Page 47 of Forbidden Desire

Casting a panicked glance around the room, I noticed every pair of eyes on me—except Desiree’s, whose face was crumpled into Rasmie’s side. He pulled her onto his lap and rose from his seat as I watched.

“Here, brother.” Rasmie strode to one side of the elevated platform while a dozen men scrambled to offer him a chair. “Use my place.”

“Taing do, Maighstir.” Jeemie prodded the small of my back, still grasping my wrists tightly. “Make your choice, doe bheag.”

“I’ll walk.”

Embarrassed heat burned my face as he urged me forward, time protracting as we reached the throne-like seat. Every fiber of my being wanted to break free, slap him in the face, and flee the scene like a banshee, but I wasn’t an idiot. I was naked, exhausted, and stuck somewhere on an island without my map and compass. It would take hours to navigate back to the boat, even if I had those things. Without them, I had little hope of survival.

“Elodie.”

Tuning back into the sound of his voice, I turned to see he had settled in his place, my hands now liberated at my side.

“You know where to go.”

No way. The words were loud and clear in my head, but standing in front of everyone, the tension in the hall at breaking point, I couldn’t quite get them to my lips.

“Jeemie,” I hissed, pleading with him to see sense, but I don’t know why I even tried. The man was clearly reveling in my denigration, his grin wider and his eyes dancing as he took in the sight of me.

“I shall add strikes if you do not move of your own accord.”

My hands balled into fists at my side, fury swelling at his menace. He had no right. None of them did.

“El.”

I glanced around at Desiree’s strained whisper, our gazes locking.

“Don’t fight him,” she begged me, her eyes large and teary. “It only makes it worse.”

“How can you say that?” I snapped as Rasmie wrapped a protective arm around her. “Look what he’s done to you!”

I gestured to her reddening backside, which was on display for everyone to see. Rasmie must have stripped her of her dress while I was battling his brother. “What’s happened to you?”

“Gu leor!” Rasmie barked. “Enough!”

The room fell silent at his command.

“Jeemie, take your woman in hand or forfeit her to Alban.”

I scarcely had time to process Rasmie’s words before the fingers at my wrist drew my focus back to Jeemie. By the time I’d turned around to face him, it was too late—one hard tug toppled me forward. I screeched as I plummeted, his hand breaking my fall and easing me gently into place over his thighs.

“You can’t do this!” Stomping my foot against the hard floor, I squealed as he adjusted me, positioning my body so neither my hands nor feet could reach the ground.

“Yes,” Jeemie sighed. “I can.”

His hand landed hard against my upturned ass, the noise of the strike ringing out around me before the sting registered.

“Ow!” I cried, unable to keep still as his hand peppered the curve of my behind with fresh swats.

“You removed the fruit and ended the forbidden ordeal without our maighstir’s consent.” His words sang out as his hand pummeled me, a vague attempt at justifying the inexcusable. “And you offered me an untruth.”

Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to block out the jeers of the assembled mob, ignoring their rude foreign remarks.

“It seems there is much for you to work on with your new bride.”

I tensed at Rasmie’s voice. Logically, I knew he was watching—they all were—but something about having to process his snide comment made the onslaught all the worse.

“Rest assured, I shall govern her well, Maighstir.” Jeemie’s reply radiated glee, a far cry from the misery blooming in my belly.

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