Page 9 of The Taking of House Westwood

“No, please your Grace. Not that,” Sophie’s father said, shaking his head. “I will have Rory see to him. He won’t sit comfortably for a week, I assure you. Let us leave it at that.”

Sophie wasn’t sure what was worse: the thought of Owen being lashed for protecting her, or the sick feeling in her stomach at the defeated tone of her father’s voice. She’d never in her life heard him like that, the fear just under the surface.

The Lady’s practiced façade fell over her like a curtain, the pleasant smile back on her face, as if nothing untoward had happened. “Perhaps if I have a look at her now, we can remand this foolish boy to your able steward after all?”

Sophie didn’t miss the groans of disappointment from the Lady’s two bodyguards. Her father glanced at Sophie, the haunted look in his eyes almost more than she could take.

She couldn’t mean…

“Your Grace, surely there must be something else I can offer. She’s my youngest daughter.”

“Now, Clayton.” The Lady patted his arm as if a child’s. “I’m only borrowing her. She’ll not be truly harmed.”

“I cannot bear it.” He dropped to one knee, his head lowered. “Anything but that, Grace.”

The Lady looked down upon him, her fingers twirling in the hair at the back of his head. “What would you offer in recompense, Clayton? Perhaps a reunion of—”

“The boy then.”

Sophie gasped. “Father, no!” She rushed to Owen, kneeling by his side.

The Lady gazed upon Owen for a moment, considering. “I think not, Clayton. Tempting though your offer may be. he still does need that lesson.” The Lady nodded at her men and they dragged the struggling, cursing Owen out of the barn.

“No, what are you doing!” Sophie cried out. “You said you wouldn’t take him!”

Sophie’s father rose, pulling himself to his full imposing height, dwarfing the Lady.

“Your Grace, there are others…”

“No.” The Lady’s cold eyes glittered. “This is my right. I’m being generous in even asking you, and you know it.”

Her father’s shoulders slumped, and Sophie had to fight back the tears. What was happening here?

“Then I have…no choice.”

“None, Clayton.”

He gave a quick nod, then strode to his kneeling daughter. He helped her up, and hugged her close. He smelled good to her, had always done so. Safety and love.

“Sophie,” he whispered into the hair above her ear. “Much will be asked of you. Whatever your Lady commands, you will obey. You must do this.”

“Father,” she whispered. “I’m afraid. What must I do?”

“Listen to me. This is the only way, and you will endure it. I will see you again, sweet daughter.” He caressed her cheek a moment, the sadness in his blue eyes like a bottomless well.

Then he stepped away, leaving the barn before Sophie could say more. The two hulking bodyguards appeared again, flanking the Lady. Sophie longed to slap the leering looks from their faces.

“Now then, my dear.” The Lady’s finger poked Sophie between the breasts. “Let’s have off with these rags.”

Chapter Four

Westwood Manor

The carriage bounced violently, nearly throwing Sandra from her seat. She rapped on the dark wood ceiling with her fist. “For Goddess’ sake Raffer, watch the road! You’re shaking me to death back here!”

“Apologies, Countess,” her driver said, the sound muffled through the wood.

In truth — though the rough ride was indeed unpleasant — she was angry that the jostling of the atrocious “road” had interrupted her pleasant reverie. Her husband had been an absolute animal that morning, so unlike his usual inattentiveness. She’d taken to indulging him in his little games, allowing him to spank her buttocks, and tie her hands and feet to the bed before thrusting himself to ecstasy within her clutching sex. He’d even lapped at her cunt until she’d screamed down the walls. Such was a most rare occurrence with her husband, he being more often predisposed to what would most readily satisfy his rampant cock.

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