Page 26 of Her Dark Seduction
As the day drew to a close and the sun began its descent, my husband summoned me to the stables with a message that we were going hunting. However, when I arrived, only he and Sawford were there.
“Where is the hunting party?”
“I have instead decided to take you on a tour of the estate. I have a particular view I think you will appreciate.”
Sawford watched me carefully as if to gauge my reaction to my husband’s words. He looked uncomfortable. Had my husband discovered the identity of the stud who was servicing his mare? I raised my eyebrows in question, but he blanked his expression and looked away. Something was amiss and he knew it.
The ride itself was uneventful. Mortlock led us round the grounds and through the village. On seeing us approach the peasants scattered, the oppressive atmosphere affecting their spirits as much as it did mine. My husband pointed out various landmarks and buildings of interest, as if we were a young couple in love enjoying an evening ride. Once again he referred to the view awaiting me at the end of our excursion. My fear rose when, on the road back to the drawbridge, Sawford drew closer until our horses almost touched, while my husband followed immediately behind.
On passing the drawbridge and entering the bailey, the silhouette of the main building came into view. A small group of crows circled an object which stood out in the rays of the setting sun.
A head on a pike.
I pressed my lips together and rode closer until I could make out the features. The mouth was locked open, as if he had been screaming the moment his head was severed from his body. His lips were drawn back, showing his teeth. There were gaps where they must have pulled some of them out before they killed him. The jagged edge of his neck told me it had not been a clean cut; the axe-man must have made several attempts before succeeding. He would not have died at the first stroke. Big droplets of blood had formed around the rough lines of flesh, some sending thin streams which had trickled down the wall, following the spaces between the bricks before coming to a halt where they dried.
The most horrific feature was his eyes. They stared out blankly like dark, hollow sockets. My own eyes began to throb and ache. A crow flew at his face, driving its beak into one of the sockets, causing a spatter of blood to drip onto his cheek. The features were distorted and by dawn tomorrow they would be unrecognizable. Yet I recognized him.
It was Percy.
