Page 11 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

Brack gave a humorless grunt. “She regrets everything. Hasn’t stopped reminding us she wants to leave since the day she was brought here.”

Torrance finished a swallow of ale before saying, “If her tongue grows tiresome, I’ll cut it out myself.”

Brack didn’t laugh. He knew better than to assume jest where there was none.

“She was a healer’s apprentice,” Brack said. “Brenna says she knows her way with wounds and roots. But she was put in the kitchen to work, scrubbing and cleaning, since she can’t be trusted to use such knowledge against us. She’s no fool. She watches everything. Have you decided her punishment?”

“Not yet and I am not in a hurry to do so.”

Brack’s eyes suddenly went wide. “I know what we can do with her.”

“Tell me,” Torrance said.

Brack grinned as if proud of his solution. “Give her as a bride to Hakon.”

Torrance tilted his head in thought. “I will consider it. Now walk with me. There is something you should hear.”

Brack followed him into the Great Hall.

Servants bowed their heads as he passed through, and Esme hurried to her feet.

Torrance stopped at the table where his wife stood on the opposite side. “How is your hand? And I will have the truth, wife.”

“It stings,” she said.

“A reminder and punishment of your clumsiness,” Torrance said.

“Aye, my lord,” Esme said out of habit.

Torrance raised his voice for all to hear. “It is time you did your duty and give me an heir. You will remain in my bed each night until you do.”

Esme’s legs turned weak, but she managed to remain standing until Torrance walked out the door with Brack, then she collapsed onto the bench. She rested her elbows on the table and dropped her face in her hands.

How would she ever survive night after night in her husband’s bed?

CHAPTER 4

Esme barely touched her food at supper, her thoughts on the night ahead. Would she fail again and suffer a tongue lashing or worse would he raise his hand to her? Her stomach roiled at the frightening possibilities.

“You don’t eat,” her husband said, though sounded more like he accused.

“I’m no longer hungry, my lord,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t insist. She couldn’t bear to put a morsel of food in her mouth for fear her stomach would rebel.

“Then go to my bedchamber. I will be there shortly,” he ordered and turned away from her.

She did as he said, her legs growing heavier with each step she took. The weight of what lay ahead of her was almost too much to bear and by the time she reached her husband’s bedchamber she feared she couldn’t take another step.

Memories, though more like nightmares, flooded her thoughts when she entered the room. Everything appeared overly large to her, the bed, the chests that sat against two walls, the single chair near the hearth, and… she shivered. The shackles in the basket by the bed that her husband constantlythreatened to use on her but hadn’t so far. Would that change tonight?

Not if she did her best to please him.

She hurried to ready herself for him, donning her garments as fast as she could and slipping on her nightdress, Gwen had brought to the room and left on the bed. Then she used the footstool to climb into bed. It was too high off the floor for her to get in it any other way. She positioned herself in the center of the large bed, then pulled up her nightdress just below her hips and spread her legs. He would be expecting her to be like that, ready for him to have his way with her, and she prayed this time all would go well.

She tried to relax but her heart was beating so fast that she feared it trembled the bed and her body was so tense, she worried a bone would break when he touched her. She closed her eyes and ordered herself to calm down. Soon the warmth of the room and her worries took their toll and sleep fluttered her eyes.

She dozed in a light sleep until she heard her husband’s heavy footfalls on the stone stairs. Her eyes sprang wide open, and her heart pounded in her chest. Then the door opened, and he walked in.

He came to a stop at the bottom of the bed and stared at her.

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