Sapphire Dream (40 page)
Authors: Pamela Montgomerie
As he strode toward her, his lips curled in a hard smile, a flash of ivory burst from the room behind him in the form of a naked girl. She couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen. Scratch marks striped the girl’s breasts and blood streaked her pale inner thighs, filling Brenna with fury.
One of the bluecoats stepped into the girl’s path, blocking her way. She screeched and tried to dart around him, but he snagged her around the waist and hauled her against him, both his meaty hands sliding over her bruised flesh.
Brenna started forward, unable to stand by and watch this horror, but the guard beside her snared her wrist. As she whirled on him, knee at the ready, she suddenly found the tip of a knife pricking the underside of her chin.
The earl flicked his wrist at the naked girl. “Tie her to my bed.”
As the child was hauled, screaming and kicking, back to the bedroom, Brenna’s fists clenched at her sides. “I see you make a habit of warring on girls.”
This monster had to die. He
had
to die.
had
to die.
The earl flicked his fingers at her causing her gaoler to push her forward. Close-up, the earl looked older, his fleshy face well lined. His cruel eyes looked her up and down, taking on a lecherous gleam that had her blood turning cold.
“The seer did not tell me you would grow to be a beauty. Before I kill you, I will take you thoroughly. As will all of my men.”
A chorus of pleased grunts rumbled through the room.
Panic flared. Death she could handle, it was rape that would destroy her.
Another flick of that weathered hand. “Put her on the table and hold her.”
With the knife still at her throat, she couldn’t fight, could do nothing but submit as guards seized her arms on either side.
Brenna met the earl’s gaze, her own hard and challenging. “Are you so afraid of me that you can’t even rape me without the help of your guards?”
The man’s jaw clenched and unclenched, sending the wrinkles writhing like snakes through his skin. Slowly his face flushed red.
“Release her.”
“But . . . my lord,” the bluecoat leader said. He’d seen her fight.
The earl threw the guard a look of disdain. “Do not touch her again unless she tries to escape. This is between her and me and none will interfere.”
The blade left her throat as the guards on either side of her melted away. Brenna was left facing her greatest nightmare. Fear lapped at her courage, freezing the air in her lungs. She struggled against it, taking deep, ragged breaths as she desperately tried to calm herself.
This was it. Her only chance.
She fought against the terror, gathering her hatred for the man standing before her.
The Earl of Slains.
The bastard who’d ordered her killed when she was five. The monster who’d had Rourke’s parents killed and destroyed the lives of both of their families. The asshole who’d forced her to flee, stealing her home, her family, her entire world.
The Earl of Slains.
The bastard who’d ordered her killed when she was five. The monster who’d had Rourke’s parents killed and destroyed the lives of both of their families. The asshole who’d forced her to flee, stealing her home, her family, her entire world.
He might rape her. He’d likely kill her. But she wasn’t going down without one hell of a fight.
Brenna braced herself as the earl approached, his eyes glittering a little too brightly. Too late, she realized the hand coming for her was swinging in a fast arc. The backhand across her face sent her flying. She crashed to the floor, head ringing, her face on fire. As she pushed herself to her feet, she touched her face and felt the sticky dampness of blood.
The jerk had cut her with his ring.
She
knew
she should have signed up for those karate classes. Self-defense was all well and good, but she seriously needed a better offense. Her hand reached for the knife strapped to her thigh, then stilled. No matter what the earl said, she couldn’t believe his guards would let her stab him. No, she had to get closer before she revealed she was armed. She had to get close enough to do what she did best.
knew
she should have signed up for those karate classes. Self-defense was all well and good, but she seriously needed a better offense. Her hand reached for the knife strapped to her thigh, then stilled. No matter what the earl said, she couldn’t believe his guards would let her stab him. No, she had to get closer before she revealed she was armed. She had to get close enough to do what she did best.
Brenna thought of the pirate she’d downed in the hold of Rourke’s ship. Heaven help her. How could she pretend with this man?
What good will it do anyway?
part of her cried. He was going to kill her one way or the other. Stopping the rape wouldn’t save her. There was no escape.
part of her cried. He was going to kill her one way or the other. Stopping the rape wouldn’t save her. There was no escape.
