“Your defiance is becoming annoying. Cooperate or I will have to rule you are unfit here and now, and immediately lay claim to your new property.” He glanced over at the hulking brute who stood by him ready to do his bidding. “Ranulf, how long has it been since I’ve acquired a new bitch to plow?”
“Too long, my lord.”
“As I thought.” He smirked, his gaze coming to Corbet once more, a challenge in the arch of his bushy eyebrows.
Feeling helpless to do other than cooperate, or lose Emilia altogether, Corbet turned on his heel and led them into the house. He would have liked more time to prepare her for the role they both needed to play today. Since that hadn’t been the case, he was afraid their act was going to be painfully unpleasant for both of them before it was through.
“She is in my study waiting for me.”
“Excellent.”
Ervin’s glee-filled exclamation made his skin crawl and his stomach came close to rebelling knowing that these men would soon lay eyes on her innocent beauty. It was the high price they must pay for their freedom, however.
As he led the obnoxious earl and the stumpy fat tattler into his home, Corbet balled his fists so tight his short nails dug into his palms. He welcomed that pain, nominal compared to what Emilia would surely endure.
“We have company, slave.” He called this warning as they entered his study. She was where he had left her, but had taken up the slave pose he had taught her, kneeling by his desk, head bowed low with her long red tresses concealing her face.
“Stand up, girl,” Lord Ervin chirped, approaching her.
Watching her closely, Corbet noticed her shift as though to get up, at the same time a tremor shook her small frame, broadcasting her fear. Needing to portray the illusion that she was cowed and obedient, he moved quickly to intercede before the earl took exception at her slow response. With his hand grasping her upper arm, he hauled her to her feet. “Obey, slave. You are in the presence of Lord Ervin,” Corbet commanded, giving her a reassuring squeeze before releasing her.
Without protest, she stood with her head bowed, her hands at her sides, the picture of humility and submission.
“Oh, my. She is a lovely one, isn’t she?” Lord Ervin stepped closer, reaching to move her hair away from her face. Corbet’s hand shot out and stopped him.
“You will not handle my property,” he growled, stepping in front of her.
“Of course,” the man answered snidely, “then you shall do the honors and bare her backside for inspection.”
Seething with anger, he guided her to his desk. “Lie across it,” he ordered more gruffly than intended; however, his control was on a thin thread and he could only manage so much. The next moment, he lifted her gown and bared her to the waist.
Ervin walked behind Emilia to view her backside. “Mills, I daresay the reports are true. The girl is barely pink and hasn’t a single stripe on her.”
“As I already explained, you interrupted her chastisement.” He watched as Ervin spied the scourge he had purposefully left on the table.
“That’s your means of discipline?” He picked up the lash and examined it, then snorted in disgust and tossed it down. “It’s mere rawhide without knots or wire; surely her actions call for more severe measures. Here,” he lifted his walking stick, pulling the decorative sheath away to reveal a thin wispy cane hidden within, “use this.”
“No, thank you. I will correct my slave as I see fit.”
“Oh ho,” the man retorted. “This is a runaway slave, Mills. You know how Lancore’s laws expect those who run to be treated.”
Corbet wanted to take the cane and strike him with it, to whip him bloody until he was begging and pleading for mercy that wouldn’t come.
“Lancore expects that you administer a punishment that befits her crime,” he droned on, as if reading the damnable law that he had written himself. “If not a whipping in the public square, she needs to be marked in one of the other acceptable forms. Which shall it be?”
“I will not brand her; that is barbaric.”
A faint whimper arose from the frightened young woman on the desk. Ervin smiled while Corbet frowned. “Silence, slave. Your betters are discussing a fitting punishment.”
“Indeed,” Ervin crowed, motioning to Ranulf. “It appears the master has made his choice. Fetch Fergus and the chest from the carriage.” He eyed Corbet with an evil grin. “Fortunately, I planned ahead.” He held out the cane. “In the meantime, get on with it.”
Being forced to deal so harshly with his delicate girl rubbed against the grain. That he had to succumb to this man’s power galled him. He couldn’t bring himself to take the cruel implement from him.
