Will You Teach Me…?
Hello everyone! The atmosphere will keep going down the drain between Stephen and Brianna in this chapter, but you know… when you hit rock bottom, you can only go up... or not. A long chapter this time (just under 8000 words) to reward you for these three weeks of waiting. I hope the end of this chapter will make your hearts race (in a good or a bad way, I guess you will find out ahahaha). Enjoy!
Thanks Rath101, LykkeF and emilou12 for your reviews, follow/fav!
Rath101: you thought chapter 9 was toxic? You wanted more? HERE YOU ARE. This chapter will fulfill all of your desires. Don't thank me (or rather thank me once you finished reading ahahah). Family will visit but not before chapter 21-22 (I'm currently writing them, as I speak). Thanks for your comment, dear!
LykkeF: Oh girl, Bonnet just started playing with her feelings. This is nothing in comparison with what will happen later ahahahahah. But he really wants to be better and it will happen… eventually. They are just in a conflictual vicious cycle now, things have to settle down before it can get better… But it will soon get better: chapter 11 might be a new beginning for all of them (if they survive the end of chapter 10 lol). Thanks for your review!
Emilou12: thanks again for your comment! I haven't forgotten you, don't worry, I still want to read your fiction but I just got out of hospital where I've been staying a whole week and my mind wasn't really on writing or reading… I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!
oOo
10. Bath Water
On the worm-eaten wooden sign that swayed in the sea breeze, the branches of the willow tree seemed to taunt her. The place had not changed one bit; dust and grime still covered the corners of the lattice windows, the facade had probably not been repainted in a good decade, and the same stench of bad alcohol and sweat emanated from it whenever a customer pushed the door open. The Willow Tree Tavern had remained unchanged since her last visit, more than four years earlier. The day all hell had broken loose. She'd never thought of it before, but the very fact that nothing had changed in this cesspit – where everyone had looked away as she was brutally assaulted and raped – was extraordinarily violent. Why was the tavern entitled to such a privilege, even though Brianna's stay within its walls had altered her life forever?
Darlin'…
The wind stirred the sign again, and it creaked, as if laughing at the frail, motionless figure of the young woman below. An unpleasant buzzing sound filled her ears, gradually blocking the hubbub of the crowd around her in Wilmington, as well as another voice… closer and more insistent than the others. She also felt a painful pressure in her rib cage and her lips parted to let more of the sea air in, as anxiety was slowly taking hold of her. A man pushed the door of the tavern open, and again the smell filled her nostrils, taking her deeper into her sordid memories. She could almost hear her own screams. Taste the blood on her lips.
Brianna...
She knew she had to look away and run as far away from the tavern as possible, but her feet wouldn't move and her eyes refused to leave the mocking sign. Under her corset, her heart was pounding against her ribs and she wondered how much time would pass before she collapsed in the middle of the street.
"Brianna!"
Bonnet's angry voice as well as the pressure of his fingers around her arm pulled her immediately from her waking nightmare and she jumped, turning her wild eyes in his direction. The buzzing in her ears died away instantly, and the ambient noise from the street took over. Brianna blinked several times and quickly released her arm from her husband's grip. The shock of walking past the tavern again had taken her by surprise and she had frozen, paralyzed by a trauma she had tried to suppress for years. Especially since she was married to Bonnet. Taking a step back, she saw the Irishman's green irises turn briefly to the tavern, then come back to rest on her, this time with a flicker of embarrassment. Each one knew exactly what the other was thinking, to the point that they didn't even have to say anything out loud.
"Why we standing here, Mama?", Jemmy drawled. Brianna looked down, escaping Bonnet's insistent gaze, and put on a reassuring smile. Reaching out, she lifted the boy off the muddy ground and, being careful not to soil her dress, held the child against her waist to kiss his forehead.
"It's nothing, Jem. For a moment, I just…" She shook her head, not knowing how to finish her sentence. "I thought I heard a bird up there but it was nothing more than that stupid sign."
