by Eliza Knight
Eva would rather die.
And she’d just had a taste, as he said, of his temper—which was probably child’s play compared to whatever his true rage must be.
She might actually die.
The way he was looking at her now, she wasn’t so certain he wouldn’t kill her on their wedding night. Or was he more sadistic than that, excited about the prospect of tormenting her for the rest of her life?
A fiery heat fluttered in Eva’s chest. She couldn’t decide whether to escape or to fall to the ground in a trembling heap. She’d never felt it before, this fervent, contradicting itch in her heart. Her hands started to tremble, and she had the intense urge to run. But where could she go?
When had her life turned to this? How had she not seen it coming?
Curses were on the tip of her tongue, demands that he never touch her again. But if he were willing to hit her with her father present, and now knew her father would not call the guards or tear up the contract, what worse thing would he do next?
Her mind raced as she waited to see.
She calculated the number of steps it would take to get to the door. How many seconds it would take for her to reach the stairs, the bailey, and what she could say to convince the stable master to give her a horse then demand the gates be opened without argument. How long would it take to ride to her sister’s? Two weeks, at least.
But the odds were not in her favor. As soon as she reached the door, Belfinch’s vile hands would no doubt grasp her and tug her back. Then he’d likely beat her within an inch of her life and her father would just watch.
Mayhap the priest would see the red on her face, the slowly manifesting bruise, the swelling of the corner of her lip, and call off the wedding. Or maybe he would look the other way. She had to figure out how to get out of this. To escape. To help her father, else he be dragged to an early grave by the greedy bastard. Or by his rebelling peasants.
“Let’s go.” Belfinch didn’t even wait for her. He turned his back and headed to the door, so confident that she would follow.
When her feet made no move to step forward, her father manifested beside her and took her by the elbow, tugging.
“Forgive me,” he murmured, true anguish in his voice, but how could she take him seriously?
Anger now boiled inside her. Whatever hold Belfinch had, it couldn’t be worse than giving away his own daughter.
How could she truly believe his anguish when he was for all intents and purposes leading her like a lamb to slaughter?
“Save me, Papa.”
“It is done.” His response lacked emotion, as though he’d already long ago resigned himself to this.
“Nothing is ever only one way. Please,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. She dug her heels into the floorboards, refusing to move.
Belfinch returned suddenly, perhaps having taken note of their whispered words, and gripped her other elbow, his fingers pinching into her soft skin.
Instantly, her father let go.
A startled cry sounded from somewhere, like a wounded animal, and at the growl of her betrothed, Eva realized the noise had come from her.
All the saints above, someone rescue me.
But there was no one.
Her sister was far away and unaware of what was happening. For certes, if Jacqueline had a clue, she would have raised an army on her own to come and save Eva.
Belfinch dragged her down the stairs, his steps long as he skipped them two at a time. Without the use of one arm, Eva fumbled with her skirts to keep them out from under her feet, afraid if she told him she was having trouble, he would simply toss her the rest of the way down.
At the bottom of the steps, a priest in long black robes waited, as though he’d been summoned even before she had. But it wasn’t their usual priest. Belfinch must have brought this man with him.
Which meant the priest would not help her. He wouldn’t care about the ache in her cheek or whether she consented to this marriage at all. The man would do as he was told, likely fearing for his life.
A shudder took hold of her, and she hugged her middle, trying to tug free of Belfinch’s grasp.
Eva looked around the great hall desperately, taking in the stunned expressions of the servants and the warriors that stood on the perimeter. Would one of them step forward? Would one of them question this farce? At some point in her short life, she’d helped every one of them. Given them food, coin, sewed their shirts, made a tincture for an illness, or comforted a wife when her husband went to battle. She had given them the very best of her.
But no one stepped forward.
One by one, they looked away.
Eva’s heart broke then, shattering into a million tiny pieces. This was really happening; they would simply let her go, and there was no way for her to be saved. Holding back tears, she stared each of them in the eye as she passed, silently lancing them with her pain.
I have to save myself. Somehow.
“Take us to the chapel,” Belfinch ordered her father.
With stooped shoulders and a slow, shaky gait, her father led them out of the great hall and into the bailey of their castle, the distant mountains looming up in the afternoon gloominess.
Overhead, the clouds covered the sun, making what should have been a bright day very dull indeed. Gloomy. As though Mother Nature knew exactly what was happening and somehow wished to warn the world of the impending doom.
“Wait,” Eva said, stalling. “I am not dressed for a wedding. At least let me put on my best gown.”
“What you wear doesn’t matter,” Belfinch said dismissively, yanking her along. “It is the deed itself.”
If they were talking about anything other than a wedding she didn’t want to happen, Eva might have thought his words wise.
“But every woman dreams of wearing a beautiful gown on her wedding day.”
“Not my wife.”
Eva bit her lip against the retort, still feeling the sting in her cheek. His wife wouldn’t have an opinion or dreams.
“At least allow me to get my mother’s necklace.”
At this, Belfinch paused, and she could see the gleam of greed in his eyes. “Necklace?”
“Aye, she gave it to me before she… passed away. It is made of pearls and gemstones in the most brilliant colors.” She was exaggerating, but it didn’t matter, she just wanted to get away from him, lock herself in her room if she could, anything to put this wedding off.
“All right. I shall allow it.”
He turned them back around, steering them toward the castle again. Once inside, he started to lead her up the stairs.
“I can go myself.”
Belfinch let out a short, sharp laugh. “I don’t trust you’ll come back.”
He wasn’t a stupid man, that was for sure.
“I swear I will,” she lied, her voice not even shaking, even though she was one giant wave inside.
Belfinch narrowed his eyes. “If you’re not back in five minutes, I will kill your father.”
Eva gaped at him but nodded anyway, because he was allowing her a few moments alone. As she climbed the stairs, she let the tears stream down her face. Because she wasn’t going to lock herself in her room. Even if her father had betrayed her, she couldn’t let him be killed.
Once in her room, she hurried to her wardrobe and unlocked the special chest her parents had given her as a young child to hide her most sacred treasures. Inside was her mother’s necklace, the only thing she’d brought with her from her clan. It was indeed made of pearls, fine iridescent pearls that took on pink and purple hues in the right light. The clasp was gold, and there was a large sapphire in the center of the necklace. Scattered throughout the pearl strand were several other light-blue beryl stones. Not as glamorous as she’d made it out to the greedy monster, but it meant the world to her. Clutching the necklace, Eva raced from the room. She’d need help with the clasp to put it on, and there was not enough time to struggle with it herself. Taking the stairs with her skirts c
lutched up, and without someone dragging her, was a lot easier this time around.
But once she made it to the bailey, tension filled the air, and the men looked to be on edge. Eva stopped short, the pearls digging into her palm she gripped them so tightly.
“What is it?” she asked, looking toward her father, whose pallor had turned gray.
She’d only been gone a few minutes, what could have possibly happened?
“Get in the chapel,” Belfinch ordered.
But he made no attempt to go with her. Instead, the priest took her arm and hurried her inside with several servants. Once inside, they barred the door.
Eva yanked free of the priest’s hold. “What is happening?”
The priest stared gloomily toward a stained glass window of the Virgin Mary. “Riders were seen. They fear an attack.”
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About the Author
Eliza Knight is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling author of over fifty sizzling historical romance and erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens rip-your-heart-out historical fiction. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain with her own knight in shining armor, three princesses and two very naughty puppies. Visit Eliza at http://www.elizaknight.com or her historical blog History Undressed: www.historyundressed.com. Sign up for her newsletter to get news about books, events, contests and sneak peaks! http://eepurl.com/CSFFD
