Savage Surrender Page 6

  When I removed my bonnet and laid it on the seat I noticed that my companion, who sat opposite me, had slumped down and appeared to be sleeping. All well and good, I thought. We had exchanged not a word, not even a polite greeting, and it was my intention to maintain silence until we reached our destination. Far be it from me to disturb his slumbers, I thought angrily.

  I glared at him, and almost as though he could feel the power of my gaze, the corners of his mouth twitched into the merest suggestion of a smile. He was doubtless dreaming, I assured myself, of one of the legions of barmaids and harlots he had known. Well, he could soon go back to them. I wanted none of him.

  The memory of the previous night burned in my brain and brought an angry flush to my cheeks. I thought unpleasantly that his enormous body as it swept down on mine was not unlike a vulture coming out of the sky to pick carrion. Then I remembered how I had responded to his skillful caresses, how I had practically begged him to take me! The memory was so degrading, so humiliating that I thrust it from my brain at once. Yet every once in a while brief flashes of how I had felt, how dreamlike and delicious certain moments had been, came to my mind. Any man who could make a woman feel such wanton abandon must surely be the Devil himself, I reasoned.

  Still, he looked harmless enough in repose. His thick hair was clipped short and brushed forward into the Grecian style that was just beginning to become popular. The lines in his face were as hard as granite, even as he slept, but they didn't look really—evil. It was a handsome, powerful face. I found myself admiring the fine line of his nose and the strength of his chin, and the way his ears lay back against his head. He really was the handsomest, most compelling man I had ever met. His long frame seemed to fill the coach.

  He probably loathed neckcloths and cravats, I thought, for he wore an open-necked blouse, very full, and he had allowed the collar points to lie outside the black velvet jacket. His cuffs bore no lace, and he wore no hat, no jewelry, and no rings on his gloveless fingers. He carried no snuffbox or quizzing-glass, as far as I could determine. I looked at him disdainfully. Had the cut of his clothes not been so obviously fine and the fabrics so expensive one might almost take him for a peasant.

  "If you have finished raping me with your eyes, Mademoiselle—your pardon, Madame," he drawled with his eyes still closed, "perhaps you will turn your attention elsewhere and let me sleep."

  "What rubbish," I snapped. "If you are unable to sleep it is no fault of mine."

  "Oh, but it is. The heat from those smoldering black eyes is making me quite warm." He opened one sleepy eye. "And when a man is warmed by the heat of a woman's glance, his thoughts turn to love. Obviously."

  I jumped and drew my skirts around my legs. "How dare you suggest such a thing! Don't touch me! Don't come near me!"

  He grunted. "Ever the affronted virgin, aren't you, Elise?"

  Slowly and haughtily I turned away from him and gazed out the window. After a few moments a gentle snore issued from his corner of the carriage, and a furtive glance at his tightly closed eyes and loose jaw assured me that he really was asleep.

  We stopped once in the course of the morning to change horses, and again in the afternoon for lunch. As we drove up to an inn not far from Tours I noted a large number of mounted soldiers milling around in the courtyard. Our coachman stayed clear of them, and after their leader approached us and spoke a word to Honoré and Philippe and peered into the interior of our coach, they rode off, scattering in different directions.

  Philippe dismounted and opened the door on my side of the coach. "Quite a hive of activity in this part of the country," he remarked. "I hope they catch the fellow."

  "Who, Philippe?" I asked as he helped me down.

  "Some spy, apparently. He's made off with some battle plans, right under General de Boileau's nose. That was in Angiers, a few weeks ago. And two nights ago someone sabotaged an arms factory not far from here. They think it was the same fellow. An Englishman."

  "How frightful!" I said with spirit. "They really are uncivilized, those English. Do you remember London, Philippe? Utterly squalid. And their food was inedible!"

  "An abomination," Philippe agreed. "Do you concur, my Lord?" He looked over at the Marquis, who was yawning and stretching broadly in the sunshine.

  "I suppose so," the Marquis said distractedly. "But you know, I find their servants much better behaved than ours. I think as a nation they are born to serve rather than to rule."

