Wages of Sin (2 page)

A wave of nausea swept over her. Dead a week and she hadn't even known. His warm lips cold and his sweet body already mouldering in the grave. She bit her knuckles to suppress the sobs that threatened to overcome her.

‘Never fear, sweeting,' chuckled Sir Harry. ‘Your finery won't be wasted. You'll still have your wedding.'

She stared at him in disbelief. What did he mean? How could she still have her wedding when her betrothed was dead and buried? The man was mad. The loss of his son must have turned his brain.

Oblivious of her thoughts, he continued. ‘Your father and I have been talking,' he said cheerfully. ‘There's no reason why our estates should not still be joined. If you cannot have the son - why, then you shall have the father!' He chuckled jovially, his protuberant eyes running over her, lingering hungrily on the swell of her bosom. ‘And between us we'll soon beget another heir.'

She gaped at him in horror. What was he talking about? He was older than her own mother and had seen two wives into the grave already. Did he seriously imagine that she was eager to be the third?

Her eyes took in Sir Harry's thick-lipped, purple face and balding head with its few remaining tufts of greying hair. Despite his bereavement he was dressed in his best: a richly coloured doublet and hose, with an exaggerated codpiece flaunting his manhood. His potbelly bulged out over his spindly shanks, making him look like a jaunty old cockerel crowing on a dung-heap.

Bile rose in the back of her throat at the thought of sharing a bed with this wizened old man, instead of her beloved Ralph. Marry Sir Harry? Never!

She spun on her heel and stalked towards the door, her skirts swishing angrily. ‘Wed that filthy old lecher,' she spat over her shoulder. ‘I'd rather die!'

 

 

 

‘What is it, my lamb?' asked Alice anxiously as Jane marched into her bedchamber and flung herself on the bed. She dropped the armful of clothes she'd been tidying away and sat down beside the girl, laying a comforting hand on the quivering shoulders. ‘What's upset you?'

‘I'm to be married,' said Jane brokenly.

Alice smiled. Was that all? Most girls got a touch of the greensickness at the thought of leaving their mothers. Time remedied all. Why, this time next year Mistress Jane could be a mother herself and all this pother forgotten. ‘There, there,' she soothed, patting her shaking charge. ‘‘Tis nothing to fret about. Master Ralph is a fine boy. He'll treat you properly, you mark my words.'

Jane sat up, her eyes red with weeping. ‘You don't understand,' she cried. ‘Ralph's dead! They want to marry me off to his stinking old father instead!'

Alice's mouth fell open. Her pretty young Jane, still barely out of childhood, wed to that old popinjay? She sighed and shook her head. The child would have no say in the matter. If her stepfather said she would be married, then married she'd be, no matter how she felt about it. And as the old country saying had it, ‘What can't be cured must be endured'.

Still, she did her best to console the girl. ‘It won't be too bad,' she soothed. ‘He's an old man. How long can he last? A few years? Then you'll be mistress of his estate and your parents too, when the time comes.' She smiled slyly. ‘And a rich widow can pick and choose to please herself.' She thought of Jane's mother and a frown creased her brow. ‘Mostly,' she added honestly.

Jane shuddered. ‘I can't,' she whispered. ‘How can I share a bed with him and - and do
that?
She closed her eyes, shivering with disgust.

Alice could imagine her thoughts: those clammy, age-spotted hands crawling over Jane's innocent body; those bony knees forcing themselves between her thighs and...

Jane shook her head. ‘I just can't,' she repeated desperately.

‘Maybe you won't have to,' smiled Alice. ‘If your parents know how strongly you feel.' She did not have much faith in that idea, but Jane was prepared to cling to any straw.

‘Do you think so?' she asked eagerly. ‘Maybe you're right.' Hope gave her more confidence and she corrected herself. ‘Of course you're right!' She laughed contemptuously. ‘They can't force me into his bed, can they?' She shuddered as though she was suppressing a wave of sorrow. Alice was not surprised. A lady did not weep and wail in public like a serving maid. No doubt Jane would mourn for Ralph later, in the privacy of her bed, when the candles were blown out and the darkness hid her tears, but for now she was putting on a brave face.

