Page 33 of Her Dark Seduction
“All in good time, cousin,” he whispered. I opened my eyes to see his face close to mine, his eyes dark with lust. He moved his hand to my neck before curling his fingers around it and gripping firmly. As he pressed his thumb against my throat, the pressure on my windpipe grew painful.
“I could show you many intricate delights in my bed, Lisetta. Lord Mortlock will not live forever. I am an extremely patient man. Malford Hall is in need of a mistress. Mayhap I will take you with me when I leave here.”
He released me and bowed. I fled, clasping my throat which throbbed with pain. Rounding a corner, I came face to face with another of my husband’s guests, and I cried out in recognition.
My father.
Arms outstretched I ran toward him. He was a harsh man, but he was my father. I craved a familiar face and still clung to the memories of my childhood. Those days with Maman, before I more fully understood the ways of the world, were happy. For a few short years, as a young child, I had been happy at Shoreton and I missed it dreadfully.
“Papa!” I cried, “I had not known you were visiting. Why did you not send me word?”
I threw my arms around him and buried my head in his chest, breathing in the smell of him, a familiar smell which brought back memories of my home.
He took me by the shoulders, shaking me roughly.
“Foolish child! What are you doing running about the building like a common villager? I thought I had brought you up to behave like a lady.”
“Papa I’m sorry, I was just—”
“I care not for your excuses, Lisetta. I must speak to Mortlock. He needs to rein you in, if you wander around so freely.” He lowered his voice, gripping my arms so tightly I groaned with pain. “I expect you to be a dutiful wife as I expected you to be a dutiful daughter. Has your lover’s head on that pike taught you nothing? If you behave as your mother did, you will share her fate. ’Twould be no more than you deserved. Clearly the whelp has inherited the bad blood from the bitch. You disappoint me. You’re nothing better than a whore.”
“Papa…”
“Get thee from my sight. I will speak to your husband to tighten your leash and beat the wantonness out of you. How many other lovers’ heads will soon be lined up to display evidence of your lustfulness to all?”
I pulled away from his grip and, sobbing, ran away blindly. I could bear it no longer. I had to go: to the village; to the woods; to anywhere but here. I would take my chances. If I could get to the stables, I could take my mare and seek sanctuary at the convent. Even if the abbess turned me away, a lifetime of penury and starvation would be better than this. At that moment, I cared not for Tarvin—or even Harwyn—my instinct for flight was too strong.
I reached the door leading outside and fumbled at the handle, panic rising when it would not turn. Eventually, it swung open and I ran through, barely aware of my surroundings until I collided with what felt like a solid wall. I found myself in the arms of a man.
Sawford.
He drew his arms around me, holding me tighter as I struggled.
“Let me go!” I cried. “Oh God, please let me go. I cannot bear it!”
I clawed at him, trying to free myself, aware of nothing but the urge to run. I heard a tearing sound, then a sharp pain on the side of my face pulled me back from the brink of panic. Sawford had struck me.
I stepped back, rubbing my cheek.
“Please let me go,” I whispered, “please—Vane.”
At the use of his name, his eyes widened. My mask had crumbled to dust. I took his hand and begged him with my eyes, not caring what he—or anyone—thought of me.
“Please,” I begged. “No one need know how I escaped. Tell them anything. Say I died, or ran off with a lover, I care not. But you have to let me go. Please!” My voice cracked as I began to cry again. Now my barricade had come down, months of unspent emotions flooded through, threatening to engulf me.
“So, madam, outside of my bed there beats a heart beneath your cold shell.” His voice sounded triumphant, and he touched my face, wiping the tears away.
“You would not get far, madam. My lord prizes his mare too highly.”
I pulled away. “You are too familiar.”
“Nay, lover, I am not and well you know it.”
“Lover,” I said bitterly, “Papa wants my lover’s head on a pike.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Baron Shoreton is here?”
I forced a laugh. “So, your master does not tell you everything. Mayhap the brood mare has greater worth to my lord than a…a cockroach.”
