by kps
The fingers that had been roughly teasing at her nipples were withdrawn and her mouth was free of the domination that had robbed her of breath as Dev drew back with a sharp, cursing exclamation, glaring at her as he raised his hand to the back of his neck and came away with his fingers smeared with the blood her desperate measure had drawn. Jenny stood her ground, furiously returning his glare, her lips bruised and pouting, halfparted as she inhaled deeply to stave off a feeling of faintness.
"What's wrong, Duchess?" Dev snarled with a cold, sweeping appraisal of her body from heavy-lidded eyes that were a menacing dark gold. "Can't -you make love any more without all those romantic, flowery endearments your Spanish lover hands out? Or are you too good for me to touch now that his lordship's back in the saddle?"
Before she consciously knew she'd had the thought, Jenny's hand came up to avenge the crude insult, slamming against his cheek with a loud, smacking slap that wiped the smirk from his face. She waited tensely for his reaction, poised to retreat from any retaliatory violence, but Dev only stared at her with an odd mixture of anger and respect as he rubbed at-the reddened imprint her palm had left on his face. "If any other woman had tried that,"
he said, with the shadow of a cynical smile that mocked his own restraint, "she'd be flat on her back now." Then he grinned and added, "Must be my natural respect for royalty, eh, Jen?"
"Or more likely the fact that you knew yon deserved it!" Jenny retorted with a scornful disdain for the "mercy" he'd shown her. The hour was growing late, too late for her to waste time telling him exactly what she thought of his high-handed, overbearing attitude. She'd come to see her son and see him she would, without any further interference from his vain, conceited brute of a father! "I want to see the baby now, Devlan," she insisted in a stern voice, "and without a recurrence of the mauling you just gave me, if you don't mind. I have had more than my share of unpleasantness this evening, and my patience has grown thin."
Dev stepped back, bowing from the waist in a mocking display of gallantry. "Your wish is my command, m'lady! If you'll follow me, I'll try to control my instinct to 'maul' you, but there's one thing I want to make clear right now. Thomas is asleep and I don't want him disturbed, so you can forger about holding him." Dev raised a brow, noting the sudden stubborn set of her chin and the smoldering look of resentment she threw at him.
"Agreed?'"
"As long as you keep your hands to yourself," Jenny answered spitefully, "I will agree to your demand. If you can control your animal instincts, I can certainly contain my maternal feelings, much as they've been trampled upon by you and others!"
Dev opened his mouth, thought better of what he was about to say, then closed it and stalked off. Jenny practically had to run to keep up with his long, angry strides as he headed for the room his son shared with the woman who'd cared for him since birth.
Twenty-Four
It was an hour past midnight when Jenny finally slipped back into her rooms, awakened the sleeping Shiona, and inquired whether Rodrigo had any inkling of her absence. "Oh, m'lady
... he was ... ye'r husband was," Shiona was ashamed to admit to her mistress that he had spent the evening in a noisy revel, that she had blushed at the sounds of lewd feminine laughter mixing with the coarse voices of several of Rodrigo's hirelings as they entertained themselves in a drunken orgy of wine and sex. "The Laird was too occupied to note tha' ye were gone," she finally managed to state, blushing again at the memory of his debauchery.
"Thank God for that," Jenny whispered, relieved for once that Rodrigo was a man of lusty appetites. He had never taken pains to hide his almost nightly excesses from her. In fact, she'd often thought that he encouraged his bed partners to utter loud cries of ecstasy, hoping that they would disturb her own sleep. She'd come to the point, though, where she could ignore the sounds of passion, feigned or real.
"Ye've seen the babe, then?" Shiona's expression was hopeful in the dim light of the one candle that was still burning.
"I have," Jenny answered softly, her voice full of wonder as she thought about that moment when she'd first glimpsed her son. "Oh, Shiona, he's so beautiful! It breaks my heart that I can't have him here, but I've become resigned to the fact that he truly is safer on the island."
There was a loud giggle from Rodrigo's room, and Jenny remembered the late hour. She would never be able to explain why she was up and dressed as she was if he should come in.
"Go now, I'll tell you more tomorrow ... in the garden." Shiona smiled and turned away, but Jenny caught her arm and she looked back with a puzzled glance. "Thank you, dear, for the risk you and your father took in my behalf. It will be hard to repay such kindness."
