Innocence Enslaved (25 page)

“To what do I owe this displeasure, lord and gentleman?” His words and tone carried a blatant dislike that he didn’t try to mask as he addressed them.

“Now, now, Mills. Is that anyway to greet a longtime family friend and your liege? You’re fortunate I do not require you to bow and show your obeisance.”

“I’ll bow to my god and my king, in that order.” Corbet didn’t mention the latter was only out of respect for the throne; no sense in being accused of treason in addition to whatever else they had planned today. “No other man,” he added, “has earned that honor.”

Ervin flushed with anger at the lack of respect Corbet continued to show him. It had always been this way between them. And although he knew he risked his wrath, he refused to show deference to the man he knew, but could not prove, was responsible for Sara’s cold-blooded murder.

“I’ve learned that you’ve taken a pleasure slave, Mills.”

Mildly surprised that he got right down to business, his concern became sickening dread as he revealed his keen interest in Emilia.

“You have had only service and house slaves up until now. Some concerns have been brought forward that you may be too enamored of her to deal with her properly and that may be the reason she was able to escape you in town the other day. I am here to ascertain if these charges are valid.”

Corbet’s accusatory gaze shot to Mooney. The fat man squirmed and started to sweat profusely beneath the condemnation of his glare.

“Arthur was merely doing his civic duty,” Ervin stated, confirming he had been the one to bring the charges. “Spare him your fulminating glares. Take me to her and I will complete an inspection of your new purchase. If your treatment of her after an escape attempt is deemed insufficient, I am prepared to take charge of her in your stead.”

“I paid a healthy sum for her, and although she has been bothersome in these early days, I am teaching her to obey. She was punished publically the night before last, received another yesterday, and your unannounced arrival has interrupted the third such chastisement in as many days. As for your taking charge of her, I think not. I don’t want to have to start over with another. I plan to keep her.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Take me to her.”

“As I mentioned, we are in the midst of a punishment session, I’d prefer—”

“I care not at all what you prefer, Mills,” the self-important nobleman barked. “Arthur and I will watch and critique. The entertainment will make our trip to the country worthwhile.”

Corbet hesitated too long for Ervin’s liking, for he flicked his hand to one of his guards, who stepped forward with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Your defiance is becoming annoying. Cooperate or I will have to rule you are unfit here and now, and immediately lay claim to your new property.” He glanced over at the hulking brute who stood by him ready to do his bidding. “Ranulf, how long has it been since I’ve acquired a new bitch to plow?”

“Too long, my lord.”

“As I thought.” He smirked, his gaze coming to Corbet once more, a challenge in the arch of his bushy eyebrows.

Feeling helpless to do other than cooperate, or lose Emilia altogether, Corbet turned on his heel and led them into the house. He would have liked more time to prepare her for the role they both needed to play today. Since that hadn’t been the case, he was afraid their act was going to be painfully unpleasant for both of them before it was through.

“She is in my study waiting for me.”

“Excellent.”

Ervin’s glee-filled exclamation made his skin crawl and his stomach came close to rebelling knowing that these men would soon lay eyes on her innocent beauty. It was the high price they must pay for their freedom, however.

As he led the obnoxious earl and the stumpy fat tattler into his home, Corbet balled his fists so tight his short nails dug into his palms. He welcomed that pain, nominal compared to what Emilia would surely endure.

“We have company, slave.” He called this warning as they entered his study. She was where he had left her, but had taken up the slave pose he had taught her, kneeling by his desk, head bowed low with her long red tresses concealing her face.

“Stand up, girl,” Lord Ervin chirped, approaching her.

Watching her closely, Corbet noticed her shift as though to get up, at the same time a tremor shook her small frame, broadcasting her fear. Needing to portray the illusion that she was cowed and obedient, he moved quickly to intercede before the earl took exception at her slow response. With his hand grasping her upper arm, he hauled her to her feet. “Obey, slave. You are in the presence of Lord Ervin,” Corbet commanded, giving her a reassuring squeeze before releasing her.

Without protest, she stood with her head bowed, her hands at her sides, the picture of humility and submission.

