them? She yelled right in his face, spittle spraying him, and heaved upward, nearly knocking him to the floor off her.
Suddenly he released her left hand, and immediately she was clawing at his face. He struck his fist into her jaw. She felt pain slam into her face, saw flashes of light, and gasped. He struck her again, hard.
She was on the brink of unconsciousness for a few seconds, enough time for him to rip her nightgown open to the hem. He jerked the cotton edges apart.
He was straddling her now, keeping her legs down by sitting on them, and he was staring down at her. He was smiling; there was triumph in his dark eyes. He forced her hands down on her abdomen, holding them there.
“I hadn’t thought your breasts would be so large and your nipples so big,” he said now, dissatisfaction clear in his voice. All the softness, the gentleness, was gone. “Most young girls aren’t so filled out as you, but it doesn’t really matter. It was my choice to wait, so I have only myself to blame.” Because he couldn’t hold both her hands down with just one of his, he had to force her hands upward with his so he could touch her breasts.
She screamed at the feel of his fingers against her cold flesh.
He released her hand and hit her again with his fist. He was smiling as he hit her.
It didn’t register in her mind; she screamed again, gurgling because she was choking on her own saliva.
He grunted in fury and quickly brought his mouth down over hers. It was brutal and it hurt and she tasted blood. She was biting her own tongue. She wished he’d stick his tongue in her mouth. She’d bite it off, but he didn’t.
He struck her again, without warning.
Her head flew back and for a few moments she was unconscious. When she opened her eyes, he was between her legs and he was looking at her, his hands on her, probing, hurting. He was ready, she knew it, and he was simply waiting for her to wake up. He saw her open eyes, saw the awareness in them, and he reared back and slammed into her.
Lindsay rose up off the bed, yelling blindly with the pain. He pounded into her, harder and harder still, and she yelled and cried out, but he didn’t slow.
Her tears began to choke her. But still she yelled and cried out.
“Shut up, damn you!”
He slapped her hard, sending her head violently to the side. He was heaving now, hurting her more and more, and she realized vaguely that he was enjoying this. This was what he liked, what he was good at. This was what he’d always wanted from her. She screamed again, blood bright red on her lower lip, the coppery taste of it in her mouth. She managed to free her right hand. She slammed her fist into his mouth. He went at her in a frenzy then, striking her in rhythm with his punishing blows inside her. Then, suddenly, he tensed, his whole body freezing, his back arched. She bucked and yelled and pushed. She felt the semen burst deep inside her, and in that moment she wanted to die.
“My God! Oh, my God, no!”
Lindsay stared at the unexpected voice and yelled again, disbelieving. It was Sydney and she was watching, mouth agape, frozen just inside the open bedroom doorway.
“Help me, Sydney! Please, help me!”
The prince didn’t seem to hear his wife’s voice. He was heaving and jerking over Lindsay. And then he was groaning, and she felt his body’s contractions with the power of his orgasm.
“Help me, Sydney!”
The prince laughed and struck her again, hard on her jaw. He raised his hand again for another blow, smiling, oh he was smiling grandly, his pleasure full to bursting, but his violence still lacking.
There was a loud popping sound. The prince stiffened suddenly and then he was staring down at Lindsay, and he was frowning in confusion. Slowly he swiveled about, still inside her, to see his wife standing not ten feet away, a .32-caliber pistol held straight out toward him in her right hand.
“Sydney? Is that you? Whatever are you doing here? You should be at home. You should be tending my mother. Why did you shoot me? Why?”
Sydney, pale, still now, screamed, “By God, my own sister!” She aimed the gun and pulled the trigger again.
He shuddered when the bullet went into his flesh, then he fell sideways, sliding out of Lindsay, rocking sideways, slipping silently onto the floor.
Lindsay couldn’t grasp it. She saw the gun, saw the blood, all over the bed. She leaned over and looked at him. There was blood all over his chest, and then she saw her own blood between her legs and his sperm leaking slowly out of her. She started shaking.
She was cold, out of control, she realized vaguely, but couldn’t do anything about it. She hurt inside and out, and she couldn’t seem to think. There was Sydney standing there, dead white, eyes dilated, and holding that damned pistol straight out in front of her, and she said, her voice as dead frightening as hell because it was emotionless and singsong, “Are you all right, Lindsay?”
“N-no.”
“Jesus, I wasn’t in time. I’m sorry, Lindsay. I wasn’t in time. God, I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I found out what he’d planned. The bastard really covered his tracks this time, so it took me longer. When I realized he was still after you, I went crazy. I couldn’t believe it at first. It was too insane, too much, even for him. Oh, God, what the hell are we going to do?”
“Is he dead?”
“Dead? He should be, I shot him twice.” She looked at the prince’s sprawled naked body. “I shot him,” she said again. “I shot the bastard twice.”
Suddenly Sydney sank to her knees. She rocked back and forth, back and forth, a strange keening noise coming from her throat. The pistol fell from her fingers onto the carpet.
It was the sight of her sister—perfect Sydney, brilliant and beautiful Sydney—looking like a crazed woman that gave Lindsay a focus. It gave her a notion of reality and what it was they now faced.
She scrambled off the bed and onto the floor next to her sister. She didn’t look at the prince. He didn’t matter right now. She was unaware of her nightgown flapping around her body.
She grabbed her sister’s shoulders and shook her. “We’ve got to do something! Stop it, Sydney, for God’s sake, stop it, get hold of yourself!”
“I murdered him. There’s nothing to do. I murdered him and everything’s over now.”
She raised her face from her hands then and stared blindly at Lindsay. “Our daddy’s a judge. Isn’t that something, Lindsay? He’s a fucking judge!”
“No, no, listen to me, you saved me. He was raping me and you saved me! It was self-defense. We’ll be all right. I swear it, Sydney.”
Sydney merely stared at her, shaking her head slowly back and forth, so pale Lindsay thought she would faint. But she didn’t.
Sydney said, even as she shook her head as if in denial, “You stupid little idiot.” Her voice was now strong and hard, her eyes dark and wild. “You fool girl, you let him think you wanted this. He’s not normal. He took your silly infatuation for sexual overtures. For two years you’ve let him get you ready for this. What did he do, write you his titillating little postcards? Show you how caring and tender he was? How much he appreciated you, a very young girl? No, don’t bother saying anything. It’s far too late now. I know, you see, he never changes his routine, there’s never been any need to, because I let him have his fun. No choice really, once I figured out what he was all about. Don’t you know why he married me, Lindsay? Jesus, of course you don’t know. He married me for my future inheritance! The interest from my trust fund doesn’t begin to satisfy him. And there you are, gawking at him like he’s God. You came running, didn’t you? He loves young girls, haven’t you figured that out yet? He thinks I’m old. He thought I was too old when we got married. Eighteen is really his limit. He had to wait for you because he couldn’t get to you before. I’ll just bet he was dying, wondering if he could get to you before an American boy had taken your virginity. Oh, it doesn’t matter. I would have killed him anyway, whether or not he was raping you. You stupid little fool, Jesus, stupid, stupid.”
Sydney began crying into her hands, harsh ugly cries. Lindsay watched her, unable to move, unable to think, her half-sister’s words dinning in her mind. No, no time to think about this, it was time to act.
Lindsay shrugged off her shredded nightgown. She felt the awful stickiness between her legs, felt the vague
