Becoming Mrs. Benedict Read online

  “So good,” he praises as he falls onto the bed beside me.

  I curl into myself and turn my back to him. What have I done?

  I saved myself from worse problems—that is what I have done. Now, I just have to figure out a way to run away from him.

  “Don’t cry, sweet girl. The first time always hurts for the woman. Next time, you might even orgasm,” he tells me.

  Not answering, I shudder with my tears. When his hand finds my waist, I quiver in fear. I don’t want him to touch me. The cellar almost seems more preferable than sharing this bed with this monster. Almost.

  He begins to stroke my ribs, and eventually, he curls up against me from behind. Then his hand finds my breast and I close my eyes. Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. I pop my eyes back open when he slides his hand down between my legs. I’m still so sore from him that I don’t want him to touch me. But he does. In goes his finger, and I shove down the scream that is lodged in my throat.

  My eyes frantically search for something to fixate on—anything to distract me from his painful intrusion. Luckily, something on the bedside table catches my eye.

  So shiny.

  Covered in crusted blood.

  A knife.

  The knife he used to murder my father.

  “I need to make love to you again,” he groans as he nudges me with his once again hardened cock. “You’re mine, Ella. You belong to me now. There won’t be a day that goes by that you aren’t ready and willing to take me. I have saved you from him, and now, you will save me from myself.”

  My heart races in my chest because I don’t want to feel the pain again.

  But . . .

  If I could somehow manage to get that knife.

  “Can I be on top this time? It might hurt less,” I whimper, letting him hear some of the fear in my voice.

  He caves, because I feel him roll onto his back behind me. Discreetly, I reach for the knife and tuck it under the pillow before I sit up. Lust-laden eyes meet mine as he hungrily devours my heaving breasts.

  “I can’t believe I get to fuck the youngest Merriweather sister for the rest of my life,” he smirks.

  I have the craving to slap the smug look right from his face. But I do not. No, instead, I find myself winking at the monster and straddling his hips.

  “Every day for the rest of your life,” I purr.

  His hands clutch my hips and he guides me over his cock. When he pushes me down over it, my body tenses and I cry out once again. Edith once told Lissa and me that sex felt like being assaulted with a hot fire poker. She wasn’t lying.

  “Ahh!” I sob as the pain seizes me again. My body has barely adjusted to him when he urges me to ride him. Inside, I am dry and raw.

  I bite my lip and shove away any weakness from the way I am hurting. Affixing my best actress smile, I ride the man as if he were my favorite pony.

  “Yes, Liss—Ella,” he groans and slams his eyes shut.

  I feel like my heart is going to explode from my chest. Every nerve ending in my body is alive and exposed as I mentally prepare myself for what I am about to do. Days ago, I wouldn’t have considered such a thing.

  Yet now?

  Now, I know it is necessary.

  I’m doing this for Father. For Lissa and Edith. For me.

  Darting my hand under the pillow, I retrieve the knife and don’t think twice before plunging it into his chest with all the force I can muster.

  “FUCK!” he roars, and his eyes fly open to meet the wide ones of mine.

  I scramble off him and fall onto the floor on my elbows and knees.

  He struggles to shake off the shock of what I’ve done but manages to sit up. His hateful eyes meet mine. “Ella, you bitch. You ignorant fucking bitch! What have you done?”

  I’m on my feet in a second and start to run for the door. Surprisingly, he leaps after me and tackles me. His breaths are coming out raspy and labored, but his strength still overpowers mine.

  “Ah!” My chin slams the hardwood floor, and for a moment, all I see are stars. The moment they dissolve, I realize I have blood in my mouth from having bit my tongue.

  He grabs a handful of my hair and jerks me back. “I am going to kill you,” he wheezes.

  I twist and turn until I’m no longer on my stomach, splinters tagging my body throughout the struggle. Blood is rapidly pouring from his wound, but it doesn’t slow him from backhanding me across the face. Undeterred, I reach for the knife and yank as hard as I can to pull it from his chest. He gasps and collapses on me. His attempt to choke me is futile because his strength is now gone.

