By Possession (7 page)

“Hold her down. Christ, she's a hellcat.”

“Aye, better that way though.”

“Hold her still, damn it!”

One stepped over the tree and knelt facing her, pressing his weight onto her back with his hands. Other hands began pushing up her skirt. Senseless with terror, she twisted her head and bit an arm above her and the hold released.

“Damn bitch!”

Leveraging up she kicked blindly behind and her heel connected with a crotch. A guttural cry filled the clearing.

“Looks like you'll be last,” the fox laughed. The hands pressed her to the log again and then the man bent over her, his whole chest immobilizing her torso and shoulders.

“Get her skirt up. I'll soften her up some so she's not so much trouble,” the fox said.

She couldn't move. Her head was crushed into the stomach of the man holding her and she could barely breathe. What gasps she managed were full of the reek of him. He grabbed up her skirt, exposing her buttocks. She still struggled, but futilely.

The man she had kicked laughed. “God, now that's a sight. Give it to her good so's she learns her lesson.”

The sharp sting of a strap landed on her buttocks. She clenched her teeth and her mind went black with rage. She tried to heave up the chest pressing into her back. They all laughed. The tip of the strap tickled at her skin, taunting her, then seconds later it struck again.

“Hell, it's making me hard as rock just watching,” her captor groaned. “More.”

She braced herself. She would kill them,
kill them
, even if it took her whole life to do it.

Suddenly he groaned again. More a garbled cry, actually. Weight collapsed on her back. Yelling and shouts and furious activity crashed all around her. She pushed up against his stomach and chest. When that didn't work she rolled her body until he slid off.

A chaos of violence assaulted her. Swords flashed and rang and pain-curdled cries echoed. At first it appeared that ten men fought in the clearing, but her befuddled mind slowly realized it was only three and then only two. She glanced down at the head lolling over the tree trunk. Blood dripped from its neck into a puddle in which she sat.

Abruptly a horrible silence fell. She stared wide-eyed at the carnage filling the clearing, unable to absorb it coherently. Blood everywhere, bright and garish, like gaping wounds on nature's bounty, flashed into her senses. With the danger past she succumbed to the terror and began shaking from a cold that arose from her core.

Strong arms lifted her up, crushing her face against a broad chest while the trees sped by. Then she was cradled on hard thighs near the ground, encased in human warmth and flooded with sunlight that began to banish the cold and calm her trembling.

Her senses slowly righted themselves and she found herself staring at a little amber crystal with a bug trapped
inside. She lifted her head to a stony profile with a pale scar slicing from hairline to jaw. “What took you so long?” she mumbled.

He turned his eyes on her. Small quakes still shook her, but her gaze seemed to be clearing. Blood streaked her gown but he could not tell if it came from her. Her veil and wimple hung limply from behind one ear and her hair was half-unbound. “I decided to let them whip you to save myself the trouble later.”

She pursed her lips. He had hoped for a more spirited reaction that might indicate whipping was all they had done.

“How did you …? ”

“I saw the cart left on the road and became curious.”

“But the road was empty all the way east.”

“I came from the west, around the bend.”

Her brow puckered. “Not heading to Darwendon, but away from it?”

She still looked dazed and shocked. He rested his palm against her cheek. Still too cool, but warmth was flowing back. She seemed oblivious to the gesture, so he let it lie there a bit longer than necessary. “I must go elsewhere before I return to Darwendon.”

He had almost ridden past that cart until the household goods had caught his eye. And then the baskets.
Exceptional
baskets, as Raymond had described hers. Not really believing she would be either so stupid or so bold as to run away by herself as soon as his back was turned, he had let curiosity lead him to the sounds in the trees.

He had known it was she even though he could see nothing but creamy buttocks and naked legs. Had just known it, and gone berserk. He had let them whip her again while he moved to a better position for first killing the one who held her. He remembered little of the rest. The rage still boiled in his head and in truth he hadn't
been in much better shape than she when he carried her away.

