Jack Steel Adventure Series Books 1-3: Man of Honour, Rules of War, Brothers in Arms. Iain Gale

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      ‘No. You cannot mean it.’

      He was breathing harder now.

      ‘Oh, but I do, pretty Louisa. I do mean it. So very, very earnestly.’

      He saw her look of utter revulsion.

      ‘What? No? Then, by God, I’ll have you for nothing.’

      Louisa opened her mouth to scream, but before she was able to utter a sound, his hand, rough and stinking of wine and filth, had been clamped hard over her lips. She tried to bite him, but her teeth could not reach the flat of his palm. Jennings pushed his body hard up against her and growled into her face.

      ‘Now, my pretty girl. You and I are going to have some fun. And if you scream or try anything else silly, all I have to do is call to my Sergeant – you remember him, he’s outside now – and he’ll slit your father’s throat, from ear to ear. And I’ll blame it all on this one.’

      He jerked his head in the direction of the sleeping Kretzmer. As he watched her eyes widen with terror at the realization that all was hopeless, Jennings instantly became yet more aroused and decided that it would be safe to remove his hand.

      ‘So tell me. Where’s your precious Mister Steel now? No? I’ll tell you. He’s fast asleep in the field with his men. He won’t hear you. He won’t help you now.’

      Jennings stretched out his hand and inserted a finger in between the lace of the neckline of her white blouse and the soft flesh of her shoulder.

      ‘Now, Miss. If you please. Your shirt.’

      Louisa shuddered and froze. Jennings moved his hand further in, beneath the material and lifted it off her body, pushing it down her arm, then did the same on the other side. Then, with one swift motion he pushed down with both hands and she was naked from the waist up, horribly exposed to his gaze. Not bad, he thought. For a peasant. Her hand reached for a knife which she had remembered lay on the table behind her. But his was faster. Their fingers collided and the blade clattered to the floor as Jennings caught her by the wrist and with his other hand slapped her hard across the face, making her whimper.

      ‘You stupid German cow. Remember what I said, Miss. One word. One more stupid thing like that and the old man dies. Now. Help me.’

      He reached for her thighs. She struggled, instinct taking over from reason. But his grip was an iron vice.

      ‘My, you’re a game one.’

      He was used to this, she thought, through the red mist of terror and outrage which clouded her reason – the natural reaction which had kicked in to make all that would now happen appear unreal. He knew what he was doing. Had done it before. How many times, she wondered? How many women?

      Jennings fumbled beneath her skirts then, impatient, ripped them to one side. He probed clumsily with his fingers and finding what he wanted, quickly unbuttoned his breeches. Desperate, lest she should utter a sound and condemn her father, Louisa bit hard into her own hand. Jennings, smiling with pleasure and hatred as he pushed at her, grunted out staccato words:

      ‘Remember. Tell them I did this and I kill your father.’

      After the horror and humiliation of what had just occurred, the act itself took less time and effort than she had imagined. She felt Jennings shudder and relax and she recoiled from the stink of his foul breath as he nuzzled his head into her neck in a ghastly parody of genuine lovemaking. She felt unspeakably defiled and desperate to rid herself of this man. To somehow achieve the impossible and cleanse her sullied body.

      Then it was over. Jennings straightened up, buttoned his breeches and adjusted his dress. His eye was caught by the gleam of candlelight upon the small knife that lay on the floor. Picking it up he looked down on the cowering, half-naked girl. It had been in his mind to slit her throat, but as he stood there another idea struck him. Something more deliciously cruel. He pocketed the knife and pointed to Kretzmer.

      ‘Now. Quickly. Help me with his breeches.’

      Louisa stared. Surely the man was not so perverted that he intended to force her to couple with Kretzmer? She watched, traumatized, as the Major pulled the knife from his pocket and winced as he used it to make a careful, but not too deep cut in his own hand. Finished, he placed its sticky handle in Kretzmer’s palm, before withdrawing it and letting it fall again.

      Then, and with no little effort, Jennings picked up the fat merchant, who all the time had remained comatose, and lifting him under his arms from the back, dragged him across the floor towards where Louisa stood, white, half-naked and trembling.

      ‘Come on, whore. Get on with it. Undo his buttons.’

      Hardly aware now of her actions, Louisa reached out and deftly unbuttoned the front of the merchant’s breeches. As she finished and they fell from his corpulent form, Jennings pushed the man towards her, so that the two of them tumbled to the floor, sprawling, the half-naked girl pinned down under the Bavarian’s dead-weight. The impact brought Kretzmer round to semi-consciousness and Jennings bent down and placed the man’s fat hands on Louisa’s breasts, smiling at her as he did so.

      ‘Thank you, my dear. I trust that you enjoyed that as much as I. Or did you not? And remember. One word of the truth and your father dies.’

      He slapped Kretzmer on the face, hard, knocking him into consciousness. Bewildered, the merchant pressed down instinctively on his hands to raise himself off the floor and in doing so found that he was embracing Louisa. He was lost for words.

      Jennings turned to the door and, making sure that the grotesque sexual vignette was still perfectly arranged on the floor, shouted into the night, at the top of his voice.

      ‘Guard. Guard. Quickly. To me. Assault. Alarm.’

      And from the empty streets of the dead town there came at last the sound of soldiers, hurrying to the rescue.

       SEVEN

      Slaughter met Steel at the door of the inn. The Lieutenant’s eyes were wide with anger and fear.

      ‘Where is she? Is she all right?’

      It was a stupid question and he regretted it instantly. The Sergeant gave him a gentle smile. He put a hand on his shoulder, half in comfort, half to prevent him from advancing any further before his mind had time to settle. He knew well what his officer was capable of and knew that in the heat of the moment the Bavarian would not stand a chance.

      ‘Come on, Jacob. Let me through. I must see her.’

      ‘Perhaps not just yet, Sir. She’ll be all right. She’s a tough girl.’

      ‘Jacob. I mean it. Let me pass. I’ve got Taylor with me.’

      At the mention of the man’s name the Sergeant let his grip relax a little. Matt Taylor, a Corporal of the Grenadiers, had a little knowledge of medicine, chiefly of the herbal kind. Slaughter knew that Steel approved of that. Over the months, Taylor had become the elected apothecary of the company. It was only fitting, for before conviction for fraud had forced him into the ranks, he had served three years of a seven-year apprenticeship to the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries in London and had studied botany at the Physick СКАЧАТЬ