Jemmy narrowed his eyes and immediately craned his neck to have a look. Bonnet's hand seized her arm again, more gently this time, but that didn't stop Brianna from glaring at him. The mood since Tryon's visit and their heated argument had been somewhat strange, but she had done her best to play along, most of the time. However, it had confirmed some of her fears: it was much easier for her to fake happiness (and preserve her sanity) than to provoke Stephen by constantly waging guerrilla warfare on him.
"Let's find your apothecary… People are startin' to wonder what we're doin' in the middle of the str-…", he began before staring at something over his wife's shoulder, and a huge fake smile appeared on his lips. Behind Bree, the French bourgeois she had briefly met at their own reception – just before her fists met Forbes' face – was approaching.
"Ah, if it izn't Monsieur Bonnet and 'is adorable son!", the newcomer trumpeted, stopping beside them and adding coldly: "Madame Bonnet". The man probably hadn't appreciated her escaping his courteous kiss on the hand at the reception, and the young woman had to refrain from rolling her eyes. "I never thought you would come 'ere with your family..."
"Me neither, actually", replied the Irishman, nodding. "But my beloved wife needed to buy a few things in town..."
"Ah!", the Frenchman laughed, his black patch twitching above his lip. "It iz indeed wiser to go shopping with zem... I once made ze mistake of leaving my purse to my wife. Never came back…"
"The purse or your wife?", Brianna asked, drawing a smirk from Bonnet, while his friend's laughter instantly died down. The man looked down on her for a few seconds before turning his back on her and pointing at the tavern, a few feet away. "Bonnet, don't tell me you're staying in zis hovel while you're in town?"
"Lord Tryon was kind enough to let us stay in one of his properties, in a more… respectable neighborhood. Like I said, we're only here to shop", Bonnet replied, but despite his sweet tone, his expression had darkened. As if he didn't like the only places that once opened their doors to him being called "hovels".
"Very well, zen. I will not bozher you any longer! We will surely meet again tonight at… "
Brianna's eyes immediately lit up and although he did not show it, Bonnet had noticed her sudden interest and he spoke hastily to keep the Frenchman from saying anything else in front of his wife.
"I will be there, of course. Have a great day."
After a brief nod, his friend took his leave and Bonnet watched him for a moment before turning to Brianna again. Her cheeks were less pale and she was obviously doing her best not to look at the tavern. The Irishman smiled encouragingly and offered her his arm. As Jemmy fidgeted against her, Brianna put him back on the ground and mechanically wrapped her hand around Bonnet's elbow as they walked.
The young woman's breath was still a tad erratic when they arrived at the apothecary – where her mother used to buy medicinal plants – but each step that took her further away from the tavern had helped lower her heart rate. She had to stop thinking about it. Bury the memory back in the depths of her brain and go back to normal. Well, as normal as life could be around Stephen Bonnet...
Stephen immediately let go of her arm to open the door and stepped aside to let her in first. His green eyes caught something or someone further down the street again and as she entered the shop, Brianna vaguely thought he had spotted another one of his clients or 'friends' in the crowd. She didn't care, to be honest. She had a more important mission.
Behind the counter, serving a customer, the apothecary looked up and waved his hand, inviting her to wait. Brianna smiled nervously and to hide her embarrassment, began to walk along the shelves. Those were covered with jars of all sizes and shapes, and filled with various herbs, solutions and ointments. Craning his neck, Jemmy immediately began to trot back and forth in the alleys, fascinated by the colorful fluids and the most bizarre contents. He was standing on tiptoes, reaching for a jar filled with yellowish liquid and a certainly poisonous snake floating in it, when Brianna called him to order.
"Jemmy, don't!", she hissed, but before she could do anything, Bonnet had crossed the store and lifted the child in his arms so that he could have a better look at the jar without breaking any goods. Behind them, two young women in their twenties were whispering at each other and giggling stupidly. A few yards away, the apothecary finally got to the other side of his counter to walk his client to the door.
"What can I do for you?", he asked Brianna with a smile, while watching Stephen and Jeremiah out of the corner of his eye. Both were making funny faces in front of a large metallic box that distorted their reflections. There was another round of giggles coming from the girls, and Brianna rolled her eyes. She hated him so much that she systematically forgot the effect of Bonnet's good looks on other women. Women who were unable to see the wolf hiding under the silky sheepskin. Bree suddenly wished she could grab them by the collar and shake them like snow-globes. Open your eyes ! Open your fucking eyes, God dammit!
