Page 29 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
The tenderness along her cheek and through the brow of her eye told her she bore a heavy bruise, but the ache of that mark was nothing compared to the soreness about her heart.
No one was coming to her rescue.
For a brief moment, she’d allowed herself to believe Ragnall might care for her, but there was no substance behind what they’d shared. He’d made that clear when he’d sent her away.
She was alone, but she was the daughter of Malcolm Dalreagh, and great-granddaughter of the mighty Camdyn, who first made Dunrannoch his fortress home. She would take her revenge rightfully—against the true perpetrator of her father’s murder.
That thought sustained her.
’Twas Hogmany night, and all the castle would be celebrating, but the piper’s midnight lament would signal to her only the ending of all that had passed. There would be no new beginnings.
She’d achieve one honourable act before her own demise, giving her life as had her fellow clansmen on the battlefield.
Hearing the key turn in the lock, Flora’s pulse lurched and sped. Calder had allowed no other to enter since bringing her to the castle under cloak of darkness and she had no illusion as to the purpose of this visit.
She was clean enough now that Calder would have no compunction against taking what he wished.
Curling against the smooth wood of the bedstead, she made herself as small as she was able. Let him think her daunted. Her time would come to show him what she was made of.
Closing the door behind him, Calder lurched on unsteady feet. Certainly, the drink had already been flowing freely. A flare of hope rose in Flora’s breast.
Without ado, he lifted his kilt, clutching his cock and baws. “Wha’s it tae be then, wench. Ye want tae suck them first, afore I spear ye?” He laughed coarsely. “Show me ye like the savour o’ this fat haggis an’ tatties an I’ll see ye sent a tray of something for yer belly when we’re done.”
Flora could hardly hide her scowl. Calder must be drunk if he dared suggest placing his manhood anywhere near her teeth. Docile as she’d made herself appear, she doubted he trusted her that far.
In point of fact, it looked too flaccid to perform any sexual act but that wouldn’t stop him from attempting something unpleasant, she was sure.
Her distaste must have shown upon her face, for his slightly jovial mood quickly vanished. Throwing down his tartan, he growled menacingly at Flora.
“Ma cock nae good enough for ye? ’Twas ample, according tae yer father, until that bastard Ragnall took everything that should hae been mine!”
Balling his fists, he took a step closer. “Git yerself turned over, then, if ye nae want tae look at what’s coming for ye.” Grabbing Flora’s left foot, he yanked it sharply, causing her to cry out. Having her at the edge of the bed, he shoved her over, so that her face pressed to the coverlet. With her hands still bound, her arms were uncomfortably stretched. Moreover, she hadn’t a chance of reaching the dagger Calder kept sheathed on his belt.
“Untie me, please.” She attempted to make her voice sweeter. “’Twill be easier tae move me as ye wish if I’m nae restricted by the rope.”
“Untie ye?” Calder gave another boorish chuckle. “Why would I do such a thing? I’ll manage right enough, dinnae worry.”
Raising her skirts, he gave her bare backside a hefty smack and laughed nastily. “I’m ready tae claim ma due now ye’re no longer bleeding like a stuck pig. ’Tis a shame I won’t be breakin’ ye as a virgin, thanks tae Ragnall ridin’ ye, but I’ll wager yer other hole is still tight.”
He leaned over, pressing to her back, his rank breath thick in her ear. “Shall I make ye bleed in that place instead? Just remember, wee Flora, ‘twould be Ragnall givin’ ye the same backpassage poke if he hadn’t grown bored wi’ ye so quickly.”
Biting back the tears, Flora tried not to listen. Whatever Ragnall’s faults, he’d never intentionally caused her pain; at least, not in the way Calder planned to, but she could hardly argue at how easily Ragnall had given her up.
She heard Calder spit and a blunt finger jabbed between Flora’s cheeks.
Gasping, she flinched away, but his weight prevented her from escaping and she felt the stirrings of his erection press to her bare skin.
Only the crashof the door hitting the wall saved her.
“’Tis our clansmen from Balmore at the gate, with the laird demanding to see ye, Calder, and the Lady Flora.” The guard seemed little more sober than this master, swaying as he delivered the news.
Cursing, Calder stood, and Flora twisted about. The guard, at least, had the decency to look askance as she shook down her skirts.
“Tell him tae join the feast and I’ll be with him shortly.” Calder glowered. “And get his men tae place their weapons in the keep. ’Tis nae a night for us tae have arms tae hand; nae when the ale is flowing.”
Nodding his assent, the guard exited as swiftly as he’d come.
Calder grimaced, talking more to himself than Flora. “What’s the blaggard want, the noo? No matter, it’ll be me giving him what’s coming.”
