Untouched (19 page)

Monks told you to stay away until Lord Sheene tired of me.”

“Aye, but Monks aren’t here. Happen he’s watching the gate. Any road, if the marquess is coddling his plants instead of

poking his slut, I reckon that’s proof enow he’s had his fill.”

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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“That’s not true!” she said hotly, still edging away.

“Aye, well, even so, nobody misses a slice off a cut loaf.”

Grace hid a shudder at the horrible analogy. “You’re disgusting.”

Filey took a menacing step in her direction. “Careful, lass. Happen I’ll remember you said that when I fuck you.”

Fury swamped her debilitating fear. “You’ll never have me, you foul brute.”

She whirled on her heel and broke into a panicked run. Panting, she dashed down the path toward the house. But she’d

walked further than she thought. Acres of trees extended between her and the safety of Matthew’s arms.

“Bugger the skittish bitch,” she heard Filey mutter, then the thud of his feet as he set out after her. She gave a terrified sob

and forced herself to a faster pace.

Wildly, she swerved around a bend in the path. The dry leaves beneath her feet slid away. She stumbled to her knees with

a painful jerk.

“Dear God, help me,” she gasped.

Precious seconds dissolved as she righted herself and launched into her careening flight once more. Filey’s sawing breath

was so loud in her ears, he must be only inches behind her. She didn’t slow down to check.

She put on a last despairing kick of speed. Filey was close enough for her to smell fresh sweat over his usual acrid stench.

She swerved toward the trees.

Too late.

He lunged and grabbed her shoulder with bruising fingers. As he flung her down, she screamed. Her front collided with

the dirt with such jarring force that her teeth rattled.

Filey threw himself on top of her. His weight crushed her. She’d forgotten how big he was. She tried to claw along the

ground but he flipped her over to face him as if she weighed no more than a blade of grass.

She screamed again although there was nobody to save her.

“Button your bloody gob,” Filey growled, shoving one filthy paw over her mouth and muting her cries. He trapped her

between his knees so she couldn’t wriggle away.

Suffocating blackness edged her vision as he covered her nose. She punched and kicked but it was like fighting a wall of

solid oak. He was so large, he hardly seemed to notice her flailing beneath him.

She couldn’t breathe.

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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Savagely she bit down on his palm until his blood filled her mouth.

“Shit!” Filey ripped his hand away. Grace had an instant to suck in a mouthful of reviving air before he smashed her

across the face with his closed fist.

Agony arced through her head. Stars distorted her vision. She grappled back to consciousness and screamed. The sound

echoed around the woods.

There was no answer. How could there be? Matthew was too far away to hear.

She must face this horror on her own. Tears poured down her cheeks as she struggled uselessly against Filey’s massive

bulk. He stank of onions and unwashed male and lust. She gagged as she gulped in enough fetid air to stave off fainting.

She tried to knee him in the groin, but he caught her legs beneath his.

“Eh, none of that! Or I’ll whack you good and proper. Makes no road to me whether you’re awake.”

“I’d rather be unconscious!”

“Aye, well, I’ll knock you around if that’s what you’re after. There’s lasses like a bit of that.”

Grace’s hatred surged anew. “The marquess will kill you!”

He snorted his contempt. “That namby-pamby nod-cock? Chance would be a fine thing.”

His hands closed brutally hard on her arms as he rubbed his erection against her belly. He was sickeningly ready.

“What about Lord John?” She was willing to invoke the Devil himself if she had to.

“Aye, Lord John Lansdowne is another kettle of fish. But he’ll reckon you was willing. He knows what trade you plied.”

“I’m not a whore!”

“Well, you are now. I don’t see parson blessing your fun with his lordship. Give over skriking and lift your skirts.”

“Get off me!” She bucked but he was too heavy to shift.

Filey’s rancid breath puffed into her face. “Eh, but you’ll make a grand wild ride, lass.”