"I would like to buy some chamomile, and also plants to sleep better…", she began, following the man in the shop. "Linden, passionflower…" The apothecary nodded and after checking that Bonnet could not hear her, she added hastily, "… and sage, too. Please."
The man paused, his eyes moving quickly from Brianna to Stephen, then back to Brianna. But he was probably used to these kinds of requests and according to Claire, he had always been extremely discreet. So much so that he just nodded again before making his way among the shelves. The young woman sighed in relief and followed him, praying that the second part of her plan would go as well as the first. Luckily, fate seemed to be on her side and offered her a welcome diversion.
"Is this your son?", asked one of the girls, approaching Bonnet and Jemmy with a smile. The other girl followed suit, not even pretending to pay the boy any attention and batting her eyelashes at the pirate. The latter smirked flirtatiously and nodded, causing his audience to squeal.
"He's so cute!"
"He looks just like you!"
"Not exactly…", Bonnet said with a chuckle. "He has his mother's beautiful eyes."
"Really? I didn't notice...", retorted the first girl, while Brianna once again rolled her eyes exasperatedly. The apothecary glanced at her and smiled, his arms full of boxes that he carried to the counter, while giving her more information on dosage. Brianna perked up her ears to make sure Bonnet was still busy with his two groupies, and leaned forward, lowering her voice.
"Do you know if Claire Fraser placed an order recently?" The man frowned, suddenly suspicious and Brianna added quickly: "I'm her daughter. I... I would like to send her a message." The day before, while she was alone, she had written a few reassuring sentences about her situation, wished her mother a happy birthday a few weeks in advance, and addressed a kind word to each member of the Fraser family. Slowly, she pulled the folded piece of paper from her sleeve and casually wedged it between her fingers and the counter. As if he fully understood what was going on, the apothecary glanced at the Irishman, then reached out for the note.
"Mrs. Fraser has not ordered anything from me, but I can send her some samples of the excellent ointments that I just received. I am sure she will find them to be very useful for her patients."
God bless you…, Brianna sighed inwardly as she smiled and nodded approvingly. Behind her, Bonnet was still enjoying the company of the two flirtatious clients, and when she turned her attention back to the apothecary, the message had already disappeared in his pocket.
"I suppose you know what you're doing with those plants? Your mother must have explained to you how much not to take…", he went on, preparing pieces of string to tie the different plants into bouquets. Brianna pursed her lips. He obviously wasn't talking about the chamomile — which she intended for Jemmy's shampoos — or herbs for sleep disorders.
"Yes, she did…"
"Still… You should be careful." He looked again at Bonnet and Jemmy. "Some men don't appreciate women who interfere with… God's will."
"If there is a God and He heard my plea, then He will make sure that I don't have to use this sage to begin with...", Brianna whispered gloomily.
The apothecary nodded, his lips pursed, and glanced again at the young woman's family. "May He hear you." And then added a little louder: "Five shillings, please."
Brianna reached to her side by reflex, before she realized that she had no purse, no wallet... not even a single penny to give the shopkeeper. She was biting her lip embarrassedly, when an arm appeared on her left to put the requested amount on the counter. The apothecary smiled politely at Bonnet with a "Thank you very much, Sir", while Brianna cleared her throat to compose herself and quickly grabbed her purchases. As she spun around to leave, she nearly collided with the pirate's chest. He had approached as silently as a mouse… What if he had overheard the end of her conversation with the apothecary? She looked into the Irishman's eyes and analyzed them carefully. There was no sign of anger or betrayal in his green irises. Not wanting to arouse his suspicions by staring at him for no reason, Bree smiled sheepishly and they headed for the door under the jealous eyes of the two seductresses.
