When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked upward, straining to see through the darkness. Unwanted, unwelcome memories forced their way forward, a reminder of what happened in the absence of the light. Light. She needed light. Her legs trembled uncontrollably as she sought to control her rising hysteria.
None of her servants were equipped to take on an intruder. She had no weapons, a fact she cursed now. The urge to run grew stronger. Away from the darkness and the paralyzing terror that consumed her.
With more strength than she imagined she possessed, she mounted the first step. Then the second. No sound betrayed her, the soft slippers she wore whispering across the stairs with ease.
Her breathing became more rapid as she reached the top and moved down the hall toward her room. She stopped outside, pressing her ear to the door. No sound came from within. Had she imagined the breaking glass? Was her mind playing tricks on her?
With shaking hands, she opened the door, the click echoing harshly down the hall. She cringed when the door creaked. As she stepped in, she looked around, searching for signs of broken glass. A lone candle flickered by her bedside, one Udaya kept lit for her at all times.
Her curtains remained drawn, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw nothing untoward in the room’s appearance. She expelled her breath in one long sigh and relaxed. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw the draperies flutter. She turned her head to the window across the room. A light breeze blew in ruffling the heavy fabric. She hadn’t left her window open.
An arm stole around her neck and yanked her backwards into a hard chest. Before she could scream, a rough hand clamped over her lips. “Quiet,” a rugged voice rasped in her ear.
Her heart beat thunderously in her chest, and every muscle in her body tensed.
“I’m not here to harm you. I seek only information, but I must ask that you remain quiet. I’m going to remove my hand now.”
She nodded her head weakly. Slowly the hand slipped down, giving her a fleeting glance at an odd tattoo on his wrist. The arm around her neck loosened, though it remained as a warning, draped across her chest.
“Don’t turn around,” he said, when she shifted.
She stood stock-still, afraid to breathe, afraid that this was very real and not a figment of her terror filled dreams.
“The viscount was here. What did he give you?”
She shook her head unable to form the words.
“Speak up. What did he give you?” her assailant demanded.
“N-nothing,” she croaked.
The arm tightened around her neck.
“Nothing, I swear it!”
“What did he want with you?” he asked.
India thought rapidly. Even in her state of near hysteria, warning bells clanged loudly in her head. The intruder’s accent was forced. In the beginning he sounded as though he was affecting a British accent, but now he sounded decidedly foreign. And why was she standing for this? Anger boiled over her, replacing the panic in hot waves.
She’d been the victim for far too long. Never again would she submit to the power of another. She’d spent three long months in captivity, and she’d be damned if she would give up her new found freedom. How dare this man intrude on her sanctuary.
Gathering strength from her mounting rage, she picked up her foot and kicked him in the shin. Simultaneously, she brought her elbow back and slammed it into his ribs. His grunt echoed across the room, and his hold loosened just enough for her to turn the full fury of her attack on him.
She twisted in his grasp and rammed her knee into his groin. His agonized cry brought a smile of satisfaction to her face. He let go of her completely, and she kneed him again. He fell to the floor, slithering backward in an attempt to escape her.
But she wasn’t having any of it. This bastard had attacked her in her own home, and he was going to pay dearly for that.
As he struggled to stand back up, she closed the distance between them and hit him squarely in the nose with her fist. Rage consumed her. Months of anger spilled from her like water from a broken dam.
After a third fist to his face, the intruder evidently decided he had no wish to continue their conversation because he scrambled up and ran for the window. In a swift motion, he shoved aside the draperies and dove through the open window.
India ran to the window in time to see the man limp off into the night. How had he escaped serious injury with such a fall? What had the viscount unleashed on her by his visit? And why hadn’t the intruder fought back?
The door flew open behind her and Kavi ran in followed closely by Udaya. “Mem-sahib, are you well?” The urgency in his voice erased some of the raw anger, and she smiled shakily at them.
“I am fine. Someone broke in.”
Udaya rushed forward, her small arms wrapping around India and hugging her close. “Thank the gods you are unharmed.”
