Page 44 of Her Dark Seduction
Chapter 14
Sawford hissed savagely in my ear.
“I’m going to remove my hand, but one sound from you and I’ll tie a gag so tight you will struggle to breathe. Do you understand?”
I looked at him, frozen still with fear. He shook me roughly.
“Answer me!”
I nodded.
“Get up. Now.”
I rubbed my eyes to clear them from sleep and felt a soft thud against my chest as he threw something at me.
“Put that on.”
Before I could answer, he went to the door and looked outside, body tense, ready to spring into action. The garments in my hands, a brown kirtle and overgown, were made from a rough, homespun material. I was glad of my nightshift, for they prickled my skin, even through the soft silk.
Noises outside grew louder—yelling, shouting, the occasional clash of metal on metal.
“What’s happening?”
“Be quiet,” he snapped, still looking outside. “A traitor dies tonight.”
My instincts told me I would never set foot in my chamber again. I hurried over to my trunk and took out the precious contents, tucking them down the front of my gown, placing Tarvin’s letters against my heart. Would I ever hear from him again? My knife I slipped into the belt of the kirtle, concealed beneath the overgown. I was just in time. As I smoothed down the skirt, Sawford took my wrist and pulled me to him.
“Do everything I say.”
He led me through the door and ran along the passage, dragging me with him. Closing my eyes only heightened my other senses as I stumbled behind Sawford who drove on relentlessly. I screamed as we came upon a body—one of Mortlock’s men, his chest a mass of mangled flesh.
Sawford gripped my wrist tighter, snarling through gritted teeth for me to be silent. He stepped over the body, urging me to do the same, and I kept my head level, fighting a morbid voice in my mind which goaded me to look into the dead man’s sightless eyes.
The all too familiar smell of smoke and oil burned in my nostrils. Closing my eyes I saw her once again; my mother, holding her head high, as she tried to greet her fate with dignity, before succumbing to the pain, as the flames licked up against her gown.
A traitor dies tonight.
Fire.
Sawford was leading me to my death.
“No!” I cried, struggling against his grip, “Dear God have mercy, no!” I would face death when the time came but not now, not when I was with child. I lashed out like a wild animal caught in a snare, screaming for mercy, for help, in the hope that someone would prevent this.
The screaming intensified. The crackling of the flames and cries of pain from men who knew they were meeting their death swirled inside my head, beating out a rhythm before culminating in a huge explosion, and I fell into blackness.
When I opened my eyes I was outside. The whole building was ablaze. My ears rang and my jaw throbbed in pain. I groaned and almost immediately a hand pulled me upright, and I came face to face with Sawford. He touched my chin where he had struck me, and sighed as I flinched. Our eyes met, mine smarting from the smoke, his showing something—regret, perhaps?—before they hardened and he lowered his hand.
“’Twas necessary.”
He led me away from the building. We were outside the bailey, at the edge of the moat where it was narrowest at the back of the Fort. He gestured toward the dark water.
“Can you swim?”
“Aye.”
“Then jump.”
I pulled away. “No.”