She suddenly realized that she sat in his arms and pushed herself onto the ground. She grimaced when her bottom landed, and then rocked forward with an arm over her stomach.

“They asked about you,” she muttered. “Maybe they were waiting for you.” With disjointed words she told him about the questions.

“Wait here. Do not move. I will be back very soon.” He gave her a glance of concern before walking back to the clearing.

He couldn't remember doing half of the damage waiting there. Not like him to lose his head like that, but since it had been three against one it was just as well that he had. He paced over to what was left of the man who had dared abuse her with that strap. He knew him. A youth back then, full of lewd talk when he visited Simon at Barrowburgh.

He doubted they had been lying in wait. Most likely, from their questions, they were just collecting information. But if he had turned that bend unawares he didn't doubt that they would have availed themselves of the opportunity to win Simon's further favor. They would have recognized him more quickly than he did them too. The scar was like a banner announcing his identity.

He returned to Moira. She rested on her hands and knees, getting sick under a bush. Her abuse had probably saved his life. How long had they had her? He couldn't tell from her behavior. He had seen enough slave women after their rapes to know that different ones dealt with it in different ways. She was tough-willed and might act as if nothing had happened and so her calm expression when she struggled to her feet didn't reassure him much.

He took her arm and guided her to the road where his
palfrey was tied to the back of the cart. He handed her a water bladder and she washed out her mouth.

“You are limping,” she observed while she pulled the dragging veil and wimple from her head. “You haven't done so before. I thought your hip was fully healed and whole.”

“Normally it does not trouble me, but it caught the broadside of a sword back there.” He lifted her into the cart and climbed up alongside.

“We expected worse, of course. With the hip. When they brought you to Hawkesford it was corrupted and it looked like you might die or never walk again. Of course, you don't remember any of that. You were out of your head from the fever.”

If speaking of ordinary things would help, he'd let her do it, although he would prefer any topic to this one. “Nay, I remember very little. I remember riding off to war newly knighted and newly betrothed, determined to win glory for my lady. I remember the glint of the sun flashing off the falling sword. And I remember healing at Barrowburgh.” Actually he remembered much more.

“They brought you to Hawkesford first. It was closer.”

He remembered that more than he'd like, even if they were fragmented recollections lost in black despairing fog. “You were there?”

“Where else would I be? Edith and I lived there then. She tended you. Reopened your hip so it could be cleansed. She sewed your face.”

“I am indebted to her then. I have been told that I should have lost the eye and most of the movement on that side if it had been done less well.”

She peered at the scar curiously. Reaching out, she ran her finger pads down its length, examining it as if it were a new basket weave. He almost recoiled from the gesture.

He couldn't remember any woman welcoming its sight let alone its touch.

“A clean line, not deforming at all. But it wasn't too deep. Edith said that made all the difference. You were lucky.”

“Aye, I was very lucky. It only cut my face in half.”

His sharp tone flustered her and she snatched her hand away. She looked around, suddenly aware that he sat in the cart too and planned to drive the donkey. “You need not take me back. I will promise to return to the manor.”

“You will not travel alone.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No doubt you think so. That is probably why I found you bent over that tree with your bare ass to the sky less than a day after you left the manor.”

A blush showed beneath her tan. “Then continue on your way. When we pass the first wagon heading west, I will join them.”

He'd had no intention of turning back, and he switched the donkey. “Where were you going?”

“To a town.”

“A free town? Far away? Where I could not find you for the year and a day it takes to break the bonds?” He could not keep the annoyance from his voice.

She turned her head primly to the passing trees. Her hands rested on her bloodstained dress. Lovely hands, long-fingered and with delicate planes shaping the back of the palms. He could still feel their warm tips tracing the scar on his face.

“What did you plan to do in this free town? Find a husband?”

“Aye.” Her blue eyes glinted and the return of their bright clarity heartened him.

“A particular man?”

She shook her head.

