Innocence Enslaved (36 page)

“Hand over Mills and his slave girl, and we won’t fire the hall,” Ervin shouted from outside.

Nordman turned to his captain. “Send word that I am inside and if he wants to die with his head attached, he will cease this hapless attack.”

The captain and two of his men strode to the door. They were greeted with a shower of arrows. “Imbeciles,” the captain thundered. “Counterattack, men. Make them regret the day they attacked their sovereign king.”

The other six royal guards who had been inside with the king divided, two following the others out the front door with a bone-chilling battle cry, while the other four exited from the rear.

Corbet took charge of the others inside. “How many sword arms have we?”

As hands were raised, Emilia counted only four.

“Guard the women and the king,” he ordered them. “The rest of us will make our way to the armory for weapons.”

“It’s down a short hallway in back. This way,” Alard shouted. Emilia watched in horror as her husband, brothers, and father, as well as family friends, left unarmed. A shiver of panic rushed through her when the door slammed shut behind them with an ominous ring. One of the sword-bearing men took up his position by it, while two guarded the front door; the lone remaining guard had the unfortunate duty of watching the king who railed and cursed, occasionally throwing something in his pique of anger. It would have been humorous to watch the man scurry out of the way of a flying bowl, if fear, stark and smothering hadn’t set up inside her.

An interminable hour of waiting passed while from outside, shouts and unintelligible voices mixed with the clang of clashing swords and rattled the shutters. Emilia could do nothing more than worry and pace. Her heels scuffed across the thick rug and clicked on the hardwood floor as she repeatedly walked the length of the large hall. It was the place where she had spent much of her time as a child. Usually she found comfort surrounded by familiar things and family. Today, however, it was much like a prison and brought her nothing except anxiety and dread.

“What’s taking so long?” she demanded, as if someone in the room knew more that she did. “It’s been an hour.”

“It will take as long as it takes, daughter. Come sit.”

“I can’t.” She strode to the window and peeped through one of the shutters.

“Girl, get away from that window. Immediately.” It was the king giving the order. Her mother also admonished her sternly, both making her feel like a naughty child, instead of a wife who had every reason to worry. As she took a step forward to return to her mother’s side, a loud bang and men’s shouts came from the back hall. With a deafening crash, the door exploded inward and three armed men rushed inside.

The guards engaged them immediately. They were quickly outnumbered as more of Lord Ervin’s men rushed in from behind them. Her father’s men, with Corbet in the lead, broke in from the opposite door and soon the hall was a battlefield. The women grabbed the children and pushed them into a corner, shielding them with their bodies as they huddled together.

Scared out of her wits, she watched as Ervin’s huge mercenary knights loomed over the farmers and artisans who fought bravely in return. To her, it was like David pitted against Goliath, but in time, no more than a quarter hour at best, they had maneuvered the knights so their backs were to the front wall and had cleared a path to the rear door.

“Out,” her father shouted to her mother. “Get up to the solar and barricade yourselves in.”

The king was the first one out the door, his dagger in hand as if he knew how to use it. Emilia hung back, intent on bringing up the rear and making sure everyone was out before her. At the door, she hesitated, directing a worried glance at Corbet, who was driving his opponent back with exceptional skill. Her brothers were holding their own, though she could tell her father’s strength was waning. His sword arm dipped as his huge opponent bore down on him. Fearful for him, she lifted her skirt and removed the dagger she had strapped to her leg without Corbet’s knowledge.

Taking the stance her brothers had taught her, she waited, ready to throw if any of them needed her. When her father slipped in blood on the floor, she saw the other man grin and prepare to lunge. That’s when she let the dagger fly. Her aim true, it found its target, quivering for a moment as her blade protruded from the man’s throat. Her father, who was down on one knee, watched him fall, then his eyes lifted to her and he roared, “Get upstairs, girl.”

Without another weapon it would have been foolish to stay. She also didn’t want to distract her father, since he now knew she was there. She fled. At the bottom of the stairs, however, her flight came to an abrupt end when she came face to face with the evil earl.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our runaway pleasure slave.” His scathing gaze scanned over her with derision. “Playing dress-up, are we?”

