She wandered around the room, touching the red velvet bedspread, and blinked at the chains embedded into the posts of the huge bed. "Why?" She shook her head. "Never mind, I can guess."
Jack slid an uneasy glance at the painting of a group of laughing villagers on the wall. There was something about the eyes of the figures in the painting... "Mrs Wyndham, we've got to get out of here."
"Maria, remember?" Her tone was chiding. "You can't call me by name here."
"Maria. We've got to go. If you are found here, your reputation will be ruined."
She nodded, but opened a cupboard beside the bed, and gasped. She reached inside and lifted out a cat o nine tails. She flicked it again her hand, and flinched. "It's real."
"Of course it's real. Come on, and I'll buy you one for yourself." A nagging sense of urgency was driving Jack. He'd had the same feeling at Talavera just before Ruffin's troops launched their midnight attack.
She ignored him, and picked up a carved wooden instrument. She lifted it to eye level to examine it properly.
Jack knocked it out of her hands. Seeing her holding that phallus offended something deep inside him. It hit the floor with a clatter and he grabbed it before she could touch it again.
"Why would a lady here need one of those?" She was fascinated by it.
"It's not intended for the lady." Jack could see the moment she understood. She turned bright red and she backed away, hand behind her back.
"Goodness."
The sound of bootheels in the hallway alerted him. A familiar voice said "I believe you have something special tonight?" He recognised the voice of Colonel Binchy.
The horror on Maria's face shocked him into action. He picked her up and flung her face down on the bed. She squealed in protest.
"Play along," he murmured and fastened one of her wrists to the binding on the post. In this position, no-one could see her face to identify her.
The door opened while he was fastening her other wrist.
Jack glared at the man framed in the doorway.
"This is a private room, go away."
Colonel Binchy nodded, but gazed at the figure on the bed. "What some help?"
"I can manage on my own." Jack picked up the discarded cat o'nine tails. "I'm going to teach this tart a lesson."
Maria gave a muffled protest, which both men ignored.
"Can I watch?"
"No!" Jack shoved him back and closed the door. He could hear the Madam's voice outside, speaking suggestively to Binchy.
"Let me up," Maria demanded.
He moved to unfasten her wrists, but paused. The sense of being watched was strong. It was a feeling that had saved his life several times in the past. He looked around casually. The eyes in the painting gleamed.
"We're being watched," he breathed, bending down to Maria. "We'll have to put on some sort of show for them."
"Oh."
Face down on the bed like that, she looked different. Her brown hair was a luxurious mass of curls that tumbled wildly. The dress had ridden up, revealing elegant ankles and calves that affected him more than full nakedness would have done. Her bottom was outlined by the thin silk of the dress, and begged him to caress it. The low neckline revealed the delicate skin of her neck and shoulders, an irresistible lure to his hands.
He wanted to ravage her.
He tried to decide what would satisfy the watchers, but which she would hate least. She had flinched when he touched her earlier, so he would try not to touch her again.
"Now, my pretty, you will pay for your mischief," he said in a voice that sounded theatrical to his ears. He grabbed the laces at the back of the dress, and tore them ruthlessly. The dress gaped open, revealing the vulnerable skin of her back to the room. And to the gaze of whoever was watching from behind the painting.
Jack picked up the cat o'nine tailed and flicked it in the air. God, he hoped he could do this right. "Brace yourself," he ordered, and swung it at her back.
