Savage Want (Wicked Wants, #3) (7 page)

I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip. “It is possible. He could be lying. He could have lied to me. Are you sure you have the right man at all?”

It was a bold question for a lady of my status. But the Duke took no offense.

“Perhaps we may not. Would the lady be so gracious as to accompany her future father-in-marriage to the warden’s lock? You alone can identify him.”

I bowed my head. “I will ride with you.”

***

L
ater that night, I was hoisted up onto the back of a bay mare. The darkness had brought a chill to the land and I was in an ermine-lined coat, soft gloves covering my hands. Two men flanked our procession as we rode a short distance to the west of the manor, a staked and gated enclosure, with more men atop the walls and a set of prisoner cells in the middle.

The ground was muddy and everything inside was filthy, like an animal’s pen. Deep voices barked orders, and men bayed from their cells like starving hounds. Only I did not recognize Torsten’s voice among the chorus. We rode until we’d reached just outside the cell block and then we dismounted. I picked up the hem of my dress and was glad that I had been given a pair of tiny boots, suitable for riding, or walking through mud and madmen’s waste. I wrinkled my nose at the stench of offal, smoke and stale ale. Guards in mismatched armor stood watch over the prison. This was a dead end for most, I could already tell.

“In here,” the Duke said and disappeared inside, of which I could hardly make out. A guard with a plumed helmet rushed in after him with a torch. I held my breath and followed.

“Over there,” the guard said. His eyes were unreadable for the most part, but seemed lightly amused.

I looked to where he indicated. My heart sank deep in my belly.

Torsten was bent in half, as his head and hands were locked in a headstock. Chains encircled his feet. His face was so dirty it was nearly black with soot and mud and only his gods knew what else. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to release him more than anything, yet I stood there as the Duke spoke to Torsten.

Torsten, apparently unconscious, stirred at the Duke’s words. His pale eyes fixated on me immediately, but his face remained blank. No indication that he knew me or that he knew me so well. I lifted my chin in expected defiance.

“Tell me, Lady Elena. Is this the man that held you captive?” The Duke stepped closer to Torsten.

“Yes,” I said softly.

The Duke had pulled off his glove. He slapped Torsten across the cheek with it, hard. Torsten remained silent and shifted in his chains.

“Tell the lady you are the prince of the North.”

Torsten let out a low groan but did not respond. The Duke grabbed a handful of Torsten’s dirty hair and wrenched his head up.

“Tell her.”

Torsten’s gaze burned into mine. “I am the prince of North.”

His voice was flat without any emotion.

The Duke stepped between us, blocking my view of Torsten completely. I raised my gaze to him.

“Did you lie with this barbarian or any other?”

My mind shouted at my head to turn, shake no, no, no. But I merely stared, unable to move at all. I was weary of not speaking the truth. My heart swelled and burst over and over for the poor bastard in stocks. I wanted only Torsten.

“Hmmph,” the Duke growled.

He called for the guard, and we left Torsten there, standing in his own sweat and shit. Every fiber of my being wanted to break the Northman loose, even to my own detriment. I’d seen criminals executed, which was usually a ritual of reading aloud their atrocities before hanging them by the neck, but never had I seen a man in stocks. The pain he must have endured already in such an uncomfortable position, at that point, for a day’s time. How much longer would he be kept in such a manner?

Guilt ate at my insides at the thought of the stolen dagger in my rooms back at the manor. I’d fully intended to kill Torsten with it, now it was just a sharpened souvenir of my time spent with him.

“What will you do with the beast?” I asked the Duke as we made our way back to the horses.

“Word has been sent out to the King of the North. He is to surrender his forces in our kingdom or Torsten Wulf will be put to death. Painfully.” The Duke’s smile sent a frightening chill up my spine.

How long before it became apparent that I had lain with Torsten? That my heart belonged to the savage? I should’ve stamped out the fires of love and made my peace with Cecil. I could live in his ivory tower for the remainder of my years while Torsten’s slain remains rotted away in a low rut somewhere. To want him was to invite disaster, possibly my own death.

