Camille. She didn’t belong here; she didn’t belong in Nicholas’ world.
She pushed aside the curtain and gasped at the sight that greeted her. “Meagan, my God!” Meagan lay in the bed, the right side of her face puffy and blue, her right eye swollen shut.
Camille kneeled by the side of the bed and stroked Meagan’s hair. “You should’ve told him everything, Meg. You shouldn’t have held out. My God, I never thought he would resort to this.”
A tear slid down Meagan’s face. “Oh, but it hurts even to cry. I’m so sorry.”
Camille frowned. “I’m going to help you. I’ll explain everything later, but I have some money now.” She put it in Meagan’s fist. “I’m sending for a doctor. And just let Mother Stephens try and stop me. There'll be enough left over for you to get away from this place eventually.”
“But…” Meagan began.
“I can’t stay now. I have to go. I’ll send someone to check on you. Get some rest now. And don’t worry about Mother Stephens. I’ll take care of that too.”
Meagan nodded her head. Camille gently squeezed Meg’s hand. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
Quietly, Camille drew the curtain shut and made for the door. She didn’t want to be seen.
“Hey lassie, me cup runneth dry!” yelled a beastly, rotund man with a red, splotchy face and teeth that could have belonged to a horse. His portly, monstrous arm reached out and snaked around her small waist, pulling her down onto his lap.
“Don’t ye look pretty today, lass. Pretty enough to kiss!” Camille stopped squirming when she realized it was exciting the grotesque man and only served to spur on the loud guffaws coming from around the table.
“I don’t work here no more,” she said, adopting her tavern speech.
“Aye, the little vixen is an uppity wench now. Don’t work here no more! I’ve had me eye on you, girl. Ye may not be servin’ tables today, but ye’ll be servin’ me manly needs soon enough!” He shoved an empty tankard into her hand. "Now be a good little gal and get me another drink first, will ye?"
Camille was alarmed. “Let me go; I said I don’t work here no more.” She gave him a smile that would have melted gold, but still he did not release her.
“Yer the prettiest thing I seed in years, wench, and I don’t think I’ll let ya go without yer givin’ me a big kiss,” he snarled. "And what's with them fancy rags you got on?"
Camille’s mind raced in revulsion. She said a silent prayer to God asking him to let the chortling bear of a man release her! Amazingly, the slug’s arm slackened a bit and the smile disappeared from his big, meaty face. She followed his gaze across the room to the tall figure eclipsing the doorway and gasped. He looked furious. His dark eyes flashed daggers as they surveyed the room. She heard the whispers around her.
“Ain’t that a Branton?”
Very funny, God! If there was one thing she feared even more than a lusty patron, it was Nicholas Branton.
She had never seen him looking so angry. What was he doing here? Sweet Lord, if she hadn’t gotten herself into a fine mess this time! Yet she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
He towered over the other men in the room and commanded the center of attention.
His black hair glistened in the flickering candlelight. As he got closer, Camille could see the hard set of his jaw, the graze of dark whiskers on his chin, the menacing look in his dark eyes. His tight black breeches outlined the powerful build of his thighs, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled back, revealing sleekly muscled forearms.
No doubt he was rankled about the inconvenience their little arrangement was causing him. He cornered Mother Stephens, who despite her considerable girth, seemed to shrink away from him. “I’m looking for my wife, Camille. You’re going to tell me where she is.”
“Yer wife ?” she said, looking puzzled. “You must be mistaken....”
“Yes, my wife. We were married last
She pushed aside the curtain and gasped at the sight that greeted her. “Meagan, my God!” Meagan lay in the bed, the right side of her face puffy and blue, her right eye swollen shut.
Camille kneeled by the side of the bed and stroked Meagan’s hair. “You should’ve told him everything, Meg. You shouldn’t have held out. My God, I never thought he would resort to this.”
A tear slid down Meagan’s face. “Oh, but it hurts even to cry. I’m so sorry.”
Camille frowned. “I’m going to help you. I’ll explain everything later, but I have some money now.” She put it in Meagan’s fist. “I’m sending for a doctor. And just let Mother Stephens try and stop me. There'll be enough left over for you to get away from this place eventually.”
“But…” Meagan began.
“I can’t stay now. I have to go. I’ll send someone to check on you. Get some rest now. And don’t worry about Mother Stephens. I’ll take care of that too.”
Meagan nodded her head. Camille gently squeezed Meg’s hand. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
Quietly, Camille drew the curtain shut and made for the door. She didn’t want to be seen.
“Hey lassie, me cup runneth dry!” yelled a beastly, rotund man with a red, splotchy face and teeth that could have belonged to a horse. His portly, monstrous arm reached out and snaked around her small waist, pulling her down onto his lap.
“Don’t ye look pretty today, lass. Pretty enough to kiss!” Camille stopped squirming when she realized it was exciting the grotesque man and only served to spur on the loud guffaws coming from around the table.
“I don’t work here no more,” she said, adopting her tavern speech.
“Aye, the little vixen is an uppity wench now. Don’t work here no more! I’ve had me eye on you, girl. Ye may not be servin’ tables today, but ye’ll be servin’ me manly needs soon enough!” He shoved an empty tankard into her hand. "Now be a good little gal and get me another drink first, will ye?"
Camille was alarmed. “Let me go; I said I don’t work here no more.” She gave him a smile that would have melted gold, but still he did not release her.
“Yer the prettiest thing I seed in years, wench, and I don’t think I’ll let ya go without yer givin’ me a big kiss,” he snarled. "And what's with them fancy rags you got on?"
Camille’s mind raced in revulsion. She said a silent prayer to God asking him to let the chortling bear of a man release her! Amazingly, the slug’s arm slackened a bit and the smile disappeared from his big, meaty face. She followed his gaze across the room to the tall figure eclipsing the doorway and gasped. He looked furious. His dark eyes flashed daggers as they surveyed the room. She heard the whispers around her.
“Ain’t that a Branton?”
Very funny, God! If there was one thing she feared even more than a lusty patron, it was Nicholas Branton.
She had never seen him looking so angry. What was he doing here? Sweet Lord, if she hadn’t gotten herself into a fine mess this time! Yet she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
He towered over the other men in the room and commanded the center of attention.
His black hair glistened in the flickering candlelight. As he got closer, Camille could see the hard set of his jaw, the graze of dark whiskers on his chin, the menacing look in his dark eyes. His tight black breeches outlined the powerful build of his thighs, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled back, revealing sleekly muscled forearms.
No doubt he was rankled about the inconvenience their little arrangement was causing him. He cornered Mother Stephens, who despite her considerable girth, seemed to shrink away from him. “I’m looking for my wife, Camille. You’re going to tell me where she is.”
“Yer wife ?” she said, looking puzzled. “You must be mistaken....”
“Yes, my wife. We were married last
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