Now the idea of getting his hands on that unfortunate girl lashed to the gibbet added a new urgency to him; a fresh drive to complete the mission, and return to their home. While being in the lands of the humans both irritated and exhilarated him (so many targets, so much sustenance), he had an abiding need to return, to lay down with Rayja, and try once more to ignore the deepening —
feelings —
he seemed to have developed for her. Perhaps the distraction of the lush buttocks of a new whipping girl would divert his mind from the disturbing path his thoughts had taken with his body servant.
Corporal Endek appeared out of the shadows. Deep hollows shone under his eyes, his expression drawn. Regardless, he straightened his shoulders and stood at attention.
Valery looked the man up and down. “Corporal? Report.”
Endek nodded. “A single rider approaches from the south, Marshal. Riding hard.”
Valery looked back over at the courtyard. Two soldiers were helping the nude captive walk away, her arms supported across their shoulders. The cruel Lady was nowhere to be seen.
“Is the rider military or noble?”
“Neither sir, as far as we can tell. Possibly commoner. He should be here any moment.”
Valery turned to Taidon. “Well?”
Taidon turned away from the corporal, his voice soft. “Could be nothing, Sir. Should we proceed?”
“I don’t like this, Lieutenant. He could be a scout.”
Taidon shook his head slowly. “No humans know we’re here, Sir — at least none that remain alive. Most of our own
kind
don’t even know we’re here either.”
Valery turned his back on the corporal. “That’s all, Endek.”
The man hesitated. “Sir?”
Valery turned. “Corporal, what is it?”
“There is something else. There are two wagons, perhaps two hour’s travel behind the lone rider.”
Valery’s brow furrowed. “So?”
“They’re dressed in black robes, Sir.”
“Mendicants. Perfect,” Taidon said, clapping the corporal on a shoulder. “Well done.”
“Lieutenant?” Endek looked as confused as he was tired.
Valery nodded. “That’ll be all, Endek. Join the others, and tell them to pull back. We await developments.”
The corporal inclined his head, turning to leave.
“And Endek,” Valery said, his arms clasped behind his back. “You stayed too long under
humbrae
. It’s drained you. Don’t get sloppy. We need every man tonight.”
“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.” Endek stepped away, disappearing into the blackness.
Taidon stood close to the Marshal. “Do you think we should?”
Valery glanced back at the now empty yard, the guards’ attention sharp once more.
“I don’t think we have a choice, Lieutenant. We wait for the mendicants’ arrival.”
The sound of a galloping horse grew loud, and both of them turned to watch the rider pull his horse up just outside the portcullis. The lone man handed a sheaf of paper to one of the guards. A few words were spoken, but quickly the rider was admitted with a curt nod from one of the armed men. The horse and rider disappeared within the manor.
* * *
“Where is she, Miriam?”
The Lady looked up from the couch she reclined upon, her skirts in disarray. A girl knelt between Miriam’s spread legs, and Clayton could see the movement of her head beneath the fabric of Miriam’s skirt.
“So it’s no longer ‘Milady this’ and ‘Your Grace that’, is it Clayton?” Miriam lay her hand on the crown of the head that was busy between her thighs. “Slower dear, we have guests about.”
“Must you do that, while we talk, Miriam?” Clayton pulled the gloves from his hands, flexing the stiffness from his fingers.
“You came to
my
house, Clayton. I expect you’ll just have to endure my little indulgences, won’t you?”
“My daughter.
Where
is Sophie?” He took a step toward Miriam.
“She’s safe, Clayton. She’s not been permanently harmed, just as I promised.”
He grimaced. “Is she … ”
Miriam laughed, clearly enjoying a father’s discomfort at the topic. “Get right to the point, don’t you? Why don’t you have a seat? I can have Claire here attend to your needs too as soon as she’s done taking care of mine.”
Clayton gave a terse shake of his head. “That’s not why I’m here, Miriam.”
The Lady stilled the head hidden under her skirts. “Her precious maidenhead is intact, Clayton, though I can’t say the same for her virtue. Not that it matters, really.”
He let out a breath.
Thank the Gods.
He just had to get Sophie home; to heal, to recover. To move on. Maybe even Owen could help her, if her father couldn’t be there …
Clayton shook his head slowly, clenching his jaw. “I’m here to propose a deal. A resolution.”
Miriam drummed her painted fingertips on the blue silk covering the girl’s head. “You know, I’ve missed you—”
Clayton held up his hand. “Miriam, stop.”
“Why didn’t it work, Clayton? We were so good together. You should have come to visit before all … this.”
He sat down, his arms resting on his thighs. He didn’t even want to look at her for this. “I offer an exchange, Miriam.”
“What?” Her voice was quiet, but he could feel the calculation, the interest. She was always weighing risks and benefits; determining what she could get — or get away with.
He looked up at her, his gaze meeting her dark brown eyes. “Release her.”
“Why should I? She’s mine, as long as I will it. My right, and you know it. Tell me you rode all the way from McClearn for something other than this?”
“Take me in her stead. I will pledge you my sword, and my … life.” He looked away, a sick weight twisting in his gut. He heard her sharp intake of breath. Finally, he had her off guard. Would it be enough?
“Clayton, look at me.”
He met her gaze, though it was the last thing on Earth he wanted to do.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Steel was back in her tone. “Truly?”
“Aye. I’ll do anything to save her — from you.”
He saw her mouth twitch at that, and he exulted in it for the briefest of moments. He’d hurt her. Ah, how he wanted to hurt her more! She deserved nothing more.
She pushed Claire away, and the girl fled the room, clutching her clothes to her naked breasts. Miriam rose, smoothing the gown down her thighs, and walked to her dresser.