“The law is harsh in order to set an example for other slaves and deter similar actions. If you bring her before the public unscathed, Mooney will not be the only one making such accusations. It would be a pity for you to lose her after the price you paid, now wouldn’t it?” Lord Ervin smiled slyly.
“You sick bastard. You enjoy playing with your pawns and seeing us twist in the wind, having no choice except to do your bidding.”
“Yes, rank does have its privileges. I am also responsible for ensuring that the laws are adhered to.” He lifted the cane to Corbet. “If I were to witness her chastisement, I could very well attest that she has been appropriately punished.”
“Why would you assist me?”
“Because one visit to your humble abode is not enough. I will enjoy seeing you twist in the wind, as you so aptly put it, again, and again, and again. As I did with your wife, what was her name?”
“Sara,” Arthur supplied.
Enraged, Corbet rushed toward the earl, stopped short by the tip of Ranulf’s sword aimed at his chest. So absorbed in his hatred of Ervin, he hadn’t seen the knight return.
Lord Ervin smiled as he tapped the end of the cane in his palm, eyeing Emilia up and down like a hungry vulture. “If you cannot bring yourself to do it, I would be more than happy to help you out. Then again, she shall have to come with me, delivered from the likes of you, an inept master.”
Corbet snatched the cane from his hands with haste. “Never!” he proclaimed angrily. “I would die a thousand times before seeing your filthy hands come within an inch of her.”
“Hmm, it seems you have developed an affection for your redheaded wench.”
“More like I don’t want you befouling her with your touch,” he muttered under his breath.
If Ervin heard, he didn’t show it, and continued uninterrupted. “You must enjoy driving between her plump thighs. Have you taken her ass yet? I imagine it is tight. I heard rumors she was a dove. What fun you’ll have putting her through her paces and training her as you like.”
Aware of his goading taunts, he took a step closer to the odious lord. Looking down on him from his superior height, Corbet intoned coldly, “You will have your due, a caning before witnesses, and then you will leave my house, with only your sycophant in tow. The girl is mine, the silver I paid for her dear, and I’ll die before you take her from me.”
Ervin took a hasty step back. “That also can be arranged.”
“Not if I follow the letter of your profane and immoral laws, Ives.” Corbet glared daggers at the man, watching until he retreated out of reach, then with the cane in hand crossed to his desk. She was trembling, her upper body lying flat over the polished wood in the same position she’d taken the lash that first night. That would prove a pleasant interlude compared to what would come next.
He grasped her chemise at the back of the neck and ripped it in two. It was unnecessary, yet it served to dispel some of his fury. Better her shift bore the brunt of his rage than Ervin’s face and that he be hauled off to his dungeon as a result.
Emilia squealed in surprise, while staunchly remaining in position. She was being such a good girl even while he had lost his temper.
“Hold onto the edge tightly and do not move your hands under any circumstance. Do you understand me, slave?”
“Yes, master,” she squeaked, as she stretched out her arms and curved her shaky fingers over the rounded edge.
He glowered at Lord Ervin, who had taken up residence in one of his chairs and sat watching the proceedings over his steepled fingers with a malevolent grin.
“Are you comfortable enough?” he snarled. “Do you have a good vantage point? I wouldn’t want you to miss a stroke and have you accuse me of being soft.”
He angled his chair a bit for effect and then waved indulgently at Corbet. “Thank you for the suggestion, I’ve a much better view now. You may proceed.”
It took every ounce of his will to pull back his arm and deliver the first stroke to her flawless white cheeks. He knew he couldn’t hold back lest the vindictive man accuse him of such. The thin cane zipped through the air with a slight whistle and was followed by a shrill cry as the breath whooshed from her lungs. A line of red blossomed across both full cheeks.
The second stroke and subsequent cry made him want to choke the life out of the cruel man in the chair. Three more rose and fell, creating parallel stripes as he moved down the full curve of her no longer pristine flesh. A total of ten he laid down, until he came to the final two he had planned. Rearing back, he laid a swipe across each of her thighs, watching as twin welts blossomed almost instantly. He thought for sure she was going to come up from the table. But she held on, the sound of her pained sobs filling the room.