"'Tis my pleasure, lady, and my father's, too, t'see ye'r eyes happy again. Rest easy tonight, Lady Jennifer!"
Jenny smiled and watched the girl leave. She would be able to rest easy tonight, for the first time since the baby's birth. The tension and excitement had worn her down, and she found herself yawning as she quickly pulled off the disguise, and, remembering how close Rodrigo was, cautiously buried the hose and jerkin under several layers of stored clothing. Too tired to search for her gown, she slipped beneath the coverlet to sleep in the nude. Despite a strong desire for sleep, she lay awake for a while, remembering.
What hateful things they had yelled at each other, she and Dev. And still, when they were alone, he hadn't been able to resist his desire to reach out for her, and she hadn't been able to mask her response to the familiar strength of his arms. That was what their love had come to, the physical reaction to remembered passion, with little of the tenderness that had
.once been theirs. Still, she was glad he was alive, even if he preferred Fiona to her, even if he thought she loved Rodrigo.
The baby. Jenny smiled to herself in the darkness, remembering her first sight of the sleeping infant. Dev had finally taken her to the room the baby shared with his foster mother, Meg, rousing the woman from her sleep to ask her to leave them alone with him for a few minutes.
Meg had wiped at her heavy-lidded eyes, shocked to see Jenny, a trace of fear in her pale face until Dev had assured her in a whisper that little Jared, as she knew him, was staying in her care.
Jenny had approached the cradle in a kind of awe, knowing consciously that the tiny, perfectly formed little boy within it was hers, yet unsure of herself because she'd never had that close, intimate contact with him that most mothers experience in the first month of their child's life. She would have to get used to handling him, but loving him came naturally.
His sturdy body was swathed in an embroidered gown, his head well-formed and covered by a pale, golden fuzz. Hands and feet so tiny, yet with a hint of broadness across his chest that suggested he would have his father's build.
The urge to touch him, to hold her own child close, was so strong Jenny'd had to clench her hands at her side. There would be time for that in the future. When he-Jenny had a hard time not thinking of him as Nicholas-when Thomas had stretched restlessly and begun to whimper, Jenny's first instinct had been to reach out for him, but Dev had caught her hand, warning her to be still. The door opened a moment later, and Meg had hurried in to comfort the boy, scooping him up to let him suckle at her large, pendulant breasts.
Thomas had quieted instantly, contentedly nursing while Meg soothed him with a singsong chant. Jenny had turned away, her eyes stinging with tears of frustration. She couldn't have nursed him, anyway; her breasts had been bound tightly with linen bandages to suppress her milk flow, but it was the idea that another woman had supplanted her in that most intimate of maternal duties that left her feeling so bitterly resentful.
Dev had brusquely hurried her from the room and once outside, had faced her with a frown.
"I'm just thinking of him," he explained. "You'd confuse him, maybe even scare him if you handled him now."
She'd thought then that he was still trying to hurt her. How could a mother scare her own child? "I would never have believed you could be such a devo
ted father, Dev," she'd retorted scarcastically, and, before she could stop herself, added, "I will never forgive you for your part in this, never!"
But despite her anguish, Dev had not apologized or asked forgiveness. He'd stared at her for a minute, scowled and grabbed her by the wrist, practically dragged her through the house, and deposited her on a hard, high-backed bench that sat in the entry hall, like some unwelcome bundle, And he hadn't said a word of farewell, just disappeared in the direction of the kitchens and sent Gilliam out to her.
Jenny's pride, already a shambles from his earlier treatment, was stung to the quick by Dev's callous, silent rejection, and she brooded upon it, cursing herself for being a blind, love-struck fool as sleep finally overcame her. She had no way of knowing that he'd treated Fiona the same way, ignoring her attempt to COnverse and stalking off to his own room without a word of explanation. It was a night for brooding, Fiona sullenly heading for her rooms, sulking over the fact that Jenny's unexpected visit had deprived her of Dev's attentions.
