Fantasy 03 - Double Fantasy (29 page)

She yearned to do as he demanded, but she was unsure of whether she should. It was all too bizarre—the late hour, the chill, the intrigue—and he was different somehow, but she was anxious to please him. With it being his first visit in months, she couldn't have him thinking her obstinate or stubborn. If he grew annoyed, he might depart before she had a chance to spend any time with him.

"I have blankets in the carriage," he coaxed. "You'll be plenty warm."

She vacillated but ultimately replied, "All right."

She took the last few, faltering steps, and he clasped her wrist, spun, and hurried them away without another word being exchanged. Anne could hardly keep up with him and hoped she didn't fall into a hole or crash into a stump.

Shortly, they reached a clearing, and she could see the decrepit cottage he'd mentioned. The door was ajar, a candle burning in the interior and giving off an eerie glow. The threshold loomed, looking like a ferocious beast that was about to devour her.

"Jamie, stop." She was out of breath, uneasy, and she tried to dig in with her heels, but he was practically dragging her along.

"Come on. Almost there."

"Where's the carriage?"

"Out on the road. Where would you suppose?"

He sped inside the hovel, and with a quick yank he hauled her in, too, and hurled her into the center of the only room. The door slammed, and she whipped around, expecting to see Sarah, but being stunned to find Ophelia, instead.

Ophelia grinned. "I guess you were correct, Percy. She was foolish enough to follow you."

"Like taking candy from a baby," Percy agreed as he removed a black wig.

Anne's beloved Jamie wasn't Jamie, at all, and her spirits flagged.

"Where's Sarah?" Anne asked.

"I haven't the foggiest," Percy said. "Lie down on the bed."

Anne glanced to the corner where there was a rickety bed, with a lumpy mattress, a tattered quilt tossed over it.

"Why?"

"Just do it, Anne," Ophelia snapped. "We're not about to stand here debating with you."

Ophelia snatched Anne's arm, and Anne jerked it away.

"What are you doing? What do you want from me?"

"From you? Nothing." Ophelia chuckled. "Now what we want from your husband is another matter entirely."

Ophelia positioned herself in front of Anne as Percy closed in from behind, so that she was trapped between them. The feeling of menace was extreme, the interlude absurd and seeming too strange to be real. Her two cousins, with whom she'd lived all her life, were mad as hatters.

"You can't mean to keep me here," Anne blustered.

"Why can't we?" Percy inquired.

“I’ll be missed."

"Not for hours," Ophelia responded, "and by then, it will be too late."

Percy gripped Anne by the waist, his loins disgustingly pressed to her bottom. He spoke to Ophelia over Anne's shoulder.

"Why don't you head back to the manor?"

"No. I'm staying. If you're intending to hurt her or scare her, I want to watch."

"Jamie could arrive at any second," Percy claimed. "You have to be there to intercept him."

Ophelia scowled. "Why would he show up in the middle of the night?"

"The man's a lunatic," Percy asserted. "Who can predict what he might do?"

"Before I go," Ophelia grumbled, "at least let me help you tie her to the bedposts."

"Fine," Percy consented.

"Are you insane?" Anne gasped.

"No," Percy replied. "I've never been more lucid."

He lugged Anne toward the bed, and she panicked and began struggling. She was kicking and scratching, swinging her fists.

"Grab her hands, Ophelia," Percy instructed. "She might land a lucky blow, and I'd end up bruised, which would be difficult to explain."

Ophelia seized Anne's wrists, and in a trice the deranged pair had her wrestled onto the mattress. There were ropes affixed to the bed frame, despicable evidence of how meticulously they'd planned. As Percy pinned her down, Ophelia swiftly knotted the ropes at Anne's wrists and ankles so that Anne was trussed like a hog at slaughter.

Anne screamed, and Percy clamped a palm over her mouth and nose. Rapidly, she ran out of air and felt as if she was suffocating.

She stopped fighting; she stopped yelling.

"If you promise to be silent," Percy said, "I'll let go."

Anne nodded, and he pulled away. The instant he did, she resumed screaming, but the ruckus was cut off by his clamping down again.

"Stupid bitch!" he seethed.

