When he stepped from his pants, he made to shove her down on the bed, but something within her snapped. She could not submit to his abuse, not ever again. She would die first. Bringing her knee up, she viciously rammed it into his groin.
He howled in agony and she had the pleasure of seeing him fall to the floor writhing in pain. She kicked him in the jaw, ignoring the pain it caused her foot. Hastily, she ran for the door, and she screamed in frustration when she found it locked.
She ran back over to where his trousers lay and frantically searched the pockets for the keys. She grasped the cold metal of the key just as a hand painfully gripped the back of her neck.
“You bloody bitch!” he screamed as he threw her onto the bed. He climbed atop her, raining blows down on her body. “I should kill you for that!” Spittle ringed his lips and his face mottled with rage.
He yanked her arms above her head then groped for her dress that lay on the floor. Putting the material in his teeth, he tore a long strip with his free hand and then tied her hands to the bedposts with it.
Getting up from the bed, he strode over to the large window and threw it open, a blast of icy air billowing in. “We’ll see if you feel differently after a few hours in the cold. In the meantime, I’ll go collect Wisecoff and Loring. They have likely missed having free access to your body.” He laughed evilly.
Jillian regarded him in silence, her vision blurred by the swelling in her eyes, the blood from her nose and mouth mixing with her tears. He stalked from the room, locking the door behind him.
There was no need. The bonds securing her hands were tight, and she lacked the strength to rise. Hot tears slipped down her battered cheeks as her skin grew colder and colder from the raw night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Justin spurred his mount on, forcing him to impossible speeds. He and Case had split up in search of the driver of the hack, and, after an eternity, Justin had located him and turned his horse out of London towards Penroth.
He would not allow himself to dwell on what the bastard might have already done to Jillian. All that mattered was that he got to her immediately. Why hadn’t he told her he loved her? Damn his pride.
He leaned forward, urging his horse faster. Finally he saw the looming gates of Penroth, and he turned up the winding drive to the front door. Sliding from his mount, he ran up the steps and burst into the house, looking wildly around for Jillian.
The house was quiet—too quiet. Was he too late? He ran up the stairs throwing open doors as he hurried down the hall. At the end he found a locked door. He rattled the knob but was unsuccessful at opening it. A small sliver of light shone from underneath the door. Someone had been here.
He threw his shoulder against the door again and again, his rage fueling his strength. Finally it gave way, splintering and then crashing against the wall. He rushed into the room unprepared for the bitter cold that met him.
Jillian’s naked body lay on the bed, her hands bound and her knees drawn up as if desperately seeking warmth. Fear clutched his heart as he bolted towards her still figure. With a trembling hand he reached out and brushed aside the hair that covered her face, afraid to find that he was too late and that she was no longer alive.
He recoiled in horror when he saw her bloodied, battered face. “Oh my God, Jillian, my love.” Clumsily, he freed her hands, tears blinding him. Her skin was like ice, cold, so cold. He gathered her in his arms, gulping back the sobs that knotted his throat.What had Penroth done to her?
He smoothed the hair from her swollen face. “Jillian,” he whispered. God, she was so cold. He yanked his coat off and carefully wrapped it around her, rage flowing through him at the sight of the large bruises marring her body.
She moaned softly as he moved her. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
She opened her eyes, the swollen lids barely slits. Her lips moved as if she was trying to speak.
“Shhh, my darling, don’t try to speak.” His voice cracked as the tears coursed down his cheeks.
“Justin,” she whispered. “I—I—” she closed her eyes, the effort of trying to speak too much for her.
He buried his face in her hair and wept.
Gently so as not to hurt her further, he gathered her against his chest and lifted her up. He pulled his coat tighter around her bare skin and then took one of the sheets from the bed and bundled it around her.
They were an hour from London at breakneck speed. At the pace he would have to travel, it would take him three. He wasn’t sure she could make the arduous journey on horseback. If she had broken ribs, the trip could worsen her condition.
Having no alternative, he was forced to chance taking her by horseback. He kept the horse to a slow walk, his frustration growing with each passing mile. He was careful to keep off the main road, in case Penroth returned, and it only slowed them down more.
A few times Jillian awoke and struggled against him, and he soothed her, assuring her she was safe. She would try to speak but couldn’t summon the strength. He kissed her dark hair, utter helplessness gripping him. Why hadn’t he brought his carriage? He had only been concerned with reaching her as quickly as possible.
The first streaks of light were marking the eastern sky when Justin entered the gate of his London home. He leaped down from his horse and took the steps two at a time. He carried Jillian upstairs to the nearest bed and instructed the footman to summon the doctor. She had not regained consciousness in over an hour now and her utter stillness scared the hell out of him.
Helpless rage flashed over and over in his mind and his hands shook as he gently bathed her swollen face, nearly unrecognizable underneath the purple bruises and dried blood. The physician arrived quickly and displayed horror over Jillian’s condition. He shoved a reluctant Justin from the room so he could do his examination.
Edward awaited him as he left, concern etched into the older man’s face. “Your grace, Lord Penroth is demanding to see you. The magistrate is with him. I told them you were abed, but they were most insistent.”
“Good thinking,” Justin said, barely able to control the urge to charge downstairs and take Penroth apart piece by piece. He quickly ducked into his wardrobe and hastily changed his clothing as if he had indeed just been awakened.
