Captured by the Pirate Laird (21 page)

A
sharp rap sounded at the door.

A
creaky voice resounded from the corridor. “Doctor Smallwood at your service, my
lady.”

Crabapple
scurried to open the door. Stepping aside, she let him pass. Holding a candle,
his black robes whooshed against the floorboards. Pulled low over his brow sat
the black coif of a physician. He turned to the matron. “If you don’t mind, I am
to examine Lady Anne in private.”

Crabapple
frowned, and Anne inclined her head toward the door. She hoped she’d never see
the dour servant again. But she swallowed hard when she faced the physician.

He
gave her a nervous smile and cleared his throat. “The baron has asked me to
validate your virginity.”

Anne
felt the blood drain from her face. “You can do that?”

“With
some level of effectiveness, I have read it has been done.”

“But
you’ve never done it yourself?”

He
pushed up his sleeves. “No. However, that shouldn’t worry you. I’ve read
extensively on the subject.”

Anne
pulled the dressing gown tighter across her body. “I can assure you, I have
been touched by no man.”

The
physician’s eyes dropped to her midsection. “I would dearly love to take your
word for it, but his lordship is paying me quite handsomely to perform the
test.” He glanced back toward the door. “I could ask the matron to come back in
if you prefer.”

“Absolutely
not. She’d wallow in my humiliation, that one.”

The
doctor chuckled, as if he understood exactly. In other circumstances, Anne
might have found a fondness for the man.

“I’ll
need you to recline on the bed.”

Anne
looked toward the canopy bed with green silk drapes. She rubbed the back of her
neck. If she refused, Crabapple would no doubt be overjoyed to come in and hold
her down. Worse, if she refused, it would be reported to the baron. What would
he do? Seek an annulment? She could live with that. However, the thought of the
matron, and possibly a soldier or two muscling her down cemented her decision.

She
clenched her fists and walked to the bed. “I cannot believe the extent of my
degradation.” She faced the physician. “I’m the one who endured a terrifying
attack with cannons blasting the ship upon which I was a passenger because the
baron had not the time to accompany me. I’m the one who was forced to live as a
captive amongst the barbarians.”

Doctor
Smallwood bowed his head. “I understand you must have experienced a terrible
ordeal.”

Anne
sat on the edge of the bed. “You are the only person who has made any such sympathetic
comment since I arrived.”

“I’m
sure his lordship is occupied with the urgent pursuit of your captors.”

Anne
put her hands up to her face and pressed cold fingers to her hot cheeks. The
physician would not know she feared for Calum more than she feared his exam.
Let him think what he liked.
Run for your
life, Calum.

“Please
recline.”

Anne
exhaled and scooted back against the pillows.

The
physician tottered up to her and set his candle on the bedside table. He had
her sit forward and removed two pillows from behind her back. “Now if you’ll be
so kind as to allow me to slide these under your hips.”

Anne
pushed her heels into the bed and raised her bottom while holding her dressing
gown closed. She’d longed for the comfort of a bed but never had imagined this.

“If
you’ll spread your legs, I need to shine a light between them make an
examination.”

“You
cannot be serious. I have never…”

“I’m
sure you have not. None the less, I am conducting this procedure exactly as it
was written by the royal physicians.” Smallwood cleared his throat and lifted
the candle.

Anne
opened her legs and stared at the green canopy above. She gripped her arms
tightly across her chest. She would
never
forgive Lord Wharton for this. The man hadn’t even inquired as to her health.
Had he no compassion? Was she to be treated as chattel for the rest of her
life?

Doctor
Smallwood bent down. His icy hand pushed her thigh open wider. She clutched the
edge of her robe, desperately wanting to pull it across her exposed and very
private parts. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and slid to her ear.
The heat from the candle started to burn. She inched back with a gasp. The
doctor straightened, taking the candle away. Anne slammed her legs closed and
tucked them beneath her. “I believe you are quite finished here.”

He
pursed his lips, as if he needed to gawk at her privates for a moment longer,
but Anne would have none of it. He’d had the look he requested, and she’d be
damned if she’d let him peer at her a moment longer.

He
set the candle back on the bedside table and pushed down his sleeves. “You said
the barbarian’s didn’t touch you improperly. How was their treatment
otherwise?”

