Page 74 of Her Dark Seduction
Chapter 22
The tormented moans from my fellow prisoners faded into silence, penetrated by an occasional cough or a cry. The middle of the night had arrived—that eerie hush a few hours before the dawn which children believed to be filled with monsters. Mothers and nursemaids always said no such things existed, but I knew different.
I must have slept for Percy visited me, his empty eye sockets staring at me reproachfully, telling me I’d betrayed him and would soon betray another. I cried at him to leave me alone and the inmates’ voices joined in until one began to cackle with laughter and sing coarsely. How long before I joined them in madness?
As patches of gray signaled the dawn I heard footsteps. The voices of those around me howled as our host approached. My door opened and I tried to stand, but a sharp pain shot through my arm, and I fell back as de Tourrard entered the cell.
“Good morning, Lisetta. I trust you slept comfortably.”
“Where is my son?”
“My heir.” His teeth gleamed as he grinned. “Mycurrentheir is safe. I’ll reunite you soon, but first we must resume our conversation. ’Twas most ungallant of me to stop you when you were being so—talkative.”
Blanchard awaited us in the torture chamber, the tools of his trade set out before him. A fire burned in a brazier, the smell of oil catching the back of my throat. De Tourrard held me against his body, and I shuddered in revulsion as his manhood grew hard against my buttocks.
“Come, come Lisetta—I promise to satisfy you more than my cousin did.” He forced my head back and covered my mouth with his, plunging his tongue inside, so deep I fought for breath. I gagged at the obscene taste of him, but he only held me firmer, crushing my arm in his grip until it felt on fire. I bit down, and he let go, snarling with anger, and backhanded me across the face.
“Blanchard!”
The surgeon approached holding something aloft; an iron poker, its tip glowing. He spat on the end, grinning as I jumped at the angry hiss.
“Careful, my dear. If you don’t remain still you could harm yourself more than Blanchard intends. We wouldn’t wish you to losetoomuch of your beauty.”
With his free hand, the surgeon grasped the front of my gown and tore at the material, exposing my breasts. He studied them with a cool disinterest more terrifying than the lust I had anticipated.
De Tourrard laughed.
“You see, my dear, I trust Blanchard completely. He cannot be swayed by a whore’s tactics.” He tightened his grip. “Don’t fight it, Lisetta. This will happen whether you wish it or no. Better for you if you remain talkative, but first you need a lesson in courtesy.”
He nodded to the surgeon and all sensation gave way to an intense burning as the tip of the poker touched my shoulder. The pain was unbearable. I clenched my teeth and tasted blood. The odor of burning flesh accompanied the hiss of hot metal against melting skin. My lungs burned as I screamed until my mind collapsed into blessed darkness.
When I regained consciousness, I was lying on my back. I prayed this was just another nightmare, that I was back at Jack and Lily’s home. But the smell of burning flesh—my flesh—told me otherwise. I tried to move but metal restraints held me down. Blanchard had chained me to a bench. God help me, I was going to die here.
De Tourrard’s face appeared above me.
“Blanchard, she’s ready for you again. I trust, my dear, you now appreciate the benefit of conversation. Now, tell us where you have been living with your lover.”
“Myhusband,” I spat back, “and you’re a fool to think I would betray him.”
The door creaked open.
“Ah, how timely,” de Tourrard said. “The family reunited. I believe you already know my whore.”
His body blocked my line of sight but when he moved I saw a woman in the doorway. She held something in her arms, and it gave a small squeal which pierced my heart.
“Geoffrey,” I croaked. “No! Don’t let him see this! Woman—take him out!”
She shook her head. “I’ll take no orders from you.”
I recognized her voice.
“Celia.”
“Aye, ’tis me,” she replied, “nursemaid to a whore’s bastard.”
“Do not speak of whores, woman.” De Tourrard struck Celia across the face. She staggered under the blow and cowered, her face taut with fear. Once again I found myself pitying her, though she loathed me.
De Tourrard motioned to Blanchard who pulled the poker out of the brazier and handed it to him. He held it in front of my face, and the heat burned against my skin.
