Betrothed by Lori Snow Read Free Book Online

Kirney
with the same painful justice he had provided the French bandits. Would it be
necessary to deal with Lord Simon the same way?
    The
return trip to the keep did not take long. He wanted to think, but also, he
must see to Isabeau’s immediate safety. Agitated, he threw the reins at the
stable boy and strode towards the manor’s side entrance. He saw Isabeau enter
the kitchen with her chin at its normal determined angle. She was still safe. Now
Donavan felt enough at ease to slow his pace and change direction. Where was
Simon d’Olivet?
    Donovan
was on his way to the solar when a dark thought washed over him. He stopped in
mid-step.
    What
of Simon’s wife?  What of the true lady of the manor?  Donovan had
yet to meet the woman. Was she, too, brutalized by her husband?  Were
bruises the reason she remained behind closed doors -- not problems birthing
babes?
    Taking
care not to be seen, he soundlessly changed course and on the first floor took
the staircase leading to the mistress’s chamber. Would it be Lady d’Olivet’s
prison or her sanctuary?  As liege, Donovan had the obligation to find out
which.
    He
heard a low sound coming from behind the wooden door and was thankful for his
stealth. He would know the truth, and the door was a pitiful barrier. He paused
to listen and determined the sound to be a woman’s painful whimpers.
    “Please,
I’s beggin’ ya. Do’na make me do this. ‘Tis a ‘bomination agin’ God. I do’na
wanna go ta hell.” The sobs were interrupted by the sound of the blow of flesh
on flesh.
    “Shut
up, you little bitch. Pay attention. You’ll be doing this to me and I’ll have
you doin’ it right.”
    He
heard the words but could not recognize the husky voice who spoke them. “Things
will go bad for you if you don’t obey. Do you think your father will have you
in his dirt hutch if I turn you out of the manor?  You’ll be whorin’ for
your supper before the week is out and let me tell you, you’ll never get the
filth out of you once you start taking in the village rods.”
    Donovan
tried the door and was surprised to find it latched but not barred. He knew it
went against the church to come between a man and his wife, but he would
somehow find a way to convince Olivet to go easier with his lady wife.
    The
scene that greeted his eyes stunned him. For a moment, he was frozen in shock.
The tormentor continued unaware of the audience.
    A
girl of no more than fifteen, stripped naked, was backed up against the tall
corner post of Lady d’Olivet’s bed. Her wrists, stretched over her head, bound
with bright scarlet silk were attached to a hook embedded in the oak. Her
blonde hair was askew over the matching velvet sash which covered her eyes. She
tried unsuccessfully to squirm away from the hand fondling her ample breast and
flinched when those cruel fingers tweaked her left nipple.
    “Open.”
The demand accompanied the other hand jabbing a riding crop between the girl’s
legs and swatting her inner white thighs. “Open, I say, and be quick. I want a
taste of you before you bring me to pleasure.” The right hand lowered. “Do you
feel my fingers?”
    “Stop!”
Donovan bellowed as he finally overcame his immobility.
    The
woman kneeling on the scarlet silk cushion in front of the girl slowly turned
to face her intruder. “Ah, you must be the Earl of Bennington. Did you want her
first?  She’s still new to the play, but, I’m afraid, not that new. She’s
spread her legs already and is an innocent no longer.”
    He
looked at the girl and saw the velvet about her eyes darkening with tears. Her
body shook. He had no doubts that if not for the support of the binding she
would have collapsed to the floor.
    “Release
her.” Donovan demanded.
    “But…”
    “I
said, release her.” He voice was low and rough in his throat.
    The
woman shrugged and stood. She was tall enough that even kneeling, she didn’t
have to extend her arm much to undo the bindings. The girl sagged to