  Everything goes red.

  He killed my father.

  He hurt my family.

  He caged me.

  He took my innocence.

  Stabbing and stabbing and stabbing and stabbing.

  For seconds or minutes or months, I stab.

  I stab until my arm is screaming in pain. And when the heavy body on top of me no longer moves, I eventually shove it off me.

  “I hate you, William. I hate you,” I sob out as I shakily stand and hobble toward the door, but not before spitting on his dead body first.

  I’m dizzy as I make my way down the stairs, hurrying to distance myself from the man who took so much from me. It takes me forever to figure out how to unlock the front door, but the moment I burst out into the cold night air, I cry hysterically.

  I am free. Finally, I am flying.

  Until two strong arms encircle my waist.

  And I lose my mind.

  ANOTHER SCREAM PIERCES THE night.

  Almost there.

  My lungs smart in pain as I charge toward the shoe shop. I’ve been running as fast as I can to get to her, but now, I’m practically flying.

  As I approach the building, the door swings open and a wild animal of a woman blasts out the door.

  A bloody, crazed, naked woman.

  Ella.

  My God, what did he do to her?

  Because she is covered in blood, I worry about what sort of injuries he’s inflicted upon the innocent woman. But she is clutching a knife in her hand while she runs, so I understand she is the one who made it out alive.

  There’s not a doubt in my mind that William is dead.

  My first inclination is to grab her before she draws attention to herself. So I get close enough behind her and snatch her in my arms.

  She’s explodes in a feral, manic fury in my arms and starts slashing at me with the knife. And before I manage to grip her wrist to keep her from doing any damage, she slices my forearm open.

  “Ella!” I hiss against her damp, bloody hair, “Ella, it’s me! Alcott!”

  At hearing her name, she sags in my arms. All fight drains from her, and she nearly collapses.

  “He . . . I . . . Cellar . . . Virgin . . . Feces . . . Dead,” she babbles through her tears.

  “Shh. I have you now, angel,” I promise fiercely.

  She sobs as I scoop her into my arms and take off. The woman holds fiercely on to her weapon as if she’s afraid she’ll have to use it again, so I don’t dare try to take it from her. I’m exhausted from running, but I won’t stop. Not yet. Not until she is safely tucked away at the Thomas estate under my protection.

  Trotting along with her slight frame in my arms is a difficult task, but I don’t slow until I see the coach waiting for me at the corner. Gerald is standing beside it with the door open and ready. His eyes widen in horror upon seeing the broken girl in my arms, yet he doesn’t say a word as he helps me load her inside.

  “Back to the estate. With haste!” I bark at him as I climb in after her.

  I’ve barely managed to close the door behind me before the coach fires off toward the estate. When I drag my eyes over to Ella, I can’t help but cringe. The poor woman is barely holding on to her sanity by a thread. After I shrug out of my top coat, I drape it over her shoulders.

  “Come here,” I urge softly as I tug her into my arms.

  She doesn�
�t protest as I hug her to me. While I stroke her matted hair, I ignore the way she smells. That fucking arse ruined this girl. The sweet, blue-eyed angel I met a while back is gone. He turned her into this broken mess. If he weren’t already dead, I’d kill him.

  “I’m t-t-tainted.” Her words seem nonsensical to me.

  “Shh. Don’t speak, Ella. You’re safe now. I shall protect you with my life,” I promise and then kiss her hair.

  I think she passes out because she falls limp in my arms. Staying true to my word, I hold her the whole half hour until we pull up to the door of the estate. Gerald silently assists me in getting out of the coach with her and inside the home.

  “Draw a bath. Have Gretchen prepare some food for her,” I order as I stride past him toward the wing I’ve been staying in with Ella in my arms. “And lock this place down. No open windows or unlocked doors.”

  He assures me that it will be done as he rushes past me. By the time I make it to my room, I can hear him preparing the bath in the washroom.

  “Can you stand?” I question.

