CHAPTER Twenty
Though the hour was late, Wharton sat beside the hearth with his hand clenched around the handle of a tall tankard. His wife had come to him wearing men’s clothing. He could send her to the executioner for breaking sumptuary laws. A woman of Lady Anne’s breeding should be well aware of the penalty. Had they stripped her naked and forced her? He closed his eyes and focused on a conjured image of Scottish barbarians hiking up their kilts and taking turns with her.
He stood and threw the tankard into the fire. He didn’t doubt his imaginings. He had led raids himself and used the women of the vanquished to satisfy his own raging appetite. War had a way of bringing out the savage in every man. Only a well-bred noble could walk away from such violence and return to behavior suitable to his social standing.
He plodded to the sideboard and reached for a flagon of brandy. He poured himself a goblet, needing something stronger to cool his blood. Wharton tossed it back when a light rap sounded on the door. Finally.
“Come.”
The physician stepped inside, clutching his black bag.
“Is it done?”
“Yes, my lord. The lady needs rest. She has been under considerable stress.”
Of course she would need rest, but that’s not what Wharton wanted. “Is she…Is she intact?”
“I believe so.”
“What on earth do you mean? Is she a virgin or not?”
“As I said, I believe so. The lighting in her chamber was very dim, I could not see up inside, though she is quite small.” Doctor Smallwood straightened and shook his finger. “As I said before, the only sure test is to examine the sheets after copulation.”
Wharton threw up his hands. “I am paying for an I believe so? If she has been compromised, I do not want to soil my person, damned you. I need an answer.”
Smallwood reached for the latch. “There is no evidence she has been compromised. If there is nothing else, my lord, I shall seek my bed.”
Wharton waived him away. The doctor departed with a bow as Master Denton strode into the room. “We’ve caught the bastard.”
Wharton frowned. “Only one?”
“He was alone.”
“What of my money?”
“My men are still chasing it, my lord. We found the skiff empty. It appears one accompanied Lady Anne while others intercepted the ransom.”
He slammed his fist on the table. “You mean to say you’ve lost a thousand pounds?”
“I did not say it was lost. ’Tis simply detained.”
Wharton cracked his thumb knuckles. He needed his coin returned. “And where is the traitor now?”
“Enjoying your hospitality on the rack, my lord.”
“Good.” Wharton poured two goblets of brandy and handed one to his henchman.
Denton bowed. “Serving me with your own hand, my lord?”
“This once, for bringing in the bastard.”
“Gratitude.”
Wharton took a sip and swirled it over his tongue. “Stretch him until his eyes bulge and then leave him. Let him think about his plight during the night.” He rubbed his chin. “We shall invite Lady Anne to attend the flogging in the morning.”
Denton tossed down his drink and placed the cup on the sideboard. His dark eyes bore through the baron as they always did. “Very well, my lord.” Denton strode out, his spurs jingling across the floorboards.
Wharton shivered. Though the man always made him feel uneasy, he knew his orders would be heeded. He licked his lips. He had caught the Scot—at least one of them. This would be yet another test for her ladyship. His hand wandered down and rubbed across his flaccid groin. Anne’s appearance had done nothing to stir him and the drink had benumbed him enough he knew he wouldn’t get a rise from the damnable thing even if he forced her to take him into her mouth.
After one last goblet of brandy, he headed to his bed. Tomorrow he’d send for Lady Anne. If the sheets were not bloody by the time he finished with her, she’d hang beside that plundering Highland rogue.
***
Calum tried to withhold his cries of pain, but the last turn of the crank wrenched a bellow from his gut that echoed across the dank dungeon. Stripped naked, one eye swollen shut, he lay atop a wooden rack, his hands and legs bound to the ratchets. They rotated the wheel, stretching the ropes tighter around his wrists and ankles. The last turn popped his wrist. The pain shot down his arm and roiled in his gut. Calum’s head spun and bile burned the back of his throat as he struggled to gasp a breath of air.
The evil man in black had returned and probed his broken wrist with a poker. Calum swallowed his grunt.
The man’s black eyes raked across his body. “You’re a rugged blighter, are you not?” He walked around the rack, poking at Calum’s legs and arms, studying him intently. “This will do. Leave him. We’ll resume in the morning.”
Calum’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. They intended to keep him suspended taut on the rack? He’d be dead by morning, his arms ripped from their sockets. He tried to swallow and keep his breathing shallow and even. They had yet to ask him a single question. No matter. He would die before he betrayed his clan.
They snuffed the torches and left him alone with the rats. His mouth so dry, he would give his beloved Sea Dragon for a sip of water. Every muscle in his body trembled. He flicked out his tongue and licked parched lips. He prayed it would soon be over. His clan would make good use of the thousand pounds and he had named John his successor.
