Wages of Sin (23 page)

Her brief flicker of amusement passed. She was freezing already and it wasn't even nightfall. The wind keened through the arrow-slit, striking through her damp clothing like a knife. Despite her aching limbs she made herself walk up and down the room as she ate, flapping the cloak to try and rid it of the worst of its wetness.

She was not particularly successful in her attempts, but at least the exercise set her blood moving again and the bread stilled the worst of the hunger pangs. She forced herself to continue, pacing back and forth like a caged lioness until she could walk no more. Exhausted, she rolled the still-damp cloak around her as best she could and huddled down to try and sleep.

It was useless. As soon as she stopped moving the chill crept back, eating its way bone-deep into her body. Worse still, her mind too seemed beyond her control. Light-headed from hunger and cold, she was no longer in the turret room, she was being plunged once more into the barrel of freezing water by Mother Ursula and Sister Michael. She shivered uncontrollably, sure now that Sir Edmund had left her to perish.

When the door opened again she didn't even hear it. Sir Edmund stood on the threshold, looking down on the whimpering bundle, his lips twisted in a cruel smile. He nudged her with his toe and she stared up at him with frightened eyes.

‘Not quite so defiant now, are you?' he sneered.

She tried to frame a suitable retort, but her quivering lips refused to obey her. He must have noticed the blue tinge to her skin, for a hint of concern crossed his face and hope flickered in her. Perhaps he did not intend her to die, merely to subdue her.

Bending, he scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. She huddled against him, grateful for the warmth no matter what its source.

Bellowing for servants he kicked the door back on its hinges and carried her down the winding steps and across the courtyard.

Within minutes she was back in her own room. Depositing her beside the fire, he peeled the damp clothes from her shivering body and chafed her numb limbs with a coarse cloth until the blueness began to disappear. Pulling the coverlet from the bed, he wrapped it round her, glaring impatiently at the door.

The first servant arrived with a steaming posset. Glancing nervously at her master, the girl laid it on the hearth. He picked it up and held it to Jane's lips. At first she coughed and spluttered as the hot wine trickled the wrong way down her throat, then she drank greedily, feeling the reviving warmth all the way through.

‘Thank you,' she gasped, when she had finished. Another shudder racked her and she could feel her stomach rebelling against its contents. She swallowed convulsively. Sir Edmund would not take it too kindly if she vomited over him!

‘Get into bed,' he ordered, then took in her apprehensive expression and snorted in exasperation. ‘Not for that reason, you stupid girl. Do you think I wish to swive you now, like this? Don't be ridiculous. I like my women with a bit of fight left in them, not lying under me like a dead fish.'

The burgeoning smile of gratitude died on her lips. So much for his vaunted concern. She might have known. All he was concerned about was his own damned pleasure. She was only a convenient body to spend in, and he wanted that body in good condition.

Tugging the coverlet about her, she got to her feet, drew herself to full height and glared at him. Unfortunately, the effect she hoped to create was spoiled when she swayed and almost fell. Swearing under his breath, he caught her arm and helped her over to the bed.

‘I can manage,' she complained weakly, pushing his hands away. Ignoring her, he lifted her legs, swung them on to the bed and roughly pulled the covers up over her.

Her ordeal and the posset, drunk so quickly on an empty stomach, caught up with her at once. Her eyes were closing even before her head hit the pillow. She snuggled into the warmth like a contented kitten, whimpering with pleasure. ‘Goodnight, Alice,' she murmured, just as sleep claimed her.

Sir Edmund stared down at her in puzzled amusement. He'd been called many a thing in his life, but never ‘Alice'. Was the girl delirious?

As he looked down on her sleeping figure, with her hair spread out on the pillow, her lips slightly parted and her breasts rising and falling softly as she breathed, he felt a sudden affection for her. He caught himself just in time and his lips tightened. No slip of a girl was going to trap him in her nets! She was nothing to him; just a plaything to be toyed with and then discarded.