“What are your requirements? A proud woman like you probably has a whole list of them. Perhaps I will meet a man who fits your demands. I can reserve him for you. Assuming, of course, that he has one hundred pounds to spare.”

She cocked her head. “A freemason, I've decided. Well established and highly skilled. Preferably on his way to becoming a master builder.”

“Why a freemason?”

“The ones I have met are intelligent. They make good wages, are respected, belong to major craftsmen companies, and are almost always employed.”

“When employed they are away from home most of the year.”

“Aye, there is that benefit too.”

Well, well. So the virgin widow was not a virgin but had decided she didn't like bedding much. Her choice of a mason made excellent sense.

She seemed back to normal. He had to know. “Back there, did they hurt you more than I saw, before I came?”

“Nay.”

The firm response relieved him more than he expected. He didn't know what he would have done if the answer had been otherwise. He'd already killed them, so he could hardly track them down and kill them again.

They rode silently for some time. Moira twisted and grabbed a sack with some bread and cheese and offered him some. She forced herself to nibble, but had no appetite. Her stomach hurt and her buttocks still stung and the day's experiences had cast a pall over everything.

Those men had sapped her courage. Soon she would be headed back to Darwendon. It might be a long while before she found a way to leave that didn't include this kind of danger.

Maybe she would never find the heart to leave again at all. She certainly didn't feel strong enough to consider it now. In fact, the idea of living out her days at Darwendon, within shouting distance of Addis's sword, appealed to her. The size and strength of the man sitting close beside her offered a seductive comfort and his rescue and their shared danger had produced a raw intimacy.

She looked to the bloodstains on her garment. They would never wash out. It didn't matter because she would never wear it again anyway. It smelled of that man.
She
smelled of him.

“Were they from Simon?” she asked.

“Aye. I recognized one. He must have sent them when he heard, to see what they could learn. Simon is shrewd. He will take his time to decide what to do.”

“How would he know?”

“Someone must have gone and told him. Many have seen me since I landed in Bristol. With this face, I cannot hide who I am.”

His casual attitude toward his danger irked her. “He will try to kill you.”

“Not necessarily. If he is secure in the king's favor, he may decide that I am a nuisance that can be ignored.”

“He must know that you will move against him, king's favor or not.”

“Why must he know that? I do not even know it myself.”

“You cannot intend to accept this! Simon has taken what belongs to you, to your son. It would be a fine thing if I spent four years teaching Brian about the duty for which he must prepare only to have his father turn his back on their honor.”

“Is that what you were doing? Raising the boy to be strong and true so that he could fight Simon when he was grown?”

His tone fell somewhere between fascination and sarcasm. It did sound foolish when he put it like that. “He had a right to know who he was, what rightfully belongs to him. You find that amusing?”

His mouth softened into a smile. It was the first one she had seen in all these days. “Not amusing. I find it ironic.”

She noticed distant movement on the road ahead. A large wagon drawn by horses lumbered toward them, with a man and woman in front. They looked safe enough, and she could follow them most of the way back home. She raised her hand to hail them.

“Nay,” Addis said. “If I send you back, you will just run away again.”

“I would say that I have learned my lesson.”

“For a day or two, no more. You are a stubborn, willful woman. Soon you will convince yourself it would not happen again. I may be gone for several weeks, and if you go back one less villein will be there when I return. I have decided that you will come with me.”

“
You
are a very stubborn
man
if you saddle yourself with the inconvenience of a woman.…”

“It will be very convenient. Finding you has proven fortuitous. You want to go to a free town? I will take you to one. London. My mother had a house there, and it occurs to me that it will have been vacant for some years. It will need attention, and I doubt that any servants remain. While you serve me there you can look for your freemason.”

“You go to London?” She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice. London, the biggest town of them all. London, with its royal charter of freedoms, beholden to no lord. London, with so many people and lanes that a woman could easily dodge anyone searching for her, for a year and a day if necessary. Claire's servant Alice had gone
to London, and it was to London that she had been heading when those men assaulted her.