Wages of Sin (3 page)

His control broke and with a wild whoop of excitement he took after her, no longer a deferential servant but a primitive male in pursuit of a willing female. Panting with a mixture of fear and excitement, she ran on, ignoring the thorns and briars that caught at her hair and clothing, the leaves that tangled in her hair. Finally she could run no further and she turned to face her pursuer, like a deer at bay.

He was on her in a moment, his mouth pressing down on hers, his hands pulling the clothing from her body. When she was naked he scooped her up and laid her on a bed of wild thyme, her body like a white flame against the green. Smiling, he stood astride her and tore off his own clothing.

She stared up at him in awe. Beads of sweat stood out on his tanned chest, catching in the thatch of curly brown hair that narrowed to a thin line running down over his firm belly. His broad shoulders tapered down to a neat waist and hips and brown, muscular legs. He was like some pagan woodland god.

But it was his manhood that made her gasp. Thick and long, it jutted from the base of his belly like a club, its swollen head as big as a baby's fist. A pang of terror ran through her. He would split her in half! She whimpered and tried to wriggle away, her eyes wide with fear.

It was too late. With a groan he flung himself down beside her, his hands reaching for her. One cupped the nape of her neck and her head tilted back as his tongue forced into her mouth. The other ran over the smooth curve of her breasts, his fingers finding her nipples, kneading and twisting first one and then the other.

When she tried to twist away he crooned low in his throat, soothing her as if she was a frightened horse. The exploring hand became gentle, stroking her flanks until she began to relax, then returning to her breasts. His thumb made small circles round her nipples until they rose hard against his touch. She moaned softly as she began to moisten, the taut muscles of her thighs slowly relaxing, allowing them to part.

He lifted his mouth from hers and smiled down again. ‘Easy, girl, easy,' he murmured, then his lips were on her breasts, shocking in their insistence. She moaned again, this time with rising excitement, feeling his lips curve in a smile against her as his tongue delicately teased the soft flesh.

His other hand was between her thighs now, his fingers parting her cleft, seeking the hot wetness inside. It was his turn to groan as she raised her hips in welcome and they slid inside her silken softness. She could feel his manhood pressing against her and her own hand slipped down to explore him. He groaned again as she gripped it, feeling the hot blood pulsing through it.

He rolled on top of her, his knee parting her thighs even further - and she felt the huge head of his organ pushing against the lips of her sex. She whimpered again with fear and pleasure as his hips moved and he began to force his way inside her, tearing her maidenhead apart, then she gave a shrill scream of pain as he thrust his entire length inside her.

For a moment he lay still and she could feel his hot thickness filling her, then he began to move slowly, pulling back before plunging forward again. She whined in the back of her throat as every stroke stoked the fire burning inside her. Her hips arched to meet each thrust, her legs twining round him, pulling him even deeper.

He moved faster and the tormenting sensations in the pit of her stomach built to an unbearable pitch. Finally he bucked and spasmed and a scream of animal pleasure burst from her throat as she sagged back in relief and satisfaction.

They must have slept then, curled up against one another like a pair of healthy young animals, because when Jane became conscious of time again the sun was already high in the sky. With an exclamation of dismay she sat up, disturbing Robin, who stretched, yawned hugely, then gaped in horror as the realisation of what he'd done struck home.

‘Mistress Jane, I...'

She laid a finger against his lips. ‘Hush, sweet Robin,' she smiled. ‘You did no more than I wished you to.' Her forehead creased in a worried frown. ‘But if my stepfather ever found out your life would not be worth a farthing.' Her face cleared. ‘They must be looking for me by this time. You must ride back alone and say you searched but could not find me.' He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a final kiss. A servant could not afford to be chivalrous and she had no desire to see the body that had given her so much pleasure whipped and broken.

‘Go,' she ordered. Reluctantly, he pulled his clothes on and did as he was bid.