How dare she worm her way into his affections? He would stamp out this unmanly sentiment. He would stamp
her
out! He would use her and abuse her until she was nothing but the dust beneath his feet. He strode out, slamming the door behind him while, unaware of the fate he had planned for her, Jane slept peacefully on.

 

When Jane awoke it was still dark. She stretched and yawned, then sat up and looked around. How long had she slept? Surely not just for a few hours? She felt wonderful.

There was a perfunctory rap on the door, followed immediately by Martha's bustling entry. The cook bore a tray, which she deposited briskly in front of Jane. A bowl of broth slopped dangerously.

‘About time, too,' she sniffed. ‘I thought you was going to sleep forever.'

‘What day is this?' asked Jane in dismay.

‘Day?' snorted Martha. ‘It ain't day no more. It's night. You been lying there snoring like a pig for more'n twenty-four hours. I seen folks in their winding sheets with more life in ‘em.'

‘I don't snore,' protested Jane.

‘Well, mebbe not,' Martha conceded graciously, ‘but you been out cold for long enough. Get that food down you quick. His majesty's getting impatient.'

Spooning up her broth obediently, Jane stared at Martha. ‘Impatient for what?' she inquired anxiously.

‘How should I know?' demanded Martha. ‘He don't confide in me, do he? I'm just one of his skivvies.' She mimicked Sir Edmund's aristocratic tones. ‘“Tell madam I shall wait upon her this evening,” he said. Thass all I know. Bad-tempered sod, I wouldn't fancy him “waiting on” me, I can tell you.' She shivered theatrically. ‘That one ol' eye of his gives me the collywobbles, and no mistake. Looks at you as if you was something nasty he'd trod in.'

It was Jane's turn to shiver. She agreed with every one of Martha's words. ‘Thank you,' she said. ‘And once I have finished my repast, you may tell Sir Edmund he has my permission to wait upon me when he will.' Her fine words meant nothing; they were merely a sop to her self-esteem. Sir Edmund would come to her chamber whether she willed it or not.

She supped her broth as slowly as she dared, taking tiny sips from the spoon while Martha stood over her, impatiently watching every mouthful. All too soon the bowl was empty. Taking the goblet of wine, she gulped it down and poured herself another - and another - until the jug was drained. She needed all the help she could get to steel herself for Sir Edmund's visit.

Banging down the goblet, she smiled tipsily up at Martha. ‘There,' she announced. ‘Let him do his worst. I am ready.'

Martha picked up the tray and, shaking her head, bustled out as noisily as she had come, closing the door behind her.

Once she had gone Jane eased herself out of bed and, staggering slightly, walked across to the mirror, with the coverlet still around her shoulders. Now what should she wear to greet her master? She giggled drunkenly and spread it wide so that it framed her naked body like a pair of wings. Turning this way and that, she admired her slender figure, her pert breasts bobbing as she moved. Why bother wearing anything? He was only going to rip it off and there was no point spoiling another good gown. She would greet him as nature intended.

The door banged open again and she whirled round, almost falling again. Sir Edmund stood scowling on the threshold. She smiled at him, spread the coverlet and dipped into an unsteady curtsy. Her breasts swung forward as she bent so that her left nipple almost grazed her knee.

For a moment he gazed at her in astonishment, then his usual sardonic expression returned. ‘I see you have dressed for the occasion, my lady,' he said dryly. ‘How appropriate, seeing that we have company.'

She gaped at him for a moment, then her gaze shifted over his shoulder.

Behind Sir Edmund stood the hateful Dickon, who had already made his lustful intentions towards her clear. And beside
him
some grinning ruffian she'd never seen in her life. As they entered the room she was shocked back to sobriety. With a whimper she pulled the coverlet about her and began to back away, looking from one hard face to the other.

‘What? Suddenly modest, my dear?' Sir Edmund asked sarcastically. ‘How touching. But I fear your gesture is sadly wasted on our guests. I rather think they preferred you as you were.' He strode across the room and ripped the coverlet from her, leaving her exposed to the men's lecherous gaze.