  Philippe laughed heartily. "I hope we may have the pleasure of ruling them someday, then. You speak the language?"

  "English?" My husband looked pained. "A wretched cacophony. I have never learned it, for my ears could not bear to listen to my tongue." At that moment Honoré joined us and we all walked towards the dining room.

  After lunch Honoré came to sit inside the coach with me, and Valadon rode with Philippe. Later Philippe and Honoré changed places. From the occasional shouts of laughter outside the coach I could tell that my brothers were impressed with my husband. Their conviviality irritated me. I felt lonely and left out of this masculine camaraderie. I suddenly felt that it was the Marquis' intention to strip me of everything I had ever held dear, even the affection of my family.

  When we finally stopped for the night at a roadhouse near Orleans, I was hot and tired and my body ached from being jostled inside the coach. Philippe went to make arrangements with the proprietor for two rooms. I was sorely tempted to ask Philippe if I couldn't have a room to myself, but I couldn't think of any really plausible reason to give him. When he returned, he informed me that all the rooms were taken for the night but one.

  "For you and Armand," Philippe explained. Armand it was now! "Honoré and I can sleep on benches in the tavern or in the stable."

  "The stable!"

  He smiled. "We can have your room on the way back."

  "Back? But Philippe, I thought you were going to stay—"

  "No, Elise. I have to get back to my regiment, and Honoré must do the best he can to mollify Uncle Theo. We'll stay long enough at Pellissier to see you comfortably situated in your new home, and then—"

  I put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Of course, Philippe, I shouldn't have expected you to stay. It's just—well—everything has happened so quickly. I suppose I am not accustomed to being a wife, that's all."

  Philippe gave a fond chuckle. "You're a lucky girl, Elise. He's twice—three times the man the Baron is, and you know it. I've heard that half the mothers in Paris and Rome and Brussels have their eyes on him."

  "And the fathers, too," I muttered.

  "It's a match beyond our wildest expectations, Elise," Philippe said more seriously.

  I smiled bitterly. "Especially since he never would have looked at a poor Lesconflair when he was ready for marriage. But Fate seems to have played him into our hands. In a way I can hardly blame him for hating me."

  Philippe scoffed. "He doesn't hate you. How could he? And Uncle Theo will be truly delighted when he gets used to the idea. You'll see."

  I followed a maid up the stairs to my room, where a tub of hot water was waiting. A couple of well-dressed ladies came out of a room near the top of the stairs. The hallway was narrow and I stood aside to let them pass.

  The elder of the two was saying fretfully, "If only Armand Valadon would come back from Russia! You know, I've heard the Emperor himself has sent him on a secret mission to St. Petersburg. Very important. But it's so dull without him."

  They rounded the corner and disappeared down the stairs. I stood gaping after them and only collected my wits when the maid stopped in front of a door at the far end of the hall and said, "This way, Madame." I hurried to catch up with her.

  The room was small and quite cozy. The maid helped me to undress and carried my suit and shoes away to be cleaned. I sank gratefully into the tub of steaming water and closed my eyes. Just at that moment the door opened and the Marquis walked in.

  I slid deeper into the water and covered my bosom with my hands. "What are
you doing here?" I demanded angrily. "Can't you even knock?"

  He said, "I've come up to scrub your back. It's so crude of your brothers to make you travel without a maid."

  "We are a poor family," I said icily. "We have no maids to spare. But I am sure your country home is filled with maids: up and down and in-between maids, maids for work and maids for play and maids that exist purely for decoration."

  He stood over me, looking down at me with his arms crossed over his chest. He grinned. "It's a shame your tub is only large enough for one," he remarked.

  I could feel perspiration beading up on my forehead and upper lip. "Why don't you get out of here? How can you have the audacity to even speak to me after—after—" I felt myself blushing.

  "After last night?" He laughed softly. "Surely you're not angry about that? I was only respecting your—virtue." He laughed again.

  "Oh!" I scooped up a double handful of water and threw it at him. He jumped nimbly away. "I don't know what you're doing in this part of the country anyway," I said hotly. "You're supposed to be in Russia."