‘Undress me,' Jane ordered. ‘There is no point to this finery now. My green gown is good enough for everyday wear.'

Muttering, Alice did as she was told, lifting the heavy amber velvet over her charge's head and smoothing the full skirts before going to hang it in the garderobe.

 

Dressed in her shift, Jane sat down at her tiny mirror and impatiently began to untwine the pearls from her hair.

‘Wha-!' she exclaimed as the door of her bedchamber banged open. She looked up with startled eyes to see her stepfather standing in the doorway. He strode in and seized her arm in an iron grip, spinning her round to face him. She opened her mouth to protest at this rough treatment, but before she could utter a word his open hand slapped her face hard. She recoiled, holding her injured cheek.

‘How dare you shame me before Sir Harry?' he hissed.

‘You shame yourself,' spat Jane. ‘Behaving like some gypsy horse-trader! Selling me off like a brood mare to the highest bidder.' Her lips tightened and she flung her head back, haughty despite the white finger marks on her cheek. ‘I will not marry him,' she said insolently. ‘No matter what you do.' Her lips curled in contempt as she looked at his face, swollen with ill-temper and frustrated ambition. ‘You may carry me to the altar kicking and screaming, but even you cannot make me say “Yes” once I get there.'

He controlled himself with difficulty and a cruel smile twisted his mouth. ‘Do you really think I can be bested by a slip of a girl?' he grinned. ‘We'll see how strong that will of yours is after a few days on bread and water - and a little taste of what's to come if you continue in your headstrong ways.'

Wrenching her to her feet, he bent her over his knee and his hand rose and fell as he chastised her like a child. As she struggled futilely to escape her flimsy linen shift rode up, revealing the soft white thighs and rounded buttocks beneath. She squealed in pain and outrage as his palm, rough and calloused from riding, smacked against her tender flesh, making the globes of her bottom quiver and redden with every blow, the marks of his fingers standing out white against the flushed skin.

He grunted with a mixture of fury, excitement and effort as she writhed against him, her legs kicking frantically in the air. Finally he stood up and flung her from him. She stood with her back to her chamber wall, panting with rage and humiliation.

He grinned at her mockingly. ‘Not so proud now, are you, my lady?' he sneered.

She flinched at the way his eyes ran over her body, barely concealed by the thin shift, lingering on her firm young breasts as they heaved with her outrage.

The grin became a leer. ‘If Sir Harry could see you now he would forgo your dowry entirely.' His lascivious chuckle made her blood run cold. ‘I envy him the taking of your maidenhead,' he whispered lewdly. ‘There's nothing quite so sweet as a fresh young virgin, ripe for the plucking.'

With a final leer he sauntered out, leaving Jane staring after him in dismay.

Her eyes popped open as an outrageous idea flashed into her mind. Her stepfather would have her married, even if he had to beat and starve her into submission, but there might be a way out after all.

Sir Harry was looking forward to taking her maidenhead, was he? Her lips curved into a wicked smile. Then perhaps he wouldn't be quite so keen to marry her if there was no maidenhead to take!

 

 

 

‘Where are you going?' quavered Alice, wringing her hands as Jane pushed past her. ‘Your father has given orders that you are to be kept in your room. He will beat me if I disobey him.'

‘He's not my father,' said Jane hotly. She regained her temper and smiled slyly. ‘And how could any blame be laid at your door, when I was already gone when you returned?'

Alice stared at her in bewilderment for a moment, then an answering smile crossed her face. ‘That's right,' she agreed, practising the lie. ‘By the time I came back the bird had already flown.' A frown creased her wrinkled forehead. ‘But what if...?'

It was too late. Jane had gone.

Holding her breath, she tiptoed along the musicians' gallery that overlooked the great hall. Her stepfather was there, taking out his temper by berating an unfortunate manservant for some imagined fault, and Jane silently blessed the poor man for distracting him. It was a matter of moments to sidle down the servants' staircase and out through the kitchens.