“Oh, my. She is a lovely one, isn’t she?” Lord Ervin stepped closer, reaching to move her hair away from her face. Corbet’s hand shot out and stopped him.

“You will not handle my property,” he growled, stepping in front of her.

“Of course,” the man answered snidely, “then you shall do the honors and bare her backside for inspection.”

Seething with anger, he guided her to his desk. “Lie across it,” he ordered more gruffly than intended; however, his control was on a thin thread and he could only manage so much. The next moment, he lifted her gown and bared her to the waist.

Ervin walked behind Emilia to view her backside. “Mills, I daresay the reports are true. The girl is barely pink and hasn’t a single stripe on her.”

“As I already explained, you interrupted her chastisement.” He watched as Ervin spied the scourge he had purposefully left on the table.

“That’s your means of discipline?” He picked up the lash and examined it, then snorted in disgust and tossed it down. “It’s mere rawhide without knots or wire; surely her actions call for more severe measures. Here,” he lifted his walking stick, pulling the decorative sheath away to reveal a thin wispy cane hidden within, “use this.”

“No, thank you. I will correct my slave as I see fit.”

“Oh ho,” the man retorted. “This is a runaway slave, Mills. You know how Lancore’s laws expect those who run to be treated.”

Corbet wanted to take the cane and strike him with it, to whip him bloody until he was begging and pleading for mercy that wouldn’t come.

“Lancore expects that you administer a punishment that befits her crime,” he droned on, as if reading the damnable law that he had written himself. “If not a whipping in the public square, she needs to be marked in one of the other acceptable forms. Which shall it be?”

“I will not brand her; that is barbaric.”

A faint whimper arose from the frightened young woman on the desk. Ervin smiled while Corbet frowned. “Silence, slave. Your betters are discussing a fitting punishment.”

“Indeed,” Ervin crowed, motioning to Ranulf. “It appears the master has made his choice. Fetch Fergus and the chest from the carriage.” He eyed Corbet with an evil grin. “Fortunately, I planned ahead.” He held out the cane. “In the meantime, get on with it.”

Being forced to deal so harshly with his delicate girl rubbed against the grain. That he had to succumb to this man’s power galled him. He couldn’t bring himself to take the cruel implement from him.

“The law is harsh in order to set an example for other slaves and deter similar actions. If you bring her before the public unscathed, Mooney will not be the only one making such accusations. It would be a pity for you to lose her after the price you paid, now wouldn’t it?” Lord Ervin smiled slyly.

“You sick bastard. You enjoy playing with your pawns and seeing us twist in the wind, having no choice except to do your bidding.”

“Yes, rank does have its privileges. I am also responsible for ensuring that the laws are adhered to.” He lifted the cane to Corbet. “If I were to witness her chastisement, I could very well attest that she has been appropriately punished.”

“Why would you assist me?”

“Because one visit to your humble abode is not enough. I will enjoy seeing you twist in the wind, as you so aptly put it, again, and again, and again. As I did with your wife, what was her name?”

“Sara,” Arthur supplied.

Enraged, Corbet rushed toward the earl, stopped short by the tip of Ranulf’s sword aimed at his chest. So absorbed in his hatred of Ervin, he hadn’t seen the knight return.

Lord Ervin smiled as he tapped the end of the cane in his palm, eyeing Emilia up and down like a hungry vulture. “If you cannot bring yourself to do it, I would be more than happy to help you out. Then again, she shall have to come with me, delivered from the likes of you, an inept master.”

Corbet snatched the cane from his hands with haste. “Never!” he proclaimed angrily. “I would die a thousand times before seeing your filthy hands come within an inch of her.”

“Hmm, it seems you have developed an affection for your redheaded wench.”

“More like I don’t want you befouling her with your touch,” he muttered under his breath.

If Ervin heard, he didn’t show it, and continued uninterrupted. “You must enjoy driving between her plump thighs. Have you taken her ass yet? I imagine it is tight. I heard rumors she was a dove. What fun you’ll have putting her through her paces and training her as you like.”