Calum closed his eyes and prayed Anne was safely asleep in her bed. He nearly heaved again when he thought of the tyrant Baron claiming her. With a pained swallow, he focused his mind on the Sea Dragon, standing on the forward deck, the wind in his hair. How he loved the open sea, the smell of salty air and the flapping of the sails above. He would send his mind far away on a new journey, chasing after silver from the Americas. The pain ebbed as he dreamed of sailing to warmer seas—consciousness slipped from his grasp.
***
When a bucket of water splashed across his face, terror seized Calum’s gut. Opening his eyes, Calum became aware of a cold, hard touch on his private parts. He sputtered and blinked in quick succession to clear his vision. Every sinew in his body screamed in agony.
A rotund man, dressed in a fine leather doublet topped with a white ruff stood over him and raised his manhood with a dagger. “Did you put this in my wife?”
Acrid bile churned up Calum’s throat. His thighs involuntarily shuddered and his eyes bugged open. He forced his voice to croak out the words. “No. Never.”
The fat man—Wharton—pressed his knife into Calum’s most tender flesh and looked behind him. “What do you think, Master Denton, is he telling the truth?”
Calum blinked rapidly, panting, straining for every breath. Sweat streamed down his forehead and clouded his vision.
The man wearing black stepped into Calum’s view and surveyed him from head to toe. “Hmm. I’m surprised he’s still alive.”
Wharton smirked and slowly ran the knife across the base of Calum’s manhood, making a sharp cut. He pulled away the knife and turned the blade in his hand. “Where are you from, Scot?”
Calum raised his chin, but couldn’t see the extent of the damage Wharton had inflicted. His entire body convulsed with the effort to move.
“It looks as if he’s not experienced enough of our hospitality, yet.” Wharton chuckled. “Very well. Take him to the courtyard and tie him to the post.”
When they released the tension of the rack, Calum’s muscles burned as if seared by hot coals. His broken wrist dangled, swollen and blue. Before he could stretch out the stiffness, guards grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to the courtyard.
Blinded by the light, his eyes barely registered the shocked faces around him or the people who darted out of his path. He tried to work his legs beneath him, but they wobbled. “Water.”
“You won’t be needing a drink where you’re going,” a guard growled.
Calum tried to slide his good hand across his body to cover his manhood, but the jerking motion of the guards dragging him made it impossible. Hot blood streamed between his thighs from where Wharton had cut him. Calum dropped his gaze and let out a breath. Everything appeared to be still intact. He all but collapsed against the guards, who muscled him forward. A woman gasped. His mind sharpened. His eyes darted across the dozens of horrified faces until he saw her.
Anne stood behind two soldiers who guarded her with crossed battleaxes. She wore a gown of red silk. Topped with a matching wimple, she looked like an angel from heaven. Calum closed his eyes. He would take her image to the grave.
***
Anne nearly vomited when they dragged Calum into the courtyard. She knew they were watching for her reaction, but she could not hide the shock and horror of seeing Calum beaten and stripped naked. With one eye half closed by an angry purple bruise, she barely recognized his face. Blood and dirt smudged his entire body.
She covered her mouth with her hand. Wharton and his henchman didn’t even have the decency to cover his manhood, and blood streamed between his legs as if he were a woman with her menses. Was this the baron’s idea of humiliation? The gruesome sight of seeing Calum in such abominable pain sent shivers needling up her spine. Clenching her fists and pressing them to her stomach, she had to cast her gaze away.
The stench of lavender mixed with male sweat invaded her senses. Wharton ran an uninvited hand down her back. “Your new attire is pleasing, my lady.” He used his pointer finger to force her face toward Calum. The guardsmen tied him to the whipping post. “You must watch this, wife. I’m sure it will please you that your pirate is getting his due punishment.”
Anne jerked her head away from Wharton’s touch but her eyes remained fixed on Calum. The muscles in his back bulged beneath taut, dirty skin. She stole a glance at Wharton. He watched her, his large belly protruding beneath his doublet and hanging over his velvet breeches. No wonder he’s subjected Calum to such humiliation. He cannot stand to gaze upon the powerful and lean back of a younger man.
Hands clenched at her sides, Anne lifted her. Denton stepped behind Calum with a cat ‘o nine tails. The hideous man actually grinned when he snapped his arm back and hurled it forward with brutish force. The biting tongues of leather sliced through Calum’s skin. He arched his back, but uttered not a grunt of pain. Nine streaks of blood oozed down his back and ran in streams over his buttocks.
“Where are your men holed up?” Denton growled.
“Stop this,” Anne said through clenched teeth.
Denton recoiled his arm to issue another lash. The whip snapped out and bloody lines crisscrossed Calum’s back.
As if her own skin had been sliced open, Anne spun her head toward Wharton. “Raasay. He’s from Raasay. Now stop this. Can you not see you’ve nearly killed him?”
