Page 15 of Her Dark Seduction
Chapter 6
Spring turned to summer and my life fell into a routine. Leaving me alone during the day, my husband would send for me at night, before Sawford led me back to my room to take me for himself. I found comfort in Harwyn’s company and in treating the various ailments and injuries of the household. My favorite part of the day was early afternoon when I could peacefully sit alone in the wild garden. I would close my eyes, listening both to the wind in the trees and the nearby stream, and imagine I lived somewhere else.
Had I never married, I would have retired to a convent near Shoreton. The abbess was a relative of Maman’s and would have given me sanctuary. I could have taken Harwyn with me to live a life of duty and contemplation. But now, as the property of Lord Mortlock, such a life could never happen.
I received another poem, together with a note urging me to be strong and promising the author would keep me safe. Might he take me away if I asked?
What would it be like to live the life of a nobody? Possibly the wife of a villager? She would have little to concern herself with, except the welfare of her husband and children and the mundane activities of village life. She would neither be surrounded by evil nor be under constant scrutiny.
In the solitude of the garden, I fancied myself a young maiden waiting by the woods to meet her sweetheart. I had yet to visit the village surrounding the Fort. I dared not ask permission for fear my husband would insist Wyatt accompany me. But I often saw the villagers from my window, going about their business, tending to cattle in a field, trading at the market. Once, I saw a young couple stealing a precious moment together. The boy placed a tender kiss on the girl’s hand before they ran out of sight, hand in hand. How I envied them!
I rarely saw Sawford during the day. Whenever I did he inclined his head slightly to acknowledge me before continuing on his way. I maintained a mask of cold disdain though my heart tumbled inside my chest. I was not alone in my reaction—I saw how the female servants acted around him. My hatred rose every time one of them approached him, exaggerating a loose-hipped gait to attract his attention, touching his arm or leaning against him.
At night, in my room, I saw glimpses of the man beneath—a sigh as he took me, a tender touch on my forehead afterward. His kisses were mostly savage and demanding, but occasionally his lips brushed mine softly, reminding me of the young lovers I had seen. Though I yearned for those tender moments, my weak soul could better withstand his cold brutality.
****
While I finished bandaging the finger of a stable boy, who’d been bitten by a horse, the door to the treatment room opened.
“Leave us.”
The boy scrambled to his feet at Sawford’s command. Murmuring his thanks he ran out of the room.
I stood as Sawford moved closer. My stomach flipped as he bent his head toward me, bringing his face close. I gripped the table for support, but could not stop myself from tipping my face up to receive his kiss. He sat down with a sneer.
“So eager for me, but I am not here for your pleasure.”
“You have no business here,” I said, as steadily as I could. “Leave me to get on with my work. No doubt you have duties of your own to attend to.”
He smiled knowingly. “As you well know,cherie, I undertake all my duties thoroughly.”
“What do you want of me?”
For a moment his eyes widened, understanding what I was really asking him. Did he see me as nothing but a body intended to both quench his lust and serve as a means to his reward? Afraid of what he might say, I waved my hand at the scraps of bandages on the table.
“In this room you can only find succor for injuries and ailments of the flesh. For sicknesses of the mind and soul, I suggest you try the chapel.”
He rolled up his sleeve and I let out a gasp. A long gash ran along his forearm. The flesh surrounding it was red, swollen and seeping with an ugly, yellow liquid. I wrinkled my nose at the faint sickly sweet odor. For such an extensive infection this could not be a recent wound.
The horror in my face must have shown.
“Is it too much for my mistress’ delicate eyes?”
“Not at all.” I composed myself. “I was merely wondering how you sustained such an injury.”
“The night of my lord’s wedding.”
I remembered. It had been two months yet I saw it as if it were yesterday: Sawford’s eyes trained on me as he’d drawn the knife along his arm, to produce evidence of my virgin’s blood. His look had turned to irritation when he’d cut deeper than intended.
I reached for his wrist, ignoring the sensation I felt down my spine at the touch of his skin against mine.
“The wound has festered. I’ll need to take out the infection and bind it, but it will hurt.”
“Then get on with it.”
I gathered what I needed, checking the pot of water I always had over the fireplace. Satisfied it was hot enough, I brought it to the table along with the healing herbs I would need. His gaze was on me all the time, but I tried my best to ignore him. I picked up cloths and bandages and lit a candle. As I drew out a knife and held it in the flame, I heard him sigh.
“Do you need something to bite down on?” I asked, looking up at him. His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head.
