Page 38 of Her Dark Seduction
Chapter 12
I woke to find myself lying on my cot which rocked gently as if I were in a boat. On sitting up the rocking intensified and I collapsed back. I had been drugged again.
“So, you’re awake.” A woman spoke, coarse and unfriendly. I knew that voice.
“Celia. What are you doing here?”
“I have replaced the traitor.”
My poor Harwyn. What would I do without her?
“I need no maid, Celia. Leave me.”
“No,” she retorted, “I am to look after you until your brat is born. Lord Mortlock knows the difference between a loyal servant and a treacherous bitch. You do asIsay.”
I rolled onto my side. My prison walls had closed around me. Celia would not help me; instead, she would relish the chance to wield any power she might have over me.
As for Tarvin—with the note discovered, how long before he shared Harwyn’s fate?
Forgive me, Tarvin.
“What did you say?” Celia demanded, but I closed my eyes, letting the drug coursing through my veins give me peace again, if only for a while.
I was confined to my room permanently, mostly lying in my cot, my senses dulled. During brief moments of clarity I fumbled about the chamber, but the door was always locked. The window was large enough for me to climb through, but when I looked out, the ground far below swirled before my eyes, increasing the nausea which constantly threatened to expel the contents of my stomach. I bent over, retching, desperate not to be sick, knowing it would burn my throat and subject me to Celia’s punishments. Had I been on my own, I would have risked falling to my death to climb out. But the urge to protect the life inside me was too strong. I could not risk my child. There had to be another means of escape.
Celia fetched my meals, feeding me herself to ensure I ate and drank everything. For my own sake I would have resisted, though I felt so weak, but I submitted for the sake of the babe.
After each meal, the food lay heavy in my stomach and I curled up to sleep as soon as I had eaten, wanting to shut out the world. Each day Celia grew more confident in her cruelty, gleefully telling me how she would be rewarded after the babe was born and I had been disposed of. I ignored her taunts, became numb to her rough handling when she dragged me to the privy to see to my private needs. Sometimes, on the brink of oblivion, I saw dark shapes moving. Muffled voices surrounded me, punctuated by howling noises; wild animals and demons marking my descent into madness.
****
As time passed, the air within the thick walls of my chamber grew colder, signaling the end of summer. Celia grew lazy, letting me feed myself, watching me with scornful eyes. She laughed at my attempts to rise, mocking me as I stumbled across to the food. On one occasion my hands shook so much I spilled the stew. She strode over and slapped me on the side of my head.
“Disgusting wench!” she cried, “I’m not paid enough to put up with one such as you.” She flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
The pain where she struck me honed my senses and the sound of the door closing was sharp and clear. I took a deep breath, and my head almost cleared: the air in my lungs brought forth a moment of lucidity. I was neither ill nor insane; they were still drugging me. I picked up the flagon of wine, staggered to the window and threw the contents out before finishing my meal.
Over the next few days I began to feel better and my vision cleared as the drug wore off. I played my part carefully, stumbling against Celia when she helped me up and lying still on my cot when she was in the room, trying to sleep to conserve my strength.
On the third day after I threw the wine away the source of the demonic noises was revealed. I woke one afternoon to the sound of a beast being speared. Opening my eyes, I saw Celia pressed against the door, her head twisted to one side, mouth wide open revealing blackened teeth. The noise had come from her—guttural sounds of animal pleasure as the man behind her drove into her relentlessly. I squeezed my eyes shut but the sound only magnified. The pounding against the door increased in unison with Celia’s howls though the man was oddly silent apart from his breathing which came out in harsh puffs.
Celia’s scream pierced the air, and the pounding stopped. I heard a rustle of clothes before she spoke, the desperate need for reassurance in her voice.
“Did I please you?”
“Well enough.”
It was Wyatt. His terse answer was followed by the sound of coins clinking.
“Surely I pleased you better than that?”
“’Tis more than you are worth.”
I heard the door open and slam shut. After a pause, Celia spoke again, lowering her voice to a sultry tone.
“And what of the pleasures I can giveyou? You know my worth, do you not?”
Another man was in the room.
