Page 56 of Sinfully Mine
“You have such a sharp tongue, my darling Hester.” He untied all but a long length of rope attached to her ankle and knotted so tightly that Hester would need a knife to free herself. And if he called her ‘his darling Hester’ one more time, she may use the rope to strangle herself.
He led her outside to the privy, little more than a small wooden enclosure, some distance from the cabin. The outhouse was full of spiders and smelled terrible, but she would have some privacy.
Hester went inside and did her best to slam the door on Martin’s smiling face. Impossible with the bloody rope in the way. Her entire body trembled, terrified at the thought that she wouldn’t be able to free herself before Martin’s plans came to fruition. He’d found someone to perform the marriage, someone who Hester suspected wasn’t too concerned with the fact that the bride was being wed against her will nor that a special license had to be procured. A vicar, she supposed, from one of the smaller villages in the area who was in dire need of the coin. Martin had not given her the details.
The rope around her ankle jerked through the door.
“Hurry along, darling Hester. There are preparations to be made. I’ve got to fetch your dress.” A sigh came from Martin through the door. “Blue silk. Stunning frock. You’ll be an exquisite bride. Now don’t berate me, darling Hester, for wanting a private ceremony. I want you all to myself.”
Hester’s fingers shook as she saw to her needs. “When will this ceremony take place?”
“Tomorrow,” Martin said through the door. “I’ve several errands to attend to in addition to your lovely frock. You must have a ring of some sort, after all.”
She flung open the door, one of the warped boards coming loose. “I’m not marrying you. I’ll scream during the entire ceremony. I doubt any vicar you’ve found will agree to wed a hysterical bride.”
“Don’t you dare embarrass me, Hester. Mrs. Ebersole’s very existence depends upon it. She’s older. More likely to trip and hit her head while going about her business. As my father did.” Martin giggled.
Hester’s fingers dug into the frayed wood of the door.
“Oh, don’t frown so. I hate it when we argue.” He gave her an adoring look, as if he’d merely told her an amusing story instead of admitting he’d killed Mason Godwick.
Hester inhaled a lungful of the chilly, morning air, trying to keep from giving into her fear and falling, weeping, to the ground. Martin would threaten and hold Blackbird Heath and everyone in it, over her head for an eternity. Her only hope was to escape him at some point.
Hester had felt hopeless many times in her life, most recently when Drew left her at Blackbird Heath. But deranged and dangerous Martin Godwick was more than even Hester was prepared for.
Her foot stumbled over a tree root and Martin caught her.
He escorted her back to the cabin, the rope in his hand as if Hester were a dog he had taken for a walk. Once inside, Martin sat her at the table for a breakfast of watery oatmeal and a single cup of water before instructing her to lay down on the bed once more. After tying her wrists and ankles, Martin sat back, regarding her half-naked form. The chemise, paltry protection at best, had ridden up her thighs.
“I’m chilled.” Hester nodded to the moth-eaten blanket.
Martin didn’t immediately respond. Instead, his gaze traveled up her body, far too long at the apex of her thighs. “Lovely copper hair,” he whispered. “Everywhere.”
Hester tried to pull her legs together, but the rope prohibited it.
Theonlybright spot in this horrible situation had been Martin’s admonition that he wouldn’t force himself on her, but his depraved morals apparently decided studying her exposed form was perfectly acceptable. Mad as a hatter, but still, ridiculously, a gentleman. Physical relations, Martin insisted, would not take place before they were wed. He would not give in to her subtle seduction.
Martin always spoke as if Hester walked about flirting and plying him with sly innuendo.
His hand suddenly descended to cup her breast. Disgust roiled through her as he massaged the small globe, grunting in satisfaction when the nipple grew taut.
“Get your hands off of me.” She tried to avoid his touch.
“I think you need a real man in your bed, darling Hester.” His gaze stayed focused on her breast.
“Then I suppose you won’t do,” she unwisely retorted.
Nothing could be gained by Martin becoming incensed.
“I understand,” he said quietly. “Why you sought comfort from Sinclair. I was a married man and unable to be with you, though we longed for each other.”
The oatmeal pitched in Hester’s stomach.
Martin’s eye twitched as he continued to toy with her breast. “I forgive you, my sweet Hester.”
“How generous.”
“First you were wed to the elderly Black, and then I was forced to wed Ellie. The fates conspired to keep us apart but now we finally can be together as we were meant to. You need to be properly bedded. Worshipped.” The hand on her breast retreated. “I will not give in to temptation. I won’t defile you before you are my wife. I will show you the respect you deserve, my darling Hester.”