  The smile faded from his lips. "Oh, really? Who told you that?"

  "Two women I saw in the hall. They spoke as if they knew you, and they are simply pining for your return from St. Petersburg. Poor fools! I should have told them that you had come back unexpectedly—unfortunately."

  "That's very interesting," he said slowly.

  "It is indeed. I must tell them when I go down for dinner that their wish has been granted. They'll be delighted."

  He said, "I have already ordered a tray. We will dine here, alone."

  "But I want to go downstairs," I protested. "I am heartily sick of the sight of you, and I want—"

  "No." He looked at me but I had the feeling that he hardly saw me. "We will dine here and you will retire early. You have had a long day and you are tired."

  "I'm not!" In my anger I forgot myself and half rose from the protection of the bathtub.

  Hoofs clattered on the cobblestones in the courtyard under the window. He turned his back on me and threw the window open.

  "Well, well, another contingent of the Emperor's soldiers," he remarked under his breath. "This is becoming amusing." Then he strode purposefully to the door and left without even giving me another glance.

  "Vile beast!" I shouted after him. "Wretched son of a—oh!" I hurled a sopping sponge at the door and hopped out of the tub. He could insult me and he could torment me, I muttered, but he could not order me around as though I were a serving girl. How dare he tell me what I could and could not do!

  I dressed hastily, and when a servant appeared with our tray I told him to take it away. When I was ready to go down I threw open the door. The Marquis was standing in the hall, holding the supper tray in his hands.

  "Going somewhere?" he asked.

  "You know damned well where I'm going," I said briskly. "Please get out of my way."

  "You shouldn't have been so eager to send this back. It will be quite cold by now."

  "I don't care. Excuse me, but I am going to join my brothers in the dining room."

  He pushed his way past me and set the tray down on a small table in the center of the room. He drew up two chairs. "Your brothers have already finished their meal, Madame. They are now enjoying their brandy in the taproom. Surely you don't want to join them there."

  "Wretched pigs," I grumbled. "They couldn't even wait for me. I don't care. I'm going down anyway. I'll eat alone. In fact, I would prefer it." I started out the door.

  He came after me and pulled me back into the room. "And I would prefer it if you would stay here," he said smoothly. Before I knew what was happening, he had picked me up and set me down on a chair. He lifted the layer of toweling off the tray. A grayish congealed omelet and some unappetizing rolls greeted our eyes. A faint vinegary smell drifted up from the carafe of wine that accompanied the food.

  "Ugh, hogswill," I snorted, starting to rise. "Surely you can't expect me to eat that!"

  He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder and pushed me down. "I advise you to try. You won't get anything else tonight."

  With one quick motion of my arm I swept the tray off the table. Crockery and eggs went flying and wine spattered the walls and floor.

  "Take your dinner to Hell, Monsieur le Marquis," I cried. "I want none of it!"

  He lifted me out of the chair, sat down, and turned me over his knee. Shoving my gown and chemise up to my waist, he spanked my buttocks until they felt warm and numb. I shrieked and thrashed, but his blows continued to rain down mercilessly. When he set me on my feet again I rushed at him, claws bared, screeching wildly. He slapped me across the face rather sharply. My head snapped back and I fell silent.

  I put my hand up to my cheek and stared at him. No one had ever treated me like this before in my life. It was unspeakable, reprehensible. I would run at once to Philippe and Honoré and tell them— Tell them what? That my husband had beaten me? I would die rather than admit that.

  I indulged in a torrent of piteous weeping. I threw myself face down on the hard bed and cried until I felt ill. After a minute I heard the door open and close and I knew that he had left me alone. I sat up quickly, fired with determination, and dried my eyes. I wouldn't stay here another moment. I would run away to Paris. I would join the circus, the theater. I would be a dancer, a singer, an acrobat; yes, I would even be a street whore before I would stay married to that maniacal bully a moment longer.

  The maid came in, carrying my cleaned traveling suit and shoes. I changed my costume hurriedly, tied on my bonnet and picked up my dainty walking stick—it was the only weapon I had. I shoved the rest of my possessions into my small valise, wishing fervently that I had some money. Then I slipped out of the room and went quickly down the hall and down the stairs. I could hear laughter and voices in the taproom, which was situated on the other side of the downstairs hall from the dining room.

