Carnal Gift (39 page)

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Authors: Pamela Clare

Tags: #Historical Romance

BOOK: Carnal Gift
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“God, no! Rhuaidhri!”
Chapter Thirty-one
Brighid sat before the fire, stared into the flames unseeing.
She would not cry. She had no more tears to shed. She had bathed in water grown cold, dressed in the emerald-green gown Alice had brought her, even nibbled from the tray of food the
iarla
had sent up for her supper. Now there was nothing to do but wait for the
iarla
to claim his prize. It would not be long.
Had she really thought she could fight him? Had she truly thought to resist?
Aye, she had.
What had happened to her courage?
It had vanished the moment she’d learned the
iarla
held Jamie and Rhuaidhri prisoner. While she’d gladly take a thousand blows like the one that had bruised her cheek, she could not bear to be the cause of their suffering. She would submit, and she would survive. A sound in the hallway made her jump to her feet, heart pounding, but it was just someone passing by her door, no doubt a servant on an errand. She walked to the window, fought to calm the fear that made it hard to breathe and filled her belly with writhing snakes. Outside, the last rays of winter sunlight turned the horizon pink.
No, it would not be long now.
She tried to tell herself she was strong enough to bear this. She was no longer a maid. There was no barrier of tender flesh for the
iarla
to break, no innocence for him to abuse.
But in some ways that made it all the worse. Brighid knew exactly what it meant to lie with a man. She knew what his invasion of her body would entail. She would have to bear his touch in the most intimate places, have him inside her, take his seed. What had been with Jamie an act of love would be twisted by the
iarla
into a form of torture.
And afterward, when the
iarla’s
hatred had been spent—what then? Would he let her go? Would he let Rhuaidhri and Jamie go?
She opened her hand, looked down at the dragon brooch that lay in her palm. Garnet eyes flashed defiance. Gold glinted in candlelight. For some reason, the sight of it comforted her.
The sound of footsteps.
The click of a key in the lock.
Heart in her throat, Brighid dashed to the bed, slipped the brooch under the pillows next to her iron cross. She would not let anyone take them from her again. The door opened.
The same young girl who’d brought her supper hurried into the room, retrieved the tray.
Nerves frayed to a single thread, Brighid tried to stop her own trembling, tried to breathe.
Not yet.
The
iarla
had not come for her yet.
She turned back toward the window, toward the vanishing light.
“I see you decided to cooperate.”
Brighid gasped, whirled about.
The
iarla
stood just inside the doorway. He wore no wig, and his waistcoat and shirt were unbuttoned at the throat. His gazed slid intimately over her. “The gown looks lovely on you—not as lovely as the one you destroyed, but you are still quite beautiful.”
A shiver of revulsion ran through her as his gaze fixed on her breasts. She fought the urge to cover herself. She would not give him that satisfaction of seeing her fear. “I-I have done as you wished,” she said, remembering to add “my lord” only as an afterthought. He stepped farther into the room, and when the maid had left with the supper tray, kicked the door shut with his heel. His gaze did not leave her. “Your words speak of surrender, but I see defiance in your eyes.” She lifted her chin, fought to find her voice. “I only do what I must to protect my brother—and Jamie.” He smiled. “That’s what you say now. Later you’ll be greedy for my attention.”
She struggled to hide her disgust.
Never!
“Is that revulsion I see on your pretty face, my dear? I seem to recall you did not want Jamie’s hands on you at first. But now you seem almost enamored of him. So it shall be with me.”
She looked down at her feet so that her eyes would not give her away. “If I lie with you willingly, will you release my brother and Jamie, too?”
He took a step toward her. “So now you wish to strike a bargain, is that it?”
“Aye.” She buried her hands in her skirts to hide their trembling.
He slowly walked toward her, a predator stalking cornered prey. “You must believe yourself to be quite extraordinary to demand so high a price—two men’s lives for the sport to be found between your thighs.” She backed away from him, sickened by his words, by his very presence. “N-no, my lord. I am but an Irish peasant girl. Tis you who have gone to great lengths to have me.”
