Savage Possession Read online

  “Yes.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Why do you want to know about him?”

  “I heard his name somewhere.” Never having been good at lying, she now regretted mentioning the sadistic creature at all.

  “He’s a womanizer and a thief,” Martin ground out, dragging her body under his. “I don’t appreciate women in my bed asking about other men.”

  “I just wondered.”

  “You’re my wife.” He drove his aroused, powerful shaft between her thighs. “And you will think of no man except me.”

  Could he be jealous?

  “Move with me,” he growled.

  No, he wasn’t jealous. With a sudden astuteness she realized, he had paid for her by offering marriage and wanted his money’s worth.

  She could not stop her treacherous body’s response to him even with his anger, because she loved him. He had saved her life; they had created a child. She brought her legs up around him, nestling her heels against the back of his knees.

  “Yes, oh, yes,” he groaned.

  Her ripened flesh tightened around his manhood, drawing him deeper into her hot moist core. All coherent thought disappeared in the throes of carnal delight as he brought her to the brink repeatedly, until finally his control snapped and they toppled into a fiery passionate furnace of raw need. White hot, it seared them together until two entities became one.

  * * *

  Next morning at breakfast, Martin watched her from beneath lowered lashes. Did he take more time than usual over his food? What about poor Toby? He might have died during the night. The warmth drained out of her cheeks and her head spun.

  Martin leapt out of his chair and dashed over to her. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m all right, just took a funny turn.” She gazed into his eyes. “Really.” She put out her hand to touch his cheek.

  “Traipsing over the countryside, falling into creeks. Elizabeth is not to leave the castle, Mrs. Irvine.”

  “I’m all right, I enjoy my walks.”

  “She’s to rest, understand? I’ll hold you responsible for her well-being.”

  “Mr. Mulvaney, I…I,” the housekeeper spluttered.

  “If you want to keep your job, you’ll obey my instructions.” He stalked off.

  “Oh, Mrs. Irvine.” Beth went over and touched the housekeeper’s arm. “I’m sorry, he doesn’t mean it.”

  Beth dashed outside. “Martin.” He ignored her and kept on walking. “Martin.” She caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “Please, Mrs. Irvine is upset.”

  “How I handle my servants is none of your concern. Go back to the castle and stay there.”

  She swung away from him and headed back inside. How could she get to see poor Toby?

  In the kitchen, Mrs. Irvine started to clear away the breakfast dishes.

  “Martin didn’t mean what he said, he’s angry with me.”

  “He always did have a nasty temper, that’s not what upset me, Mrs. Mulvaney. I’ve been threatened with dismissal many times before, but I won’t become a jailer, even for him.”

  “I’ll be going for a walk later on, regardless of what he says. I um, need the fresh air. When you go to hang the clothes on the line I’ll leave, so you won’t get the blame.”

  * * *

  Mid-morning, when Mrs. Irvine went out the back, Beth gathered up some food and dashed off. She had to be careful not to raise Martin’s suspicions. Trying to appear nonchalant, she strolled along. A quick glance around to make sure no one was about then she sprinted to the hayshed.

  Nothing stirred as she entered. “Toby.” No answer. Fear overwhelmed her and she hurried to where she had left him yesterday. Could Jeb have found him? Please God, no.

  He still slept. How long and thick his lashes seemed, almost touching his flushed cheeks. His hair was wet from perspiration. He lay on his stomach with one cheek resting on his folded arms.

  “Toby.”

  He blinked several times before slowing getting up on to his hands and knees.

  “Beth?” His voice sounded scratchy.

  She knelt down and gave him a drink of water. “I can’t stay long. Here’s some bread, I spread it with jam for you.”

  “I’m not hungry, only thirsty.”

  “I think you’ve caught a chill from being out overnight. Don’t let his wounds be infected. If he got blood poisoning, he could die.

  She gently unwound the bandages, and his back remained raw and bruised. “I’ll apply more salve for you.”

  “It feels so cool,” he whispered. “It stung before. I want me ma,” he whimpered, then muttered several indistinguishable words.