With hatred burning in his eyes, he spun and threw the earl’s cane at his feet. “‘Tis done. Now. Get. Out!” he thundered.
“A measly dozen? That’s all? I would think at least twenty—”
Corbet stormed over to the man, hauling him bodily from the chair by the ruffled collar around his neck. “You wanted her marked.” He flung out his arm. “Twelve marks for the runaway slave and four witnesses to testify it was so. You will leave now!” he seethed, spittle flying from his lips. Reflexively, his hands tightened into fists, clenching hard until the earl began to choke. A hard hand clamping down on his shoulder was the only thing that kept him from strangling the worthless pig.
“I cannot let you do this, Sir Corbet,” the earl’s guard warned. “It is out of duty that I say this, not my desire to see him live.”
Corbet opened his hands and allowed the velvet-encased popinjay to flop back in his chair. He coughed, his face mottled, the splotches changing from purple to crimson as he struggled for air.
“If you didn’t have the king’s favor because you keep his coffers filled with your chests of gold, I would have you strung up for touching me,” he rasped while gulping mouthfuls of air. “Fergus! Bring the irons.”
“What?”
“You didn’t think that puny caning was going to get her out of a permanent marking, did you?” He laughed between fits of coughing, motioning his man closer. “This was your choice, Mills. You denounced the brand and shunned the public flogging, which leaves the collar and shackles. From now on, day and night, she will bear the weight of her crime, quite literally.”
The blood drained from his face at the same time Emilia cried, “No!”
“Ah the soiled dove speaks. Would you prefer the whip or a brand with your master’s crest for all to see?”
“I’m not a slave,” she declared as she scrambled off the desk and sank to her knees. “Please, my lord, I am a free woman, wrongly taken and sold. Why are you doing this to me?”
“Emilia! Be silent.” Standing at her side, he twined his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her slender white throat. Gesturing to Fergus, the town smithy, he ordered in an awful voice, “Do it and leave.”
“Master, no.”
“I shall not warn you another time, slave. Remain quiet or I will get a gag and silence you that way.”
Ervin laughed with delight as the smith slipped a heavy iron collar around her neck and locked it in place.
“Is there a key?” Corbet asked the blacksmith, who shook his head sadly.
Ervin answered for him. “That wouldn’t make it permanent, now would it? To satisfy the letter of the law, and that you are a befitting master, we must ensure you are taking all precautionary measures to assure she does not attempt to flee from you again.”
With gleeful intent, he nodded at Fergus. Metal clanked as he took a length of chain from the chest and held it out to Corbet. “This is required as well, sir.”
With bitter resolve, he lifted his hand to take it, but Lord Ervin snatched it away first. “Allow me,” he drawled as he affixed one end to her collar. When it had locked in place, he stroked her tearstained cheek with the back of one finger. Cringing away from his touch, she sank back on her heels, sobbing. Ervin considered her with a smile, clearly enjoying her distress. “That’s what I like to see, a cowed slave in her place.”
When he reached out to stroke a lock of her hair, Corbet had enough. He clamped his powerful hand around the lord’s wrist and squeezed. After years of working in the leather shop, his grip could have broken the weasel’s bones with a twist of his hand. He refrained, unwilling to subject Emilia to Ervin’s evil mercies if he were imprisoned for harming the earl.
“You’ve been entertained,” he growled. “Leave my house.”
The earl looked at the powerful hand holding him captive, then his gaze rose to meet Corbet’s. The glint of arrogance in his bearing dimmed minimally before he twisted his arm and pulled free, though only because Corbet allowed it, no longer wanting to touch the despicable man.
Once released, Lord Ervin turned to take his leave. Corbet moved as he did, reaching the door first and throwing it wide, not with courtesy but rather with the intent to assist Ervin’s departure if he had other ideas. Ervin slowed and hesitated, a flicker of trepidation shadowing at the realization that he had to pass near Corbet to reach the outside.