He tossed back his head, laughed, a cruel sound. “True enough, but now that I do have you, there’s no need for me to bargain.”
She felt the windowsill behind her, knew she had no place else to go.
He stopped mere inches away from her, cupped her bare shoulders with his hands. “Why should I bargain for that which I can simply take?”
She shuddered at his touch, realized he meant to kiss her, turned her face from him. “Y-you promised they would not be harmed if—“ “Oh, I’ve made no promises, my dear.” His hands slid slowly down the bare skin of her arms. “The truth is I cannot release them. If I let Jamie go, he’ll surely pay me another little midnight visit, and I’ll find myself asleep in my bed with my throat slit.”
“Wh-what?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t know.” He took her hands in his, raised them to his lips. “Did Jamie not tell you? No? Not long ago, he broke into my London manor painted like a savage and threatened to kill me. If I let him out, he’ll make good on his threat. I can’t let that happen, now can I?”
“Wh-what will you do with him?”
“He and your brother will both be hanged.” Brighid’s breath left her lungs in a rush. Her heart beat so hard it nearly burst. Before she knew what she was about, she sank to her knees before the
iarla.
“No! My lord, I beg you, spare them! Let them go to the Colonies far from here! Let them go, and I shall willingly do whatever you ask!”
“Brighid, my dear, you’ll do what I ask regardless.” He cupped her cheek in his hand, leaned forward. His breath stank of drink. “As for Jamie and the rapparee, they pose too great a danger. I cannot take that risk.” “But Rhuaidhri is just a boy, and Jamie was your friend!” Brighid found herself jerked roughly to her feet, as the
iarla
hauled her up against him.
His fingers dug painfully into her arms, his face an enraged scowl. “He
was
my friend. And he betrayed me—over you!”
“Then blame me, my lord, and spare him!” He thrust her from him, crossed the room, poured himself a drink, tossed it down his throat with hands that trembled.
She had to do something.
The
iarla
turned to face her, his expression once again calm. “You nearly managed to spoil my good mood, love. But enough talk. It’s time for me to claim my prize.
Come.”
He walked toward Brighid, shouted. “Edward!” Edward opened the bedroom door, grinned. “Aye, my lord. Is it time?”
“Aye. Fetch our guest.”
“I’ve tried hard to hate you,
Sasanach,
and for a while I was good at it. But I’ve come to think you’re not all that bad. Oh, I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this!” Rhuaidhri groaned. Jamie chuckled. “Painful is it?”
A key slid into the lock.
Jamie lay down on the floor, cold stone against his bare skin, feigned unconsciousness. He heard the creak of the door on its hinges, saw a weak light, perhaps a candle, through his eyelids. He heard Rhuaidhri’s snort of disgust. “If it isn’t the little traitor. I wonder—when they stretch my neck will you watch? Will you cheer,
Alice?”
Rhuaidhri watched her walk down the stairs, bowl of water cradled in the crook of her arm. He could tell by the pained expression on her face his words had hit home. Good.
She walked over to where Jamie lay like a corpse, set her candle down, but Rhuaidhri pulled her away from him. “You’ll not be touchin’ him.”
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “I must! The has sent for him, and I’m to wash the blood from his face and wake him.”
“I won’t be lettin’ you near him.”
“But he’ll punish you! He’ll punish you and me like he punished your sister!”
Rhuaidhri felt rage flare up from his belly. Before Ailis could react, he pulled her hard against him, held her chin between his ringers. “Tell me, traitor. What did he do to my sister?”
Her eyes showed fear, but she didn’t resist. “He hit her—hard. I warned her not to resist him, but she didn’t listen!”
“What the bloody hell is going on down there, Alice!” A deep voice—the voice of the
Sasanach
who had first kidnapped Brighid—echoed down the stairs. Her eyes grew wider, and her voice was a whisper.
“Please, Rhuaidhri! He’ll beat you!”
“Don’t tell me you care, Alice.”
