Page 74 of Tides of Resistance
Lizzie bit her lip and made no sound. She wouldn’t give a bully the satisfaction of hearing her scream.
Warily, she opened her eyes only to see his fist take aim at her face again, and another wallop hit the same cheek. Her skin throbbed, and her eyes stung, but still she made no sound,which infuriated him even more. Her hands were bound, so she couldn’t touch her face even if she wanted to, but she was determined not to show weakness.
‘No woman of decent pedigree would react like this,’ he said, circling the room, contemplating the next swoop on his prey.
Lizzie realised she had made an error in her stubbornness to show her pain and fear. Of course, he would respond better to feminine weakness. When he had seen her as a damsel in distress, recuperating and needing his protection, he could not resist her. That was what had drawn him to her from the beginning. Changing tack, she threw herself on his mercy.
‘If you meant to hurt me, you have achieved your aim. My face will be black for a week with the strength of your blows.’ Lizzie raised her battered face and looked at him, blood dripping from a cut and her eye already turning an angry shade of red.
He had the grace to look ashamed for a second, as if he only just realised what he had done and his temper had taken over, but his regret didn’t last. ‘You won’t fool me again, lady, whoever you are. An Adler may be deceived once because of his good nature, but not twice.’
Lizzie was grateful her hands were tied behind her back, and he couldn’t see her tremble. She had a sense that she couldn’t win. If she was tough, it would only provoke him to make a show of breaking her spirit, and if she played the weak female who begged for his mercy, it reminded him of his gullible infatuation. She sat on the chair, unmoving and unspeaking, not knowing what to do.
‘I wanted you so badly,’ he said, his voice cracking as he turned and walked towards the window, running his hand through his hair again. ‘It’s been years since I desired a woman like I wanted you.’ He muttered the words to himself in a kind of shocked daze, clearly appalled at his own lack of awareness where she was concerned.
He poured himself a drink from her father’s crystal whisky decanter that had been in the family for generations, and the bile rose in Lizzie’s throat as she watched the simple act that violated the sanctity of Seagrove. If her father could see this deranged SS officer helping himself to a drink from his precious decanter, she imagined even he would lose his temper.
Lizzie turned over thoughts in her mind trying to figure out how she could handle him so she could escape. Knowing she would die if she didn’t find a way out was surprisingly calming, and a cool clarity took over as if something greater than her fear guided her.
Heinrich knocked back the glass of whisky in one shot and then poured another. The liquid glowed as he swirled the glass in his hand and stared at her, seeming to contemplate what to do to her next.
‘The Gestapo will want a crack at you,’ he snarled. ‘But first let me see what you can tell me, Rose. After all, we are friends, are we not? That’s what you led me to think. We even kissed on our romantic sunset cruise.’
‘That was a lovely evening, Heinrich. We could do it again if you want,’ Lizzie said, summoning all her strength. ‘Would you like that?’ she added, brazen in her art of seduction, hoping the whisky had weakened his resolve to punish her.
‘You truly are shameless, aren’t you?’ he said, staring at her, a look of grudging admiration in his eyes. ‘I knew there was something special about you. I just didn’t realise you were a traitor.’
Heinrich paced the room again, swirling his glass around as he moved. There was a tap at the door, and he barked, ‘What is it?’
Lizzie heard a soldier ask if he could be of service. Perhaps the Major would like to eat.
Heinrich hissed something under his breath and then shouted a command to leave him alone and not bother him again.
Suddenly, a realisation dawned on Lizzie. The depth of his humiliation was such that he would tell no one how she had fooled him. That was why he banished the soldiers and sought to deal with her himself. This was good news because the likelihood of him calling the Gestapo, who would surely torture her, was slim. He would fear that under duress she would reveal their connection and how he had courted her.
He swigged the contents of another glass of whisky and banged the glass on the tabletop. Then he strode towards the door, turning briefly as he reached it. ‘Don’t try anything stupid. I will be back to deal with you shortly. If you so much as move an inch, you will be punished.’
And with that he slammed the door behind him, leaving Lizzie strapped to her wooden chair frantically searching for a way out.
CHAPTER 43
The soldier entered the room soon after Heinrich departed, and Lizzie watched him carefully, looking for a weak spot she could exploit. Whilst she was bound and guarded, there wasn’t much she could do. If he left her alone, she could try to work free of the rope ties on her hands, but he showed no signs of leaving.
The afternoon slid slowly into evening, and the light in the room faded. Lizzie’s stomach grumbled, and her throat was parched, but when she asked for water, the soldier ignored her. Eventually she drifted off into a troubled doze, dreaming of a black raven circling the house and fighting a golden eagle in the sky. The raven dodged and pecked at the eagle, outmanoeuvring it with its speed and endurance. Lizzie’s eyes flickered, and she whimpered as she watched the fight in her dream.
The soldier poked her with his gun. ‘Wake up, sleeping beauty,’ he ordered. ‘The Sturmbannführer is coming.’
Lizzie ached all over, and dread gripped her as she stirred and remembered the reality of her capture.
Heinrich entered and signalled for the soldier to leave, and once more they were alone, this time in the dim evening light.A sense of doom fell over Lizzie, and she sat there unmoving, waiting to discover her fate.
The SS officer looked as though he had recovered from his initial shock and seemed restored to his usual energetic vigour. ‘You are going to tell me everything, Rose. Or perhaps I should call you, Delilah, the seductress who destroyed Samson’s strength.’
As the words spilled from his lips, she saw a seething fury grip him, and knew he would not spare her the full weight of his wrath.
She watched him take off his tunic and lay it on a chair, his movements slow and measured. Lizzie knew in her bones he was going to hurt her again, and her body shook, and she fought to stop herself dissolving into fear. Now she needed all her strength to survive his retribution, and she squared her shoulders within the confines of the rope, and raised her bruised, bloody face as she met his hard stare with rebellion in her eyes.
‘There has been a mistake. I have nothing to tell you other than I had a desire to visit Jersey, and now I regret I overstepped my boundaries. Please let me go, and no one will know what happened between us.’