  Fear raced through her. He burned with fever. “Shush, I know you want your mother.” She held his hand. “Try and sleep, Toby. I can’t stay long Martin might come back.”

  He grabbed her hand and sobbed. “Don’t leave me. Jeb will kill me.”

  She spoke to him in a soft, soothing voice. It was warm and cozy, the straw soft. Her eyes grew heavy. I mustn’t fall asleep I have to get back to the castle before Martin returns.

  Beth jerked awake. She must have dozed off. Disentangling her hand from Toby’s, she leapt to her feet. The sky, sullen with clouds, made it difficult to work out the time.

  Creeping to the front of the hayshed, she glanced around. The coast seemed clear so she sprinted toward the castle. After a while, she had to stop and catch her breath. If Martin came back and found her gone, would he make Mrs. Irvine leave?

  She could not run any further now, but hurried as fast as she could. The wind picked up and gusted into her face, making it difficult to walk against its battering force.

  Arriving at the kitchen without mishap, she stepped inside and stopped dead. Martin stood by the fire, one arm draped across the mantel.

  “Where have you been?” he growled, in a voice loaded with menace. His cold eyes impaled her and she trembled at the sheer savagery of him.

  “I went for a walk.”

  “You look like you’ve been rolling around in the hay.”

  Following his gaze, her hand flew to her mouth. Pieces of hay stuck to her skirt. As her hand went to her hair, she knew it would be in disarray. What a fool, she should have brushed herself down outside the hayshed.

  “I might go upstairs and tidy myself before dinner.” She knew the time now. Five o’clock. She had slept through lunch and most of the afternoon.

  Not a muscle moved in his body, and this cold, rigid fury sent shivers down her spine. She hurried upstairs, half expecting him to follow. Taking off her soiled clothes, she washed and put on a clean gown. Sitting in front of the mirror, she attended to her hair, and the face staring back at her was deathly white.

  Downstairs, Mrs. Irvine met up with her. “Did he say anything to you?”

  “No, Mrs. Mulvaney.”

  “Thank goodness. I’m sorry for putting you in such an awkward position.”

  “Don’t worry yourself, dear.”

  In the dining room, Martin sat at the head of the table, but he stood up and pulled out a chair for her. He did not speak, except to thank Mrs. Irvine for bringing in the soup.

  Why didn’t he say something? It was like resting your head on a chopping block waiting for the axe to fall.

  She forced herself to eat. The tension built up as his cold fury sent the temperature plunging. He chewed every mouthful of food with inordinate care.

  When they finished their meal, they followed their usual routine of adjourning to the small salon, Beth to drink tea, Martin to have a glass of port. The clock ticked over loudly. Tension soared. Even his anger would be better than this icy silence.

  When the attack came, its savagery shocked her.

  “You filthy Campbell slut.” He dragged the words out through clenched teeth. “Whoring around in the hay with my child growing in your belly.”

  Beth almost collapsed under his ferocious onslaught. “Please, there isn’t another man, on my word of honor. You have to
believe me.”

  He stared into the soft blue eyes and almost believed her. The thought of another man gazing upon her body, let alone touching its porcelain smoothness felt like a knife twisting in his gut. It was hot and sharp, paring away his insides, until he almost doubled over. Her betrayal hurt. A pain so severe, he didn’t know how to endure it.

  Over the years he had bedded many women, used them for a few weeks then discarded them without a qualm before moving on to the next conquest. How could he have let a Campbell get him into such a state?

  “Who is this man?” he stormed. “Who is this sonofabitch?”

  “You’re the only man I love.”

  “Liar!” Coiled like a snake ready to strike, he moved over to her. Rage darkened his eyes. His nostrils flared, his mouth thinned.

  “Don’t be jealous.”

  “Jealous! To be jealous one has to care.”

  His words slammed into her with such ferocity they could have flattened her. A roaring noise almost shattered her eardrums and shock ricocheted all the way through her. She swayed and collapsed against the hard wall of his rigid chest.

