The Devil of Nettlewood (The Anarchy Tales) by Louisa Trent Read Free Book Online

if she wished to live.
    And she did wish to live. After almost ending it all, after thinking a bonfire was the only solution, she had changed her mind about taking her own life.
    Mayhap, just like her sister, she would learn how to be a survivor. Not as the burden she had feared becoming, but as an independent woman who charted her own destiny. She had thought honor lay in death, but honor also lay in remaining unvanquished despite the circumstances. Only a coward surrendered. Only a coward would not grasp at every means available to stay alive. For a woman, that always came down to exchanging the use of her body for a strong man’s protection.
    “You enjoy a hard handling,” this strong man said, his voice gruff and low.
    Why pretend otherwise when the truth was there to see? ’Twas plain her body had reacted to the harshness of his touch. Her raging desire was as apparent as the flames of a burning bonfire.
    “Aye,” she admitted, “I do like a hard handling.”
    So much for honesty. Her answer must have disgusted him, for he removed his hand from her breast.
    At the loss, needy sounds escaped her throat. Try as she would, she could not prevent them. And to make her capitulation worse, she wantonly ground her bottom to his chain mail-covered loins as she took her raw nipple in hand and whimpered, “Please?”
    Instead of pleasing her, he looped a leather noose over her head and buckled it at her throat. The strap encircled her neck like a collar. ’Twas rigid, that collar, as rigid as the nobleman holding the free end.
    “Consider yourself my prisoner,” he said.
    “Prisoner?” She bucked and flailed about like a woman crazed. One thing to allow oneself to be abducted for carnal purposes, quite another to stand accused of a crime. Had he taken over her ownership, made her work his fields as his serf, even that would have been tolerable. But this! This situation was not to be borne. “W-w-why? What have I d-d-done?”
    “The least of your transgressions is impeding my investigation of a massacre. I believe you have information about the mercenary who slaughtered an entire village, information you are purposefully withholding.”
    “Only until we leave this region, my lord. When we arrive at your keep, I will tell you everything I know.”
    She thought the horrendous circumstances of this day had broken her, but she had been woefully mistaken. She was not broken. The events of the day had only given her new resolve to live despite all odds. A length of leather around her neck might restrain her body, but no collar would dampen her will to go on.
    “I shan’t refuse you anything, my lord. Neither my sex nor the information I know. I told you so already. I only asked you to take me away from this place. And yet we remain, still here in this same region.”
    “Impertinent female. You are a peasant whore, I a royal nobleman. How dare you think to take me to task?”
    She took a deep breath, a hitherto unknown fighting spirit compelling her to speak up for herself. “I dare because I thought we had an agreement. You mentioned fair treatment. Well, fair is fair, and an agreement is an agreement, for peasants and royals alike.”
    Would he do the fair thing and keep to his word?
    Thinking to gauge his thoughts, she looked over her shoulder at his face, only to find that his helm’s nasal guard obscured his features. Unable to read his expression, she used the only means available to her to make sure he kept his end of the bargain. “You will enjoy using me, my lord. The slit between my thighs, the egress within my buttocks, my willingness to do as you bid me. You will enjoy all those traits—”
    Whack!
    He slapped her bottom, a vicious sting, and then gave her a hard push between the shoulder blades.
    “Walk,” he growled. “And if you stop again, my displeasure over your disobedience will merit more than a spank.”
    “My lord, your displeasure is my pleasure,” she answered sultrily and did as he bade