She shrieked with outrage and clawed at his eyes. He jerked out of the way and she gouged his cheek instead. Her

fingernails sank with revolting ease into skin and flesh. She snatched her hand free as four jagged lines sullenly began to

leak blood.

“Fucking bitch!” He raised his fist again and clouted her on the side of the head so hard that her ears rang.

Filey’s blow dazed her into paralysis. She didn’t flinch when he hooked his hand into her low-cut bodice. Vaguely, she

felt his thick fingers curl against the top of her breasts. Then a sudden wrench as he rent her gown to the waist.

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The sound of shredding material wrested her back to awareness. Her bare breasts spilled free of the ruined gown.

Through bleary eyes, she saw him lift himself on his elbows.

“By gum, lass, that’s a grand pair of tits.”

Grace’s gorge rose as he smacked his lips together in moist appreciation. She scrabbled to draw the tattered edges of silk

together but Filey batted her hands away with a careless swipe. Then he took both wrists roughly in one hand and forced

them above her head.

Pride deserted her. Only choking terror remained. “Stop this, for God’s sake,” she pleaded, not caring any more whether

she sounded brave and defiant.

“You know better than that,” he almost crooned. Blood suffused his face, making the network of broken veins stand out

across cheeks and nose. Saliva glistened on his thick lips. He bent to bite one exposed breast.

She cried out in agony and struggled to throw him off but her strength faded. She’d never before realized how powerless

a woman was when a man straddled her. He yanked at the fastening of his leather breeches with his spare hand. She tried

to scream again but all that emerged was a choked whimper.

“Eh, I’m right looking forward to this, flower.” Filey chuckled salaciously. The sound chilled Grace to the marrow.

Far too quickly, his breeches fell open.

She told herself she wouldn’t look. She wouldn’t look.

Her horrified gaze dropped to where his member sprang from its nest of graying brown hair. “No!” she cried in a cracked

voice. “No!”

Disbelieving shock flooded her as he stroked the thick, throbbing length. “Aye, that’s grand.”

He licked his lips again and spittle dribbled down to shine on his stubbled chin. Hurting her wrists, he dragged her stiff

arms down and forced her clenched fists to brush his erect flesh.

“Let go of me!” She jerked in appalled disgust.

She tried to kick him but his bulk trapped her legs. He laughed and pressed his straining member into her hands. “Oh,

you’re keen.”

“Don’t touch me,” she sobbed, trying to recoil.

“Eh, flower, I’m harder than a brass doorknocker.”

She couldn’t bear this. She couldn’t.

Her cracked whimper was a wordless plea for mercy. But he didn’t seem to hear as he shoved her skirts to her waist with

clumsy enthusiasm.

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She tried to roll to the side but he knocked her flat with a savage punch to the mouth, splitting her lip so warm blood

trickled down her chin. She lay in wretched stillness as he ripped away her flimsy underwear. With a grunt of satisfaction,

he spread her quivering legs and positioned himself.

Grace tensed as he drew back ready to thrust. At the last minute, she twisted to avoid the inevitable.

“Bide still, bitch,” Filey muttered, steadying his heavy member with one hand and tugging her arms above her head with

the other.

“I’ll kill you for this,” she panted, closing her eyes and waiting for him to drive into her. She was dry and he was large, so

the pain would be excruciating.

Then unbelievably, a sharp bark resounded behind her.

Wolfram?

Had her prayers been answered?

She squirmed to see. But Filey pressed her down too firmly.

She heard a low growl, another bark. A shadow briefly covered the sun. Everything turned to chaos as a huge brindle

shape hurled itself at Filey.

“What the hell?” he gasped.

The dog’s momentum thrust Filey hard on top of her, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Wolfram growled and

snapped. The man’s shrinking member slid along her bare leg. She shuddered to think how close he’d come to ramming it

into her.

She burst into a frantic babble. “Wolfram! That’s right. Good boy!”