I did not comment further on the Duke’s plans. The gruesome trade order would have surely come down from our king. One did not question the king. At least not with their mouth.

“It has been decided that you will wed my son, Cecil, in the new moon.” The Duke chuckled. “This will allow you time to cleanse yourself of the barbarian’s influence.”

The blood fled from my face. What did he mean?

“I’m not so sure I understand, my lord.”

“Oh come, Lady Elena. You sympathize with the savages. When you asked of their ‘innocents’ and still now as you witnessed your captor in prison.”

He kicked his horse’s sides gently and trotted off a ways from me. I followed on the bay.

I was only making matters worse. I held my tongue and allowed the Duke to believe he’d chastened me. Better that than pursuing the subject and possibly betraying not just my sympathies for the Northmen, but my love for who they held as the heir to the North’s throne. There would be no great riches for Torsten, save that which he and his men had stolen, and now he had no men even.

My mount stomped through the crisp grass at a steady pace, even though the Duke would spread out a distance, only to let me catch up to his side again. All a game and display of power. Had I trotted off without concern for his position, I’d be reminded firmly of a lady’s place. Was I marrying the Duke? Or his son?

I was relieved to see the soft glow in the windows of the manor. Cecil stood just outside of the torchlight’s reach and surprised a girlish squeal from me as he wrapped his arms around my waist. His lips ascended my neck. His cheeks just slightly scratchy with end-of-day stubble. The sensation of roughness against my skin warmed my cheeks, despite the chill, and I gave no resistance as I was led inside, my hand in his.

Cecil had no interest in where I’d been. He was a dutiful son and much like me, did not question anything the Duke wished to do with his or my time. Cecil pulled me into his rooms. Our mouths met in a rather clumsy and wet kiss. His hardness jutted into my hip before he turned us so my back was against the wall.

“I have been thinking of you ever since I’ve had you back again.” His voice was a hushed, hoarse whisper, sending a weak pang of concern through me.

“It is good to be back in your arms,” I said between his hungry kisses, jumping a bit as his hands cupped my breasts through my dress. It was the same pressure I’d used on myself and my body seemed to be still primed for the taking. But my mind was unmade. Why was he doing that? Did he mean to make me his even before our wedding ceremony? As much as a man inside me would feel wonderful, I couldn’t allow it. Cecil was narrow; he should have as well stirred his cock around in the tunnel that Torsten had driven into me.

Cecil would not relent. His hands clamped around my wrists and pinned them over my head. His gentle kisses strengthened into aggressive nips until he finally bit the flesh of my breast that spilled over the top of my bodice.

“Ow! Cecil!” I instinctively drove a knee into his groin, which caused him to release me and fall back instantly. As he went to the floor, doubled-over, I left his rooms and retreated to mine.

There was no servant in my rooms, the fire hadn’t even been lit yet, though all I needed to do was give the request and Celise or another would scurry to fill my wishes. I rifled through the things brought back with me, noting that the dress Torsten had given me had disappeared. The dagger was concealed within the folds of that dress. No one—not even Cecil’s father would stand up for my wish to wait for sex until Cecil and I were married. A part of me hoped that a new development in Torsten’s favor would remove the need to be married right then altogether. I carried ridiculous hopes for many things and Torsten’s freedom in order to carry me away with him being the fondest one.

Perhaps Celise had noticed the dagger, for I finally found the weapon nestled in a little drawer of the table between my bed and the farthest wall from the door. Relief flooded through me at the sight of the stolen blade, the last vestige I had of my time among the Northmen.

Torsten must’ve had some fear for death, else he wouldn’t have lied. His laying a hand on me would spell death for certain, but since we both were denying anything beyond a capture and enslavement had taken place...The bands of Northmen already razed and pillaged the lands, but a war between kingdoms would be ten-times worse.

I held Torsten’s dagger in my hand, liking the feel of the metal blade biting into my skin. The rounded handle fit my grip perfectly. I had no other control over what my life was or was yet to become, but as long as I had the dagger, I felt safe.

A pounding sounded at my door, startling me. I quickly concealed the weapon in the sleeve of my gown before opening the door. Cecil stood there, red-faced and quite angry.

