threw her leg over his hips to straddle them and gave him a triumphant look. If
he was going to buck now, it would be all to the good. But he did not. He just
watched her with murder in his bright silver eyes.
Warrick had never been so furious in his life. She meant to steal a child from
him, his child! If she succeeded he would kill her. Nay, that would be too quick.
He would make her suffer the agonies of hell. But she could not succeed. What
she intended enraged him, but it also left him cold, and the stupid wench did
not even realize that, if that look of utter triumph she had given him was to be
credited.
He watched her lift her shift just enough to bare her warmth and settle it
against his loins. Perversely, it enraged him even more that she did not intend
to remove her clothes. She could steal his child, but she would not show him her
nakedness to do it. Well and good, she would learn soon enough that she was
doomed to fail. To that end, he closed his eyes against the look of her, which
was too lovely by half.
He fed on his anger. He seethed with it, his only desire to get his hands on her
so he could beat her senseless. That she would dare do this to him! He recalled
the words he had thought a jest, that she needed no help to rape him. For that
alone he despised her. For that alone he could kill her, but she meant to steal
from him as well, flesh of his flesh. The mere intent sealed her fate.
But she was a stupid wench to think it was even possible to rape a man. Had she
kept her mouth shut and merely offered herself to him, she could have had what
she sought. His flesh would have responded instantly to the invitation, as it
had nearly done at the mere sight of her. But now he did not even have to fight
to remain unmoved beneath her, for his killing rage continued to leave him soft
and uninterested in her warm flesh.
She did not just sit there atop him and expect miracles. He could feel her
fingers handling him, yet in a way that he had never been caressed by a female
before. But when he became aware that she was trying to stuff his soft flesh
inside her, his eyes opened incredulously. He saw that hers were closed now. She
was biting her lower lip, and concentrating so deeply on what she was about, her
features were scrunched together. He flinched when one of her nails poked him,
but he realized she was not even aware she had done it.
He wondered how long she would continue to attempt the impossible. Not long. She
finally released a sob of frustration, and without meeting his eyes again, she
gave up her seat and nearly ran from the room in defeat.
Warrick felt such fierce satisfaction, he wanted to shout with it. To have
thwarted her so easily, with no effort on his part. He had won. She had failed.
But she returned.
He had not thought she would. And her face was now flame bright, but also filled
with sueta look of determination, he felt his first stirring; of wariness, and
rightly so. She slowly shrugged off her bedrobe and let it drop to the floor.
When she reached for the hem of her shift, he closed his eyes tight.
Her voice came softly to him.
?You can fight me, sirrah, but I have it on good authority ?twill do you no good.?
He would not have answered that even if he could, but he would like to cut the
throat of whoever had just given her the courage to try again. He strained to
hear if she approached. Her small hand lighting on his chest told him she had.
?You must have realized I am a virgin.?
He did not know it, but the word had the desired effect on him, even though he
did not believe it. But so, too, did her hand, tracing a slow path down his
chest to his belly. He expected his rage to distract him, but her voice
continued to distract him instead.
?In my ignorance, I did not even know you were not ready for methat you needed
encouragement of a certain kind. I did not even know that this soft flesh of
yours would change and grow to a hardness like the rest of you.?
She touched him, there, as she said it.
?I find it hard to believe, for ?tis already large, yet did Mildred assure me ?tis
so. I am eager to see this strange happening for myself.?
Did she know that what she was saying was as stimulating as her touch? Damn her
and her advisor to perdition! Sweat broke out on his brow. He would not succumb
?I am to kiss you andand lick you, everywhere, even as a last resortthere.
Mildred said you would have to be dead do you not respond if I kiss you there.?
He was already responding. His mind screamed his rage, but his flesh was a
betrayer of the worst sort, with a mind of its own, tantalized by her promise.
He strained at his bonds. He went wild, trying to dislodge her hand. But she
stood beside the bed, undisturbed by his thrashing, and her fingers closed
around him, holding on tight. He stilled when he realized all he did was aid her.
?I would not have believed it did I not see it,? she gasped.
There was awe in her voice. And she was petting him now, giving that worthless
piece of flesh praise for obeying her instead of him. She did not even know he
had not reached his full size, that he still fought with every particle of his
being.
?I suppose now I need not kiss you.?
Was that disappointment in her voice? Oh, God, he could not stand much more.
What he had thought impossible was not. She could have what she wanted did she
continue and he had no hope that she would not continue.