For more than an hour, they crisscrossed Wilmington again – walking from shop to shop much to Jemmy's delight, whom Bonnet spoiled at every opportunity. Even if Brianna would not have admitted it under torture – and despite Bonnet's close surveillance – she was glad to be here. She had picked up her plants, sent her message, and melting into the crowd like a normal citizen had somewhat taken a load off her mind. She could almost forget her husband's presence by her side, enjoying every other sensation: the sun on her face, the smell of cooking-pots simmering in the nearby houses, the bursts of laughter coming from sailors standing in front of a brothel. Even the smell of horse dung that smeared the streets was almost pleasant. Just being outside the four walls of River Run sublimated every aspect of this moment. So much so that she noticed neither the recurring glances Bonnet cast in dark corners, nor the crouching figure that hid there and had been following them since they had left the apothecary.
As they made their way back to Tryon's townhouse, however, Brianna could no longer ignore the fact that the day was coming to an end. And like a prisoner finishing his daily walk, she was going back to her cell, or rather the room she would share with Bonnet, like every other evening. She thought she had gotten used to it, but after today's semblance of freedom, going back to this new normal was all the more cruel. When they arrived at the carriage entrance that led to the property, she glared at it as if the painted wooden panel was responsible for her misfortune. Bonnet banged his fist twice against the boards and waited for his henchman – the one who was usually asked to watch Brianna when Bonnet was away – to open the door from the inside. Without a word, Brianna was about to cross the threshold when the Irishman grabbed her arm and spun her around, before asking Jeremiah to go and play with Blue before dinner. The little boy didn't need to be asked twice and – his arms filled with his new toys – scampered off into the garden, soon followed by Bonnet's prison guard.
"I'm not coming in, I have to go. There are people I need to see", he said, pulling his wife close to him.
Oh… That's right, Frenchie said they would meet again tonight… The young woman suppressed a sigh of relief and just nodded. "Will you be home late?" Please say yes, please say yes...
"I might be."
Silence fell in the alley, except for the rumble of a carriage slowly passing by and the hubbub of the crowd coming from the surrounding streets.
"Very well, then. Have a nice evening…", Bree muttered, suddenly more tempted by the prospect of pacing the floor alone than hanging around with her husband. She turned away, but Bonnet held her back again and she gave him a questioning look.
"Kiss me."
It wasn't a question or a request. It was a command, even if the words were soft spoken, and Brianna was determined to resist.
"We're in the middle of the street, that's inappropriate…", she said, giggling like a teenager so that he would not get angry, but Bonnet immediately played along.
"Come on, darlin', we're almost alone, so to speak...", he whispered, sliding his hands around her waist. "And I could never bear to leave you for hours without a kiss..."
Like every time he tested her docility, Bonnet did not come to capture her lips and just stared at them insistently. Patiently waiting for her to lay down her arms and initiate the kiss of her own free will. And like every time, Brianna knew she had no choice. Any grimace, any refusal, any rude remark and he could legally take Jeremiah away from her. Plus, the sooner he got what he wanted, the sooner she could take refuge in her room with her son. Hoping he wouldn't come back until the early morning.
Turning her thoughts into deeds, she closed her eyes and craned her neck to bring their lips together, without even trying to protest when Bonnet pressed her against his chest and slid one hand down to her lower back. The Irishman, however, had kept his eyelids wide open, and if Brianna had done the same, she would have seen that he was not staring at her but at the corner of the alley, where stood the gaunt, shaggy figure that had followed them almost all afternoon.
Stephen hadn't recognized him right away, but as they made their way through Wilmington with the intruder in their wake, he'd come to identify that bastard MacKenzie. He looked scruffy, his beard had not seen a razor for months… but there he was, lurking in the shadows, hatred and rage literally sweating from each and every one of his pores. Stephen had wondered how to increase his wrath – how to push him to the limit; that was why he had played perfect father and husband all afternoon, showering Jeremiah with gifts and giving Bree his arm like a perfect gentleman. He had only thought of the kiss in the final moments of their stroll, and he had to admit he was quite proud of himself. Clenching his fists, MacKenzie had turned away and disappeared down the street before Brianna even ended the kiss. Perfect…
Suddenly, the cool late afternoon air replaced the pleasant feeling of Brianna's lips on his and he looked down, unable to hold back a triumphant grin. But the young woman did not seem to care much about it; she was used to seeing this expression on his face every time he managed to get a tender gesture, a kiss or sexual intercourse from her. She would never suspect that the battle he had just won had not been fought against her. And it was with undisguised satisfaction that Stephen watched her go inside the house and closed the carriage door before blending back into the crowd.
