Nan Ryan - Duchess For A Day

The big man, his calloused hand already clutching at Claire’s shirtwaist bodice, laughed off Green Tooth’s threat. Bent on having the pale, clean beauty, he ripped Claire’s bodice and she screamed.

“Now I will kill ye!” Green Tooth coolly promised. She jabbed the weapon’s sharp tip into his glistening throat and drew blood.

He yelped in pain, released his hold on Claire’s bodice, and rolled away, cursing. Green Tooth stepped directly in front of Claire, thrust the bloody glass weapon forward toward the others and said, “The same goes for the rest of ye. Touch one ’air on ’er ’ead and ye won’t live to see daylight.”

No one doubted Green Tooth’s threat.

They cursed her and vowed to get even and promised, come daylight, they’d tell the turnkey she had a weapon. Then they laughed and jeered and accused her of being a crazy old hag. But all of them slowly backed away.

For several long minutes the slight old crone continued to stay there unmoving, her stance denoting total authority and an absence of fear. Her thin arm extended, jaw set, she had the crude weapon gripped tightly in her hand and thrust forward.

She finally lowered the weapon and began to sink back into the shadows. Claire, clutching at her torn bodice, hurriedly rose to her feet and laid a hand on the old woman’s arm.

“Thank you. You saved me! I’m very grateful to you. What would I have done if you hadn’t intervened?”

Green Tooth brushed Claire’s hand from her arm. “I knew ye’d be causin’ trouble in ’ere,” she said, shaking her gray head.

Without another word, she sat back down on the stone floor, frowning when Claire sank down close beside her.

“I never meant to cause any trouble,” Claire defended herself. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong down here.”

“None of us do, lassie,” said Green tooth tiredly. “I told you, we’re all innocent ’ere.”

“But you don’t understand, my employer, Lord Nardees, grabbed me in the middle of the night and—”

“It’s the same old story,” Green Tooth interrupted, “’ve ’eard it all before.”

“Yes, I know, but I—”

“I ’ave to get me rest,” Green Tooth said, closing her eyes, shutting Claire out.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Claire said and fell silent.

Exhausted, nerves raw, afraid as she’d never been before in her life, Claire longed to unburden herself, to confide in someone who would listen and learn the truth.

But no one would believe her if she did.

She sat there in the darkness, berating herself for accepting the position of governess to the powerful Lord Nardees’s three spoiled children.

She had gone to Stonehaven in mid-June, only two short weeks ago.

Late last night, the portly Lord Nardees had pounded on her third floor door, awakening her from a deep slumber. She’d lunged up in bed, sleepy and confused. Before she could rise, the lord, dressed in white cotton attire that looked like a physician’s protective gown, stalked hurriedly into her room and told her that she had to come with him at once. Supposing something untoward had happened to one of the children, she had thrown on a robe and anxiously rushed after him.

“What it is, milord?” she asked, alarmed, as together they dashed down the wide upstairs corridor.

“Shhh,” he cautioned. “We must be quiet.”

Claire said no more, but dutifully swept into the room when he opened the door at the end of the hallway. He hastily followed. Once inside she looked around.

No one was there. No sick child.

The room was empty. But it was well lighted, every lamp blazing. The only furniture was a physician’s examining couch, which sat at the very center of the room. A white sheet was draped over it. Beside the couch, on a small utility table, was a white shaving mug and brush and a pair of scissors.

And, gleaming in the lamplight, lay a silver, fully opened straight-edged razor.

Instantly alarmed, Claire turned to give the lord a questioning look. She was horrified to find that he was now stark naked, the white uniform discarded and lying on the carpeted floor. Beneath his flabby overhanging belly, his male member was fully erect.

“Lord Nardees, how dare you!” she exclaimed in shock and outrage. “Cover yourself at once!”

She made a move toward the closed door. But the lord stood before it, blocking her way, his beady eyes gleaming and a drool of spittle slipping down from the left side of his mouth.

“My dear,” he murmured, stepping close, “since the first moment I saw you, I’ve wanted you for my mistress.”

And with that declaration, the naked nobleman had swiftly caught a stunned Claire up in his arms, pressed her against his big belly and tried to kiss her. Horrified and repulsed, she turned her face away and began to struggle to free herself.

“Let me go, damn you! Stop this at once!” she demanded, hitting his beefy arms and broad back with doubled up fists.

“Ah, yes, fight me a little while I rub myself against you, sweet beauty! I like my lovers to be fiery.” The eager lord shoved Claire’s robe off her right shoulder, yanked the yoke of her nightgown open down her chest and buried his wet, fleshy lips in the curve of her neck and shoulder.

“Let go of me, you miserable swine, or I shall scream so loudly your wife will come running.”

Sucking eagerly on the tender flesh of her exposed throat, Lord Nardees ignored her threat. Claire was well aware that his homely, lazy wife was probably snoring soundly in their suite on the mansion’s first floor and would not hear her screams. Claire continued to beat on the baron’s bare back and tried to kick his shins. Vainly, she struggled to free herself from the excited, perspiring man.

Finally, having no other recourse, she turned her face inward and bit his jowls. Hard. Drawing blood. Shocked and in pain, he automatically raised his head and loosened his hold. Claire seized the opportunity and viciously kneed him in the groin. He released her and grabbing himself, sank to his knees, keening in agony there before the closed door.

Claire knew she had to get out of that room and out of that house. Finding strength she didn’t know she possessed, she shoved him over onto his back, grabbed him behind the knees, and dragged him away from the door. She darted around him, opened the door and fled down the hall to her room. Heart pounding, she hurriedly dressed and began packing.

She wasn’t sure what the thwarted lord would do next, but she had no intention of staying in his home long enough to find out. After only a few short minutes spent collecting her belongings, Claire was ready to make her escape.

But she was too late.

The door to her room was now locked and barred from the outside. Claire ground her teeth in frustration. The angry baron had already summoned his minions to confine her.

She dropped her valise and hurried to the tall leaded windows that faced the estate’s rolling back gardens. She opened one of the windows and looked down. She had never realized how high off the ground this third floor room was. There was no balcony on which to step outside. No trellis on which to climb down. It was a sheer drop of forty feet to the ground below. If she jumped she would likely break a leg. Even if she didn’t, guards patrolled the vast rear grounds at night. She’d never get past them.

She was trapped.

Throughout the long night Claire paced, worried and wondered what would happen to her.

Come the morning she found out.

While the entire staff watched and whispered, Claire was taken from the baron’s house by two uniformed policemen. Lord Nardees had accused her of stealing some of his wife’s valuable jewelry and had alerted the authorities.