Anne
bit the inside of her cheek. She must be careful. “They were rather taken aback
when they found me on the ship—unsure what to do with me, actually. I was well
fed and given a comfortable chamber until they could arrange my ransom.”

The
doctor nodded. “Smart of them, though I don’t know if that will make any
difference when they’re caught.”

Anne
rubbed her shoulders as if a cold wind burst through the chamber and she
watched the doctor take his leave. Once the door clicked shut behind him, the
tears trapped in her eyes drained down her cheeks. Through bleary vision, she glimpsed
her shirt and trews, crumpled in the corner. Staggering across the room, she
doused them in the tepid bath water. Her hands still trembled as she wrung them
out and then draped them over the fire screen. She would wake early and hide
them someplace where Crabapple would keep her meddlesome hands off them.

Once
they returned to Alnwick, Anne would insist Lord Wharton send for Hanna. Yes,
Hanna would help her to forget both these past weeks
and
her bleak future.

Though
the hour was late, Wharton sat beside the hearth with his hand clenched around
the handle of a tall tankard. His wife had come to him wearing men’s clothing.
He could send her to the executioner for breaking sumptuary laws. A woman of Lady
Anne’s breeding should be well aware of the penalty. Had they stripped her
naked and forced her? He closed his eyes and focused on a conjured image of
Scottish barbarians hiking up their kilts and taking turns with her.

He
stood and threw the tankard into the fire. He didn’t doubt his imaginings. He
had led raids himself and used the women of the vanquished to satisfy his own
raging appetite. War had a way of bringing out the savage in every man. Only a
well-bred noble could walk away from such violence and return to behavior
suitable to his social standing.

He
plodded to the sideboard and reached for a flagon of brandy. He poured himself
a goblet, needing something stronger to cool his blood. Wharton tossed it back
when a light rap sounded on the door.
Finally
.

“Come.”

The
physician stepped inside, clutching his black bag.

“Is
it done?”

“Yes,
my lord. The lady needs rest. She has been under considerable stress.”

Of
course she would need rest, but that’s not what Wharton wanted. “Is she…Is she
intact
?”

“I
believe so.”

“What
on earth do you mean? Is she a virgin or not?”

“As
I said, I believe so. The lighting in her chamber was very dim, I could not see
up inside, though she is quite small.” Doctor Smallwood straightened and shook
his finger. “As I said before, the only sure test is to examine the sheets
after copulation.”

Wharton
threw up his hands. “I am paying for an
I
believe so
? If she has been compromised, I do not want to soil my person,
damned you. I need an answer.”

Smallwood
reached for the latch. “There is no evidence she has been compromised. If there
is nothing else, my lord, I shall seek my bed.”

Wharton
waived him away. The doctor departed with a bow as Master Denton strode into
the room. “We’ve caught the bastard.”

Wharton
frowned. “Only one?”

“He
was alone.”

“What
of my money?”

“My
men are still chasing it, my lord. We found the skiff empty. It appears one
accompanied Lady Anne while others intercepted the ransom.”

He
slammed his fist on the table. “You mean to say you’ve lost a
thousand
pounds?”

“I
did not say it was lost. ’Tis simply detained.”

Wharton
cracked his thumb knuckles. He needed his coin returned. “And where is the
traitor now?”

“Enjoying
your hospitality on the rack, my lord.”

“Good.”
Wharton poured two goblets of brandy and handed one to his henchman.

Denton
bowed. “Serving me with your own hand, my lord?”

“This
once, for bringing in the bastard.”

“Gratitude.”

Wharton
took a sip and swirled it over his tongue. “Stretch him until his eyes bulge and
then leave him. Let him think about his plight during the night.” He rubbed his
chin. “We shall invite Lady Anne to attend the flogging in the morning.”

Denton
tossed down his drink and placed the cup on the sideboard. His dark eyes bore
through the baron as they always did. “Very well, my lord.” Denton strode out,
his spurs jingling across the floorboards.

Wharton
shivered. Though the man always made him feel uneasy, he knew his orders would
be heeded. He licked his lips. He had caught the Scot—at least one of them.
This would be yet another test for her ladyship. His hand wandered down and
rubbed across his flaccid groin. Anne’s appearance had done nothing to stir him
and the drink had benumbed him enough he knew he wouldn’t get a rise from the
damnable thing even if he forced her to take him into her mouth.

