An heiress to one of Britain's most impressive fortunes, Cordelia Gardiner has always done what her strict father expects her to, manage the estate, host dinners, mind her manners. After years of adhering to his demanding expectations, however, Cord...
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Lord Malcolm," Cordelia stammered, wishing she had more space to inch away from the drunk young man. His face fell from its devious chuckle, and he suddenly looked eerily serious. He came so close to her that she could feel his breath on her, and before she knew it, he had grabbed her by the bun in her hair, and was jerking her face towards him.
She cried out, but she knew that the music inside would drown out any chance she had of being heard by one of the party goers inside. "Oh, don't play coy with me, my lady," he said, his tone jeering towards her on the last word. "Everyone has seen you two together, and I know my brother, it would seem he's quite taken with you." With that, he jerked her head upwards to his, so that their mouths were practically touching. "Too bad you're already spoken for," and when he noticed in the dim light that she looked confused, he continued, "oh my dear...Lady...Cordelia, you're mine, darling."
As much as she tried not to listen to and be afraid of him, Cordelia couldn't help the tears forming in her eyes. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're talking about." She chocked out, feeling hot tears trail down her cheeks.
"Am I now? Then why am I already in discussion with both of our fathers about Loddington's entail? You and I are all but engaged, my dearest." Cordelia's tears streamed harder now, not only because of her current predicament at the hands of Lord Malcolm, but because of the deception of her father as well.
She kept crying out "no," causing Lord Malcolm to laugh as he moved his sweaty hands up and down her body. "You know you really shouldn't act so restrained, darling, I am your fiance after all." Cordelia, much to her dismay, couldn't find her voice then, amid all of the fear and emotion coursing through her. In her head, she was screaming for help, begging him to stop groping her and tearing at her dress, but when she actually opened her mouth, no words or sounds came out. The one time that she needed that troublesome voice of hers, and it was nowhere to be found.
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Malcolm was laughing, slowly hiking her dress up and keeping a hand near her neck so she wouldn't bolt. Cordelia felt a wave of anger rise through her, not just with Malcolm, but also with herself. She looked around for anything she could use to get Malcolm away from her, and noticed a potted orchid on the ground near her feet. If only Malcolm would loosen his grip on her, she might lean down and grab the thick terracotta bowl. She tried wiggling from his grasp, causing him to tighten it, and laugh even harder. "My dear, are you going somewhere?"
He detached his other hand from creeping up her leg and used it to get a better grip of her head, leaning in to kiss her. Stricken with grief, she realized there was no escaping him. Despite his drunken state, he was still much larger and stronger than her, and there wasn't anybody around to assist her. Cordelia was ready to stop fighting him when she heard the glass door to the ballroom swing open behind Malcolm. "Leave the lady be," the voice of a man said, though Cordelia couldn't see who it was with Malcolm in front of her.