 

It was mid-afternoon before she returned to the house, her belly quivering with hunger and nerves. Concealing her unease with an innocent smile, she rode back into the stable yard and swung down from Alex's back. Robin cast a quick, sympathetic glance in her direction, then bent his head over the lame leg of the horse he was working on. Angry footsteps clattered on the cobbles behind her and a hard hand gripped her upper arm and swung her round.

‘How dare you disobey me?' snarled her stepfather, spittle spraying from his lips with rage. He lifted his other hand to strike her but her mother caught his wrist in frantic hands.

‘Please, Thomas, please,' she begged. ‘She's only a girl,' she searched for an argument more likely to appeal to his sense of propriety, ‘and the servants are watching.'

He shook her off, but his first rage was blunted. Jane threw her a quick smile of gratitude.

‘Get to your chamber,' he hissed. ‘I shall speak to you in private.' She stalked off, head held high and he followed her. Her mother watched, wringing her hands with anxiety.

 

‘Well?' he demanded as the door banged shut behind him.

Jane stared at him defiantly. ‘Well what?' she taunted.

‘You know very well,' he snarled. ‘Have you come to your senses yet?' He forced a smile. ‘Come girl,' he muttered gruffly, ‘cease this damned foolishness and marry Sir Harry. He won't wait forever.'

‘If Sir Harry wants a virgin bride he may wait till hell freezes over,' she jeered maliciously. ‘He's too late.'

The colour drained from her stepfather's face. ‘What do you mean?' he said stiffly, his lips white.

‘I mean, dear stepfather,' she smiled, ‘that if he planned on deflowering me, he's going to be disappointed. That pleasure has gone to another.'

The blow nearly knocked her from her feet. She staggered and fell against the wall. White-faced, she pulled herself erect, then recoiled from the hatred in his eyes.

‘You'd better be lying, you little bitch,' he said softly, in a tone that was somehow more terrifying than any rage could have been. He walked away, opened her chamber door and smiled coldly over his shoulder. ‘Or you'll regret it for the rest of your days.'

A pang of terror ran through her and she buried her face in her hands. For the first time she was truly afraid of what she might have let herself in for.

 

 

 

Sunlight was already glinting through the narrow leaded window of her chamber when she woke, dull and heavy-headed. She had spent the night tossing and turning, her mind racing like a rat in a trap as she tried to see a way out of her difficulties. She had finally fallen into a thick sleep when the sky was turning from black to grey and the birds were beginning their dawn chorus. Even then she had been troubled by evil dreams where she pursued Ralph down endless woodland trails, never managing to reach him - while in the distance she heard hoof beats behind her, getting closer and closer no matter how hard she ran.

She shook herself and swung her legs out of bed, biting her lip at the pain in her buttocks from her stepfather's beating. Despite her aching muscles, her usual early-morning ride would blow the cobwebs away and let her think more clearly.

The water in her ewer was cold but she welcomed its icy sting against her warm skin. Washing herself quickly, she slipped into her ancient green riding-dress, tiptoed towards the door and turned the handle.

It refused to open. She pulled harder, a flicker of fear gripping her insides. It was locked! Taking a deep breath to control her rising panic, she beat upon it with the flat of her hand. ‘Alice!' she called. ‘Alice! Open this door immediately. I command you!'

She stopped to listen and heard the shuffle of Alice's feet as she hurried along the corridor. ‘Open this door!' she ordered again, forcing her voice to sound confident and imperious. ‘Or I shall have you beaten.'

There was a faint moan; Jane could imagine Alice standing on the other side of the door, wringing her hands in dismay. She softened her voice. ‘Please, Alice,' she wheedled. ‘Unlock the door.'

‘I daren't, my lady,' whimpered Alice. ‘It's more than my life's worth. Your father has ordered that you be confined to your chamber until the midwife arrives.'