After
one last goblet of brandy, he headed to his bed. Tomorrow he’d send for Lady
Anne. If the sheets were not bloody by the time he finished with her, she’d
hang beside that plundering Highland rogue.

***

Calum
tried to withhold his cries of pain, but the last turn of the crank wrenched a
bellow from his gut that echoed across the dank dungeon. Stripped naked, one
eye swollen shut, he lay atop a wooden rack, his hands and legs bound to the
ratchets. They rotated the wheel, stretching the ropes tighter around his
wrists and ankles. The last turn popped his wrist. The pain shot down his arm
and roiled in his gut. Calum’s head spun and bile burned the back of his throat
as he struggled to gasp a breath of air.

The
evil man in black had returned and probed his broken wrist with a poker. Calum
swallowed his grunt.

The
man’s black eyes raked across his body. “You’re a rugged blighter, are you
not?” He walked around the rack, poking at Calum’s legs and arms, studying him
intently. “This will do. Leave him. We’ll resume in the morning.”

Calum’s
eyes rolled to the back of his head. They intended to keep him suspended taut
on the rack? He’d be dead by morning, his arms ripped from their sockets. He
tried to swallow and keep his breathing shallow and even. They had yet to ask
him a single question. No matter. He would die before he betrayed his clan.

They
snuffed the torches and left him alone with the rats. His mouth so dry, he
would give his beloved
Sea Dragon
for
a sip of water. Every muscle in his body trembled. He flicked out his tongue and
licked parched lips. He prayed it would soon be over. His clan would make good
use of the thousand pounds and he had named John his successor.

Calum
closed his eyes and prayed Anne was safely asleep in her bed. He nearly heaved
again when he thought of the tyrant Baron claiming her. With a pained swallow,
he focused his mind on the
Sea Dragon
,
standing on the forward deck, the wind in his hair. How he loved the open sea,
the smell of salty air and the flapping of the sails above. He would send his
mind far away on a new journey, chasing after silver from the Americas. The
pain ebbed as he dreamed of sailing to warmer seas—consciousness slipped from
his grasp.

***

When
a bucket of water splashed across his face, terror seized Calum’s gut. Opening
his eyes, Calum became aware of a cold, hard touch on his private parts. He
sputtered and blinked in quick succession to clear his vision. Every sinew in
his body screamed in agony.

A
rotund man, dressed in a fine leather doublet topped with a white ruff stood
over him and raised his manhood with a dagger. “Did you put this in my wife?”

Acrid
bile churned up Calum’s throat. His thighs involuntarily shuddered and his eyes
bugged open. He forced his voice to croak out the words. “No. Never.”

The
fat man—
Wharton
—pressed his knife
into Calum’s most tender flesh and looked behind him. “What do you think,
Master Denton, is he telling the truth?”

Calum
blinked rapidly, panting, straining for every breath. Sweat streamed down his
forehead and clouded his vision.

The
man wearing black stepped into Calum’s view and surveyed him from head to toe.
“Hmm. I’m surprised he’s still alive.”

Wharton
smirked and slowly ran the knife across the base of Calum’s manhood, making a
sharp cut. He pulled away the knife and turned the blade in his hand. “Where
are you from, Scot?”

Calum
raised his chin, but couldn’t see the extent of the damage Wharton had
inflicted. His entire body convulsed with the effort to move.

“It
looks as if he’s not experienced enough of our hospitality, yet.” Wharton
chuckled. “Very well. Take him to the courtyard and tie him to the post.”

When
they released the tension of the rack, Calum’s muscles burned as if seared by
hot coals. His broken wrist dangled, swollen and blue. Before he could stretch
out the stiffness, guards grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to the
courtyard.

Blinded
by the light, his eyes barely registered the shocked faces around him or the
people who darted out of his path. He tried to work his legs beneath him, but
they wobbled. “Water.”

“You
won’t be needing a drink where you’re going,” a guard growled.