  "Good God, Armand, you must be a madman!" I recognized Honoré's voice. They must be sitting right inside the door. "And you knew that her husband would return at any moment!"

  "A man must be willing to take chances to win what he most desires," the Marquis observed. "I have always found that danger lends a truly distinctive flavor to an affair. Besides, one can learn more about battlefield strategy in the bedroom than in war."

  My brothers laughed appreciatively. I could almost see them hoisting their tankards to him. The swine! I hated them, all of them.

  I tiptoed towards the rear of the inn then raced through the kitchen—where the cook gave me no more notice than if I had been a cat—and darted out the back door into the night. What to do next? I had to escape quickly, before they found me gone and raised the alarm. A horse. I would have to steal a horse. I crept around to the other side of the building, for the stables were on the side of the courtyard opposite from the inn. I could still hear the roisterers inside. I bid them all a silent farewell, and walked straight into the Marquis' arms.

  "Ah, my little bride. Taking the air?"

  "What are you doing here? I—I had a headache, and I thought I would take a stroll."

  He looked me over. "And you have brought your baggage and your stick, so that you would be ready for any emergency. How clever."

  "Not clever," I retorted. "In these parts one never knows what ruffians one might encounter. Please let me pass." I brandished my stick at him.

  He pulled the thing out of my hands and broke it over his knee. "Silly piece of trash," he remarked, tossing the broken bits aside. "I can't imagine what makes women dress the way they do."

  I was speechless with fury. I began to punch and pummel him with all my might. My blows seemed to make no impression on him whatever. He brushed me off as easily as if I had been a bothersome mosquito and led me firmly to the courtyard.

  "Since this inn doesn't appeal to you, I have decided that we should proceed immediately to my estates," he said. "Ah, and here is a conveyance. How convenient."

  I saw a light curricle
standing in front of the inn door. A silent groom held the horses' heads.

  "What's all this?" I looked around. "Where are my trunks? Where are Honoré and Philippe? I don't understand."

  "You don't have to understand, just get in," he said. Looking at him sharply, I saw that he was dressed for travel. "Your brothers will follow in the morning, after they have had a fine and restful sleep, and your trunks will be sent on." He slipped his hand under my elbow and half lifted me into the curricle.

  "You're not going to drive us yourself!" I sat down on the narrow seat and tucked my valise under my feet. His little bag was there, too, and a fragrant sack which I guessed held food.

  "Why not? Is not Armand Valadon the finest whip in the land?" He climbed up beside me. I sat as far away from him as I could. The groom handed him the reins and accepted a small stack of coins. "Thank you, my friend," said the Marquis. "I'll see that the horses are returned to you in good condition."

  The man dipped his head. "Best of luck to you, sir, and to the lady."

  We drove off. A full moon in a cloudless sky illuminated the road, and the horses moved along at a fairly brisk pace. The Marquis did not speak a word, so intent was he on his driving. After several impatient inquiries which brought no replies I, too, fell silent. The light vehicle bounced terribly on the road, but I felt suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. Soon my thoughts became incoherent, my worries dissolved, and my chin bumped on my chest.

  It was not yet dawn when I awoke. I found that I had slumped down in my seat and that my head was resting comfortably on the Marquis' shoulder. I sat up quickly and straightened my bonnet. He smiled at me.

  "Good morning," he said companionably. "Did you sleep well?"

  "No. I am stiff and sore and hungry."

  "There's some bread and cheese in that sack. Help yourself."

  "I will not," I said with spirit. "I want coffee and brioche and ham and—"

  "We won't be stopping for food," he said. "This is all you're going to get today. Frankly, I don't care whether you eat or not."

  I stared at him. "I think you must be mad," I said slowly. "If I were Napoleon, I wouldn't trust you with the laundry, much less with state secrets and diplomatic missions. You are the rudest, most arrogant man I have ever met. I—I don't want to be married to you, do you hear? Let go of me at once. Let go of me!"