Page 9 of Obeying the Orc
“Natalee, don’t thinkkk I haven’t noticed you tryinggg to tempt meeee.” His words came out more slurred. “I see the way you move your hipssss while you’re around me. The sweet lookssss you give me.” He put a hand on my thigh, overtop the covers, and squeezed even as I tried desperately to squirm away. My panic deepened.
“Mr. Foxthorne, you are mistaken, and you are drunk. I insist you leave my bedroom at once.”
“Very well.” His face darkened. “How about thissss, Natalee? You are homeless and nearly destitute. You are estranged from your family and have no friendsss here in Faircross. My wife and I took you in out of the goodness in our heartssss when we heard about your predicaaaaament. Gods-fearing folk, we are.” He chuckled as though he’d just told the funniest joke.
“Leave my room now, Mr. Foxthorne, or I shall scream.”
He shook his head with another laugh. “Push the coversss off yourself and slip your nightdress off your shoulderssss. I want to see you. I bet you’re lovelier than the females at The Sweet Siren Tavern.”
“No.” A scream built in my throat, but fear kept me from making any sound as he drew closer. It was like one of those dreams I often had during which a monster was chasing me through the streets, but I couldn’t make my legs work to escape the danger no matter how hard I tried. But I doubted I would wake up the momentthismonster touched me. “Please,” I whispered in a beseeching tone. “You mustn’t. You are a married man, sir. And even if you weren’t… well, you must leave!”
“Ha! Married. To that old bag? I’d hoped when I came southwest across the ocean to oversee my inheritance, that she would stay in the Northern Isles. But she insisted on coming. Just my luuuuck, I suppose.” He sneered.
“You should consider yourself lucky to have such a devoted wife.” If I kept him talking, maybe he would change his mind. Or pass out in a drunken stupor.
“Enough talk. Let’s get rid of these blasted covers.” He lunged at me, tearing the top quilt from my hands.
With great effort, I pushed myself out from underneath his sizable bulk. But the moment my feet hit the floor, he grabbed me with a roughness that struck terror in my heart. He clasped my hands at my lower back and forced me to bend over the bed. My blood ran cold when I felt his free hand roaming underneath my nightdress, stroking my bottom overtop my drawers. I shuddered and closed my eyes, praying to make it through this ordeal unscathed.
“Now, be a good girl and keep quiet.” He put a hand around the side of my neck and squeezed. “I’ll cut your air off if you make another soooound.”
This couldn’t be happening. Tears escaped my eyes and dampened the covers beneath my face. I turned my head to the side and focused on breathing in and out, as much as I could with his hand still on my throat. The slight movement resulted in Mr. Foxthorne tightening his hands around my neck.
He released my wrists but kept his body pressed firmly to mine, then pulled open the tie holding up my drawers. I felt the fabric pooling at my feet, and the cool night air that drifted in the open window hit my bare flesh, inciting more fear-induced shivers. I heard the fumbling of a belt buckle being opened.Oh gods. Oh please no.
My heart pounded. I said another prayer and took a deep breath, then planted my feet square on the floor and reared back, knocking Mr. Foxthorne over while he was distracted with the unfastening of his trousers.
I tried to rush by him and reach the door, but the drawers that were still tangled around my ankles slowed my steps. I hopped out of them and managed to wrap my hand around the cold metal doorknob, only to be grabbed around my waist and jerked backward. He lifted me in the air, and a second later I found myself tossed on the bed.
Jumping on top of me, he straddled me and pinned my wrists together above my head. When he leaned down to smirk in my face, I nearly gagged at the stench of whiskey and the other foul smells that emanated from him. Gods-fearing man, my ass.
“You like it rough, do you?” He chuckled and pressed his lips against mine.
I thrashed beneath him but was no match for his large size. I gagged as he tried kissing me. Tears continued spilling down my cheeks. He forced my legs apart and I felt his hard member against my thigh. I rallied for one last fight, hoping I had the strength to push him off. Or maybe I could knee the bastard in the crotch.
“What in the God of Virtue’s name is this?” an irritated feminine voice called from the doorway.
Mr. Foxthorne froze and looked over at his wife.
Relief swept through me. I stared at Mrs. Foxthorne with wide eyes, waiting for the lady of the house to berate her husband for his wickedness.
But what happened next, I would have never predicted.
“Apologies, my love,” Mr. Foxthorne said, releasing me and crawling off the bed. He fixed his trousers shut and closed his belt. “I’ve had a little to drink this evening, and when I came home, Natalee was downstairs in nothing but her thin nightdress. She pressed herself against me the moment I walked in the door and asked me to touch her. Forgive me for my weakness, Bessie.”
Mrs. Foxthorne’s face softened when she gazed into her husband’s eyes, but when she turned to look at me, I glimpsed nothing but burning hatred.
“Is this the thanks I get for convincing my husband to show you charity during your time of need? You try to seduce my husband?”
I pushed my nightdress down and stared at the couple in disbelief. “N-no, ma’am. That’s not what happened at all.”
“Don’t you be lying to me, child. I know you’ve a great deal of evil in your heart. You’ve been planning to lead my husband straight into the starfires with you this whole time, haven’t you?”
“No, Mrs. Foxthorne, I didn’t?—”
“Pack your things. I want you out of our house. I don’t care that it’s the middle of the night. I’ll not house a slut under my roof for a moment longer.”
Mr. Foxthorne stood beside his wife, his head lowered, his demeanor subdued, as if he were a child who’d been caught sneaking a sweet before supper. He put a hand on his wife’s shoulder briefly and then backed out of the room.
