Seducer. Kayla Gray

      Geoffrey reached her and wrapped his hand around her throat, his fingers pulling her skin and hair. He stalked forward, pushing her backward, then shoved her against the wall next to the fireplace. Her head hit the plaster with a crack and she saw tiny lights ignite behind her eyes. She fought off the dizziness as he unfastened his pants.

      “When I’m feeling unmerciful, I tend to be somewhat rough. And you’ve made me feel particularly unmerciful tonight, Madelaine. So you aren’t going to enjoy this. In fact, I would say you’re going to find this incredibly distasteful. But that, my dear, is only going to make my own enjoyment richer.”

      She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The man was a beast. And insane. And he was intent on causing her as much pain as she could bear. She watched in horror as his pants fell to the floor. He began shoving her skirt up and she struggled to stop him. It was no use. He was much stronger, and with every attempt she made to stop him, he paused in his assault to slap her.

      He laughed and reached up her dress once more, his palm finding the curve of her buttock. She leaned forward and bit Geoffrey hard on the shoulder, gaining a strangled cry from him as well as her release. His retribution was swift, as he grabbed her throat with both hands and started to squeeze.

      “You bitch! I’m starting to think you aren’t worth the trouble. But I’ll still have you—and you’re going to feel it, too. Just not this first time. You’ll be nice and complacent for me this time, but I promise you’ll be fully conscious tomorrow night and you’ll feel the full brunt of my anger then.”

      The meager light started to spin and then fade as Madelaine struggled to stay conscious. She choked for air, while clawing at his hands, to no avail. He was too strong. He was going to rape her while she was unconscious. Her mind raced to save herself before it was too late.

      Only…moments…left.

      Can’t…breathe….

      Madelaine felt herself starting to slide down the wall, her legs threatening to give out. She raised her arms trying to catch herself on something—anything to gain her balance. If she ended up on the floor, her fight would be over. Geoffrey whispered disgusting words of what he was going to do to her body.

      Her hand caught on the edge of the mantel and she held on to keep herself upright. As she readjusted her grip, her fingers brushed against something cool and hard.

      A candlestick!

      She grabbed the brass base and brought it around as hard as she could in the general direction of Geoffrey’s head. Her vision was blurry, so she was going on instinct alone, praying that she’d make contact with some part of him. Just enough to surprise him and gain her release. God help her, she had to get air!

      Suddenly she was free, gasping for breath. She fell to the floor, holding her throat and coughing. It worked! Geoffrey had let her go. He must have realized he was killing her. When she could breathe again, she opened her eyes, expecting to see him standing above her, ready to pull her up and start his abuse again.

      Geoffrey lay face up and unmoving on the green and yellow rug, his robe open from the neck down. Madelaine saw the glint of the key resting against his chest and her breath caught in her throat.

      This might be her only chance to escape!

      She crept to his head and knelt down, hoping she would be out of reach if he woke up. Her hands trembled as she inched the leather strip up and around his neck. The leather caught in his brown curls and her panic increased at the thought that he would wake up before she could tug the strip loose.

      The strip came loose and she rose and scrambled to the door. In the low light, she fumbled as she tried to slip the key in the lock. Finally, she made the connection and turned the key. A loud click sounded and then the door swung open. Madelaine slipped into the darkened hallway and ran as silently as her fear would allow. She fled down the stairs and out of the house.

      She ran in the shadows down the moonlit street even when her lungs felt like they might burst. She ran mindlessly, with no other thought than that she was running for her very life.

      Chapter Three

      Madelaine woke to the first pink glow of dawn over the Charleston dockyards. She had passed the last few hours of night huddled in an alley against the side of a warehouse, tall clumps of scratchy sea grass concealing her. Now, her legs were cramped and her head was pounding as a result of Geoffrey’s brutality. As she uncrossed her arms to rub her temples, the sight of blood caught her attention. In the morning light, there was no hiding the dark stains that marred her fingers and palms.

      Was it Geoffrey’s blood?

      He had fallen…and then she hadn’t seen him move again.

      But she had only knocked him unconscious. Hadn’t she?

      Oh, dear God, no. What had she done? Tears threatened to spill, but she swiped them away with the back of her hand.

      She had killed him. She knew it as surely as she knew her life was over.

      There was no question of going back to apologize. No explanation would suffice in the murder of a man like Geoffrey Townsend. She had no choice but to leave Charleston as quickly as possible. However, the decision whether or not to go to London had been made for her. She wouldn’t bring her disgrace upon her aunt and cousins.

      But where was she to go? Madelaine decided she would settle for travel on any ship, going anywhere as long as she could leave right away. She would figure the rest out once she was far, far away from Charleston.

      She tore open the pocket in her petticoat and retrieved her money, then tucked it into her bodice. She scrubbed the blood from her hands in a muddy puddle, then straightened her hair and dress as best she could manage without a mirror.

      The sun was breaking through the haze, promising a bright day, perfect for sailing. She could hear people moving about, men’s voices, the cries of seagulls and the sounds of goods being moved from warehouse to wharf and loaded onto ships by outgoing merchantmen.

      Madelaine looked all around her before stepping out of the alley. She tried to put on her most confident face, despite the sick knot of regret that lay heavily in her stomach. She saw a young woman about her age standing next to a large assortment of trunks and boxes wearing a lovely green striped traveling dress. She was in the company of a man who appeared to be a sailor or a dock worker. The young man seemed to be quite taken with the girl, who appeared more than a little uncomfortable with the attention.

      Madelaine looked around for the girl’s escort—a father, brother or husband. She saw no one. Not even a maid. The man was getting bolder in his approach and the woman backed away a step, which only brought the man closer to her. He reached out and touched her cheek, and Madelaine could see the panic in the girl’s face as she recoiled and glanced about.

      The memory of her own mistreatment just hours ago burned Madelaine’s blood. She would not stand by and watch this woman get treated roughly or even impolitely. She rushed to the girl’s side, took her arm and pulled her aside.

      “There you are. I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said to the flustered girl. Then she turned to the rough young man. “What do you think you’re doing, sir? Leave us this instant.”

      “I was just talkin’ to the lady. Ain’t no harm in that, is there?” he said, scratching his hat across his blond head.

      “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. You have no business talking to this lady. You clearly saw she was momentarily without her escort and you could have compromised her reputation immensely with your ignorance.” Madelaine tried to make her tone as pompous as she could, praying the young man would be intimidated enough not to question her.

      “I…I’m sorry,” he said to Madelaine. Then he turned to the girl. “Sorry, miss, I didn’t mean nothin’.”

      He then tipped his dirty hat and scuffled on his way. Madelaine let out a breath, then turned her concern to the stranger, who took Madelaine’s hands