“Is that rapparee giving you trouble?” The ugly Sasanach stuck his head through the doorway, swore. “Let go of her, boy!”
Instead, Rhuaidhri wrapped his arm around Ailis’s throat, backed deeper into the darkness—away from Jamie. He heard Ailis’s frightened whimper, felt a stab of regret.
The
iarla’s
man swore, stomped down the stairs. Rhuaidhri had forgotten how big the bastard was, too big for one man to fight alone.
“Sasanach
pig!” “I’m going to rip your tongue out, boy!” The
Sasanach
bastard strode menacingly past Jamie’s prone form, toward Rhuaidhri, fists clenched.
Rhuaidhri had meant to provoke the
Sasanach,
but now he found himself wondering if this was such a good idea. He clapped a hand tightly over Ailis’s mouth to silence her, held her fast. “Go to hell, you son of a whore!” Then Rhuaidhri saw Jamie rise like an apparition—silent and deadly—behind the
Sasanach.
Before the
Sasanach
could react, Jamie threw the chains that bound his wrists round the
Sasanach’s
neck, jerked them tight. The
Sasanach
made a choking sound, clawed desperately at the chains, his eyes wide with terror. Rhuaidhri watched, transfixed, as Jamie yanked the chains tighter still, growled into the
Sasanach’s
ear. “I warned you that I’d kill you if I saw you again! It’s your unlucky day!”
Then Rhuaidhri saw Jamie wrap one arm around the
Sasanach’s
head, jerk it hard to the side. There was a loud snap as the
Sasanach’s
neck broke. The
Sasanach’s
arms fell to his side, his legs gave way, his head lolled. When Jamie released him, he fell to the ground in a twitching heap, then lay still.
Astonished by what he’d just seen, Rhuaidhri gaped at Jamie.
Jamie stepped over the body, his gaze on Ailis.
Rhuaidhri could feel her trembling, released her. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. She backed away from them, her hands pressed protectively against her belly, her pleading gaze darting from one to the other. “P-please don’t! Don’t kill me! Don’t hurt me! My baby!” Rhuaidhri was torn between rage and regret. Why should he listen to her pleas when she had betrayed him to the hangman? She had not shown him mercy. But her fear, her helplessness, cut at his conscience. “No one is going to kill you, Ailis.”
Jamie put a calming hand on her shoulder. “We won’t hurt you, but you are going to help us. Do you understand?” “Come, Brighid.” The
iarla
motioned Brighid toward the bed. “Lie down.”
She shuddered, looked away. The icy claws of panic closed around her heart, and her mind raced for an answer, some way out of this. She could not lie with him. She
could
not.
“Come, my dear. There is no point in resisting.” But her legs refused to move. Had she believed she was saving Jamie and Rhuaidhri, she might have been able to bear it, but now? The
iarla
was going to condemn them no matter what she did. Her only hope was to escape, to escape and find Fionn.
She heard her own voice before she realized she’d spoken.
“No.”
“No?” He laughed.
She would fight him.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “No.” He looked genuinely taken aback. Tm fast losing patience with you, wench. You’d best do as I say.” She could scarce hear him over the pounding of her own heart. Her thoughts came in fragments. The door. It was behind her. It was unlocked.
She turned, ran, grabbed the knob.
Arms shot out from behind her, seized her. Though he was not as muscular as Jamie, the
iarla
was still much stronger than she. He pinned her arms to her sides, jerked her away from the door, dragged her toward the bed. She screamed, tried to kick him with her heels, felt herself flying through the air. She landed on her belly on the bed, tried to crawl to the other side, but he was too quick.
In a blink, he’d grabbed her legs, pulled her back toward him, forced her onto her back.
He pinned her with his weight. His face hovered inches from hers, his breath foul, his eyes ablaze with fury. “You little harridan! Do you really think you can escape?” “God scorch your soul!” She twisted, wrenched one arm free, raked his face “with her nails. His fist hit her cheek, sent her swirling to the edges of darkness. “Whore!”

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