“Yes,” Corbet muttered low, only loud enough for the earl to hear. “Be afraid. For one day, somewhere, somehow, I will have the opportunity to dispatch you to hell where I pray you will rot for all eternity.”
The man’s eyes grew wide for a moment and then narrowed into slits. “That is an outright threat.” He glanced at the other men in the room. “Did you hear that? You are witnesses.”
“I’m sorry, my lord, what was that?” Ranulf gruffly inquired, his perceptive gaze landing on Corbet briefly. “I didn’t hear you.”
Fergus also shook his head. “I was busy with my chest and my tools, Lord Ervin.”
“Mooney?”
Arthur stood where he had the entire time. He was staring at Emilia, where she knelt by the desk nearly naked. His hand was moving beneath the point of his tunic where he was blatantly aroused.
“I’m surrounded by useless incompetents!” the earl sneered in disgust. “The devil take all of you.” To Corbet, he issued a warning. “Watch your back, Mills.” He stepped out on the porch, but turned back, holding a finger up as he did so. “I almost forgot. Don’t think I didn’t notice the preparations you are making for travel. I am enacting a new law as of today with that in mind. I call it once of Lancore, always of Lancore. After you hear what it entails, you’ll want to think carefully before you wander too far afield.”
“What does that mean?”
He patted his doublet, searching for something. He glanced at his knight, who helpfully held out a rolled-up parchment. Ervin snatched it out of his hand and unfurled it, without so much as a by your leave.
“I was thinking of the revenue you bring the crown and to Lancore with your impressive leather works. You add a small fortune to our community, as do some of the other successful artisans and merchants. Your travel outside of Lancore is extensive. I got to thinking about all the valuable goods you take with you and the potential loss of income Lancore would suffer if you were accosted beyond the boundaries of the district where my knights and the sheriff couldn’t protect you.”
“You mean protect the gold that my wares bring in. And you provide no protection, what I have comes from my own sword or is bought by my coin.”
Ervin ignored him other than to shoot a scowl his way. “Because of that potential loss, which could put a strain on our already dwindling coffers, I have decreed…” He cleared his throat and began to read. “Henceforth, all citizens who travel outside the district with valuable resources are required to provide a written declaration of all properties being removed, this shall include all property of significant value, such as goods for sale, horses and other livestock, and slaves. In addition, we will require payment of a bond to insure the return of the assets and that taxes are paid in full on the sale price of said asset immediately upon return to Lancore. Violators will be considered guilty of theft against the state and the crown and dealt with accordingly.”
Corbet knew what accordingly meant: forfeiture of all properties, imprisonment, or worse.
“You will tax the travel of free men?”
“No, you are free to come and go as you please, as always. It’s your property that I tax.”
“If I go by horse?”
“You will pay.”
“And carry a wagon of costly leather goods?”
“You will pay more. We will set a fair and equitable fee based on the value and desirability of the property.” He looked meaningfully at Emilia. “The more valuable the asset, the higher the fee.”
“You are a tyrant,” she accused.
Corbet’s hand slipped around her head and clamped over her mouth. “Fetch me a gag, Charles,” he called out, before leveling a hard glare at the earl. “She is disobedient, yet right in her judgment. You are an oppressive tyrant. The people will not be pleased with more taxes.”
“It is in my authority to set taxes and fees, and also to keep tabs on the resources of Lancore. Present yourself to court to pay up and obtain permission before you leave, Mills.”
“Permission that you will not grant,” he accused.
“In your case, no.”
“You plan to levy a ridiculously high tax in hopes I’ll leave her here unprotected.”
“I don’t know what you mean. That thought never entered my mind.” His gaze swept over a chastened Emilia, the picture of compliance as she knelt with her face pressed to her master’s thigh. The leering appraisal he gave her, which lingered on her breasts partially exposed by the dipping of her ripped chemise, told Corbet all too clearly that he wanted her—badly. And what Ervin Ives wanted, he got, one way or another.
Innocence Enslaved Page 20
