Page 63 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
Gair waited not for any further instructions, striking quickly. The leather strip struck against her back, its tip stinging her skin. She gasped. Then Isabel gritted her teeth and tried to ready herself for the next one. No preparation would have helped for Gair delivered it to the same place, worsening the pain. She closed her eyes and waited for the third. The guard pulled hard on her hair.
“Open your eyes, Daughter,” her father called out. “I would see yours as you receive your just punishment.” The blow came quickly then, forcing a scream out even as she met her father’s gaze. The next one landed in the same spot and tore the skin there. Tears streamed down her cheeks in spite of her attempts to control herself.
Gair was a master at making punishment go quickly or making it last an ungodly amount of time. So, which would it be for her? Could she survive this? More importantly, could the bairn she suspected she carried within live through it?
She had no more time to think on anything as Gair increased the timing and the power behind each stroke. Isabel dared not look away from her father during the rest and he seemed pleased by her screams of pain. Her back, her hips, her buttocks and her legs throbbed in excruciating pain. Blood now trickled down from the open slashes across her body. Gair finished the ten, breathing heavily behind her as he waited for more orders.
“What have you to say, Daughter?” her father voice echoed across the now silent hall.
Her throat dry from too long without water and her voice hoarse from screaming, Isabel forced out the words. Her life depended on it now.
“I will do your bidding, Father. Forgive me for my insult.”
No sounds save those of her panting breaths and Gair’s labored ones could be heard as they waited to learn if The MacLeod was satisfied with her plea.
“Seat my daughter in her place at table,” her father said quietly. “She can join us at supper.”
He knew she could not move on her own. He had withheld food for more than two days and she should be ravenous. But the waves of pain and the smell and feel of the blood that now dripped down her back and legs made her want to retch and fall unconscious.
“My lord husband,” her mother’s voice broke into her growing confusion now. Where had she been? Why had she not tried to intervene? Isabel knew why. “May I have her washed and dressed as is appropriate for your table?”
’Twas an attempt to see to her, but one even Isabel understood would fail. Ranald MacLeod would make certain that the humiliation and pain lasted much longer than this rather brief amount the whipping took.
“Nay, wife. She stays as she is until I say otherwise. Her stubborn nature must be taught a lesson.”
The guards dragged her forward, up the steps to her chair on her father’s left. She could not help but cry out when they dropped her onto its hard seat. Grasping the edge of the table for support, Isabel tried to find a less painful position but ’twas impossible. When her father approached and stood behind her, she pushed herself to her feet by sheer will alone and waited for him to sit.
He dragged out the meal, giving her a cup of water when wine or a stronger spirit could have aided with the pain. A crust of bread was the only piece of food on her plate, but she could not eat even that. Words blurred together around her. She blinked against the shadowy people as they moved in front of her and spoke to her father. When she could no longer hold herself up, he smiled. As she slumped off the chair towards the floor, Isabel began praying.
“Take her away.”
Her prayer continued through the next dark days and nights, even as she cried out in pain as her wounds were treated. She entreated any saint or holy person who would hear her prayers to let her live. Whether it was their intercession or the Almighty’s plans or her own stubbornness, she did survive.
Five days after her father’s punishment, Isabel could stand on her own and tolerate garments on her skin. She knew she must find a way to contact Alex. Since her own serving maid had been replaced with a woman who shared her father’s bed, Isabel had to be even more careful in her actions and words.
Seven days after her humiliation in the hall, her mother brought word that she was to be married to The MacKinnon’s heir in three weeks’ time.
And seven days later, she realized that her monthly courses had been missing for two months and that child she carried still lived within her.
The MacLeod would not take that news well if he discovered his daughter had lost her virtue under his own watch.