  “I want what’s growing in your womb.”

  “Martin,” she whispered, stricken.

  “I won’t take another man’s leavings.” Putting her aside, he stalked off, having successfully hammered the last nail in the coffin containing her hopes and dreams. A black mist rose up before her eyes and she slid to the floor. I mustn’t faint, I mustn’t. She gritted her teeth until the blackness receded.

  He was not upset because her affections had been diverted from him, merely enraged because he did not want to share one of his possessions. This knowledge weighed her down like a ton of bricks, caused excruciating pain as she struggled upright.

  She would have walked out of the castle immediately except for poor Toby who needed her so desperately.

  A flicker of light came from under Martin’s study door as she staggered up to bed. Alone in the darkness, her tears flowed, unbidden. Trapped in some void, hovering between life and death, she would never be quite the same again.

  Did he have any idea how his cruel words had hurt her? Probably not, and if he did he would not care.

  I will never let him hurt me like this again. What a hollow threat. If he loved her, she would forgive him anything.

  In the black depths of her despair came a sudden gentle flutter from deep within her womb. Soft as the wings of a tiny butterfly, it assured her Martin’s baby was alive, moving. Probably much too soon, she knew little about pregnancy, yet it definitely wasn’t imagination. I’ve got you, my darling. She laid her palms on her stomach, even if your father won’t love me, you will. This thought eased her pain and she drifted off to sleep.

  Martin’s drunken curse woke her, but she pretended to be asleep. The covers lifted, the mattress moved as he slid into bed. He made no move to touch her. His whisky-laden breath fanned her cheek so she knew he put his face up close to hers. After muttering a swear word, he rolled away and fell asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  When Beth woke up, gentle pink tendrils caressed the dawn sky. Martin still slept in a whisky-induced stupor. No sound came from anywhere, even Mrs. Irvine was still in bed. This would be her one chance to see Toby. Every likelihood Martin would lock her up from now on.

  Using the natural light that seeped in through a crack in the curtains to see by, she dressed then crept downstairs, making the kitchen without mishap. Grabbing up cold chicken, bread and milk, she unhooked Martin’s water bag from its peg so she could fill up Toby’s bottles. Within minutes, she left the castle via the side door and headed to the hayshed.

  Martin woke up, his head fuzzy from last night’s alcoholic binge. He had taught his little storm girl too well, apparently, had given her such an appetite for sexual pleasure she thought one man could not satisfy her. A bitter laugh rose up in his throat. He had tried, without much success, to limit the frequency and intensity of their wild passion because of the pregnancy. No more, though. He knew the intricate make up of a woman’s desire. Years of experience taught him how to arouse them to fever pitch, and Elizabeth proved no different. It amazed and excited him, at the ease in which such a fragile slip of a girl could accommodate the long hard length of his arousal.

  He had passed on all his considerable knowledge about the carnal joys of the flesh, now another man would reap the benefits. Never.

  Rolling over, he was shocked to find the other side of the bed empty. He jackknifed into an upright position. Conniving little slut had left their marital bed to run into the arms of another man. I’ll rip her heart out with my bare hands. What kind of woman would do such a thing? Her innocent demeanor had almost fooled him, but she was a Campbell. Old Fergus must have taught her to bide her time, get him at his most vulnerable, before going for the jugular.

  He leapt out of bed and dashed to the window, just in time to catch a glimpse of her disappearing into the darkness. His hands shook as he dragged his clothes on. Rage, more powerful than an earthquake, surged through him. Where in hell would she meet this sonofabitch? He strode down to the kitchen to find the door ajar.

  Outside in the feeble dawn light he glanced around, and then spotted her scurrying along. He waited for her get a little further ahead before following, making sure to keep in the shadows.

  Making no sound, he crept after her, although he heard the snap of twigs and the rustling of bushes as she hurried by.