Emilia didn’t reply, whirling in a panic. She took only two steps before white-hot pain seared into her scalp as his hand in her hair yanked hard and he pulled her back. Tears of agony flooded her eyes as he dragged her by the hair down the hall. She gripped his wrists, trying to break his hold, but he was too strong.

Her nails dug into his flesh, next. An ear-piercing squeal filled the hall as he stopped. When he released her, it was to deliver a resounding slap, full force to her cheekbone. Pain exploded in the side of her face as she fell to the floor, clasping her injured cheek.

He bent over her, face mottled with rage. Spittle flew from his mouth as he railed at her. “In Lancore not a month and you have been like a festering pustule on my arse nearly the entire time. I’ve had enough of these games and will claim my right of
jus primae noctis
, Sara, as was my due eight years ago.”

“You’re insane,” she screamed up at him. “I’m not Sara. She was Corbet’s first wife.”

“Whatever your name, it doesn’t matter.” He grabbed her wrist and started off again, trying every door until he came upon one that was unlocked. He then flung her inside. “This will be fine for my needs. I’m going to plow your belly and fill it with my seed, which will drive Mills insane. Every time he takes you, he’ll know I came there first. Quite literally,” he added with an unquestionably evil laugh.

“You’re too late, Lord Bastard. My husband claimed me first and did it quite well I might add. He’s a man, not a shadow of one like you. You’re nothing but a disgusting worm who has to use threats and the brute strength of your paid minions to make people do what you want. You disgust me.”

“Shut up, wench,” he snarled. “If you’re no longer a dove, I’ll take you anyway. Then when you swell with child in a few months, it will drive him mad wondering who the brat belongs to. That’s even more perfect, to know he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering if his child is his own.”

With a laugh, he lifted his hand and curled his fingers into the scoop neck of her beautiful gown. He gave it a hard yank and split it down the front, exposing most of her breasts. Instinctively, she covered them with her arms.

“How I’d like to take my time with that bounty.” As he leered, he licked his lips. The thought of him slobbering all over her was revolting and she gagged. Then it got worse. “First, I’d bind them tight until they swell, turning dark red or a lovely shade of purple. Then I’d clamp the hard tips and whip them until you begged for mercy. Unfortunately, I’m pressed for time and a quick hard fuck will have to suffice.”

“You’re deranged.”

“Possibly, though it has made my life interesting.” He shrugged with indifference before his hands dropped to his pants. “On your knees, slave. First, I’ll fill your mouth, then your cunt, after that I’ll flip you over on all fours and plow your ass. Has he taken you there yet?” he asked gleefully. “I bet not. I’ll be your first ass fuck. I’ll leave you for Mills with my seed leaking out of every hole. Won’t that be fun?”

She retched as the images made her stomach churn. “I’d rather die!”

He pulled a jewel-encrusted dagger from its sheath. “That can be easily arranged, although that would end Mills’ suffering too soon and we can’t have that.”

She retreated, crawling backwards on her hands and feet as he stalked her. After she bumped into a huge bag of flour and a sack of meal, she rolled over and scrambled more quickly on hands and knees, but in the small storage room she could only go so far and ended up cornered.

“Now,” he drawled, raising the dagger. “I won’t ask nicely again. Start sucking my cock, without teeth mind you, or I’ll start carving my initials into your pretty skin. Your master won’t find you as tempting after that, will he? Maybe a scripted E on one cheek and an I on your ass so we brand both sides.”

“Please, don’t do this,” she whispered, knowing his violation would be too much for Corbet to abide.

Ervin seemed to read her mind. “Do you think he’d rather have you defiled and beautiful or hideously disfigured yet untouched when it’s all said and done?”

“I hate you!” she screamed.

“And I don’t care that you do. It doesn’t bother me in the least so long as you open your mouth for my cock.”

“How can anyone be so vile?”

“Easy. Power corrupts. I have that power, given to me by the king, which allows me to corrupt sweet young things like you.” He took the dagger and sliced it through the last remaining lace on her bodice. It was all that had been keeping her breasts from tumbling free when he ripped her gown; now they were on complete display for his lewd stare. “Kneel, bitch, or your pretty white tits are next.”

