Page 30 of Awoken
Ross stilled, his breathing slowing. “What, Hume? Speak plainly.”
The manservant’s gaze fused with his. “MacKinnon bid me to fetch Lady Leanna … and so I did. She is now alone with him in his bed-chamber.”
“Let me leave.” Leanna backed up against the door, her breathing coming in short gasps as she struggled to contain the panic that welled within her. “We shouldn’t be alone like this.”
Duncan MacKinnon drew closer, his smile widening further. “This will be our secret then … none but us and my manservant can know. Hume is loyal though … he will not tell a soul.”
Leanna fumbled for the door handle, but once again it didn’t budge.
“There’s no point in doing that, my sweeting,” MacKinnon said, the crooning note to his voice deepening. “Hume bolted it from the outside … he will only open it again when I call for him. Ye are trapped inside here with me.”
Leanna’s breath started coming in panicked gasps at this news, and she darted sideways as he closed in on her.
Just like the day before when he’d stabbed Father Athol, MacKinnon struck fast, grabbing her by the arms and slamming her up against the wall. He then pressed himself up against Leanna, grinding his hips hard against hers.
The rigid length of his arousal stabbed against Leanna’s belly, and a wave of dizzying nausea swept over her.
For a moment the ragged sound of her breathing and the thrashing of her heartbeat almost deafened her.
Merciful Lord, this can’t be happening.
And yet it was. MacKinnon had her trapped against him, and he intended to rape her. He’d tired of waiting for a priest to bind them; he’d merely take what he wanted tonight.
MacKinnon leaned forward then, his hot mouth searing her cheek. She smelt the reek of wine on his breath and realized then why he’d appeared so unsteady upon his feet.
The man was rotten drunk.
“I’ve dreamed of this moment,” he rasped, his rough hands groping her through her habit. “I have dreamed of taking ye like this.”
Leanna struggled against him, yet he held her fast, his hips grinding into her even harder. One hand went to her breasts, kneading them like bread dough, while the other grabbed her backside, squeezing hard. Revulsion shivered through Leanna, although MacKinnon clearly thought her reaction was caused by lust, for he gave a soft chuckle.
“Aye … that’s right, mo chridhe … I knew ye would like it rough. Ye nuns appear cold and sexless, but underneath that habit, ye are all sluts.”
Leanna’s skin crawled now. She froze in his grip, her heart beating so hard it felt as if it would burst from her chest.
“I like a woman in a habit,” he murmured, pushing down her wimple so that he could ravage her neck. “My favorite whore used to dress up as a nun for my pleasure … I used to enjoy ripping her habit off her, as I will ye.”
Through the fog of terror Leanna remembered the hot way his gaze had raked over her when she’d stood before him in her nun’s clothing. She also recalled how he’d attempted to rape Ella during her visit to Dunan the year before. Did a nun’s attire arouse him?
He started to whisper things then—ugly, frightening things that made Leanna draw in short, rasping breaths—descriptions of all the acts he was going to perform on her, and the things he would make her do. They were things that would hurt her, things she hadn’t even realized that men and women did together.
Leanna drew in a deep breath, preparing to let out a blood-curdling yell for help, but at the last moment, she hesitated.
She had no allies in this broch. Who would come to her aid?
Leanna couldn’t rely on anyone else but herself. At the abbey, she’d been taught what to do if a man ever tried to force himself upon her. Trying to fight him off was ill-advised as men were stronger and would always win in a struggle. She had to go for his most vulnerable areas: eyes, throat, belly, or groin.
However, if she was to manage to hurt him, she needed to get MacKinnon to lower his guard first.
Leanna shivered again—not hard to do, for bile surged up her throat now, making it difficult not to gag. He’d hitched her skirts up, and his hands were roughly exploring underneath, his thigh forcing her legs apart.
“Ye like this, don’t ye?” MacKinnon growled. He leaned back and gazed down. His eyes were now glittering slits of desire. “I’m going to plow ye here … up against the wall.”
This was Leanna’s moment. In order to meet her eye, he’d shifted back from her, just a little, and when he released her with one hand—reaching down to unlace his straining braies—she made her move.
Gathering every bit of her strength—all her loathing and fear—she brought her knee up and slammed it into his cods. And as she did so, Leanna brought up her arms, linking them around his neck, to give herself purchase.
MacKinnon’s face froze, his eyes rolling back in his head. With a wheeze of pain, the clan-chief let go of her and reeled away, but Leanna held on tight. Drawing her knee back, she drove it upwards again, into his groin a second time.
