The Song of the Siren by Philippa Carr Page A

arms.
    “Presumably,” I said, “you are displaying your superior strength.”
    “Rather unnecessary, is it not? One should never stress the obvious. I find you most desirable.”
    “I am sorry I cannot return the compliment.”
    “You will change your mind.”
    “So you saved my life ... for this.”
    “A worthy cause,” he said.
    “You are ... wicked.”
    “I know. But you are not so very virtuous yourself, are you, Carlotta?”
    “I don’t think you know anything about me.”
    “You’d be surprised how much I do know.”
    “You know my family. That should be enough to tell you they will not stand aside and allow me to be treated like this.”
    “I could take you very easily, you know ... now ... this moment. You are looking round for means of escape. You could scream. Who would care? In fact that might bring Durrell with his sword. You are trapped, sweet Carlotta. At the mercy of your ravisher.
    There is nothing to be done in such circumstances but to submit. It saves a great deal of trouble.”
    I wrenched myself away from him and ran to the door. I pummelled on it with my fists.
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    “Now that,” he said, “is an action scarcely worthy of you. Who in this house is coming to your rescue? Save your energies for more worthy purposes.”
    He had taken me by the shoulders and led me back into the room.
    “You are irresistible and we shall be lovers this night,” he said. “It is what I wanted from the moment I saw you. You are such an attractive creature, Carlotta.
    You invite. You promise. You are meant for love ... our sort of love.”
    “Love,” I cried. “I should think that is a subject you know nothing about. You mean lust, do you not? I am at your mercy. You are intent on rape-a very gentlemanly activity, I believe, and I have no doubt you are well versed in it. It is easy, is it not, to seek out helpless women who are unable to fight against you. Oh, very gallant.
    I despise you ... Field ... Hessenfield, whatever your name is. You haven’t even the courage to own up to that and have to masquerade under a false name. Let me tell you this, if ever I get out of this place I shall not forget you.”
    “I hope not,” he said. “I intend to make you remember me for the rest of your life.”
    “With a shudder ... with loathing.... Yes, you are probably right. That is how I shall remember you.”
    “No,” he said, “perhaps otherwise.”
    His arm was about my shoulder and there was a curious gentleness in his touch. He forced me onto the stool and knelt at my feet and taking my hands in his smiled up at me. His eyes were shining. I noticed that they were golden coloured. Again he reminded me of Beau. He had looked like that before we made love.
    He kissed my hands just as Beau used to and he said: “Carlotta, you have been very unhappy. I am going to change that.”
    I tried to snatch my hands away. “You know nothing about me,” I cried.
    “I know a great deal,” he answered. “I knew Beaumont Granville
    • . well.”
    I closed my eyes. There was something unreal about this scene. If he had taken me by force, roughly, crudely, it would have seemed the natural outcome and in any case I had been expecting it. But this talk about Beau was unnerving.
    “He was a friend of my father,’ he said. “He often came to our
    81house. He took a fancy to me. He used to talk a great deal to me.”
    “Did he talk of me?”
    “He talked of all his women.”
    “All his women!”
    “They were legion. There had been women in his life since he was fourteen. He was very frank with me. He said he would undertake my education. What aspect of that education I don’t need to explain.”
    “I don’t want to hear any more.”
    “My dear, it is for me to say what shall and shall not be. I know you still think of him, don’t you? How long is it since he disappeared? Three years. Four years.
    What happened to him do you think?”
    “Perhaps he was killed as you intend to kill me.”
    He was