Wharton’s mouth formed a thin line. His face tightened, giving a squint to his eye. He nodded at Denton who delivered another savage blow. Anne suppressed a heave. Had she betrayed Calum? No. She would do anything so he might live. And why hadn’t they simply asked her? Could this public display of brutality have been avoided?
Wharton grabbed her arm and dragged her up to Calum. He took her by the shoulders and pressed his mouth against her ear. “Did you lay with this man?”
Anne’s ears blazed with a fire roaring inside them. “Are you mad?” She wrenched her shoulders out from under his grasp, but kept her voice low so as not to be heard by the surrounding crowd. “Your physician verified the fact I remain untouched last night. I’ll not have my virtue sullied in this public forum.”
Wharton whipped his hand back so fast Anne didn’t see the slap coming. She nearly fell into Calum from the force of the blow. Her hand flew to her cheek. The sting prickled like a thousand needles. Gasps and cackles erupted from the crowd.
Calum growled through his teeth. “Leave her be.”
Wharton stepped up to him. “What is she to you?”
“Nothing. She’s done nothing.” His voice filled with agony, ripping out Anne’s heart. She eyed Wharton’s dagger. If only she could snatch it from his belt and cut Calum’s bindings. She scanned the courtyard. Guards surrounded them. There was no chance for escape. Not from here.
Wharton threw his head back and laughed. “A chivalrous pirate? Do you fancy my wife?”
Panting, Calum said not a word, his blood splattering the ground around him.
Wharton yanked Anne to his side. “This man is guilty of treason and pirating on the high seas. He will be hanged, drawn and quartered at dawn on the morrow. His head will be spiked on the citadel as a warning to all who think to cross me.”
“No,” Anne croaked. The world around her began to spin out of control. She couldn’t breathe under her constricting stays. Wharton pulled her into the crowd. She reached out her hand but guards surrounded Calum.
Without a word, the baron dragged her into the inn and up to her chamber. He pushed her inside and slammed the door behind him. “I watched you. You have feelings for that traitorous cur.”
He sauntered toward her, and Anne clutched her hands against her chest. “He means naught to me.”
“What happened during time you were away? Did he touch you like this?” Wharton yanked her into his body and ran a chubby hand across her breast. It felt grating, sick, for it was nothing gentle and nothing like Calum’s touch.
“Of course not. Calum didn’t know I was aboard the Flying Swan. He worked as quickly as he could to return me to England.” Anne gritted her teeth and feigned her best adoring gaze upon her unsightly husband. “To you, my lord.”
“Do not seek to placate me, woman. I can see through your pretty exterior.”
“You must stop this insanity. I was abducted en route to you. I have done nothing wrong.”
He raked his eyes down her body and stepped toward her. “So you say.”
Anne’s fists flew to her hips. She stood her ground and faced him.
Wharton wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and tightened his grasp. She wanted to cry out, but he shoved his mouth onto hers. Anne tried to pull away but he held her fast. It took every effort to remain calm and allow Wharton to thrust his tongue in her mouth, but she could not bring herself to respond. She wanted to bite down. No. That would be a costly mistake.
When he finished, Anne backed away. He advanced with revulsion in his eyes, rubbing his hands. “I’ll not have my wife looking at another man. Do you understand?” With a quick step, he drew his arm back and slammed his fist into her gut.
Anne doubled over, and he shoved her to the floor.
“Answer me!”
Sucking in air, tears burned her eyes. “I-I understand.”
With a step, he drove the tip of his shoe into her side and pushed her hip into the hardwood. Anne cowered, cradling her head with her hand. He bent down, picked her up and tossed her onto the bed.
She grasped a pillow for protection. “Stop. Please.”
Wharton untied the front of his breeches and climbed on top of her. Anne pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She screamed as he fought to open her arms and straighten her legs. He lay forward and pinned her under his weight. Anne struggled, gasping for breath. Her mind flooded with images of the brute in the stable, forcing her. Calum wasn’t here to fight for her. Wharton tugged up her gown. Holding her down, he fondled himself. Anne cried out, writhing beneath him, barely able to breathe.
She glanced down. He yanked on his manhood with rapid strokes, but it remained flaccid. He lifted his face to her, his eyes hard. He shoved himself back into his breeches. “We’ll resume this later when my blood has cooled.”
Anne rolled out from under him and curled into a ball. The door slammed. He would be back. When?
Tears welled in her eyes and her throat burned with inaudible screams. They’re going to kill Calum. They cannot. They cannot.
Gathering her wits, Anne rose and tiptoed across the room. She pressed her ear to the door. Everything remained silent. She cracked it open. Two battleaxes crossed before her. She closed the door, turned the lock, and drew in a ragged breath. As she feared, she had married a monster. Anne held her head with her hands and staggered to the bed. She needed her wits. How could she escape this nightmare, and save Calum from the gallows?