"Percy, you are such a trusting idiot," Ophelia scoffed. "She's never listened to you her whole life. Why would she start now?"

"She'll listen to me," he vowed. The cold gleam in his eye was terrifying. "My words will be the last she ever hears. Now get out of here."

"Spoilsport," Ophelia complained.

She leaned over and snuggled herself to Anne, and she studied Anne as if memorizing the details. Then she laid her hand on Anne's chest so that it was resting on Anne's breast. Anne didn't think the casual touch was an accident, but she didn't react to it. She was frozen in place, wondering what Ophelia might do.

"You're too beautiful, Anne," she peculiarly said. "I always hated you."

"Why? What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing. You did nothing, and I hated you anyway." She laughed, and it was the sort of cackle a witch stirring her cauldron might have emitted. "Good-bye, and don't worry about Jamie. After you're gone, I'll comfort him for you."

She narrowed the distance between them, her fingers taking a furtive squeeze of Anne's nipple. Anne was still as a statue, desperate to keep from screaming again, to keep from spitting in Ophelia's face.

To her surprise, Percy saved her by shoving Ophelia away.

"Get out of here!" he griped. "Go to the house." "I'm having too much fun. I don't want to leave." "If you screw this up—after all my hard work—I'll kill you."

"You haven't the nerve."

"I have the nerve. After tonight, I'll have the courage to do anything I please. I won't be foiled ever again."

"From your lips to God's ear, Percy."

She slipped off the bed, and with an amused glance at Anne she left. The click of the door shutting was like a death knell.

"Be quiet," he ordered, "or I'll gag you."

He went and peeked out to ensure that his sister had truly departed. When he turned back toward Anne, he looked dangerous, demonic even, and she jerked on the ropes, but the more she yanked, the more taut the knots became.

He grinned down at her, enjoying her bondage, which was so at odds with the person she knew him to be. He was her oldest male relative, her guardian and benefactor, and she couldn't understand from where this unhinged villain had sprung. She had to reason with him.

"Percy, why are you doing this to me?"

"You know why." "No, I don't."

"I'm very sorry that it has to end like this." "Like what?" Anne demanded. "What are you planning?"

"You have to die, Anne." "Die! You're mad."

"No, not mad. Your husband shouldn't have come to England. He shouldn't have poked his nose in where it didn't belong."

"But what has Jamie to do with your bringing me to this cottage?"

"He has to die, too."

Her heart lurched. She couldn't imagine vibrant, charismatic Jamie dying.

"You're going to kill him?"

"No, not him. I'm going to kill you, then make it appear as if he did it."

"No one would believe he'd kill me!"

"Wouldn't they? Everyone in London gossips about how enraged he was when he thought you were having an affair with his brother. And Ophelia and I will swear that you were having an affair with me, too." He feigned a sad expression. "You'll pass away with the whole world assuming you're a whore who'd have sex with anyone. Poor thing."

She frowned. "But how will any of this result in Jamie's death?"

"He's a jealous maniac. I'll claim that he found out we were lovers, that the news goaded him to a homicidal frenzy, and he murdered you. He'll be hanged for the crime." He smiled with glee. "I won't have to do anything. The precious legal system he used so successfully to steal my tide will do it all for me."

"You'll never get away with it," she insisted, though she wasn't nearly as confident as she should have been.

Jamie was renowned for his violent temper, and he had no associates in High Society who would support him in a crisis. He would be deemed capable of murder, and he'd have no allies and no way of proving his innocence.

Percy crawled onto the bed.

"What now?" she asked, though she was afraid she knew.

"I'm going to rape you."

"Percy!"

"You shouldn't have spurned me, Anne. The other day, you shouldn't have told me no."

"Percy, you're my cousin! You're my friend! You're like a brother to me."

"A brother, yes, but haven't you heard? Incest is extremely satisfying."

"You can't do this!"

"I can. In fact, I have to. I've craved it for years, and I'm not about to strangle you before I find out what it's like."

"No!"

"Yes! Jamie took everything from me. So I intend to take everything from him."

'This is so unnecessary. He doesn't care about me! He won't be bothered by anything you choose to do."

