She reached her hand out to open the door and an owl hooted. She jumped, then frowned. If a bird of prey wants to sneak up on his food, he shouldn’t hoot so loudly.
She spent as little time as possible inside the small privy. When she pushed open the rough wooden door and stepped outside, Annabel caught sight of movement, someone emerging from around the side of the privy. She tried to make out which maiden it was, as it had to be another woman heading for the privy, since only women were allowed in the vicinity.
But as the figure approached, it was clearly not female.
The man lunged toward her and grabbed her arm in one swift movement. All the air rushed from her chest. She opened her lips to scream, but the man clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the trees.
Chapter
10
Annabel clawed at his arm while trying to draw in a good breath. Finally, she gave up on screaming and struggled to bite him, though the rank odor of his hand, like soured milk, sickened her.
“Don’t make a sound,” the man rasped in her ear, “or I’ll break your little neck.”
Annabel recognized Bailiff Tom’s voice. Her heart pounded and she struggled to keep breathing. His hand completely covered her mouth and was partially blocking her nose. She managed to open her mouth and promptly bit down as hard as she could, her teeth sinking into soft flesh.
Bailiff Tom cursed under his breath. He pulled his hand away, but before Annabel could even react, he used it to slap her across her cheek.
Bells rang in her ears, and for a moment she lost her bearings. When she was able to focus her eyes again, she tried to run but only took two steps before he jerked her arm so hard she cried out in pain. She wanted to scream for help, but he clamped his hand over her mouth again, crushing her lips and her cheeks even tighter than before. Please, God … don’t let me faint.
“If you scream and raise the hue and cry,” he said, his breath in her ear, “I’ll tell the whole village that you have been with me and Lord le Wyse.”
The overpowering smell of ale and his bad breath made her stomach heave. She swallowed to stop herself from vomiting.
“What kind of spell have you put on Lord le Wyse? Your brothers and your mother want you to marry me. Why won’t he allow it?” His voice was slurred from too much drink, but as drunk as he was, he was still too strong for her. His fingers were like iron around her arm and her face, cutting into her flesh. “Do you think anyone will believe you over me? Stay quiet, or I’ll make you sorry, girl.”
The people of Glynval would believe the bailiff’s lies and she would be scorned even more than she had been before. But that was better than whatever the bailiff planned to do to her. She would scream and raise the hue and cry as soon as he removed his hand from her mouth, at the first opportunity.
He dragged her farther into the woods, her feet scrabbling to stay under her. “You’re an indentured servant. Who else will marry you? You should have realized you could never refuse me.” He squeezed her face mercilessly. She flailed at him, hitting the hand that covered her face. She wouldn’t let him hurt her. She would kill him first.
He went into a fit of dire threats and curses. “Stop clawing my hand, you little witch.” He caught her arm under his and pinned it to her side, gouging her ribs with his bony elbow. His voice sounded like an animal’s, growling and spitting.
God, help me. She managed to slip her hand into her dress pocket and pull out her knife.
Her head spun so, she was afraid she would lose consciousness. She gripped the knife, still not sure what to do with it. Should she stab him? Or wait for a better opportunity? Perhaps she could threaten him without having to cut him. He still held her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh and sending an ache all the way to her shoulder.
He sputtered, “If you make trouble for me, I’ll make double for you. I’ll ruin your reputation. Then who will help you? Not your brothers nor your poor mother. Nay, even Lord le Wyse will want naught to do with ye.”
Annabel’s heart turned over with fear. Lord le Wyse would believe her — there the bailiff was wrong — but the thought of Tom saying terrible things about her, the kind of things the priest was always saying … She would be an outcast. Even Lord le Wyse couldn’t protect her from what the villagers would say about her once they thought she was a loose maiden.
He increased the pressure on her arm, and in desperation she held up her knife until it caught a moonbeam and glimmered.
He spewed a new string of curses. “Ye’re possessed. A lunatic girl, waving a knife at your bailiff.”
He let go of her face and grabbed her wrist, giving it a sharp wrench. She tried to scream, but it came out as little more than a squeak, as pain and fear caused her fingers to involuntarily loosen. She watched the knife fall to the dirt. The bailiff let go of her arms and fell to the ground, groping for the weapon.