It didn’t matter. She wasn’t giving up. And she sure as hell owed the Earl of Slains
something
to remember her by.
something
to remember her by.
Brenna closed her eyes and raked her hair back off her face. “I don’t know why I’m fighting you,” she breathed, making herself ill from the sexiness she managed to inject into her voice. “I want you. We’re two of a kind, you and I. Craving power.” She swept her eyes down to his crotch, then back up again. “And I crave yours.”
The asshole’s eyes near to ly popped out of his head, then slowly filled with lust.
Brenna cupped the undersides of her breasts, lifting them, unsure what else to do to make it look like she wanted him. Beneath her skirts, her knees shook so hard she was starting to get nauseous. If she wasn’t careful, she was going ruin the whole sham by vomiting.
“Take me,” she cooed. “Let me
feel
your power.”
feel
your power.”
Yeah, she was definitely going to throw up.
The other guards were making low noises deep in their throats. One was cupping his groin.
Great.
While Slains just stood there, his men were going to jump her.
Great.
While Slains just stood there, his men were going to jump her.
Finally, the earl started toward her on those high heels, his tongue sliding out to lick his thin, disgusting lips.
Brenna kept her hands on her breasts and tossed her head, running on pure instinct now. No plan, no thought beyond the driving need to take him down in any way she could.
“Take me,” she whispered huskily. This was not exactly how she’d envisioned ending her life . . . sounding like some back-lot porn star.
Closing the distance between them, he brushed aside her hand and grabbed her breast. “I’ll take you, lassie. I’ll take you and drive you up, then slit your throat while you scream your release.”
The flowery words every girl longed to hear.
“If you must,” she breathed. Then she reached up as if to kiss him and instead, drove her knee hard into his groin.
“You wee
bitch
!” His fist shot out, catching her deep in the gut, stealing her breath.
bitch
!” His fist shot out, catching her deep in the gut, stealing her breath.
She wanted to kill him so bad she shook with it.
She needed her knife. As the air started to ease back into her lungs, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and dug out the small blade. If she went for his neck . . .
Her wrist was caught from behind in a vise like grip.
“My lord?” said the bluecoat leader close at her back.
The earl looked up, his eyes watering, his wig askew, a vicious twist to his mouth. “Get me my sword. And hold her!”
Brenna got a fleeting sense of satisfaction at the earl’s voice, now a good two octaves higher than a minute ago. He’d remember her, all right. For a day or two.
The knife was yanked from her fist and once more she was strung between two guards while a third brought a wicked-looking sword and handed it to the injured earl.
If there was any good news, it was that she’d apparently avoided the raping. She’d never really expected to come out of this alive, despite the prophecy. Her poor father was going to mourn her bitterly.
And Rourke. What would happen to her pirate once her head was rolling on the ground? Would his follow? Was there any chance the earl might let him go?
Her heart broke for him, crumbling beneath the weight of her love and sorrow. She glanced over her shoulder to where he lay, needing to see him one more time. But as her gaze skimmed his beloved face, she caught a flicker in his cheek, a muscle tensing.
She swung her gaze quickly forward, her pulse suddenly pounding a whole new rhythm. He was awake.
The earl came to stand before her, the candelabra at his back wreathing his head in flame as if he were, indeed, the devil’s disciple. Slowly, he lifted his sword over his head . . . over
her
head . . . and she knew he meant to cleave her in two.
her
head . . . and she knew he meant to cleave her in two.
Her heart thudded. Was Rourke awake enough to know what was happening? Could he escape while they killed her?
Her answer came flying through the air to bury itself to the hilt in the Earl of Slain’s forehead. For the space of two heartbeats, a stunned silence blanketed the room, then the earl crashed backward into the candelabra and all hell broke loose.
Brenna’s gaolers released her, one to rush toward the earl, who was quickly going up in flames, the other to pull his sword and turn on her rescuer.
Rourke.
Metal rang as he battled with two bluecoats. Somehow, while they’d all thought he was unconscious, he’d managed to free himself from the bindings. Where he’d gotten the sword, she didn’t know and didn’t care.
The other guards were more concerned with dousing the flames that now engulfed the earl, carrying him to a hell she hoped would never release him. The guards tried to cover him with the rug that draped the table, but the rug caught and they had to leap away.