She shoved at Filey’s suffocating weight even while he fought the dog and missed his target. He landed a sharp jab to her

ribs and she cried out. Wolfram’s teeth closed around Filey’s swinging arm, inciting her attacker to a string of obscenities.

Across Filey’s heavily muscled shoulder, she saw Matthew dashing up with a heavy branch in one hand. His face was

incandescent with fury. He looked like an avenging angel chasing Lucifer from heaven. He looked like he could commit

murder and not even bother to shrug his indifference.

“Wolfram, heel,” Matthew said in a voice so quiet and intense that it seared. Instantly the dog obeyed, slinking back to

crouch in bristling alertness at Matthew’s side.

She read Filey’s brief shock at hearing Matthew. Then the gloating smile returned and he turned his head toward the

marquess. Clearly Filey thought he still held the advantage. “Come to watch, your lordship? Happen you’ll learn summat

about pleasing a lass.”

“You’re a dead man!” Matthew’s eyes glittered like yellow fire and a muscle jerked in his cheek. Grace’s breath snared

with fear as he kicked Filey off her, then hefted the makeshift club high. He swung it down hard across Filey’s back. A

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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

sickening thud as wood cracked on bone.

“Bugger me!” Filey gasped.

Grunting, Matthew lifted the log and hit Filey again before he could cower away. The brute lurched to the side, raising

his arms to protect his head. “Leave off, will you, for Christ’s sake?”

Grace scrambled free, clutching the remnants of her dress to her breasts. Her face stung as if a thousand bees had

attacked it. She drew her knees up to her chin and huddled in a protective crouch beside the path. Convulsive shivers

shook her as she tightened her arms around her raised legs.

New tears flowed over the sticky residue of the old. As they fell, they made the abrasions on her face smart. She’d been

so certain there was no hope. Now she couldn’t accept she was safe.

“You’ll never touch her again.” Matthew stood over Filey like a divine avenger. Her lover was almost unrecognizable. No

trace remained of the kind, gently amused man. He hoisted the log above his head, ready to crash it down on Filey’s head.

“Don’t kill him, Matthew.” Grace’s plea emerged as a muffled croak. She struggled to her feet and stumbled to his side.

Wolfram growled as if expressing his opinion of her request. Matthew’s lips tightened over his teeth in a similar snarl. He

didn’t look at her but kept his eyes fixed on the cringing Filey. “Why not?”

“Just a bit of fun, your lordship. No harm. You know what lasses are like.” Then fatally, “Well, maybe your lordship don’t

know. But the tart was hungry enow for a poke from a real man.”

“Roast in hell, you bastard!” Matthew’s eyes shone blank with rage and his muscles bunched as he prepared to swing the

log down for the killing blow.

With horror, Grace realized he’d moved beyond the constraints of reason. She caught at his arm. “Don’t do this. If you

kill him, your uncle will chain you up again. He’ll use it as conclusive proof of madness.”

Matthew still brandished the log. “He hurt you.”

“Yes, he deserves to die. But not at the cost of all you’ve achieved.”

“Please, your lordship! Please, lass, take pity on a poor wight.” Filey’s pathetic groveling was almost more disgusting

than his bragging. Fumbling to fasten his breeches, he staggered upright. He winced theatrically with each movement.

Grace ignored Filey and spoke to Matthew in a low voice that trembled with conviction. She couldn’t let him do this,

even if everything within her screamed for revenge. “Don’t give your uncle this ammunition against you.”

Lucidity seeped into Matthew’s eyes, tempering the blazing gold. He touched her bruised cheek while his mouth thinned.

She must look a mess. The pain was certainly bad enough.

“I’d like to smash him to pieces,” he said fiercely.

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As always, she drew strength from his touch. “So would I, but your uncle must never think the madness has returned.”

Wolfram gave another growl. She turned to see Filey trying to limp away. He hadn’t straightened from his awkward

crouch. His face was a mask of agony.

He’d suffer from Matthew’s beating. He deserved to. The bruises he’d given her still ached. Her head still pounded. Her