Chapter 9: A Lively Night

What was this man doing here? He wasn't Mitchell.  Who was he? Damon suddenly realized how lively nights out in the village could get. He slipped back to the window. He saw the man push open the bedroom door.  Marlowe didn't look up, her gaze still anchored to the book. She asked cooly, "Where did you go?" The man snickered.  "Your husband went to see a woman, of course." Marlowe startled and lifted her head. In that instant, the man sprang forward, slapped a hand over her mouth, and forced her down onto the bed. "Mmph, mmph!" She struggled.  But she was a woman, and the weight of a grown man pinned her. The man gave a sickly smile.  "Marlowe, so you are waiting for your husband. Don't bother waiting. I saw him slip off to that slut Adeline." "Mmph, mmph!" Marlowe bucked again. "Don't move," he said coldly.  "I can let you go, but if you don't do what I say, I'll tell everyone your husband's messing around with Adeline. Not just the village, but the whole town." Marlowe went rigid. "I mean what I say. If you resist or scream, I'll shout it out right now, and your family will never know peace again." The man's words were brutal truth.  If people found out Mitchell was sleeping with Adeline, his family wouldn't be able to show their faces. Marlowe blanched and shook her head quickly. "I'll take that as a yes," the man said.  "Struggle if you want. You can live with the consequences." He took his hand off her mouth. Marlowe took several deep breaths. Her voice trembled.  "I... I won't say anything. You... What do you want from me?" Her face had gone pale as a sheet. She hardly dared to move. By then, Damon had recognized the man as Ronald Burke, a thirty-five-year-old.  He'd heard rumors that Ronald had a special hunger for women. Village gossip even claimed he had screwed his wife to death.  Back then, Damon preferred to believe Ronald's wife had been beaten to death.  Who would believe she'd been screwed to death? Since his wife died, Ronald had holed up at home for two months.  Now he had set his sights on Marlowe. Ronald grinned. "Marlowe, what do I want? You really don't know? I want to have some fun with you." His hands were already roaming all over her. Even Damon had to admit Ronald was brazen. Marlowe gritted her teeth. "Ronald Burke, don't do this. If you make a scene, you won't like the fallout." "My wife is gone. What do I care?" Ronald said flatly.  "Besides, your husband's fooling around with another man's wife. Why can't I mess with his? Be good, and I'll make you feel good." Marlowe shivered. Tears pooled. "No, I can't. My husband could be back any minute." She twisted once. "Still not cooperating?" Ronald snapped.  "He won't be back that fast. Take off your clothes! Now! I can't wait any longer." He looked genuinely impatient. Marlowe shook all over. Tears spilled.  Under the lamplight, they gleamed like glass. Damon's brow knit. Marlowe was slim.  On a scale of ten, he'd give her an eight and a half.  And on a night like this, she was still reading.  Damon admired a woman who loved to learn. So he had to do something. "Hurry up and take your clothes off," Ronald said when Marlowe still didn't move. She flinched. Her tears came even faster. "Damn it! I'll do it myself." He reached to yank at her clothes. "Damn, city women really are different. Wearing pajamas to sleep. That's pretty trendy. Easier to take off, too." Marlowe lay without moving, like a dead fish. Ronald ripped off her pajama top in a rush, then fumbled at his own clothes. Outside, Damon couldn't help noticing the pale shine of Marlowe's skin. It seemed to catch the light.  Heat surged through his blood.  She was better looking than Adeline. And the figure too.  He couldn't fathom why Mitchell would cheat with Adeline. Just then, Ronald kept his shirt on but yanked his pants down.  The guy was impressively equipped. Damon thought Ronald might have screwed his wife to death.  Then, Ronald leaned in to get started. Damon stepped back twice, then shouted at the top of his lungs, "Fox!" The sudden roar jolted them both.  Marlowe dove under the quilt.  Ronald hauled his pants up and scuttled to hide behind the door. "I saw a fox come through here," Damon called.  "Trying to run? Not a chance! Even if I have to search all night, I'll find it." He came to Marlowe's window and knocked on the glass.  "Mitchell, are you back? Did you hear anything just now?" Ronald nearly cursed out loud. He recognized Damon's voice.  He seethed. "What the hell is Damon doing here this late, ruining my night!"  He glanced down and grimaced. The scare had already killed the mood. He wasn't sure he'd be up for it tonight. He shot Marlowe a look, signaling her. Marlowe bit her lip. She mouthed, "You need to go." Ronald looked down once more, then nodded, jaw tight. Only then did Marlowe call toward the window, "I didn't hear anything. Go look somewhere else." "Oh, it's you, Mrs. Marlowe," Damon said with a smile.  "All right, I'll try somewhere else. If I catch that fox, I can sell it for a good bit of money." He made a point of stomping away. Two minutes later, Ronald slunk out of Marlowe's house and disappeared into the dark. A small smile tugged at Damon's mouth. Ronald had left. Even so, Damon was still buzzing, heat prickling under his skin.  He couldn't go looking for a woman.  He decided to hit the river for a cold dip and cool off. He reached the riverbank quickly, stripped, and plunged in.  He'd barely been in the water two minutes when a slim figure came down to the riverside. The figure began to undress.