“Just remember it,” he said, unfazed by the insult. “Here.” Impatiently, he reached out and smoothed back her hair, then smiled wryly as she glared at him. “Why don’t you sit down? There’s a bed just behind you. Your bath shouldn’t be long.”
“I’d rather stand.” She was almost out of her wits with the need to thwart him any way she could.
He shrugged, unimpressed. “As you wish.”
Then unbelievably, he turned to go. She’d expected him to stay and continue to torment her. “I shall join you for supper.”
The moment she was alone, she subsided onto the bed. As, she suspected—damn him—he’d known she would.
Verity carefully studied the room for a way to escape. This was the first time she’d been alone since her abduction. She had to use the opportunity. Not that she could do much right now, bound as she was. But the duke had mentioned a bath and a meal. Surely he wouldn’t keep her tied up then.
Unless he meant to wash and feed her himself.
She gave a shiver, not, much as she hated to admit it, entirely of disgust, at the idea of those large capable hands soaping her naked body.
The villa in Kensington had boasted the most modern of bathrooms. She and Kylemore had explored the room’s sensual potential on a number of occasions. The breath caught in her throat as she remembered the sensation of her wet and naked flesh sliding against his while warm water had lapped around them.
But that had been Soraya. Now she was Verity. And Verity’s stern soul had no truck with such decadent pleasures.
To distract her from memories that threatened to prove a disastrous weakness—a weakness she was determined to conquer or die trying—she returned to inspecting the room. It was large and comfortable, with a delicate, rose-patterned wallpaper. Mahogany furniture. An elaborately carved mantel over a grate. Brocade curtains covering two sets of windows.
All disappointingly normal, at least for the rich. Her childhood self would have been speechless with wonder at the thick patterned carpet and silk hangings on the bed, but the woman she had become recognized her surroundings as nothing exceptional, a room for the daughter of the house perhaps.
She should be grateful Kylemore hadn’t dumped her in the cellar. It had been a distinct possibility. He was determined to humiliate her, after all.
Perhaps he’d chosen this bedroom with a more specific purpose. Perhaps he meant to relieve his itch for her on this pretty pink coverlet before they traveled on. He’d said he wouldn’t touch her, but she didn’t trust his word. Especially when every gesture proclaimed his hunger for her.
She shivered in her bonds, terrified of what he’d do to her, terrified she’d respond as mindlessly as she had to that dazzling kiss. Then what hope did she have of prevailing against him?
He meant the memory of that kiss to taunt and torment her, and, God help her, it did. When he’d abducted her, she’d have laughed if anyone had suggested the duke retained any sexual power over her. Now she knew just how easily he could have her on her back, and the knowledge filled her with roiling dread.
The stout door that Kylemore had locked behind him—she had already considered and dismissed that particular avenue of escape—opened. Fergus and a brawny young man hauled in a tub. A woman, whom she assumed was the Mary who’d welcomed them downstairs, followed, carrying soaps and a pile of towels.
The gaping door behind them beckoned, but tied as she was, there was no point even trying to run.
Yet.
She watched silently as the three servants, one of whom was clearly Fergus’s son, if his sandy complexion and square jaw were any indication, filled the tub. The room brimmed pleasantly with scent, as if the wallpaper indeed bloomed with masses of pink rosebuds. The sweet perfume lent a jarring air of innocence to her ordeal.
She waited for Kylemore to reappear, but when the door finally closed, only Mary remained. As the woman came toward her, Verity reflected that with her kind blue eyes and untidy graying hair, she made an unlikely criminal accomplice.
Gently, she untied the cords from around Verity’s wrists. “I’m Mary Macleish, Fergus’s wife and the housekeeper here. Allow me to help you, madame,” she said in a soft Scots burr.
She addressed Verity with the same French title Fergus had used upon their arrival. It suited an absconded mistress as well as anything else, Verity supposed. The word’s English equivalent, my lady, was laughably inappropriate.
As she knelt to release Verity’s ankles, something in the woman’s carefully controlled features indicated censure. Knowing her chance to make an ally could end any second with Kylemore’s arrival, Verity mustered the courage to speak.
/> “The duke has abducted me. I’m here against my will. Please, you must help me to get away,” she said urgently in a low voice.
She doubted the duke would descend to listening at keyholes. But who knew? She’d never have imagined him driven to kidnapping either.
The woman’s busy hands paused, then she resumed removing Verity’s shoes and stockings. “My family and I owe everything to His Grace. I’m sorry for your plight, madame, but I cannot credit the duke truly means you harm.” Mary stood up. She kept her eyes downcast, as if she couldn’t bear to witness Verity’s suffering because if she did, she’d have to do something about it. “I’ll help you out of your gown.”
“But he does mean me harm. He’s said so. You’ve seen how he treats me.” Verity looked helplessly into that impassive face. Frantically, she leaned forward and grabbed Mary’s wrist with her newly unbound hands. “Please, I beg of you. Help me! For God’s sake, you have to help me.”
“There’s no need to take the Lord’s name in vain,” Mary said with more disapproval than Kylemore’s unorthodox arrival downstairs had aroused in her. “I told you I can never go against the duke.”
Verity could see that as far as the servant was concerned, nothing more remained to be said. But she couldn’t give up, not when this might be her only moment away from her jailer. Emotion made her voice shake. “He tied me up. He stole me away from my family. He’s threatening to rape me. Surely, you as another woman…”