But by the time she finally slept, Fiona's irritation had dissolved, for in her agitation she had seen the answer to more than one of her problems. She thoroughly disliked Jennifer, for her striking beauty as well as her past relationship with Devlan. Dev was obviously mistrustful of the girl already. With a little adept manipulation on her part, Fiona was sure she could discredit Jenny and totally destroy any remnants of feeling Dev still had for her, and, at the same time, assure the success of the overthrow of Rodrigo. If she and Dev were "betrayed"
the night before the tournament, her knights could still manage the assault with the additional support provided by her incensed subjects, .and the one night's detainment in the castle dungeons would be a minor discomfort. And by then, she would have Dev thoroughly convinced that Jenny had done the betraying to serve her own selfish ends.
Jenny had been asleep for an hour when something alerted her to the chilling fact that she was no longer alone. She came awake suddenly, her sleep-fogged eyes blinking against the harsh light of candles held close to her face by disembodied hands. She could see nothing beyond that bright halo of light, but even as she tried to shield her eyes, her hand was seized and she was jerked to a sitting position. "Who ... who dares touch me!" she cried out. A man's lewd, mocking laughter came in reply and Jenny found herself in the grip of a huge, hairy paw. She clutched the bedclothes around her in an attempt to shield her naked body.
Rodrigo gave a gruff order, and the ring of bobbing candles that surrounded her bed retreated. He was standing on the dais that supported the bed, his hands gripping the canopy as he stared down at her with eyes that glittered maliciously at her discomfort.
"Cuchillo dares, on my orders, of course." There was nothing in his voice to indicate he was drunk, and somehow that made it all the more horrible to Jenny. At least drunkenness would have been an excuse for this outrage in the middle of the night.
She was still nervous, surrounded as she was by the leering faces of his fellow revelers, but indignant anger was quickly overcoming her fear. "To what do lowe the 'honor' of this visit, m'lord?" Jenny inquired impatiently.
"I have missed your company lately, querida," Rodrigo answered softly, his gaze travelling over her body, appreciating the contrast of her tousled, ebony curls against the alabaster of her shoulders. "You have been too distant lately, withdrawn from the pleasures of life. You did not seek to join our entertainment this evening, so we have brought the party to you."
He smiled, a flash of white teeth below the dark lines of his mustache; and though she showed no outward sign of fright, Jenny felt her heart race and her skin crawl.
"Send your companions away, then," she said, stalling for time against the banked fires of passion she'd seen in her husband's eyes. Earlier in the evening she had responded to Dev with a rebirth of desire, but even if it were he standing here, telling her with his eyes that he wanted her, she could not have acceded. It had been only four weeks since she'd given birth, and her body was just beginning to lose the aching soreness of healing. Her mouth was as dry as cotton as she waited tensely for him to answer.
Suddenly, in one of those crystal moments of perception that generally occur too late, Jenny realized that Rodrigo had come to sate more than his physical desires. In addition to Cuchillo, there were two women and another man in the group ringing her bed, all in varied states of undress and drunkenness. During the long evening he'd spent carousing in his room, Rodrigo would have had ample time to bed both slatterns. In fact, Jenny . was sure that all three men had taken advantage of the coarse-looking serving girls' loose .morals.
Rodrigo's only other passion in life was his indulgence in cruelty. "Please ..." Jenny entreated, hating herself for the fear that made her voice sound so timid. She could not reach out to him with her free hand or expose herself to the lecherous eyes of Cuchillo and his fellow mercenary.
"Rodrigo, you cannot ..."
"Cannot what, my dear wife? Come near the cold, virtuous body of a woman who belongs to me?" He laughed and sat on the bed beside her, and the others seemed to relax, one of the women begging a drink from the wine bottle Cuchillo held, the other turning her attentions to the second mercenary, running her hands over his nude body and searching brazenly for what she wanted. He stood there a moment, then groaned as the woman's fondling aroused him and hastily set the candlestick on the table, dragging her off into the shadows. Jenny closed her eyes against the grunting and panting sounds of their coupling, but on her other side, Cuchillo was being treated to the same enticement, and as his pleasure mounted, his huge fingers gripped her wrist tighter, whitening the flesh that was already bruised a dull rose color.
Rodrigo wore a linen nightshirt that hung to mid-thigh. Jenny stared at him as he unfastened the last button holding it together. "And I suppose I should not be allowed to gaze upon the gentle contours of your body?" He was taunting her, drawing out the mental torture that he found as satisfying as the fulfillment of his body's demands. Rodrigo reached out slowly, and with that same, evil smile, jerked the sheet away from her hands, enjoying the fact that she flinched almost as though he'd struck her.
