The two men held on tight to Rosalind’s arms. Her heavy heart slowed to a sad beat. She couldn’t believe Phearson had abandoned her. He hadn’t even tried to take her with him. What a fool she was! All he’d wanted was the jewels. And like a foolish, lonely girl, she’d believed him.
Her stepfather burst through the door, brushing dirt off his clothes. “Damn it!”
Hate flared in his eyes. He stormed over to Rosalind and punched her in the face. Pain exploded in her eye.
He grabbed her hair and yanked her toward him. “The only way he could have gotten into my safe is if you opened it.”
Rosalind kept her mouth shut. She had no defense, no plea, no excuse.
Suddenly, he released her. “I’m not going to beat you. But I can’t allow this to go unpunished. Tomorrow, you’ll join your father.” He motioned with his hand. “Take her to her room.”
Her mother pushed herself up from the couch, her face stricken. “You can’t be serious, Esmond!”
“I can’t abide by this, Clare.”
She sat up straight. “But she’s my daughter.”
“You’re right. She’s your daughter. Not mine.”
She walked over to him. “I won’t let you kill my child.”
“I’m your husband.”
“Mother.” Rosalind shook her head. Her stepfather was extremely dangerous right now. He’d been evil before, but now he’d lost his treasure.
“No, Rosalind.” She put her shoulders back. “I won’t let him kill you. The provost will hear of this. Rosalind deserves a fair tr–”
Mr. Doyle struck her mother across the face, and she fell to the floor.
“Yes, you will. Lock her in my room. I will deal with her later.”
“You bastard!” Rosalind pulled on her arms and kicked her feet, but the men only gripped her tighter, their fingers digging into her flesh. “Leave her alone.”
Her mother turned her head, and blood dribbled from her upper lip. Shock shone in her wide eyes. Her husband had never hit her.
Until now.
Rosalind’s captors dragged her up the stairs and tossed her into her bedroom. She fell onto her knees.
The door slammed shut, and the sound of the lock rang in her ears. She rushed to the door and leaned against it. Anger and remorse flooded through her. Phearson, not her stepfather, had stolen all of her dreams. She was never going to escape, never going to save the poor men down at the Pirate’s House Inn.
She pounded her fist against the oak as tears flooded her eyes. How could she have been so blind? And now, not only was her life in danger but her mother’s as well. All because she’d trusted the wrong man.
The right side of her face throbbed horribly, and her eye swelled shut. She sat on the bed and rubbed her tender arms. Tomorrow, she’d definitely have bruises. Was her stepfather really going to kill her? She didn’t want to die. Didn’t he want her to marry Captain Foster? She froze. What if his plan was to kill her all long?
She wasn’t going to sit here helpless. Maybe she couldn’t get out, but she could have the element of surprise.
Desperate, she tore her room apart, looking for anything to use as a weapon. She opened the armoire, but only gowns hung neatly. She went over to her dresser and opened a drawer. She pulled out a hand mirror and glanced at her reflection. The skin around her puffy eye had turned purplish red. Tears had stained her dreaded mask. She smashed the mirror, hating herself.
The mirror shattered. This was her weapon.
She pulled out a large shard of glass, careful not to slice her finger. She took a ribbon and tied the shard around the end of her mirror. ’Twas not a sword or dagger, but it would be enough to stab whoever walked into the room and give her a chance to escape.
She narrowed her eyes. “Or stab a traitorous vampire in his black heart.”
Sunlight slowly chased the night away, and Rosalind’s stepfather strangely enough did not come into her bedroom, strangely enough. Maybe he’d just said he’d kill her in anger. Maybe he’d changed his mind.
Heavy footsteps thumped on the hardwood floor. Her heart racing, she pressed her back against the wall, her weapon high over her head.
The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. A man walked into the room, his back to her. Not caring who it was, she stabbed him in the shoulder. He cried out and grabbed his arm.
Two men rushed around him and cornered her, their pistols drawn. Her stepfather came up behind them.
“Put that weapon down.”
“No,” she said, as she swiped at him. “Stay away from me.”
He flinched, the bloodied glass narrowly missing his arm. “You can die with a bullet to your heart or hang from the tree. Either way, you will die.”
She gripped her blade tighter. “You can’t do this. It’s murder.”
“Is it? You’ll find the provost and I have an arrangement.” He pulled a piece of paper with the seal of justice on it. “When I told him that ’twas Captain Fear who murdered his boy and you were his accomplice, he gladly signed permission for me to hang you. He wants revenge as much as I do. So, since we can’t find him, you’ll do nicely in his place.”
She didn’t care if she was shot. She lunged toward him, but one of the men seized her wrist and pinched it until the mirror shard dropped to the floor. He twisted her arm and yanked her backside to him.
Her stepfather flashed his gaze over her then smiled. “That’s better. Time to go.”
Panic blinded her, and she wiggled wildly, but her captor twisted her arm more, and she was only met with more pain.
“Since you’re about to die anyway,” her stepfather said. “I have a secret I’d like to share with you.”
She gasped for breath. “What…secret?”
He whispered into her ear, “I killed your father.”
“What?”
He clasped her chin with his long fingers and pinched hard. “I was the one who started the fire. Both you and your father were supposed to die in that fire. I had no idea the strength that man had.”
“But why, Esmond?”
At her mother’s voice, her stepfather released her. Two men held onto her mother’s arms. Tears glistened in her eyes. Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying all night, and she had a purple bruise on her left cheek.
“Because of you, Clare. I wanted you. You belonged to me. You’ve always belonged to me.”
He’d killed her father. He’d killed her father.
Fury boiled inside Rosalind. She wanted to scream, but hate, anger, and shock squeezed her throat.
Her mother yanked on her stepfather’s arms. “I hate you. I hate you.”
“You’ll learn to forgive me,” her stepfather said. “Once this wench is dead, you won’t be chained to her, and we’ll be free to live our lives.”
“You actually think I’ll stay with you?”
“You have no choice. Even if I have to lock you up, you’ll stay with me.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, I’ll fight you. I’ll–” She stopped suddenly. “If you let Rosalind go, I’ll willingly stay with you. But you must promise not to hurt her.”
“Mother, no!”
Her stepfather walked over to her mother and grabbed the back of her head. “Tempting, I’ll admit. But I’ll have you willing or not willing, ’tis no matter to me.”
Her mother spat in his face.
He wiped his face. “Do that again, and I’ll have every one of my men rape your daughter right before your eyes. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” her mother said, her lip trembling. She hung her head.
“Shall we adjourn to the cemetery? We have everything ready.”
Rosalind went limp. She really was going to hang. No one was going to rescue her. Her stepfather had won. He had her mother, was going to finally get rid of her. He’d continue kidnapping men and selling them to pirates. The only thing he didn’t have were his jewels.
She clenched her jaw tight, cursing Phearson silently. Even he would get what he wanted. With her ruby and her mother’s jewels, he surely had enough to bribe a crew. But that wasn’t the only thing he’d stolen. He’d stolen her heart. Tears stung her eyes, and despair seized her lungs.
The men nearly lifted her off the floor as they followed her stepfather.
Rosalind should be kicking and screaming, but all the rebellion in her died. She was powerless to stop her stepfather and his men. At least she’d finally get to meet her father.