~o~
When Brianna awoke, Bonnet was already up and ready to go about his mysterious business despite his late return during the night. She had pretended to be asleep, somehow ignoring his alcohol and tobacco breath when he had collapsed on the mattress. Even at dawn, waking up, he hadn't done anything to her. He probably could not wait to meet his partners and... and what, exactly? She still had no clue what he was doing for a living and it was downright frustrating. How was it even possible to live in isolation with a person without having the slightest idea of his daily activities? With an annoyed sigh, she prepared herself to spend the next few hours alone with Jemmy. Not that she was complaining, but she had hoped for another "normal" half-day again before they returned to River Run. Get some fresh air, walk free in the streets... And why not try to find help, a friendly face, or some support. Once Stephen was gone, she dressed Jeremiah up and tried to leave – only to come face to face with her chaperone, who was waiting just behind the front door. The man glared at her, probably to dissuade her from venturing out of the property.
His silence and his bulldog face had a knack of annoying her. An entire season had passed since she had become Mrs. Bonnet and despite that, she did not know his name or the sound of his voice. As if Stephen had strictly forbidden him to communicate with her. He was there to watch, and he was watching. Like a goddamn robot.
"Would you fancy a stroll?", Brianna asked cheekily. No answer. "A little walk around the city?" The man frowned and his upper lip curled slightly, so much so that Brianna half-expected him to growl and bark. "Maybe just in the neighborhood then?"
It was too much for the guard, who towered over her, blocking the way out. He was so massive that he seemed to take up all the space in the doorway, and Brianna almost took a step back. Message received: she would not leave the premises. Even under his watch.
"Very well… Maybe we could get to know each other, then? What's your name?"
Only silence answered and she seriously started to doubt his hearing and talking capacities.
"No name…", Brianna mumbled as the guy forced her back inside the house. Realizing that the stroll was canceled, Jeremiah ran back into the small living room with Blue – without even wondering why they were not allowed to leave. Bree was envious of his innocence, protecting him from the violence of their situation. She wasn't so lucky. "Hmm, I guess I'll have to find you one", she sighed wearily. To be completely honest, she was just dying to take it out on someone and since Bonnet wasn't around, his lackey would be the perfect victim. She examined his ruddy face, unsightly features, drooping chops and baleful gaze. "Let's see… Sleepy? Sneezy? Bashful?", she muttered, squinting. The other did not react. "Oh, I know! Happy! It does kind of suit you! I mean, look at you…"
The man blinked twice, the rest of his body perfectly still and expressionless. Devoid of all joy and intelligence.
"Tell me, Mr. Happy… Do you have a wife somewhere? Children?" As he still refused to answer, she went on with ever greater insolence: "Another occupation than just standing there outside my door?"
"Grmpf…", the man growled, with a disapproving glance.
Brianna let a few seconds pass, just long enough for an extremely awkward silence to settle between them, then a fake smile spread across her lips. "All right, great talk."
Frustrated, she closed the door again and resigned herself to continue the preparation of Jeremiah's chamomile shampoo that she had started the night before. Trying to coax Bonnet's bodyguard was useless: he was either overpaid to be tempted to betray his boss, or too terrified of the consequences if he did. The only person who could free her from her prison was her jailer himself, but that wouldn't happen until his return and only to be transferred back to her initial cell.
When Bonnet finally reappeared in the early afternoon, he did not come to ask for his usual kiss. Brianna had no problem with that, but the sullen glances he gave her throughout the eight hour ride to River Run were almost as reassuring as his usual lewd, calculating looks. In other words, they were not. And the only sentences that crossed the barrier of his lips were all addressed to Jeremiah. Something was wrong, and Brianna started to wonder whether Happy had told him about the incident. Impossible... That would have required him to be able to talk instead of simply growl…
The Irishman's mood, however, seemed to brighten again when they arrived at the plantation, where he asked Phaedre to prepare a hot bath for him after dinner. Brianna was thanking God for this sudden urge that would allow her to go to bed before her husband, when Bonnet wiped out all her plans.
"I would like to try this mixture you intend to use on our son's head... You don't mind, darlin'?"
