His Lady of Castlemora. Joanna Fulford

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СКАЧАТЬ smiled coldly. ‘You rate yourself too high, my lord, if you presume to think so. I am not so negligent of the duty I owe to my family and my name as to throw myself away on a mere nobody.’

       Stung now, he was goaded into retort. ‘The Thanes of Heslingfield are not nobodies. They come from a proud and ancient line.’

       ‘But where are they now? They have no power, no influence. They are nothing.’

      Brian pushed the memory aside. He’d been a fool and paid the price for it. The naïve and idealistic lover was long gone and in his place was a grown man who knew the world he lived in. This offer was an opportunity, one he’d little thought to have. It would provide a foundation on which much might be built—in time.

      ‘We have an agreement then,’ he said.

      Graham smiled and held out his hand. ‘You’ll not regret it.’

      Ban clasped the offered hand and hoped the words were true.

       Chapter Five

      Isabelle stared at her father in stunned disbelief, uncertain that she’d heard him correctly. ‘A secret betrothal?’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘A betrothal which will give him the rights of a husband?’

      ‘Correct.’

      Disbelief was slowly displaced by outrage. Did the Sassenach thane really imagine she would agree to this? The very fact that he had suggested it showed the kind of regard in which he held her, in which he had always held her.

      ‘You can’t mean it.’

      ‘I was never more serious in my life.’

      His expression supported the words, a circumstance that created the first stirrings of alarm.

      ‘Marriage is one thing; this is quite another.’

      ‘It is unusual, I’ll admit, but it is not unknown.’

      ‘This is little better than prostitution.’

      ‘It is no such thing. Nor would I have agreed to it if I thought so.’ Her father paused. ‘In essence betrothal is little different from marriage. The only variation here is that it will not be made public until you are with child.’

      The visualisation of what that entailed fanned her rage to red heat. How Lord Ban must have delighted in creating this little scheme. That her father should actually sanction the plan must have afforded the very greatest amusement. How much his lordship must be enjoying the thought of her reaction.

      ‘I am not a brood mare to be covered by a Glengarron stallion!’

      ‘It is a wife’s duty to bear children and you have not done so.’

      ‘That wasn’t my fault alone.’

      ‘I have given you the benefit of the doubt thus far, but now it’s up to you to prove yourself worthy of my faith.’

      ‘I’d gladly prove it, but not in this covert, underhanded manner.’

      ‘You are a widow with no children and no dowry to speak of. God’s blood, do I have to spell it out?’ He glared at her. ‘You have one chance now and this is it, unless you’d prefer the cloister.’

      Seeing that she remained silent he nodded. ‘I didn’t think so.’

      She closed her eyes, trying not to give way to rising panic. Her father had spoken no more than the truth about her circumstances and her lack of religious vocation. She realised too that there was no way out of this: much as she wanted to reject this proposition a refusal to comply would leave the way open for Murdo. All he’d have to do would be to ask for her hand and it would be granted. She was under no illusions about what would happen then.

      She licked dry lips. ‘When is this betrothal to take place?’

      ‘I have decided upon Thursday next.’

      Her heart leapt towards her throat. Thursday was only two days away. ‘That’s too soon.’

      ‘Soon or no, it’s your betrothal day.’

      ‘This haste is indecent.’

      Her father’s gaze grew steely. ‘Your opinion is irrelevant. You’ll do as you’re told. The betrothal will take place in my private chamber. I shall invite Lord Ban there, ostensibly to discuss business. It will be a simple matter for you to join us unnoticed. Everyone else will be about their work and it will be quiet enough for our purposes. It won’t take long.’

      He was right: it wouldn’t take long to join her hand with Lord Ban’s and to speak the vows that would make her his. How easily a woman was disposed of. She’d had no say last time either, although then there had been a public wedding followed by lavish feasting and then the bedding ceremony, held amid ribald jests and laughter. How hollow that laughter had proved to be.

      She shivered inwardly, recalling all the nights spent in Alistair Neil’s bed; nights she had come to dread. Your late husband couldn’t get a cock stand. Murdo’s mocking voice echoed in her head. The words were not entirely accurate though. Alistair had, occasionally, achieved an erection but it carried a price. She swallowed hard, seeing it all in her mind’s eye, her husband standing by the bed, slowly removing his belt, wrapping the buckle end around his fist …

       ‘Take off your shift.’

       ‘Please, my lord …’

       ‘I said take it off.’

      Trembling she complied. When she was naked he nodded.

       ‘Lie down as I have instructed you.’

       Reluctantly she obeyed, knowing what was coming and knowing it would be far worse if she tried to resist. She gasped as the belt descended across her buttocks leaving a fiery welt, her hands clawing the coverlet. At first pride kept her silent but she had quickly learned the folly of that. Since it was her cries that excited him he would continue to beat her until she did scream. When she cried out he flung down the belt and joined her, pinning her down, his knee forcing her legs apart. Then he took her from behind. It hurt, but her cries pleased him and, mercifully, that part of the procedure never lasted long, a minute or two at most before the small, probing member was withdrawn. Then he rolled off her, panting and sated. She shut her eyes, praying silently that this time she would conceive and that somehow his thin and watery seed might take root in her womb …

      Isabelle had heard it said that sometimes women found pleasure in the act of intercourse but she couldn’t imagine how, even if the man were not violent. Alistair had dreamed up many ways of achieving his purpose, almost all of them painful, but he took good care that the marks he left on her didn’t show. Even if he had not, no one in that household would have questioned his behaviour. Nor would the law: it was a husband’s right to chastise his wife if he chose. It was his right to do anything he liked, and her duty to submit.

      ‘Are you listening СКАЧАТЬ