Jenny bit her lip, a hot flush of shame coloring her cheeks as Cuchillo's attention was drawn from the woman who knelt between his thighs to the sight of Jenny's naked loveliness, a sight that made him lick his dry lips in a sudden, drawing thirst to possess what his employer had promised he might share. He continued to watch as Rodrigo reached out to caress Jenny's breasts, his breath coming harder now as she cringed and tried to inch away.
Rodrigo's fingers were cold against the warmth of the soft flesh, no longer gentle as he cupped one full, rounded globe in his hand and roughly rolled its nipple between his fingers.
Jenny was openly sobbing now, a prisoner of the two men. As though from a great distance, she heard herself begging him to stop. The only answer was his amused laughter as he continued to display her helplessness befor the leering eyes of Cuchillo, pushing her onto her back and pinning her there with his body as his left hand slid snake-like across her belly and slithered between her thighs.
The scream that tore from her throat as his fingers invaded her aching flesh was as much from humiliation as from the pain that radiated from between her thighs. Cuchillo cried out an obscenity in a low, hoarse voice, releasing her hand as he dug his fingers into the hair of the woman who was servicing him, pulling at the snarled, dirty locks as he strained his loins against her greedy, encompassing mouth.
Tears streamed down Jenny's cheeks, and something within her snapped, denying the idea that this brutal degradation was happening to her, even as she hit at Rodrigo's back and struggled to escape the restraint of his body. Without thinking of the consequences, for she was beyond logical thought and driven only by instinct, she scraped her nails along his face, carving deep furrows in the smooth, pale skin of his cheeks, marking the features of which he was so proud. Blood welled from the scratches, and Jenny knew a moment's triumph in the howl of pain that esca
ped him before he withdrew his hand from her thighs, raised his body, and viciously struck her with a closed fist.
She screamed at the explosion of pain near her right eye threw up her hands in defense, but Rodrigo straddled her waist and continued to hit her-a succession of open-palmed slaps that left her head ringing and her dazed, retreating mind a confusion of numbing pain and horror.
She could no longer scream a protest, only whimper as he slid back, shoved her legs apart, and entered her, slamming against her bruised, tender flesh so savagely that the agony sent her mind tumbling into unconsciousness.
When she came to a short while later, Rodrigo was gone from her and in his stead, the malodorous, sweating oaf who had earlier attempted to violate young Shiona lay with the full weight of his body crushing hers. The two who had retreated to the room's darkest shadows for their lusty sport had returned and stood by the bedside, calling out lewd encouragement in ugly voices that were slurred from drink. Jenny turned her head to escape the foul wash of Cuchillo's breath as he tried to kiss her and found Rodrigo sitting on the other side of her, his face a mask of evil pleasure as he fondled the heavy, pendulant breasts of the slovenly blonde bawd who had earlier seen to Cuchillo's needs, and watched.
Cuchillo began to thrust against her, and again Jenny fainted, again slipping into a dark void that pain could not penetrate. She woke an hour later to a hushed buzz of concerned whispers and the salty taste of blood that seeped from her cut and swollen mouth. For a short while, try as she might, she could not think who she was of why her entire body ached.
With a tentative effort, she moved her hand and drew it upward but, with one eye bruised purple and swollen shut, she could barely discern her own fingers.
"Oh, thank God in heaven!" Shiona sobbed, throwing herself down on her knees at the bedside, weeping tears of frustration and gratitude that her mistress had roused from her unnatural sleep. The midwife bustled over to the bed, touched a hand gently to her patient's forehead, and nodded, satisfied that there was no fever. The Laird's lady had taken a brutal beating from the foul rapist who had broken into her room. Thank God, she thought, that Rodrigo had been wakened from his heavy slumber to check on his wife's safety. He had found her bruised and bleeding and cornered the man responsible, one of his own ruffians, no less. With a deftly delivered blow he knocked him unconscious and sent him to the dungeons. Then he had called the midwife and the maid Shiona to the room in a panic over his inability to wake his lady from the unconscious state into which she'd slipped.