"Absolutely not," she retorted disingenuously. So much so that Bonnet slightly frowned before heading upstairs, without a word. Nor did he speak at dinner, which was therefore only disturbed by the annoying sound of cutlery and that – even more unbearable –of Bonnet's mouth devouring his meat and gulping down his wine as if he hadn't had a proper meal in a whole year.
It was, however, with a satisfied sigh that he slid into the bathtub filled with steaming water, casually resting his arms on the edges and throwing his head back. Standing by the dressing table, where she had placed her bottles of freshly made shampoo, Brianna did not move an inch. Her eyes had caught the blade Bonnet used to shave his face; the silver luster of the razor, resting on the varnished wooden surface, seemed to defy her. Inviting her to take it and slit the throat of the man lying in the hot water, relaxed and vulnerable. Put an end to her nightmare and avoid spending her life in the hands of her rapist. The steel reflected the flames of candles on the dressing table, hypnotizing her, and Brianna felt her heart race. It seemed so easy, so obvious. One small, well-placed cut and it would all be over.
About thirty seconds passed, during which her gaze went multiples times from shampoo to razor, then from razor to shampoo. Toying with the idea of a quick ending to this whole situation. Until a movement and the sound of water behind her tore her out of her trance and brought her back to reality. She couldn't kill Bonnet. Not like this. Even if, by some miracle, she managed to finish him off before he pounced on her – all of this without alerting any of his men in the house – she would still have to pick Jeremiah up and leave River Run unspotted. Not to mention the dozens of miles that she would have to travel before she could find any help. And all this to finally be accused of murder and sentenced to death. Because Tryon would never let her live if she murdered his new best friend.
Suddenly, the razor did not seem as tempting as it was a second earlier and she quickly grabbed the bottle of shampoo to pop the cork out, unaware that behind her Stephen had not missed a second of her internal debate. When she turned back towards the tub, however, he had closed his eyes and she put on a neutral face. As she knelt on one side of the tub, near his head, Brianna saw him open his eyes and stare at her with an enigmatic smile. Had he sensed her thoughts, her desire to murder him? Probably. He was one of those wild animals who could detect danger from miles away, simply by sniffing the wind.
"You have to wet your hair first…"
Stephen narrowed his eyes and wondered if after considering slitting his throat she was just opting for drowning him instead. Especially now that she knew about his phobia. With slow gestures, he slid deeper in the bathtub, throwing his head back to immerse his hair but not his face – and watching Brianna the whole time, until he judged his scalp was wet enough. Brianna's expression, on the other hand, had not changed a bit – which was a tad suspicious, to be honest – and she waited for him to straighten up again, before pouring some oily liquid into her palm. Slowly, she spread the shampoo over the roots and lengths, before digging her fingers and rubbing his scalp thoroughly. Bonnet seemed to relax and sighed again, smirking as usual.
Of course, he's having the time of his life…, Brianna thought bitterly. In this posture, washing his hair like a servant, she was in complete submission. Resisting the urge to smack his head against the edge of the tub, Brianna made a point of scrubbing his hair with the utmost gentleness, massaging the scalp as she did with Jeremiah. After a few long minutes, she got up and – wiping her hands against her dress – recapped the bottle as he dived back in the water to rinse. Finally. Maybe he'll get off my back, now...
But of course, getting off her back was not on the agenda and as she put the bottle back on the dressing table, she felt a hand grab her skirt to pull her backwards.
"Take off your clothes."
Brianna closed her eyes and breathed in slowly. She was exhausted, and just wanted to curl up in their bed and sleep for a week straight. But then again, Bonnet's plans did not include those activities.
"Stephen…"
"Take off your clothes and get in there."
His tone was final and she knew she had no choice. With an exasperated sigh, she untied her bodice, took all her clothes off one by one and threw them in a corner of the room. Being naked in Bonnet's presence was not a problem anymore; her irritation was mainly due to the fact that once again he was depriving her of her freedom of decision. Between him and his silent bodyguard, she was tired of following orders unquestioningly.
"With a smile, darlin'."