  She nods, so I carefully set her to her feet.

  “I’m going to find you a robe—”

  “Don’t leave me!” she hisses, clutching on to my shirt. Her teeth chatter away as she buries her face against my chest.

  At a loss of what to do, I simply hold her until Gerald emerges from the washroom.

  “Everything is ready. I’ll attend to the rest of the matters now,” he assures me before leaving us alone.

  I assist her as we walk into the steamy washroom. Scents of lavender hang in the air and mix with the odors coming from the abused woman in my arms. After I’ve guided her over to the tub, I remove the top coat that’s draped over her and help the wobbly girl into the bath. As she sinks into it, she practically moans.

  My lips purse into a firm line when I see that her blue eyes are vacant and staring into the now pink water. In a gentle manner, I take the knife from her tight grip and drop it to the floor.

  “Do you need help washing yourself?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer, so I pick a sponge up and lather it with soap. When I hold it in front of her, she doesn’t take it from me.

  “Ella, talk to me. What is going on in your head right now?” I question as I begin scrubbing the blood from her body.

  It doesn’t take long to see that her body is covered in tiny cuts. She has many splinters, and bruises color her flesh. Anger bubbles in my chest, but the man I would take my rage out on is dead. So, instead of getting furious, I focus on fixing this woman.

  “I’ll have Gretchen remove these splinters when you get out and—”

  “No!” she screeches, grasping my wrist. “I don’t want to see anyone!” Her vacant eyes are now filled with terror.

  “Okay, angel. Don’t fret. Mother taught me well.” I smile in a way I hope calms her. “I will remove them for you.”

  She sighs in relief and relaxes, her eyes dropping back to the sudsy water. I continue silently cleaning her, but all the while, I wonder how I’ll revive the sweet, doe-eyed girl I met at the reception, which now seems like ages ago.

  I fear she’ll never be that woman again.

  “I think we should wash your hair. Can you get it wet?” I ask.

  She nods, so we set to cleansing her soiled hair. After we finish, she turns to me and a flash of the girl I remember sparks in her eyes before the feral one takes her place.

  “I killed him.” Her voice is quiet but not sad. It’s almost as if she’s trying to convince me that it is forgivable that she did so.

  And it is.

  “Yes. I came to that conclusion. He deserved it. You were only protecting yourself.”

  Tears well in her eyes, and her bottom lip quivers. “I was so frightened.”

  I swipe one of her tears away with my thumb and bring my face close to hers. “I know, darling, but you’re safe now. Do you understand me? Nothing will ever happen to you again.”

  Her gaze is guarded, and I can see that it hasn’t truly sunk in that she is safe now. I will try my damnedest to convince her though. As soon as I hear the clattering of a tray in the bedroom, I stand.

  “Where are you going?” she screeches.

  I grab her towel and hand it to her. “I’ll be right back, Ella. I promise.”

  She rises from the water and wraps the towel around her body.

  After rushing from the washroom, I find Gretchen and instruct her to bring me a medical kit but leave it by the door. Her worried eyes fly to the washroom door for a moment, and I see her desire to want to go in there and help the woman. But she heeds my direction and shuffles from the room.

  “Is she gone?” Ella whispers from the washroom.

  “Yes. Come eat something.”

  She emerges with the towel tied around her. Now that she’s clean, I notice that her long, slender legs are dotted with all sorts of markings. An angry, purple bruise coats one of her ankles, and I hate the fact that she has been living in hell for the last five days.

  “I’ll have Gretchen find one of Elisabeth’s dresses for you and—” I start, but she cuts me off.

  “No.”

  I frown at her but motion for her to sit. “Listen, Ella. I only want to help. Tell me what you want and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it better. Can you at least eat something?”

  She warily eyes the food, but eventually, she sits on the bed beside the tray. With a shaky hand, she lifts a lid on the plate and finds a steaming bowl of oatmeal with fresh fruit. For some reason, I expect her to hesitate, but she dives right in and eats as if she’s ravenous. This infuriates me, as I wonder if she starved while she was imprisoned. By the way her skin hugs her ribs, I’d say that she missed far too many meals in those five days.

