Page 58 of Dark Side of the Laird
“That’s it, my laird, drink up.”
“What is that?”
“It will make ye strong. Help ye to feel no pain, for they are certain to beat ye once more.”
“Why? How do ye know this?”
“The queen has birthed a daughter. They will want to silence ye and all ye know forever.”
“More,” I croaked. I drank down the cup of brew and then sipped at spoon after spoon of broth. My stomach threatened to recoil, to spew it all out, it had been so long since I’d eaten, but mind over matter won, and I kept it down, feeling energy renew itself in my veins.
“I’m going to put some salve on these wounds. I can do no more than that now. If I stitch ye, they’ll only rip them out. The vicious hounds.”
I nodded.
“Close your eyes and rest while I work. Ye’re likely to be wakened soon.”
I nodded again, closed my eyes, and took mental note of every part of my body, every pang. Within in moments, the pain ebbed, though my mind remained sound.
“Concentrate on healing yourself. The mind can do powerful things,” she whispered as she rubbed a smelly, greasy concoction into the wounds at my wrists.
The woman worked from head to toe, rubbing one smelly ointment after another as she whispered things I didn’t entirely understand. I felt myself growing stronger. Concentrated on binding the lashes in my skin back together. Healing the bruises and mending the broken ribs.
I felt better, stronger. Not whole at all, but at least I didn’t feel as though death might claim me at any moment.
All the sudden, the women’s hands stilled and she took in an audible breath. “They come. I must go, but I will return. I will help ye, give ye back your birthright.”
“Nay! Dinna say that,” I growled. By the time I opened my eyes, she was gone.
But the boot heels clicking on the floor were unmistakable. Sounded like the king’s man, the one who strapped me down and implemented my brother’s cruel wishes.
I kept my eyes straight ahead, not willing to show weakness by feigning sleep, and not willing to show this arsehole a lick of respect.
His welcome was a brutal lash of a whip across my belly. I couldn’t even double over in pain, the straps that bound me kept me still. And thank the saints, the potion the old woman had given me dulled the pain of the lash.
“Where’s the key?” he asked, rushing forward, over excited it would seem as he hovered above me, smiling and drooling like a hound who taunted his prey.
I sneered with disgust. “What key?”
He wrenched back his arm, slapping the whip down onto my thighs, only inches from my cock. Again, he received no reaction from me.
“Next one’s going to hurt even more ye cock bastard, now where is it?”
“I have many keys.” I closed my eyes, pretty certain of the man’s reaction.
“I warned ye.” The leather strap came down hard on my cock and ballocks.
I gasped, choked. Not sure if it was because I felt it or because I knew what he’d just done.
He laughed. “Told ye it would hurt. Now give me a better answer, or I’ll see your ballocks pummeled until they fall off. I’ll only ask ye once more. Where is the key to the secret door?”
“Gone,” I forced out, proud of how strong my voice sounded.
“Gone where?” He loomed over me, the leather whip coiled around his fist and poised over my nose.
“Stolen.”
“By who?”