Brianna's mouth dropped in shock. Bonnet had sensed her anger. He was playing with it, even. In response, the young woman smiled hypocritically and stomped into the tub, splashing water on her husband's face as she went. She saw him purse his lips, presumably to hold back a retort, and shivered despite the hot water. His behavior was not normal, he was definitely up to something. Something she was not going to like.
Despite her apprehension, she sat down in the tub and turned her back on him, pulling her knees up to her chest. The space allocated to her was small, but she still made a point of staying as far away as possible from Bonnet's body. A wasted effort, as he immediately extended his legs on each side of her, before sliding an arm around her chest to drag her against him. Wincing, Brianna struggled to free herself but he painfully tightened his grip around her, encircling her throat with his arm. She let out a strangled cry and grabbed the edge of the tub.
"Why are you holding me so tight, I'm not going anywhere!?" She had tried to say something funny to defuse the situation, but her voice was trembling with fear.
"Where were you tryin' to go?", the pirate hissed, wrapping his other arm around her waist.
"What?"
"In Wilmington. When the cat's gone… the mouse tries to slip away."
Brianna blinked in panic and it took her a few seconds to realize what he was talking about. That filthy snitch… Happy had indeed reported the incident to Bonnet. I just wanted to walk, for God's sake... And yeah, run away should the opportunity arise.
"Why should I bother explaining myself? You won't believe me anyway…", she gasped.
"Try me."
"I wanted to… go for a walk. That's it. No chaperone, no husband, no one to tell me what to do or where to go…"
"You know I can't let you."
"Why?" This time Brianna had almost yelled and she felt Bonnet loosen his grip. Taking advantage of this unexpected turn of events, she freed herself just enough to turn around and look straight in his eyes. "Am I your wife or your prisoner?"
There was a silence, and the Irishman's face darkened. By presenting him with a fait accompli, forcing him out of their sick little game, she reminded him that their whole relationship was just a farce. A mockery of marriage where love had no place, and never would have one. But wasn't it what he claimed to be his deepest desire? To love and be loved?
They stared at each other for a while and Brianna could see Bonnet's expression evolve, like makeup being removed one layer after the other. Only to leave cold, terrifying anger. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he finally decided to answer.
"You are and will remain my prisoner until you behave like my wife."
Brianna slowly shook her head and sneered. "You really can't see why this doesn't make any sense? I will never be able to behave like your wife if you keep treating me like a prisoner in the first place… That's fine, though. It helps me not to forget."
Her last words came as blow for Bonnet, who suddenly felt as if the water around them had become ice. If he had indeed believed that by dint of submission, he would eventually make her forget her old life, control her temper and force his way into her heart, he had not realized that this method could also have the opposite effect. Brianna's lips curled into a cruel grin and she shook her head again, as if to laugh at her husband's stupidity. As Stephen no longer moved, she leaned over the edge of the tub and pushed on her legs to get out, but this seemed to tear him away from his thoughts. Pulling her back in the water, he ran his fingers through her red hair and pulled to bring their faces closer together. Pain irradiated her scalp, but Brianna didn't make a sound. She refused to give him this satisfaction.
Expecting him to dunk her head underwater to make her pay for her insolence, Brianna flinched as Bonnet violently took possession of her lips, while his free hand slid underwater, right between her thighs. Pushing the pirate away with all her might, she tried to escape but only succeeded in deflecting Bonnet's mouth from her lips to her neck – which he began to smother with kisses. Pushing would not be enough, and she dug her nails into his massive pecs, barely causing their owner to grunt. Below, his other hand had reached its target and was now languidly caressing Brianna's crotch. This whole situation was getting out of control; clenching her fist, Brianna brutally hit Bonnet in the back of the skull. She was extending her arm again to regain momentum, when the desecrating hand emerged from the soapy water and grabbed her wrist.
"What are you doing?", she whined, still struggling. With his face still buried in the crook of her neck, Bonnet answered in a whisper, causing Brianna to shiver instantly.
"I'm treatin' you like my wife, darlin'… That's what you wanted, aye?"
"Touching me without my consent? No, I don't think so."