“Would you like to see our Sophie?” She poured a deep red wine into two gold-leafed cups, handing one to Clayton before returning to her chaise.
“I would be happy to show her to you. To show you she’s safe.” The confident lilt was back in her voice, and the tension steeled back into him once more.
“No.”
“No? What kind of father are you?” Her smile mocked him. “To journey all this way, and turn her aside? She’ll hate you for it when I tell her.”
“You’ll tell her nothing.”
“Oh? Is that so?” She stirred a long finger in the dark wine. “What makes you think I can’t do just
exactly
that?”
“Because, you’ll have me. You’ll accept the exchange.”
She was quiet for a short while, Clayton’s heartbeat loud in his ears. He hadn’t expected her to even consider it, really. Yet, what if she did? Could he go through with it? Subject himself to her? He grimaced, staring into the wine in his cup.
“How shall I have you, Clayton? Naked, in chains at the foot of my bed? In the stocks outside for the villagers to toy with you? Watch them pelt your spanked ass with their refuse?”
Chills ran down his spine; this wasn’t going as he’d planned. Still, even if this did come to pass, Sophie would be safe. He’d do anything to save her. He had no choice. Isaac and Owen would just have to improvise. He hoped they’d see the situation and know what to do. The only thing that mattered was getting his daughter free. He’d spend an eternity moldering in Miriam’s dungeon if that’s what it took.
“Do you remember what you used to do to me when I was late from my afternoon rides?”
He gulped, looking up. What was she doing? “We’re wasting time, Miriam.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What is your hurry? You’ll stay here as long as I will it. We have as much time as I want.”
His fingers tightened around his cup, and he took a drag from the wine, seeking to remedy his suddenly dry mouth.
“Well, Clayton?”
“I do. What of it? It was eons ago as far as I’m concerned.”
She propped her elbow on the end of the rich chaise. “I think you lie. You remember
everything
. You think of it often, don’t you?”
He laughed, sneering. “You’re flattering yourself.”
“Am I now? Do you ever wake at night, covered in sweat, that big cock of yours in your fist? Do you think of how my lips felt on it? How my eyes watered as you forced my throat?”
He lowered his head, a breath blowing past his lips. “Another time, Miriam. That wasn’t you. That woman is dead.”
“No, Clayton. Your wife is dead. This woman is very much alive.”
His gaze snapped up, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you
speak
of her, Miriam. Her torment at your hands is over.”
She grinned. “Pity that. I so enjoyed her jealous protectiveness. Foolish, though it was, I found it charming actually.”
He had to change the subject. This was too close. He felt the burning pain of his lost love fire in his chest. Hearing Miriam speak of her was like having the scab of the old wound clawed open again.
There was a knock at the door, and Miriam’s expression darkened. “Come.”
Her overseer Arnaud stepped inside, stealing a cool glance at him. He was a snake, a perverted coward. Perfectly suited for serving the now twisted soul that had at one time been Lady Miriam Westwood, a woman Clayton had once cared very much about.“
“Our scouts report mendicants have been spotted on the road south of Westwood.”
“And?” She swirled the wine in her cup, her lips a thin line of irritation.
“It is likely they will request accommodation, Mistress.”
“They always seem to, don’t they?” Miriam murmured, flicking a cool glance at Clayton.
He looked away, feigning as much indifference as he could manage. He pushed down the fear at the mention of his friends. Keeping a cool head was proving more difficult than he’d anticipated.
“Friends of yours, Clayton?”
He snorted, taking a sip of the wine, thankful for the slight ease the alcohol seemed to be providing for his nerves. “Perverted crusaders. They find no friends at the McClearn farmstead.”
Her eyes narrowed, watching Clayton, then she looked up at Arnaud. “Provide them whatever they require. They may stay the night if they wish.” She looked at Clayton, her eyes meeting his. “Tell the servants to make themselves available. I’m sure our traveling friars would wish to tend to their … souls.”
“Mistress.” Arnaud bowed, smirking, and quit the chamber.
They sat in silence for a moment, Clayton pondering what he might have to do if she agreed to his terms.
“I’ve thought about you. I’m not ashamed to admit it.” She reclined back, her head tipping up, eyes looking beyond him. For a moment, just for a moment, he saw her again. The woman he once knew. It was a fleeting vulnerability, a flash of something other than callous cruelty.
“Miriam.” He set down the wine. “I must leave soon. Do you agree to the exchange?”
“My husband is missing something, Clayton. He misses what you had. What you still have.”
She wasn’t going to agree. She would toy with him, make him hopeful.
Clayton moved to stand, but felt a wave of dizziness wash through him. He dropped back down into the chair, shaking his head.
“I hoped you’d visit me. Andrus is away too often. A wife has needs.” She stroked her hand over one of her thighs. The sheer fabric of the dress had fallen between her legs, outlining the shape of her sex. Clayton tore his gaze away.
“You still could, you know. He won’t be back for at least a month.”
“Miriam — Sophie.” His mouth felt like it was stuffed with wool. His tongue seemed to have swollen, his words slurred.
“Forget Sophie, Clayton. This is about us.” Her gaze flashed, and she stood, moving to stand before him.
He craned his head up to her. The light in the room seemed softer, almost fuzzy at the edges of his vision. Something was very wrong.
She knelt, laying her hands on his knees. He moved to brush them away, but his coordination was now so bad, he could barely control his hands.
“Shh,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “Just be still a moment, Clayton.”
He looked at her, his vision blurring now. “The … wine.”
She smiled at him, the glee dancing in her eyes.
Dear Gods, I’m in it now.
He tried to stand up, but his legs refused to work. He was trapped. How could he have been so stupid!