Page 84 of Her Dark Seduction
“Your late husband,” de Tourrard said, his tone that of a man sharing pleasantries. “I find it ironic that you claim your heart belongs to him. Now, his belongs to you. I hear it is a delicacy and you must be hungry after such a long ride.”
“You truly are evil,” I sobbed.
“Not at all, my dear. I merely removed an obstacle, a man unworthy of you. He squealed like a stuck pig when I ran him through and pleaded like a baby before I tore his heart from his chest.”
Vane.
I thought I’d heard him whispering my name in my head last night. Perhaps that was the moment he had died.
Oh Vane.
“Oh Vane, indeed,” de Tourrard mocked.
I thought of Geoffrey, of Jack and Lily. Had de Tourrard murdered them all?
“Was he alone when you killed him?”
“No.” De Tourrard laughed. “You poor little fool. I caught him rutting in the yard on top of a whore like a dog on a bitch. His body lies in the dirt with his breeches round his ankles for all to see what he was, a filthy peasant who sought to play the spy against his betters.
“You think you are any better?” I cried. “You are sick, twisted, and evil. I will not stain myself with your touch—I would die first!”
“You have no choice,” he snarled. “The time will come when you’ll appreciate my attentions. My cousin was only too swift to give you to his men rather than touch you himself, and the servant you fancied yourself in love with would rather spend his time rutting in the dirt. Come, let us seal our betrothal with a kiss.”
“Never!” I cried, but he was too strong and forced me back, covering my body with his. He forced his mouth over mine, violating it with his thick, savage tongue. With his free hand he grasped the front of my gown and tore at the material.
A cheer rang out, and he rolled off me, catching my wrists before I could strike him again.
“I will have you,” he rasped, “but for my own sport, not the entertainment of my men on the forest floor.”
“Never!” I cried.
“You will learn to appreciate me, my love,” he said, “and when I tire of you, my men will have their turn. Guy in particular has no qualms about enjoying my leavings.”
I could not sleep at all that night. My stomach growled in protest, but I refused to eat, instead watching as he nibbled at a piece of meat while looking meaningfully at me. At length, he settled down beside me, and his breathing fell into a steady rhythm as he fell asleep. Though thankful that he left me alone, I knew it would not be long before he claimed me as his.
****
Almost a sennight later we arrived at our destination. The terrain had begun to look familiar; forests and paths I had explored during my childhood, in happier times with Maman.
Shoreton, my childhood home.
The day we arrived, I was riding with de Tourrard on his horse. We crossed the drawbridge in single file and the main doors opened to reveal my father, accompanied by one of his men-at-arms.
“Papa.” I clung to the hope he would take me into his arms, but he ignored me.
“So, you have returned, de Tourrard.”
“Aye, Shoreton. Our plans are well advanced. We have much to discuss.”
“Of course.” Papa gave me a cursory glance before turning to the man next to him.
“Take her to her chamber and make her presentable.”
“Papa, please!” I cried.
“You disappoint me, Lisetta,” he said. “But no more. Be thankful de Tourrard still wants you after your whoring, if only to inherit Shoreton. You deserve your mother’s fate, not the honor of being a baroness.”
De Tourrard stroked my hair. “Do not be so harsh on her, Shoreton. I will temper her behavior and ensure you have a daughter to be proud of.”
