanted to marry you, but now you’ll just have to be my mistress. Please me, and I will keep you with me.”
“I won’t please you, I’ll kill you.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve lost your girl’s terror, haven’t you? Now that you know about plowing, I fancy you will certainly please me in bed.”
She shuddered, and she knew he saw it. She closed her eyes, but just for a moment. She had to keep alert, try to remember the way they were traveling.
Wilkes grew silent. He was thinking about his two men—Grabbler and Hawkins—scum, both of them. He didn’t doubt for a moment that they’d want to share her. He considered not going to the caves where they awaited him.
When Jules suddenly dug her heels into her horse’s belly, causing the mare to snort and rear back, tearing the reins from his hands, he knew he would need them. He caught the flying reins before Jules could grab them, and brought the frantic mare back down.
He crowded his horse next to the mare. He saw Jules breathing heavily, her eyes dilated. Without warning, he grabbed her about the waist and pulled her before him.
“How very stupid of you, my dear,” he said softly.
Jules felt fear and rage flow through her. She beg
an to struggle, striking at his face, her nails scoring his cheek.
He cursed, and dragged her off the horse. She fell onto her back, but the sharp stones digging into her body made no impression. She watched him pull off his belt.
She came up on her knees, and nearly fell back again, dizziness from the fall making her shaky.
Wilkes grabbed her wrists, forcing them together, and bound them with the belt. He saw her flinch, and loosened the binding leather just a bit.
“There,” he said. He clasped her beneath her armpits and pulled her to her feet. For a moment he brought her against him, and Jules went rigid.
“No,” she gasped. “No!”
“Well, not yet, at any rate,” Wilkes said. He grabbed her chin to hold her still, and kissed her deeply. Jules felt his tongue probing against her tightly pursed lips. She opened her mouth and felt him slip in. She bit him, hard.
His yelp of pain brought her but a moment’s pleasure. Her head reeled back at the hard slap on her cheek. She would have fallen had he not held her.
“If ever you do that again,” he said, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath fanning against her skin, “I will make you regret it. I might consider sharing you with Grabbler and Hawkins. I promise you, Juliana, you wouldn’t like that. They are not . . . gentle men.”
She stood rigid, saying nothing. Wilkes studied her face for a long moment; then, satisfied that she understood him, he kissed her again. This time when his tongue probed between her lips, he felt her shudder. With distaste. That would change, he thought. Yes, she would change.
He hauled her in front of him on his horse again. He left her mare, knowing the animal would straggle back to the nigger town eventually. He hoped it would. If her bodyguard didn’t make it, the mare would. I want that husband of yours to come after you. I want to kill that bastard, kill him slow. He looked back to see the mare already trotting back toward the town, and smiled.
They rode for several more hours, southward, hugging the cliffs overlooking the ocean. He allowed his hand to move upward to cup her breast. He felt her suck in her breath and shudder. He only smiled.
Jules closed her eyes against his hated hand. He’s going to rape me, she thought. All the old terrors, the old nightmares, rose to choke her. She trembled, hating herself for showing him any reaction at all. Her only relief was that Michael was safe. With Byrony. But Thackery . . . She felt tears burn her eyes. Please, she prayed, let him be all right.
“Time to let Mammy Bath help you out of those clothes,” Saint said, smiling at Byrony. “Call me when you’re in bed.”
Byrony’s lips tightened as a contraction grabbed her belly. She saw Brent’s white face, and tried to smile at him. It was she who said, “I’m just fine, love. You mustn’t worry.”
“Let’s get this chile into the world, little missis,” Mammy Bath said, and tugged at Byrony’s arm.
Saint watched until Byrony disappeared from view at the top of the stairs. He turned to Brent. “If you like, you can stay with her for a while. Talk to her, distract her. First, though, let me examine her.”
Brent nodded, his throat too tight from fear to let words out.
“That’s right,” Saint said on a grin, and clapped Brent’s back. “You think celibate thoughts.”
“Just wait until Jules is pregnant,” Brent managed.