  I’ll fix you. He wondered why her betrayal cut so deep. The temptation to jump out at her now proved almost beyond endurance, but he wanted to catch them together. He would make sure she did not leave the castle until she delivered the child. After that, he would take pleasure in throwing her out, and she could rot in hell for all he cared. Easy enough to employ a wet nurse to suckle the child. Yes, separation from a child would be the ultimate revenge, a fate worse than death for her. He would be finished with the Campbells once and for all.

  So immersed in thoughts of revenge, he took his eyes off her for a moment and she disappeared. Ah, the hayshed, of course, hard to find a better place for a romantic tryst. His roll in the hay jibe proved to be closer to the mark than he had realized.

  Beth went up to where Toby slept, his rattling breath sounded harsh.

  “Toby.” She tapped his hand. “It’s me. I know it’s early but I mightn’t get another chance, Martin suspects something.”

  “Quite correct, my dear, he does.”

  She screamed as Martin shoved her to one side.

  “Get up, lover boy, so I can rip you apart.” He used the toe of his boot to prod the figure under the blanket.

  The cry of agony shocked Martin as much as Beth.

  “Leave Toby alone.” She flung herself at Martin and frantically grabbed his arm. “He’s hurt.”

  “Hurt! He will pray for death by the time I’ve finished with him. Get up you sniveling dog.”

  He prodded the body again, much harder. The agonized cry came once more.

  Martin lost patience. Squatting down, he ripped the blanket off, and his snarl of rage jammed in his throat. A boy lay face down on the hay. Even in the semi light, he could see blood soaked bandages adhering to the child’s back.

  “The poor little devil.” Martin put his hand out and patted the boy’s head. “What happened?”

  “Jeb Mueller flogged him and he ran away.”

  “What!”

  “I wanted to hide him until he got better.”

  Toby moaned but made no effort to move. Martin rested his hand on the boy’s clammy cheek.

  “You can’t go around doing things like this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I promised Toby I wouldn’t tell anyone. He’s terrified Jeb will find him and take him back.”

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t, the police and a native tracker have scoured the countryside.”

  “Please, swear you won’t tell anyone about him.”

  “He shouldn’t be here.”

  “Please,
I’ll never ask you for anything else again.” She plucked at his sleeve.

  He despised himself for the filthy accusations. He had been out of his mind with rage at her betrayal, but didn’t want to dwell on why he felt so strongly about it, or why her perceived duplicity cut so deep.

  “The boy has a high temperature.”

  “I know, I put salve on his back, I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You should have told me. We’ll have to get him to the castle so Mrs. Irvine can minister to him.”

  “He’s too sick to walk.” Her voice wobbled. “He’s little and half starved, and his back is too sore for you to carry him.”

  “We’ll try to hoist him on to my back.” Martin squatted down and Beth assisted Toby on to his back, draping his arms around Martin’s neck.

  “All you have to do is hang on,” she soothed. “You’ll be safe now.” The ugly scratches stood out stark against Toby’s pale, pinched cheeks. Tears of pain pooled in his eyes. Never had she seen anything so pitiful.

  Martin’s face was set into grim lines, although he carried Toby with ease, as he strode along with her a couple of paces behind them. On arrival at the castle, he only breathed a little harder than normal, while she panted and gasped for breath.

  “Dear Lord, what’s happened?” Mrs. Irvine opened the door for them. “Who is he?”

  “His stepfather beat him.” Beth blinked back tears. Stupid to cry now the crisis had ended.

  Martin strode into the sitting room, and Mrs. Irvine helped him lower Toby on to the couch. Beth started to tremble, causing Martin’s mouth to tighten at her obvious distress.

  “Sit down, Elizabeth, before you fall down,” he ordered.

  “I can’t, Toby needs me.” She stumbled over to the couch and knelt down beside the poor battered little boy. “Mrs. Irvine will make you better.” She stroked his hair. “You don’t have to be frightened anymore.”

  “Don’t leave me,” he whimpered.

  “You know I won’t.” She lifted his hand to her breast and held it there. “When you’re better we’ll take you to your aunt’s place. It will be nice at the hotel.” She spoke softly, almost crooning as she watched a grim faced Martin cut away the bandages.