“How...dare you,” he snipped, and shoved me backwards into my room.

The sound of the door closing behind us was louder than it should have been. I swallowed a lump of panic and kept my calm.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to harm you.”

“Harm
me
? My lady, nothing you have done to me can compare to what I can do to you. But you must understand your position as a woman and my future
wife
.”

Cecil gripped my arms and shoved me to the bed on my back. I shrieked, but he pressed a hand to my mouth, stifling my sounds. His hands snaked under my dress, ruffling it up around my waist.

“Why must women wear so much clothing?” he muttered and jerked me towards him.

I was slid down until my ass was off the bed. His body filled the space between my thighs.

I tried to turn and get away, but he was stronger than me. For every inch I pulled away, he would reclaim the space, until the hot flesh of his cock nudged at my entrance.

“What’s the matter? Do you not want me?” He laughed. “There is nothing to fear, my
lady
.”

I cried out as he clamped his hand over my mound through my dress fabric.

“You are mine!” Cecil’s words sprayed spittle in my face, and I slapped him.

The moment of surprise I gave him allowed me to creep upwards to get away from him.

“Why are you so afraid? Has the Northman already tasted your pleasures?”

I shook my head and clawed the duvet. Tears brimmed in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

Cecil stopped struggling with me, a new, cold look in his eyes. “That’s it. You’re in love with the animal.”

“No, I love only you.” My own words sounded hollow in my head. They were lies. Cecil would see right through them.

Cecil pushed me into the bed cushions. “Little whore. Your insides have probably welcomed half the Northmen’s camp by now. You are despicable. Vile.”

He stopped his attack and I lay still, afraid to breathe. I couldn’t say anything. I wouldn’t. All Cecil had were accusations. There was no need for me to confirm his suspicions. I relaxed a little beneath him.

“Whore!” he shouted and pushed off me.

Tears came, unbidden. No decent man would ever come near me again if I was marked as a barbarian left-over.

“Was it the Prince that impaled you?” Cecil’s breath was fiery, like a dragon’s. “No, couldn’t just be one. And even a barbarian royal wouldn’t concede to worthless trash as yourself.”

He pounced on me and gripped my wrists, hard. His hot breath drew cold sweat in the places it touched on me. My bodice ripped as he tore it with only enraged strength, exposing my breasts to him. I tried in vain to cover my shame, but he only backhanded me. Stars fluttered in my vision.

“I thought you were the most beautiful woman on earth.”

His spittle sprayed across the bridge of my nose and I whimpered, afraid.

“Now I know your beauty hides the hideous countenance of a demon.” Cecil bent his head to pinch the skin of my cheek between his teeth.

The dagger pricked my arm, reminding me that I was not without option. I managed to get my hand loose to draw the blade in an arc, slicing from his ear to his chin. He and I both screamed as he opened his jaw to release my face from the bite.

“
Bitch
!” he roared, one hand clasped to his bleeding cheek.

Hot splashes of red struck me in the face and I pushed him off me with all of my might. Cecil landed on his backside, his eyes afire with pure rage.

“I’ll kill you, cunt! Do you hear me? Guards!”

Cecil bellowed for the guards over and over, until they fell into the door, spilling over almost like a deck of cards. I’d backed myself against the wall and had nowhere to go.

The men took one look at their master’s son’s face, my bloodied barbarian’s dagger, and took me by both arms. Cecil was led out by Celise, who looked back at me in astonishment.

The stairs glided beneath my feet for the most part, as I was hefted and dropped on the floor. I dared peek upwards and saw men’s feet. Of course they belonged to Duke Penbroke and my father. I sobbed openly as the account of my attack was recanted, in Cecil’s favor, of course. The kingdom considered me already a possession, a pretty pet. I should be grateful that Cecil was willing to stick his thing into me at all. I shook my head, disputing his words.

My clothes were ripped, held to my body only because I remained bent at the waist, afraid to look at the faces that belonged to the angry voices. Names washed over me like bitter rain. I couldn’t hold back my tears and, despite how guilty I would appear, sobbed openly.

“Well, what would you have me do with her?” my father asked, his voice barely restrained.