Lifting her skirts free of the dung in the courtyard she fled towards the stables, hoping against hope that her stepfather's orders had not yet reached the outdoor servants. If they had her bid for freedom would end right here, and she would be escorted ignominiously back to her chamber. She crossed her fingers as she approached the young groom.

‘Goodmorrow again, Robin,' she smiled - and breathed a sigh of relief as he looked up from brushing Alex with nothing more than an appreciative grin.

‘Goodmorrow, mistress,' he nodded, patting Alex's smooth flanks. ‘He's been watered and fed. Haven't you, lad?' He smiled as the horse tossed its head and whinnied in agreement. ‘I was just going to put him back in his stable.'

‘No,' ordered Jane imperiously. ‘Saddle him. I would ride again.' She paused, running her eyes over the handsome young groom. Yes, Robin would do. Robin would do very nicely. She smiled at him. ‘And saddle Geraint, too. I wish you to accompany me.'

For a moment the guileless brown eyes clouded, then they cleared again. Robin shrugged. Jane smiled with satisfaction. She was the daughter of the house, and the servants knew her orders were to be obeyed as much as those of the master.

Whistling, Robin went off to do as he was told.

As he saddled the horses Jane stood, glancing over her shoulder and tapping her foot, impatient to be off before they noticed she was missing and raised the hue and cry. In the distance she could still hear her stepfather's hectoring voice and she relaxed a little and turned her attention back to Robin. The homespun jerkin failed to disguise the breadth of his shoulders and she admired his long muscular legs and taut buttocks in the threadbare hose as he bent to buckle the girth. Unruly brown hair tumbled over his brow and he swept it back with a tanned forearm as he turned to face her.

‘There, mistress,' he said. ‘Ready.' He looked at her enquiringly. ‘Shall I lead Alex to the mounting block?'

‘No need,' said Jane, smiling coquettishly. ‘If you would be so kind?'

He bent and she placed her foot in his linked hands and leapt lightly on to Alex's back, allowing her skirts to fall back to reveal a neatly turned ankle. A flush stained his cheekbones and she suppressed a grin. He swung himself on to Geraint and followed her as she turned Alex's head and walked him sedately towards the gate of the courtyard. It wouldn't do to be caught at the last moment.

As soon as they were clear she bent forward and kicked Alex's flanks, urging him forward. With a snort he took off, thundering across the greensward, his hooves digging into the smooth turf. Robin gave a startled exclamation and followed suit as Geraint pounded after his stablemate.

Laughing with excitement Jane led them a merry dance along the bridle-path, ducking her head to avoid the whipping branches that threatened to tangle in her flying hair. Finally she pulled Alex to a halt and waited for Robin to catch up.

‘A fair ride, Robin,' she smiled. ‘And a pretty morning.'

‘Aye, mistress,' he grinned, admiring her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. ‘But we'd best not tarry too long. I've work to do and the master's quick to complain if it's not done swiftly enough.'

‘A plague upon the master,' pouted Jane. ‘You must wait upon the mistress for a change - and ‘tis my desire to take the spring air. I will walk a little.' She gazed at him imperiously. ‘And you will accompany me.'

‘As you wish, mistress,' he agreed, swinging down from Geraint and tethering him to a nearby tree. Jane sat waiting until he walked across and stood beside Alex, then dismounted, sliding down into his waiting arms. Pretending to stumble, she laughed up into his startled face and allowed her body to lean against his for a long moment, relishing its ready response.

‘My lady,' he said stiffly, stepping back as soon as she was steady on her feet. His face turned scarlet as he attempted to tug down his jerkin to hide the evidence of his excitement. His swollen manhood bulged against the thin hose and she deliberately held his eyes as she reached forward and fondled him, feeling the thick length of his shaft stir and swell even more beneath her questing fingers. His breath came harder as she ran her thumb over the smooth curve of its head; then, with a laugh, she whirled away, lifted her skirts and ran towards the woods.