"Oh, he'll be bothered, all right. He may not be fond of you, but he holds his possessions in a tight fist. I want him to go to his grave wretched because I had you in every way that counts."

He stretched out on top of her, and though she struggled mightily, she couldn't escape. He untied the belt on her robe, pushing at the lapels, so that the only barrier between them was the flannel of her nightgown.

He bent to kiss her, and she turned her head to the side, so that he grazed her cheek, instead. At her petty rejection, he chuckled.

"I don't have to kiss you to get what I want."

He gripped the front of her nightgown and ripped it down the center.

Twenty-Two

Jamie! You're finally home." "Ophelia, what are you doing in here? Last I knew, that was my bed and this was my bedchamber."

Ophelia stretched and preened, the strap of her negligee sliding down to reveal a perfect breast.

"I've been waiting every night," she purred, "for you to come back."

She thrust out her chest, practically begging him to look, but the bastard's eyes didn't dip the smallest inch.

"I'd heard," he said, "that Percy had claimed this room. Were you sleeping in here with him? That seems a little perverted—even by your low standards."

"Of course I wasn't in here with him," she vehemently declared. "How could you presume something so ludicrous?"

Jamie shrugged, acting as if he had entirely too much knowledge. "Have you any idea where your mother is?"

"My mother! Well... she's in London."

"Were you aware that she's been staying with me?"

"With ... you?"

"Yes, and she's told me the most intriguing stories." "Were you aware that my mother is a demented witch?"

"Really? At times, I've found her to be quite lucid."

"And I've found her to be quite deranged."

He wasn't paying her nearly enough notice, so she climbed to the floor and snuggled herself to him, but it was like hugging a slab of marble.

"Aren't you curious," she asked, "to find out what it could be like between us?"

"No."

"We could be so good together. We could rule Gladstone."

"I already rule Gladstone."

"I could help you."

"I don't need your help."

"But I could prove to be invaluable."

She slithered down the bodice of her nightgown so that the fabric was bunched at her waist. Her bosom was bared, her breasts pressed to his chest.

He surprised her by grabbing her nipples and pinching hard. She'd had sex with Percy often enough to have figured out how to pretend arousal, and she moaned with feigned ecstasy.

"Is this what you want?" he murmured. "Is this what you need?"

"Yes, Jamie, yes!"

"Well, I don't. In my opinion, you're one step down from a harlot. At least they state their price up front. What's yours?"

He shoved her, and as she stumbled away, she struggled to straighten her negligee. Why did she allow him to continue humiliating her? If he didn't want her, if he couldn't see what he was missing, to hell with him!

"How dare you insult me!" she huffed.

"What's it been like," he replied, "humping Percy all these years?"

Damn Edith! Why couldn't she keep her bloody mouth shut?

Ophelia tried to appear hurt. "What are you implying?"

"Give over, Ophelia. Edith told me everything."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"I understand about being close to your twin, but for pity's sake! If /—with all my faults and vices—am shocked by the information, your behavior is really disgusting."

"You think that Percy and I... that we ..." She managed a credible sob. "Is that why you're being so awful to me? If you've spent time with Mother, then you know what she's like. You can't believe her horrid lies."

"I've wondered why you were so hot to crawl between the sheets with me and you made a pass at Jack, too. Have you a fondness for fucking your brothers?"

"What a ghastly accusation! If you were any kind of gentleman—"

"But I'm not and never have been. Our dear, departed father saw to that. Now then, where's Percy?"

"Percy ... oh my." She forced down a grin, faking distress. This was going to be so easy! "Don't ask me, Jamie."

"Why not? Where is he?"

"You don't want to know."

"Humor me."

She walked to the window and stared out at the night sky, acting as if she were torn over her choices, when in reality she was simply hoping Percy was ready.

She might lure Jamie into the trap, but Percy had to spring it, and he'd only have one chance. He seemed more capable lately, but Jamie was no drawing room dandy. If Percy didn't kill him the instant he entered the cottage, Percy would be dead, instead of Jamie, and Ophelia couldn't guess what would happen to her then. If Percy failed, she couldn't claim that she'd been ignorant of his intentions. Anne would tattle, and Ophelia had no desire to incur Jamie's wrath.