Page 75 of Her Dark Seduction
“I believe we were discussing the preservation of your beauty, Lisetta. It will break my heart to see it destroyed.” He sighed wistfully. “Do you know what I deem to be your most beautiful feature?”
I shook my head, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response.
“No matter, I shall tell you anyway. It’s your eyes. They are gray as a storm cloud. How it will break my heart to harm them! My consolation is that you have two. One beautiful eye will remain after today.”
Celia gave a muffled cry.
“Silence, whore!” de Tourrard barked.
He fisted my hair and yanked my head up, holding the poker close. The heat stung my eyes, but I kept them open. If this was to be the last time I looked upon de Tourrard, I wanted him to see the hatred I bore him.
“We both know you will betray him eventually,” he said. “Why not save yourself—and me—the sorrow of seeing your eyes turn to dust?”
I smiled, putting on the mask I had worn for his cousin, and spoke coldly and clearly. “Then turn them to dust, for I will never betray the man I love. I would join you in hell first.”
He edged the poker closer and a searing pain speared through my head. I closed my eyes, waiting for the agony. Never before had Maman’s advice been so beneficial. I began to count, slowly, in my mind. By the time I counted to ten it would all be over.
Before I reached five, hands fumbled at my restraints. De Tourrard sat me up and returned the poker to the surgeon. Celia watched me but her expression no longer showed contempt. I almost thought I saw admiration in her eyes, replaced by fear as Blanchard moved toward her.
“You see, Celia,” de Tourrard said, “Though she may be a fool, Lisetta is more of a lady than you could ever aspire to be. You squealed like an old sow to betray her while you spread your thighs for me.”
He turned to me. “You have passed a test, my love.”
“Am I free to go?”
“No, my dear,” he laughed, “if the love you bear the bastard you married will not loosen your tongue, I’ll wager the love you bear his brat will.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered, fear solidifying in the pit of my stomach.
“I mean your son has his mother’s eyes.”
“No!” I cried. “God, no, Wulfric! Have mercy—you said he was to be your heir!”
“You little fool!” de Tourrard snarled. “He’s as disposable as that whore who holds him. If you refuse to talk you will live the rest of your life knowing what your lack of co-operation did to him. Or, you can see him grow to be a fine man—a de Tourrard. But I swear to you, Lisetta; only death will separate that child from me.”
“You’re insane,” I cried, “leave him alone!”
“Are you willing to talk?”
Geoffrey’s little hand poked out from the blanket, and he squirmed in Celia’s arms, seemingly aware of the danger. Blanchard clasped my son’s wrist and raised the poker.
“Stop!” I screamed, “I’ll tell you what you want.”
“All I need is the name of the village, my dear.”
“First, give me my son.”
“You are in no position to bargain.”
De Tourrard had won. He had given me an impossible choice—to risk the life of my husband, whom I loved, or to destroy my innocent son, who was my world. The choice was simple. Vane could fight. He had a chance if I betrayed him; Geoffrey had none.
“Balsdean,” I whispered, my voice thick with defeat.
De Tourrard’s countenance changed almost immediately, becoming the charming, handsome courtier I had met as a child. Even then I had not trusted the dead expression in his eyes. He took my arm, praising my loyalty, and bade Celia follow us, chatting as if we had been on a pleasant excursion.
He returned me to the bedchamber.
“Give me my son.” I hissed, gritting my teeth in pain, my shoulder pulsing with a raging fire.
“Later, my love,” he purred. “First someone must tend to your shoulder for you have had an unfortunate accident. As soon as you are recovered you will ride with me to Balsdean so the bastard can see who betrayed him. Our first outing as a family. How pleasant! Geoffrey will enjoy riding with his new papa.”
Clasping the back of my neck, he drew me to him.
“My beautiful bride. I fear you would not please me tonight, but we have the rest of our lives to relish each other.”
I turned my head away in disgust as he caressed my cheek, running his fingertips across my mouth, and I tasted soot on his skin. He pushed me into the chamber.
“Come, Celia.”
I gave a sob at the sight of her holding my precious child. Standing in the doorway she cradled him almost lovingly, her eyes moist with tears. She dropped a curtsey before following de Tourrard out of the chamber. The door closed behind her, and the key turned in the lock. De Tourrard thought to imprison me but he would never understand the love a mother has for her child. Though I longed for freedom I could not leave while he had my son.