"Isn't that the only good thing about marriage?", he went on in a horribly sweet voice, releasing her wrist to go back to her crotch. Brianna winced in disgust, but he was unfortunately right. In this century, forcing himself on a random woman could be considered a crime, but forcing himself on his own wife was not. Quite the contrary. All things considered, maybe being his prisoner isn't as bad as being his wife…
The apothecary's words came back to her as clearly as if he had just said them: "Some men don't appreciate women who interfere with God's will." And until proven otherwise, she was Stephen Bonnet's wife before God and men. Her reluctance as a simple female did not matter to either of those entities. Her own body did not belong to her. It was and would remain her husband's property – tonight and every night after that. Her anger rose at this gloomy thought and she hit Bonnet several times.
A storm had broken out in the bathtub – soapy water splashing everywhere on the floor – but as a good sailor, Stephen Bonnet was not impressed. Still holding Brianna with a firm hand, he took the punches as easily as if she was hitting him with cotton balls. Underwater, his fingers had left the young woman's clitoris to penetrate her. His good resolution not to force himself on her already seemed long forgotten.
"Let go of me!", she yelled angrily, as the arm that was masturbating her pressed her a little more against the pirate. Was it the method he had used to lure her into the bathtub, the morning's incident, or the fact that he had ignored her all day before submitting her once again to his will? She didn't know, but one thing was certain: tonight, just like the night Tryon had showed up at River Run, she wouldn't play along. She just couldn't. It was too much. Too much pretense, too many unwanted kisses and caresses. Too many fake smiles.
Between her thighs, Bonnet's gestures were becoming more and more unpleasant – the water making any semblance of lubrication impossible. She had to escape as soon as possible. Get away from this umpteenth assault that threatened her fragile mental balance. Losing it meant getting on Bonnet's bad side and possibly lose Jeremiah. She would not let that happen.
"Stop…", she begged, now on the verge of tears. "You're hurting me…"
Knowing she was in pain would perhaps remind him that he was supposed to behave like a good family man. But her attempted escape (or what he had interpreted as such) seemed to have awakened his old demons and Bonnet was turning a deaf ear, just as he had ignored her cries and pleas four years earlier. This thought caused Brianna to panic, and even more so when the Irishman slid his fingers out of her to change her position and have his way with her. Please, no… His fingers had been painful enough, she'd rather not imagine what other parts of his anatomy would do.
That's when she saw it. The opportunity. A small leeway. Just enough to strike hard. Clenching her fist, she slammed it down on Stephen's left cheek, and his head turned ninety degrees to the right. He only had time to give her a puzzled look when a second punch hit the cheekbone, just below his eye. Taking advantage of his bewilderment, Brianna crawled out of the tub, almost slipping several times, then wrapped herself in her dressing gown, which was resting on the back of a chair. It was the second time she lost control of herself. Why now? Why hadn't she been able – today of all days – to bite the bullet and let him have her, like last time? She didn't know. What she did know, however, was that she was going to pay for this.
Bonnet looked so furious that Brianna almost fainted with terror. His usually green irises were now darker than a moonless night, and his scar was twitching, betraying the tension in his jaw. As for his hands, which were now gripping the edges of the tub, every joint and every vein protruded as if about to explode. It's over. If I'm not dead before dawn, he'll send me back to Fraser's Ridge and I'll never see Jemmy again...
Eyes filling with tears, she then did the only thing she felt capable of at that moment. Half-sliding on the wet floor and wrapping herself in her dressing gown, she ran out of the room and went up the corridor to take refuge in her son's room. The key was no longer inside the lock – and Bonnet or his henchmen would eventually force her out of the room – but at least she would be able to hug Jeremiah one last time.
And with that last thought, Brianna crawled under her son's sheets. Waiting to see her fate.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
You wanted some toxic stuff? Well you got it! Lololol. A lot happened in this chapter: first, the return of the French guy, a message was sent to the Frasers while Stephen played perfect father, we had a glimpse of our friend Roger and finally the grand finale… The die seems cast for Brianna. Do you think Stephen will follow through on his threats to kick her out of River Run? It seems unlikely from an external point of view, but what if Brianna is convinced he could actually do it...? You will find out the answer in the next chapter!
The next chapter will be published on May 22nd! Until then, I look forward to reading your comments!
Xoxo
Xérès