Page 10 of Hold Me Fast
Jamir bared his teeth in a shark’s smile. “Come along, Beckleston’s clerk.”
“I would rather not,” Oliver replied, but Jamir’s smile only broadened, and Oliver, his shoulders slumped, walked in the direction Jamir indicated, Jamir at his shoulder in case he changed his mind. One of the other men fell into step behind them.
“Shall we see what Thatcher’s room can tell us?” Drew asked. “Then, if you are not otherwise occupied, perhaps you would care to come with me to meet my two colleagues. Between them, they have been supervising the search of Beckleston’s premises—one at his office and one at his home.”
The brothers exchanged a glance and confirmed they were of one mind. Jowan spoke for them both. “We would love to.”
Chapter Four
The following morning,Guy sent for Tammie to attend him in his study. Tammie hid her relief at the venue. It might, in any case, be premature. A meeting in the study might yet involve duties Tammie did not like to perform. Even so, Guy’s bedchamber would have been worse. And the room he referred to as his “playroom” would have been much worse.
“Sing for me,” he demanded as soon as she stepped into the room. She took a couple of deep breaths and began the aria fromFigarothat Susanna sings, purportedly to another man, to tease her husband Figaro.
He listened in silence, then said, “You shall be singing at a private gathering tomorrow evening. Prepare three songs, one a duet with Evan Davies. No. Five. You shall need two encores. Write me a list of the songs you have chosen and bring it to me before dinner. We have guests for dinner, Tammie. Are you well enough to be my hostess?”
Only one answer would be acceptable. “Yes, Guy.”
“Good. We shall discuss your rebellion, but not at this time.”
Thank goodness for that. And thank you, too, to the hostess who had decided she must have Miss Lind to entertain her guests. Usually, one of Guy’s “discussions” would leave Tammie unable to perform for several days. The lady must be important, or he would not have put off Tammie’s discipline.
“Yes, Guy. Thank you.” That was the required response. Now to distract him. “What can you tell me about the gathering? The more I know, the better I can choose a program to delight the hostess.” Pleasing the gathering would reflect well on Guy as the person who had discovered Tammie and promoted her to those who appreciated music.
Guy frowned, as if he suspected her of some nefarious scheme. “The Duchess of Winshire is holding another of her infernal fundraising events. This one is amusicalebut with professional musicians rather than half-trained and untalented members of the ton.”
“What is the event to benefit?” Tammie asked. “If I can pick songs that fit the theme, and play on people’s heart strings…”
That pleased her capricious master. He smiled. “Yes. Good. More money for the duchess’s charity.” His mood changed again. “Kneel,” he ordered.
Tammie dropped to her knees in front of his chair. He took her chin in one hand and forced her to meet his eyes, his grip tight enough to bruise. “You are mine, Tammie Lind. Say it.”
“I am yours,” she parroted, obediently.
“You are mine and everything you do, everything you say, especially everything you eat or drink or breathe in, is at my pleasure.” He shook her again. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Guy. I am yours.”
“You are mine.” This time, it was a snarl. “Whether you live or whether you die, I choose. I do!” He pushed her away with the hand that held her chin, and she fell backward onto the floor.
Another lightning change of mood. His tone turned mournful and his voice lyrical. “I could have lost you in that den. I nearly did lose you, Tammie Lind. How could you do that to me? Haven’t I loved you? Haven’t I made you famous? Haven’t I kept you as my prima soprano for seven years? My mistress for much of that time? Don’t you love me anymore?”
Trick question. Tammie was beginning to lose the brief lucidity that she enjoyed between when her dose of laudanum began to wear off and when the cravings for another dominated her mind, but she was still alert enough to return a duplicitous answer to a trick question.
“I love you just as much as I ever have, Guy.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but her tone must have satisfied him she was sincere, for his suspicion faded into lust. “You are still beautiful. It is because of me you are still beautiful. Left to yourself, you would have shriveled into ugly old age, like those other miserable creatures at the den. I have looked after you, Tammie. I give you what you need but stop you from taking too much of it. You should be grateful.”
“Thank you, Guy,” Tammie said.Thank you for introducing me to a poison that has gripped my soul and will not let me go. Thank you for using that poison to put me on a leash—to force me to be your whore, and to go with whomever you order whenever you order. Thank you for ruining me and dragging me down into hell.
Perhaps she failed to keep her thoughts hidden, for anger rode in his voice as much as lust when he pointed to his groin and ordered, “Pleasure me.” Then, letting his voice turn persuasive, he said the words she could never refuse. “Pleasure me, and I shall let you have the pipe.”
Tammie crept forward on her knees and reached for the buttons of his fall. She didn’t know who disgusted her most. Guy, for his pleasure in her degradation, or herself for being all too willing to be degraded if the reward was the seductive pleasure of the dreams.
*
The smoke, whenshe had earned it, wiped away the memories and carried her into dreams. But the dreams turned sour, as they sometimes did. At first, everything was wonderful. She was back in St Tetha, walking the moor with Jowan. They stopped to kiss—a tender, innocent touching of lips that had once seemed so daring and still felt more meaningful than any of the far more carnal kisses she had learned since they were parted.
Even as the thought came to her, the kiss changed, becoming consuming, forceful, a declaration of dominance demanding her submission. She tore herself away to confirm what she had already deduced: Jowan had become Guy.
