Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 by Patricia Hagan Page B

women to be found in alleyways, raped, throats cut. She had tried to explain to Charles why she had to return to in to Monaco. She held him close, promising to do everything she could to make money for his operation. He smiled up at her, knowing she’d try, knowing it was hopeless.
    From the moment she left Charles, Briana knew utter desolation. How in heaven’s name could she get money for Charles’s operation? She had no family, no friends of means. Everyone she knew was as poor as she was, with the exception of Madame deBonnett, and that was no help. From what she had seen, the deBonnett fortune was rapidly dwindling away. Besides the fact that Madame deBonnett had money problems, Briana knew she would never loan her money because the woman was as cold as could be, caring about no one except herself and that nasty Gavin.
    Despite the warmth of the spring day, Briana shuddered. She loathed Gavin Mason. Lascivious, sneaky, cruel, Gavin had been trouble since the day the Count brought his new family to live with him.
    One of Briana’s early encounters with Gavin happened when she was twelve. She’d been out in the barn, doing her chores, spreading fresh hay in the horses’ stalls. Suddenly she became aware that Gavin was hiding in one of the lofts above, spying on her. When she called out to him, demanding to know what he was up to, he stood up, laughing. Then he exposed himself to her, chortling, “I’ve got something for you, Briana.”
    She screamed in horror, dropped the pitchfork, and ran. But he was quicker, jumping from the loft and landing beside her. He wrestled her to the floor and his hands were everywhere at once, clawing at her breasts, grabbing between her legs. “You want it as much as I do,” he cried, his breath hot on her face. She twisted from side to side, desperate to escape his wet mouth.
    He lay on top of her, pinning her, and in a last wild effort to break free, she smashed her fist into the hard pink thing that was thrusting at her belly. He yelped in pain, clutching himself, and rolled away.
    She ran from the barn, sobbing breathlessly, fleeing straight to the little cottage and her father. Flinging herself in his arms, she sobbed and sobbed. Louis de Paul held her against him, his eyes narrowing as he managed to get the full story out of her.
    Worse was to come. When her father had heard her out, he gave her a fierce shake and said, voice hoarse, “You will say nothing about this, do you hear me? You will forget this happened. And in the future, be on guard lest he try again.” Louis de Paul glared at his daughter.
    She stared up at him, stunned. “Papa, you don’t mean this! We have to tell Madame deBonnett. She will punish him so—”
    He shook her again, hard. “Are you insane, daughter? She wouldn’t believe you—or else she wouldn’t care. She would send us away, too, and I would have no job and we would have no place to live. No, you mustn’t speak of this. Just keep away from him, do you hear me?”
    Briana nodded slowly, her heart breaking. Her own father would not protect her.
    Ever since that day, she had been on her guard. Gavin had enjoyed their game, becoming bolder through the years.
    “One day,” he taunted constantly, “you will beg me to pleasure you. You are only toying with me, I know.”
    It mattered not at all that she bluntly proclaimed her loathing of him; Gavin enjoyed his sport. Even when she declared, “I would rather die than have you touch me!” Gavin only laughed, and waited for another chance to fondle her.
    She wanted to go back to Paris and be near Charles, but how could she, when there was no way of knowing whether she would find work? She hadn’t a centime. At least Charles had shelter, and at least the doctors could ease his pain. She would offer Charles nothing by leaving her job and traveling to a city where she might not be able to get another.
    Briana missed Charles terribly and worried about him waking and sleeping, having awful