Calum
tried to slide his good hand across his body to cover his manhood, but the
jerking motion of the guards dragging him made it impossible. Hot blood
streamed between his thighs from where Wharton had cut him. Calum dropped his gaze
and let out a breath. Everything appeared to be still intact. He all but collapsed
against the guards, who muscled him forward. A woman gasped. His mind
sharpened. His eyes darted across the dozens of horrified faces until he saw
her.

Anne
stood behind two soldiers who guarded her with crossed battleaxes. She wore a
gown of red silk. Topped with a matching wimple, she looked like an angel from
heaven. Calum closed his eyes. He would take her image to the grave.

***

Anne
nearly vomited when they dragged Calum into the courtyard. She knew they were
watching for her reaction, but she could not hide the shock and horror of
seeing Calum beaten and stripped naked. With one eye half closed by an angry
purple bruise, she barely recognized his face. Blood and dirt smudged his
entire body.

She
covered her mouth with her hand. Wharton and his henchman didn’t even have the
decency to cover his manhood, and blood streamed between his legs as if he were
a woman with her menses. Was this the baron’s idea of humiliation? The gruesome
sight of seeing Calum in such abominable pain sent shivers needling up her
spine. Clenching her fists and pressing them to her stomach, she had to cast
her gaze away.

The
stench of lavender mixed with male sweat invaded her senses. Wharton ran an
uninvited hand down her back. “Your new attire is pleasing, my lady.” He used
his pointer finger to force her face toward Calum. The guardsmen tied him to
the whipping post. “You must watch this, wife. I’m sure it will please you that
your pirate is getting his due punishment.”

Anne
jerked her head away from Wharton’s touch but her eyes remained fixed on Calum.
The muscles in his back bulged beneath taut, dirty skin. She stole a glance at
Wharton. He watched her, his large belly protruding beneath his doublet and
hanging over his velvet breeches.
No
wonder he’s subjected Calum to such humiliation. He cannot stand to gaze upon
the powerful and lean back of a younger man.

Hands
clenched at her sides, Anne lifted her. Denton stepped behind Calum with a cat
‘o nine tails. The hideous man actually grinned when he snapped his arm back
and hurled it forward with brutish force. The biting tongues of leather sliced
through Calum’s skin. He arched his back, but uttered not a grunt of pain. Nine
streaks of blood oozed down his back and ran in streams over his buttocks.

“Where
are your men holed up?” Denton growled.

“Stop
this,” Anne said through clenched teeth.

Denton
recoiled his arm to issue another lash. The whip snapped out and bloody lines
crisscrossed Calum’s back.

As
if her own skin had been sliced open, Anne spun her head toward Wharton.
“Raasay. He’s from Raasay. Now stop this. Can you not see you’ve nearly killed
him?”

Wharton’s
mouth formed a thin line. His face tightened, giving a squint to his eye. He
nodded at Denton who delivered another savage blow. Anne suppressed a heave.
Had she betrayed Calum?
No
. She would
do anything so he might live. And why hadn’t they simply asked her? Could this
public display of brutality have been avoided?

Wharton
grabbed her arm and dragged her up to Calum. He took her by the shoulders and
pressed his mouth against her ear. “Did you lay with this man?”

Anne’s
ears blazed with a fire roaring inside them. “Are you mad?” She wrenched her
shoulders out from under his grasp, but kept her voice low so as not to be
heard by the surrounding crowd. “Your physician verified the fact I remain
untouched last night. I’ll not have my virtue sullied in this public forum.”

Wharton
whipped his hand back so fast Anne didn’t see the slap coming. She nearly fell
into Calum from the force of the blow. Her hand flew to her cheek. The sting
prickled like a thousand needles. Gasps and cackles erupted from the crowd.

Calum
growled through his teeth. “Leave her be.”

Wharton
stepped up to him. “What is she to you?”

“Nothing.
She’s done nothing.” His voice filled with agony, ripping out Anne’s heart. She
eyed Wharton’s dagger. If only she could snatch it from his belt and cut Calum’s
bindings. She scanned the courtyard. Guards surrounded them. There was no
chance for escape. Not from here.

Wharton
threw his head back and laughed. “A chivalrous pirate? Do you fancy
my
wife?”

Panting,
Calum said not a word, his blood splattering the ground around him.