The fire.
Suddenly she remembered the tour guide.
Castle Stour burned in the year 1687. This year. This night.
Castle Stour burned in the year 1687. This year. This night.
“Get out!” Brenna yelled. “The whole castle’s going up in flames.”
Amazingly, most of the guards—used to following orders—followed hers. They took off for the door without a backward glance at their charbroiling lord. Only the bluecoat leader remained, battling Rourke, but she fully trusted the pirate to win. He didn’t need her help this time. And she had something she had to do.
Grabbing up her knife where it had fallen on the floor, she ran for the earl’s bedchamber, where the naked girl sobbed, her wrists tied to one of the bedposts.
“The earl’s dead,” Brenna told her. “I’m getting you out of here.” The poor kid hadn’t been as lucky as Brenna at fifteen.
As the ropes finally parted beneath her blade, Rourke burst into the door.
“Wildcat!”
Brenna grabbed the earl’s nightshirt and shoved it at the girl. “Hold it to your nose until we get through the smoke, then you can put it on.” She ran to Rourke and threw her arms around him. “He’s dead.”
“Aye.” Rourke pressed a quick, hard kiss to her hair, then pulled her and the girl across the burning room. At the doorway, the girl paused to don the nightshirt while Brenna stared at the flames that were destroying her enemy.
As the three raced down the now empty passage she glanced at Rourke. “I thought
I
was supposed to be the one to kill him.” Shouts and screams echoed up from the lower levels of the castle as the occupants fled. Only one room was on fire, but in a castle like this, with the floors made of wood, the entire structure would be gutted by morning and all within knew it.
I
was supposed to be the one to kill him.” Shouts and screams echoed up from the lower levels of the castle as the occupants fled. Only one room was on fire, but in a castle like this, with the floors made of wood, the entire structure would be gutted by morning and all within knew it.
She and Rourke would have no trouble getting out. There would be no one left to keep them here. And no reason.
Rourke grabbed her hand and held tight. “The prophecy said ye were to be the earl’s destruction, aye? Not that ye would be the one to kill him.”
Brenna reached back and grabbed the girl’s hand in turn, in a strange way feeling as if she had hold of herself at that age. In one hand she held her past, in the other, her future.
“ ’Twas his obsession with ye that killed him, ye ken?”
Brenna felt the weight of twenty years lift from her shoulders and laughed. “
Now
you tell me.”
Now
you tell me.”
Malcolm met them halfway down the sea path. His gaze flew to hers. “I was coming to find you.”
“He’d dead, Malcolm,” Brenna told him.
Her brother nodded silently, but as he turned to lead the way back down, his teeth flashed in the moonlight in a feral grin. He led them to where Hamilton and her father sat on the rocks on the tiny beach watching the flames slowly consume Castle Stour.
“She did it!” Malcolm crowed. “My own sister killed the Earl of Slains.” He grabbed her up and swung her around, laughing.
“Actually, Rourke’s the one who killed him.”
The moment Malcolm set her down, her father enfolded her in his strong arms and held her so tightly and so long, she was pretty sure he wasn’t ever going to let her go.
Finally, he began to sway and she helped him sit back down on the rock. But he pulled her down beside him and kept hold of her hand as if afraid she’d disappear on him again.
Malcolm took the girl aside and gently questioned her about her family and where she belonged.
Hamilton came to Brenna and hugged her hard, his face wreathed in grins. “Ye did it, lass. Ye fulfilled the prophecy, and brilliantly, too.” He sat at her feet in the sand. “I wish to know everything, aye? What happened in there?”
Malcolm and the girl joined them and she told the tale, all watching her with rapt attention.
All but Rourke.
He stood alone, the night’s breeze toying with his hair as he watched, not the burning castle, but the sea. As if he were already plotting his escape.
Other books
Candy Cane Murder by Laura Levine
Snow Angel by Jamie Carie
Killing Them Softly by Glenn, Roy
Seduced by Mr. Right by Pamela Yaye
The Days of Redemption by Shelley Shepard Gray
Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 41 by The Doorbell Rang
My Friend Maigret by Georges Simenon
Chasing Charli by Quinn, Aneta
Warm Hearts by Barbara Delinsky
My Dearest Enemy by Connie Brockway