  After a light rap on the bedroom door, Ella drops her spoon and bolts back into the washroom. The poor girl is scared of her own fucking shadow at this point.

  “Ella,” I call out to her, “it is only Gretchen bringing the medical kit. You can come out and finish your meal.”

  It isn’t until I have retrieved the kit and am sitting on the bed, bandaging up the cut to my arm, that she finally emerges from the washroom. Her eyes are cast downward as she sits and eats every morsel on her plate.

  “Would you care for more, dear?” I question.

  She shakes her head, and her teary eyes meet mine. “I’m satisfied now.”

  I don’t believe her, but we’ll deal with that later. Right now, I must tend to her wounds. Standing up, I retrieve the tray and move it to the bedside table. When I return, I sit near her.

  “I’m going to look you over, Ella. Remove some of these splinters.”

  She shocks me when she tugs the towel away from her body and tosses it to the floor. The girl I’ve fantasized over for almost a year is naked and in my bed. It is a shame she isn’t here for other reasons than of my helping her in her abused state. Dropping my gaze, I hunt through the kit until I find the salve and a metal tool to remove the splinters while she stretches facedown across the bed.

  She remains quiet, her arms tucked underneath her, as I search for the wood pieces. I’m completely lost in my task of removing them from the backs of her thighs when the bed starts to shake. Tearing my gaze from what I am doing, I discover she’s crying.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?” I question in a soft voice.

  Her crying becomes hysterical sobs, and the brokenness that radiates from her crushes a part of my soul.

  “Come here,” I say as I scoop her into my arms. “You don’t have to talk about it. I am only trying to help you.”

  Her wild, blue eyes find mine and I search them for the girl from nearly a year ago. I need to find her and prove to her that she is safe now.

  “Alcott,” she cries, “I came back haunted. I’m lost, and my head is filled with thoughts, none of which are good.”

  I squeeze her to me and press a kiss to her forehead. “You have survived a horrific trauma, Ella. It is
expected for you to have unpleasant thoughts. There is nothing to worry about now.”

  Her features morph from an expression of despair to one of hate. Then she practically spits out her words. “What about Mr. Caulder? Do you think he shall simply go away?”

  Until this moment, I hadn’t quite considered past rescuing her. “He won’t touch a hair on your body—not a goddamned hair,” I growl.

  She lifts an unconvinced, blond eyebrow. “And you’re so sure—why? He has some vendetta against Jasper, does he not? Now that I’ve thwarted his original plans, you think he’ll sit by idly? Do you think he will ignore the fact that his plan was foiled?”

  Rage bubbles in my chest at the thought of this arse attempting to damage her or my family any more than he already has. “Ella—”

  “He. Will. Come.”

  We silently glare at one another. Her pink cheeks are tearstained, but there’s resolution in her eyes. I want to argue this matter with her but I’m afraid we’ll go all night. Instead, we hold each other’s stubborn gazes until I finally speak again.

  “We’ll leave in the morning and travel back to Havering.” My voice is firm and I’m not going to negotiate the matter.

  “And then what? He’ll follow us there? Attempt further atrocities against my sisters? Against Jasper or Alexander? When will it end, Alcott? I need answers or I’ll never be able to ease the anxiety that infects my soul.”

  I clench my teeth. “I will kill him.”

  She sneers. The dainty, pure woman is overtaken by something dark and sinister. This woman sends a chill down to my bones.

  “We will kill him.”

  I gape at her. “Absolutely not. You will stay here while I handle this. It is not a woman’s place to—”

  She stops me with a slap across my cheek.

  What in the fuck is wrong with her?

  What did that bastard to do her?

  “It is my right, Alcott! I have every right to kill the man who started this!”

  I want to be angry with her, argue with her, but right now, the woman is slightly unhinged. It is in both of our best interests for me to calm her.

  “Sure, angel. We’ll figure something out. I want you to rest now,” I say.