When she climbed onto the bed, he thrashed again, but she grabbed hold of his
hips and hung on. And he could feel her nakedness now as she hugged him, her
breasts pressing against his skin, nearly at his groin. This, too, merely aided
her, forcing more blood to rush to that traitor, so he stilled again, hoping he
was not hard enough to penetrate her, praying she was a virgir so she would not
know the difference and woulc still fail.
She crawled up him, still holding on tighth in case he tried to throw her off
again. Warric groaned at this further stimulation. And thei she was seated, and
he was hard enough tha she only had to nudge him in the right direc tion.
Heat. Scalding heat and moisture. Why coul she not be dry? Why could she not? ?
Her whimper went through him like a lanct, even as he felt the cause of it. She
was still trying to seat herself fully, but her maidenhead would not give, and
she was progressing too slowly to do aught but cause herself pain. He felt a
savage pleasure in that. So she was a virgin, and her own pain would defeat her
where he could not.
To move now would truly aid her, so he remained deathly still. Yet she was so
small and exquisitely tight, the urge was there, nigh overwhelming, to thrust
deep into her. He killed it swiftly. He could not control that traitor, but he
still controlled the rest of his body.
He heard another whimper, louder, and he opened his eyes to feed on her pain.
Tears streaked her smooth cheeks. Her sapphire eyes, glassy with wetness,
reflected that pain. But he had forgotten her nakedness.
She was a small woman, but she was generously formed, her breasts bountiful, her
waist tiny. The spread of her hips over him, her splendid breasts bouncing with
her soft panting, the feel of hot wetness squeezing only half of him the sight
of that part of him inside her? It was his undoing. He did not thrust. He did
not have to. The blood rushed to swell him to his full, throbbing length, which
pushed right through her maidenhead without either of them moving to help it.
She cried out as it happened, and her weight carried her down to sheathe him
fully in her depths. Warrick ground his teeth against the gag in his mouth. His
muscles strained, but he remained still otherwise. He fought now for impotence.
He fought to ignore the powerful urges of his body. It was torture. He had never
resisted anything so hard, never wanted anything so much that was so opposed to
his will.
She moved on him, hesitantly at first, clumsily. She was still hurting, still
crying, but still determined. Her breath, which was coming so hard, fanned his
belly along with her hair, providing another caress, another torture. And he
knew exactly when he lost the fight. He tried one last time to throw her off,
welcoming the pain in his ankles and wrists, but she knew, knew, and she held
fast to him. And then he no longer cared, was mindless in the throes of primal
instinct, which took over compktety to dram his seed with explosive,
unbelievable relief. Damn her, damn her!
Chapter 9
I am glad ?twas you.
Warrick would never forget those words, nor would he forgive them. He recalled
them again and again in those next days while he lay chained to that bed.
She had collapsed onto his chest when it was over, her tears wetting his skin.
She had found no pleasure in their coupling, but she had gotten what she wanted.
And before she left him, she had touched his cheek and whispered ?I am glad ?twas
you,? and his hate had increased tenfold.
Her servant had come after that, to tend his wounds. The older woman had clucked
her tongue over what he had done to himself, but she had also found the blood
encrusted lump on his head and cleaned that, too. He had let her. Devastated by
his failure, he no longer cared just then what was done to him. Nor had it
bothered him when the man came in still later to stare at the blood and seed
still wet on his loins with an odd mixture of satisfaction and fury.
?She tells me you fought her. That is good, or I think I would kill you now for
what you had of her.?
The man had turned about and left after that, nor had Warrick seen him again.
But those few words had given him a wealth of information. He knew now that he
was not meant to leave here alive. They wanted no ransom from him. They wanted
only the babe he might already have planted in the wench?s belly. He also knew
the man was jealous of him, that he would take pleasure in killing Warrick when
his usefulness was at an end.
Still he did not care, not that next day, not about anything. He did not even
feel the humiliation of having Mildred feed him, bathe him, and assist him to
relieve himself right there in the bed. He did not even try to speak to her when
his gag was removed for the feeding. His apathy was almost completeuntil the
wench came back.
Only then did he know it must be night again, for there were no windows in that
small room to tell him of the passing hours. And only then did he come alive
again, his fury driving him nigh mad. His thrashing loosed his bandages,
embedding the iron manacles deeper into his still raw flesh.
But she was patient that second night. She did not try to touch him until he had
worn himself out. And she avoided getting on the bed until he was nearly full
ready for her.
Three times she visited him that second night, throughout the night, and three
times the next, waking him if she needed to. Each time, perforce, took longer,
with his body already sated, yet that did not stop her. She had him at her
complete mercy. She examined him fully in the guise of caressing and stimulating
him to readiness, everywhere, but mostly between his legs.