Her hands flew instinctively to cover herself, but he wrenched them away too, pulling them behind her back so that her soft young breasts rose proudly. She closed her eyes, but she could not shut out the vision of Dickon's leering expression, nor the sight of the unknown man beside him. A filthy ragged beggar, he was propped on a crutch, because one leg was missing from the thigh. She opened her eyes again and stared at Sir Edmund in a mute plea for mercy.

He ignored it. ‘Come now, why so shy? Let me introduce you.' He waved a hand at the other two. ‘Dickon you already know, but I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting Arthur here.' The cripple nodded and grinned at her, revealing stained brown teeth. Sir Edmund quirked an eyebrow. ‘But you will, my dear. In fact, you'll get to know him intimately.'

‘Why are you doing this?' Jane asked softly. ‘What have I done to you that I deserve such treatment?'

Sir Edmund flung his head back and guffawed. ‘Why nothing, my lady. That's the beauty of it, don't you see? It's a cruel world. An evil man lives richly while a good one dies in poverty, and at the end of the day it doesn't make a penny's-worth of difference. Don't you find it all amusingly ironic? Well, perhaps not.

‘It amuses me, though,' he continued. ‘For tonight's amusement I intend to give you the hospice and the kitchens, so who most appropriate to benefit from your favours but a sick man and a crippled beggar? I'm sure our Lord would approve.'

‘There's nothing wrong with Dickon,' she protested.

‘Oh, but there is,' Sir Edmund assured her. ‘He has a rather nasty swelling I think he'd like you to deal with.'

Dickon waggled his tongue at her and rubbed the front of his breeches suggestively. Even from across the room, Jane could see the bulge beneath the coarse material.

‘But I must apologise,' Sir Edmund went on. ‘I am keeping our friends waiting. They are impatient, and I believe young Dickon here has a bone to pick with you.' He nodded, and Dickon stepped forward, unbuckling his belt.

‘Lose me a week's pay, would you, you snooty little bitch?' he snarled. ‘Well, you're the one who's going to pay now. I'm going to tan the arse off you first, and when I've finished that, I'm going to fuck the arse off you, too.' He grabbed her arm, hauled her across the room and flung her face down on the bed. Wrapping his belt round his fist he raised the loose end and brought it down on her rump. The broad leather strap slapped against her bottom, making the plump globes quiver with the shock, while Sir Edmund and the crippled beggar watched avidly.

She shrieked with pain and tried to wriggle away, but he caught her ankle and dragged her back again. ‘Oh no you don't,' he said. ‘You'll take what's coming to you, and like it.' His arm rose and the thick belt smacked against her bottom again, two great swathes of scarlet staining the white skin where the blows had landed.

She writhed on the bed, whimpering. ‘Please,' she sobbed, lifting a tearstained face. ‘I beg of you, please stop.'

‘I'll stop when I'm good and ready,' he panted, lifting the belt again. It leathered her bottom for a third time, and then a fourth, until finally she lost count as her world was reduced to the burning agony that encompassed her.

Finally he stopped, his breath coming hard in his throat, and she lay splayed on the bed looking up at him helplessly. The bulge in his breeches was massive now, and he fumbled at it eagerly, his cock springing free of its restraints, thick and swollen.

He wrenched her legs apart and knelt between them, hauling her rump up. The lips of her vulva parted and he gripped his prick in one hand, while the other forced it wider. He ran the head slowly up and down the gaping cleft, relishing the feel of the silken flesh. She whimpered as he lunged forward, pushing himself roughly against her. There was a moment's resistance, then the full length of his member rammed home.

He groaned as he was enveloped in the hot wetness, then slowly withdrew, only to plunge in deeper than before. He watched in fascination as his cock slid in and out of her, purple and glistening, then moaned in dismay as he felt himself losing control. He pulled himself out in a vain attempt to prevent the inevitable, but even as he withdrew his spasm came upon him. His member jerked and his seed spurted out, beading the flushed globes of her bottom with iridescent pearls. His organ began to droop, its last few drops dribbling on to his thigh. Biting his lip with disappointment, he stepped back from the bed.