Aware of his goading taunts, he took a step closer to the odious lord. Looking down on him from his superior height, Corbet intoned coldly, “You will have your due, a caning before witnesses, and then you will leave my house, with only your sycophant in tow. The girl is mine, the silver I paid for her dear, and I’ll die before you take her from me.”

Ervin took a hasty step back. “That also can be arranged.”

“Not if I follow the letter of your profane and immoral laws, Ives.” Corbet glared daggers at the man, watching until he retreated out of reach, then with the cane in hand crossed to his desk. She was trembling, her upper body lying flat over the polished wood in the same position she’d taken the lash that first night. That would prove a pleasant interlude compared to what would come next.

He grasped her chemise at the back of the neck and ripped it in two. It was unnecessary, yet it served to dispel some of his fury. Better her shift bore the brunt of his rage than Ervin’s face and that he be hauled off to his dungeon as a result.

Emilia squealed in surprise, while staunchly remaining in position. She was being such a good girl even while he had lost his temper.

“Hold onto the edge tightly and do not move your hands under any circumstance. Do you understand me, slave?”

“Yes, master,” she squeaked, as she stretched out her arms and curved her shaky fingers over the rounded edge.

He glowered at Lord Ervin, who had taken up residence in one of his chairs and sat watching the proceedings over his steepled fingers with a malevolent grin.

“Are you comfortable enough?” he snarled. “Do you have a good vantage point? I wouldn’t want you to miss a stroke and have you accuse me of being soft.”

He angled his chair a bit for effect and then waved indulgently at Corbet. “Thank you for the suggestion, I’ve a much better view now. You may proceed.”

It took every ounce of his will to pull back his arm and deliver the first stroke to her flawless white cheeks. He knew he couldn’t hold back lest the vindictive man accuse him of such. The thin cane zipped through the air with a slight whistle and was followed by a shrill cry as the breath whooshed from her lungs. A line of red blossomed across both full cheeks.

The second stroke and subsequent cry made him want to choke the life out of the cruel man in the chair. Three more rose and fell, creating parallel stripes as he moved down the full curve of her no longer pristine flesh. A total of ten he laid down, until he came to the final two he had planned. Rearing back, he laid a swipe across each of her thighs, watching as twin welts blossomed almost instantly. He thought for sure she was going to come up from the table. But she held on, the sound of her pained sobs filling the room.

With hatred burning in his eyes, he spun and threw the earl’s cane at his feet. “‘Tis done. Now. Get. Out!” he thundered.

“A measly dozen? That’s all? I would think at least twenty—”

Corbet stormed over to the man, hauling him bodily from the chair by the ruffled collar around his neck. “You wanted her marked.” He flung out his arm. “Twelve marks for the runaway slave and four witnesses to testify it was so. You will leave now!” he seethed, spittle flying from his lips. Reflexively, his hands tightened into fists, clenching hard until the earl began to choke. A hard hand clamping down on his shoulder was the only thing that kept him from strangling the worthless pig.

“I cannot let you do this, Sir Corbet,” the earl’s guard warned. “It is out of duty that I say this, not my desire to see him live.”

Corbet opened his hands and allowed the velvet-encased popinjay to flop back in his chair. He coughed, his face mottled, the splotches changing from purple to crimson as he struggled for air.

“If you didn’t have the king’s favor because you keep his coffers filled with your chests of gold, I would have you strung up for touching me,” he rasped while gulping mouthfuls of air. “Fergus! Bring the irons.”

“What?”

“You didn’t think that puny caning was going to get her out of a permanent marking, did you?” He laughed between fits of coughing, motioning his man closer. “This was your choice, Mills. You denounced the brand and shunned the public flogging, which leaves the collar and shackles. From now on, day and night, she will bear the weight of her crime, quite literally.”

The blood drained from his face at the same time Emilia cried, “No!”

“Ah the soiled dove speaks. Would you prefer the whip or a brand with your master’s crest for all to see?”

“I’m not a slave,” she declared as she scrambled off the desk and sank to her knees. “Please, my lord, I am a free woman, wrongly taken and sold. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Emilia! Be silent.” Standing at her side, he twined his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her slender white throat. Gesturing to Fergus, the town smithy, he ordered in an awful voice, “Do it and leave.”