She trembled as he waved the edge of the sharp dagger close to her nipple. A glance at his face showed the lust he barely contained. Staring fixedly at her breasts, his body vibrated as his free hand, which had torn away his codpiece, was working a shockingly large prick.

“This is your last warning, slut.”

Slowly, she came to her knees as she recited a silent prayer for salvation.

Suddenly, the door banged open.

“Ervin, have you lost your mind?” It was the king, as angry as before.

The earl spun, bringing Emilia with him as he raised the knife to her throat.

Nordman shook his head, his face crimson. “This is it. You’ve gone too far, attacking one of my richest vassals. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes and can no longer protect you.”

“My messes? This slave has escaped from Lancore and I have the right as lord to imprison her former master and make her my own. If I choose to do so here and now, who is to naysay me?”

“Your king, for one! Your power has gone to your bloated head, fool. I’m here today because there has been a line of subjects complaining at my door over your foul practices. One of which is Selkirk, my finest horse breeder. That’s his daughter, you idiot.”

“So?”

“He is of value to me and I intend to keep him loyal. As is Mills, who fills my coffers with gold.”

“Are they of more value than me? Your most trusted earl?”

“When one produces superior horseflesh that helps me fight two wars on two fronts and the other helps me mount my knights in the best leather saddles? Hell, yes! You do naught except create havoc.”

“You forget what I know,” Ervin replied, almost boastful, his tone entirely too cocky. Emilia didn’t know what they were referring to, though she could tell he was pushing the king.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he snapped as his gaze shot to her, then back to Ervin, an unmistakable warning in his fierce frown. “You would lose all you possess thanks to me.”

“As would you, my king. Tit for tat as they say.”

Nordman’s face turned ten shades of red and she thought surely his head would explode. “You dare threaten me!” he howled. “I’ll have you strung up. No, I’ll have you beheaded, drawn and quartered, your miserable carcass posted on a dozen pikes around the palace and allow the carrion to pick you clean. That’s the usual sentence for the assassin of a king.”

She lowered her eyes, the only reaction she allowed, although it was hard. The rumors that had made the rounds these past eight years had just been confirmed in her presence. She was afraid to blink, to breathe, especially when Ervin moved behind her and she saw something fly across the room.

A dreadful gurgling sound made her look up. When she did, she recoiled at the gruesome sight of the earl’s dagger protruding from the king’s neck. Blood poured down his doublet, changing the purple to black as he sank to his knees with a thud, then he fell stiffly forward, landing flat on his face.

Her stomach rolled and threatened to rebel, not so much from the violence of the act, rather the knowledge that she had borne witness to regicide.

“It appears you will get your wish, slut, since you’d rather die.”

He shoved her aside, the force sending her falling into some shelves. She knew his intent as he stalked across the room. As soon as he retrieved his dagger, she would be next, silencing the sole witness to his capital crime. She searched frantically for a weapon. Crates, jars, sacks of grain were all she saw. Settling on a jar of tomatoes that was within reach, she averted her face as she brought it down hard on the edge of a shelf. It shattered, leaving a mess and thankfully a jagged edge. She twisted around, holding it in front of her.

He was standing with the bloody knife at the ready. As she lifted the glass to ward him off, movement behind him distracted her. She bit her lip to keep silent. Unfortunately, the glance over his shoulder had already given her away. The earl whirled, coming face to face with Corbet.

Sword raised toward Ervin’s chest, her husband spared her a brief, albeit comprehensive look, lingering on her injured cheek before scanning down her front, his eyes glowing hot with rage as he took in her torn bodice. “Did he touch you, Emilia?” he asked with eerie calm.

“He struck me and dragged me by my hair.” Too distraught to keep up a similarly cool façade, her voice shook. “And he ripped my wedding dress.”

“Did he touch you?” he repeated, the calm turning into a chilling stillness.

“He means did I rape you, little fool.”

His attention focused on Ervin as the tip of his sword extended, coming to rest on his throat.