Jane paused in bewilderment. Midwife? Why should he need a midwife? She was not with child. The colour drained from her face as realisation dawned. He was going to have her examined to find out if she had been lying. She groaned in dismay. He had been outraged at the very thought that her maidenhead was gone. What would he be like when he found out the truth? With leaden feet she retraced her steps and curled up in a small ball on her bed, wrapping her arms round herself for comfort.

How long she lay there for, she didn't know. The only sign of time passing was the sunlight creeping slowly across her chamber floor. Finally she heard the clatter of hooves in the courtyard and got stiffly to her feet.

From her window she could see the woman descending from her donkey. She removed a leather script from the pommel before the animal was led away. Her mother stood, wringing her hands in the background, while her stepfather, gesticulating fiercely, his face purple with anger and embarrassment, was obviously explaining the reason why she had been called. The woman nodded and the unlikely procession began to make its way towards the house.

Jane fled to the safety of her bed again, pulling the covers up to her chin.

All too soon she heard footsteps in the passage and the sound of the key being fumbled in the lock. The door swung open and the woman was ushered in.

Jane stared at her with frightened eyes. She was tall and her plain but well-made garments showed how successful she was in her profession. Rings - no doubt the gifts of her more well-born clients - glinted on her fingers as advertisement of her talents. When many women failed to survive childbirth, a good midwife could mean the difference between life and death. Jane suppressed a bitter smile. No mumbling, toothless old granny for her. Her stepfather had spared no expense to check on her maidenhead.

‘There she is,' he spat, indicating Jane with a disgusted wave of a hand towards the bed, where she lay shrinking. Her mother fluttered uselessly in the background, her face twisted as she plucked nervously at her dress and tried to suppress her tears. He stood with his hands on his hips. ‘Well, woman,' he ordered, ‘be about your work.'

Jane cringed. He surely wasn't going to watch? She closed her eyes, her humiliation complete.

The midwife was made of sterner stuff, however. She stared back at him coolly until he flushed and his eyes fell. With a grunt he strode out, banging the door behind him. Only then did she turn towards Jane.

‘If my lady would raise her shift,' she said, laying the leather bag on the chest beneath the window, ‘we can begin the examination.'

Scarlet, Jane did as she was bid, pulling the thin material above her hips. The woman carefully removed her rings, took a pot of sweet butter from her bag and began to oil her hands. When she was finished she approached the bed. Jane clenched her thighs in anticipation of the hated violation.

‘You must part your legs, my lady,' said the woman briskly. ‘If you resist me it will only make it more painful.'

Gritting her teeth, Jane reluctantly let her knees fall apart. She stared at the ceiling, trying to wish herself away, wincing as deft hands parted the lips of her vulva and invaded her body. The midwife's face remained blank as she examined Jane, her questing fingers finding no resistance to their entry, but a small sigh escaped her lips as she withdrew again, shaking her head a little at the pity of it. The fate of a well-born girl who lost her virginity before marriage was not a pleasant one.

Jane's mother swayed, her face turning white. Panic lent wings to her feet and she was across the chamber in a heartbeat. ‘Please,' she begged, tugging at the rings on her hands and thrusting them towards the woman. ‘Please. Who would know? I will give you anything. Anything.'

The woman shook her head as she continued stolidly washing the sweet butter from her hands. ‘I am sorry, my lady,' she said in a low voice. ‘If it were found out I should be ruined - or worse. His lordship is not a forgiving man.' She glanced towards the bed, her expression a mixture of fear for her own plight and sympathy for Jane's. ‘If I did as you ask, and he found out, who's to say I wouldn't meet with an unfortunate “accident” one of these dark nights? Or be raped and robbed and left to die in a ditch?' She laughed harshly. ‘There are evil men abroad.'

Lady Agnes let her hands fall to her sides. It was the truth - and one of those men was her husband. Who knew better than she what Sir Thomas was capable of? The man was a devil. She jumped as the door quivered under a barrage of heavy blows.