Page 72 of Her Dark Seduction
Chapter 21
When I woke, my head hammered as if assaulted by a blacksmith. I was lying on my back on an enormous bed. A canopy, embroidered with an exotic pattern in reds and golds, hung above me. Sitting up, I rubbed the back of my neck. An old woman sat by the door watching me, but before I could speak she left the room.
Someone had changed my clothes; the peasant’s garb replaced with a purple gown of soft silk embroidered with flowers. Once again I was Lady Mortlock. I had been discovered, but by whom? Where was I?
The door opened to reveal my captor.
“What a pleasure to see you again, my dear.”
His handsome features glowed in the candlelight. Had I not known him I would have thought him a thing of beauty. But he was rotten inside, rotten to the core.
Wulfric, Baron de Tourrard. Lord Mortlock’s cousin.
My throat constricted at the memory of his fingers crushing my windpipe at Mortlock Fort. He’d said then he would bide his time and now, here I was. By leaving the man I loved, I found myself at the mercy of the man I hated.
“Come to me.”
I shook my head, and he moved with the speed of a striking snake, coiling his fingers around my wrist.
“I would advise you to be friendly toward me, Lisetta.” His voice was mild but the undercurrent of menace matched the malevolence in his eyes. “After all, I’m taking such care of the little brat.”
“Leave my son alone!” I cried.
“I have plans for him, my love. He’s the heir my foolish cousin always wanted, no? I am equally happy to name him my heir, to overlook the fact you had to be rutted by every man at Mortlock in order to beget him.”
I tried to pull free, but his grip was too firm.
“My fool of a cousin thought his weak plot against Henry would work. The king is so grateful to me for betraying Mortlock, he thinks me a most loyal subject. And now I can claim you as my own. I know exactly how to satisfy a woman and to teach her to pleasure me. My cousin did not value your charms, Lisetta, but as my wife you’ll want for nothing and neither will I. You are clearly fertile.”
He clutched my belly, and I shuddered with revulsion.
“I’m married, Wulfric,” I said, “Whatever you force me to do, it will not be legal in the eyes of the church.”
“Ah yes, the bastard,” he chuckled. “Is he the one whose seed took root? No matter; he’ll be disposed of soon enough. Surely the title of Baroness de Tourrard and mistress of Malford Hall is better than being a filthy peasant’s wife.
How did De Tourrard know I had married Vane?
“Come, my dear; before we eat there is something we must discuss—the whereabouts of the whoreson you married.”
He led me down several flights of stairs. Before long, the smell of damp and decay thickened the air. He was taking me to the dungeons.
He opened a door at the bottom of the stairwell and bowed with mock courtesy, leading me through. I found myself in a dark passage with torches placed at intervals along one side. On the other side a row of doors, each with a small barred window, disappeared into the darkness. Coughing and groaning echoed around the chamber. What poor souls resided behind those doors?
I could sense de Tourrard’s pleasure at my fear.
“Am I to be confined here?”
“Not yet. I have something else in mind for you first.”
Taking my hand as if I were a bride crossing the threshold, he led me through the first door into a large cell. A number of shapes adorned the room; chains attached to the walls and benches supporting metal devices. A tall, thin man sat beside one of the benches. De Tourrard gestured toward him.
“My surgeon, Blanchard. He’s been waiting for you.”
I stepped back but de Tourrard gripped my arms and held me firm. The devices in the room cast twisted shadows on the floor. Those I recognized struck fear into my heart: a rack for stretching the limbs until the body was distorted beyond recognition; knives and needles designed to flay the skin off and extract confessions as the victims were manacled to the wall or strapped to the benches. The odor of pain and death hung like a thick fog. Dark stains, which could never be cleaned, clung to the benches and the floor. I heard echoes of the screams of the men who’d been brought here over the years. Soon my own screams would join them to haunt de Tourrard’s future victims.
He placed a light kiss on the back of my head and pushed me forward.
“Let us begin with a simple question to whet the appetite.” His voice was a soft caress against my ear. “No need to be hasty, aye?”
