Chapter Sixteen
Clover fought the urge to flinch as Thomas slowly stroked her hair. He had brought her to the hayloft the moment they had arrived. Still in shock over Ballard’s mortal wound, Clover had not been able to hide her horror when Thomas had secured her wrists to two metal rings in the wall. He had then left her there for an hour or so, her feet barely brushing the floor, before he returned to her.
Gradually she had begun to fight the slide into hysteria. She had even faced down a dark moment when she wondered why she should try to stay alive now that Ballard was dead. Three thoughts kept her clinging to a hard-won strength. Dillingsworth wanted her to cower, to be wholly submissive to him, and she refused to give him what he wanted. And if by some miracle Ballard survived, he would come for her. She must hold herself together in case he did. Finally, if he died, she would live to make Dillingsworth pay.
At first, her loathing for Thomas shocked her. Then she realized the strength it gave her. It alsoangered Dillingsworth. Dangerous though the game might be, she enjoyed that small victory over him.
“You really are mad, Thomas, if you believe you can get away with this,” she told him.
“I have simply taken back what is mine.”
“You cast me aside, Thomas. I still have that polite letter you sent telling me so.”
“I could not marry you, but that did not mean I had cast you aside. You should have understood that.”
Clover laughed, a short, bitter sound, and shook her head. “I guess I am sadly ignorant then.”
“After all the time we spent together, how could you believe I would let you go completely? I needed money. That is the only reason I married that whore Sarah, but I would still take care of you.”
“By makingmea whore. Your kindness knows no bounds, does it, Thomas?”
“I would have given you a good life. Instead, you married that barbaric Scotsman and came to this wretched backwoods.”
“Ballard is not a barbarian, Thomas. You are.” She could not restrain a cry of pain when he slapped her across the face.
“You will learn to train that sharp tongue of yours.” He ran a finger over the palm of her hand. “Look what he has done to you. When I courted you, you had the softest, prettiest hands I had ever seen. Now you have the hands of a kitchen maid.”
“I earned these calluses in the honorable state of marriage to a good man. Far better to have hands as hard as a blacksmith’s than those kept soft in the service of a madman who would make me his whore.Icannot understand howyoucould believe I would accept the life you offered me.”
“Because it was a good life. I even would have taken in your wretched family just to keep you happy. Instead you ran off to the wilderness with that swine. You let him touch you.”
“And I quite enjoyed it too.”
Uncontrolled fury twisted Thomas’s face as he grabbed her by the throat. Her body clenched with fear. What a fool she had been to anger him to the point where he might kill her in a mindless fit of rage. When he slowly eased his choking grip on her throat, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“You will pay for letting him touch you. I was so careful with you,” he murmured as he lightly stroked her face. “I worked so hard to preserve your innocence. I even tolerated your stupid father’s interference, for it helped me keep you pure. That purity was to be mine to enjoy. Once we were together I was going to train you to please me, and only me. I knew that no other man had taught you anything, not even how to kiss. Then you stole that from me. You and that Scot.”
Clover was stunned by his words. “No one stole it. You threw it away.”
“I will not be as gentle with you as I planned to be,” Thomas continued, ignoring her words. “Now I must try to erase the stain of another man’s touch. And the touch of such a peasant.” He shook his head.
“And your wife Sarah approves, does she? I find it hard to believe she would blithely allow her husband to carry on with another. She is a very proud woman.”
“She is a whore. She needed me, a husband of some standing in the community, to salvage somescraps of her tattered reputation.” Thoughtfully he added, “She will probably be sorry that I have killed the Scot, for she did fancy him.”
“You cannot be sure youhavekilled Ballard,” she said, tensing when he began to undo her bodice.
“Of course he is dead. The man had a gut wound. Although right at the moment, he may still be screaming from the pain of it.”
The evident joy Thomas took in that thought made Clover ill. “He might also be coming after you.”
Thomas laughed. “The man is dead or within a breath of being so. You cling to a false hope, Clover. Your barbarian will not be rushing to your rescue.”
“I wouldnae lay a wager on that, ye bastard.”
Clover was sure she looked as stunned as Thomas to see Ballard standing there, only feet away from them, pistols held in each hand, both aimed at Thomas. Although a little pale and bloodied, he looked far from mortally wounded. Her surprise grew when Ballard suddenly gave one sharp whistle. An instant later the sound of gunfire split the night air.
“You were gut shot,” Thomas muttered. “Curse you to hell, how did you get here?”