She was fascinated by his manroot, brought her face and breath close to it, yet
never did she actually do as promised that first night, for ?twas unnecessary.
The mere thought that she might affected him as if she had. And he could not
prevent any of it, could not stop her, could not smite her with a look or put
the fear back in her that she should feel. She used him, she drained him, she no
longer displayed the least remorse. She had no mercy whatsoever.
Ah, God, how he wanted revenge on her. ?Twas all he thought about the third day,
what he would do to her if he could just get his hands on her. And to think he
had actually thought to give her a home when he had first seen her. Aye, he
would give her a home, in his dungeon. But first he would pay her back in kind.
Nay, first he must escape.
?Tell me her name.?
Twas the first time he had spoken to Mildred. She eyed him warily as she brought
another spoonful of thick mutton stew to his lips.
?I think not. You do not need to know.?
?My men will find me, Mistress. Do you want to live through the destruction I
will wreck on this place, you will cooperate with me now.?
She had the gall to snort at him.
?You were alone when taken.?
?Nay, I was with my squire Geoffrey. They killed him, did you know??
Such coldness had entered his tone, Mildred was suddenly afraid of him, even
though he was bound fast. Then she scoffed at herself and at him.
?A knight? Nay, they were sent for a villein. Think you they would not know the
difference??
He did not try to convince her otherwise.
?My men were sent ahead. I was to join them the next morn. Think you they will
just ride on without me??
?Methinks you spin a fine tale, sirrah, but to what end?? she asked.
?Release me.?
?Ah, fine tactics.?
She grinned at him.
?But ?tis unnecessary to tell me lies. If I had the key to release you from
these chains, I would not use it, not until my lady has what she needs of you.?
She did not add that Rowena had already bidden her to find the key. But she had
had no luck thus far, and she would not give him false hope any more than Rowena
would.
The feeding had taken longer this time, because he would not be quiet. The extra
time had given the red gag marks across his cheeks a chance to fade. She noticed
this when she bent to tie a new gag in place, and the sight of him without those
distracting marks gave her a distinct chill.
?God?s mercy, you have a cruel look about you,? she said more to herself than to
him.
?I did not see it ere now.?
Warrick did not need to be told that. It was why his first wives had feared him.
It was why his enemies feared him. It was why that cursed wench should have
stayed away from him. It was mostly in his eyes, so expressive of his black
thoughts, but also in the hard, bitter slant of his mouth, which rarely smiled.
And his expression was particularly bitter now that he knew she would not aid
him.
?You would do well to remember that?
She stuffed t
he gag in his mouth to cut him off, saying indignantly ?It does you
no good to threaten me, sirrah. I do my lady?s bidding, not yours. Tis no wonder
she is naught but aggrieved when she leaves you each night. ?Twould have done
you no harm to have treated her gently when she had no choice in coming to you.
But nay, you are as cruel inside as you are without.?
He had sunk back into pure fury at those parting words. Was he supposed to feel
pity for a woman who repeatedly raped him? Was he supposed to feel sympathy when
the purpose was to steal a child from him? When she was glad, glad that ?twas he
at her mercy instead of another? And why was that? Why would she be glad, when
women feared him? It had been thus since his sixteenth year, when he had learned
of all that was lost to him, his family, his home, naught left but his life and
a betrothal contract that could not be broken. He had changed then changed
utterly, not just in character, but in appearance, for the darkness that had
entered his soul had also been etched on his face.
Since then, he had never taken a woman to his bed who did not at first fear that
he would hurt her in some manner. Even after a second or third time, they still
did not trust him not to visit some cruelty upon them. His wives? such timid,
meek creatures, they never did get over their fear of him, even though he had
never given them cause to think he would be brutal with them. But they had both
died many years ago. And they had lived with him during the years when he had
lived and breathed for revenge, when his every thought was of destruction and
killingas it was now.
How could she be glad? Because he was bound fast and could not touch her?
Because she knew he would be dead before the chains were removed from him, so
she had naught to fear of him? That was a very real possibility, that he would
be butchered right here in this bed, without a chance of defending himself,
without a chance of obtaining the least retribution.
He did not fear death. There was a time when he had even courted it, when his
life had been so empty and miserable he simply had not cared if he lived or died,
and not much had improved since then. But he would regret the loss of this
chance he now had to better his existence with Lady Isabella. Even more than
that, however, he would regret being unable to avenge himself on these people