Read Online Secret Song by Catherine Coulter - Free Book Online Page A

Please do not shame me.”
    The earl paid no attention. He was as determined as he was excited, his groin twisting with painful need. He wanted to touch her, thrust his finger inside her, feel her soft woman’s flesh. He felt sweat break out on his forehead, sweat from his growing lust. Daria felt one of his large hands on her belly, his fingers splayed outward, holding her flat, and his other hand was pulling at her wool skirt, yanking it up, ripping it in his haste, and she felt the chill air on her thighs. She cried out and began to struggle, frantically trying to jerk away from him. His large hand clamped about her knee and squeezed. She cried out against the sudden pain.
    â€œMake no more struggles. Lie still and I will be through quickly.”
    But she couldn’t make herself lie there like a helpless creature, motionless and obedient to his will, whilst he humiliated her, and looked at her and touched her. Not with Roland standing so close, looking wild and furious and nearly savage with rage. Then she realized if she continued to fight him, Roland would attack him and most likely all would be lost. And Roland would die.
    To acquiesce to this, the humiliation of it threatened to choke her, but she forced herself to still, closing her eyes against the knowledge of what he was going to do to her. It cost her dearly, but she held herself perfectly rigid, enduring because she had to endure. The earl looked up at her, then grunted, pleased with her surrender.
    And Roland understood. He hated watching this, hated the earl’s hand touching her. He saw his large hand press her legs wide apart, saw his finger disappear between her thighs, and knew he was touching her. He shook with the compulsion to kill him, yet he knew, as did Daria, that they would have little or no chance to escape, not if he gave in to his fury and killed the earl now. He forced himself to stand there stiff and tense and mute, watching, and it was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. The earl’s face was flushed dark with lust and his breathing was loud in the chamber.
    Daria whimpered when one of the earl’s thick fingers thrust inside her. As he probed deeper into her, she cried out with the pain of his roughness. He frowned at her and continued deeper, widening her, preparing her for his sex, for he had every intention of taking her soon, regardless. But he knew she was a maid, aye, he knew, but he’d wanted to touch her, to feel her soft flesh.
    Finally he withdrew his finger from her body, and his hand from beneath her skirts. He jerked her gown down over her legs. “She is a maid,” he said, and he looked down into her face as he spoke.
    â€œOpen your eyes, damn you. I will take you to wive and you will be loyal and obedient to me, your lord and your husband. Do you understand me, Daria? Even though you are flesh of your uncle’s lewd flesh, it matters not, for you will forget his loathsome nature and bind yourself to me and become what I demand.”
    The earl rose and looked down at her again. “Rise and straighten yourself. Father, you are my witness that she is still a virgin. Now that it is proved, let us leave her alone.”
    Roland nodded and his eyes dropped. He very nearly leapt on the earl in that moment, for he saw that his sex bulged against the cloth of his tunic, thick and hard.
    He didn’t look at Daria, for he couldn’t bear to see on her pale face the misery he knew she felt. He forced himself to nod again, and motioned the earl to go ahead of him out of the bedchamber. He knew deep down that the earl would return to ravish her. If the Benedictine priest, Father Corinthian, had not been here bearing witness, the earl would have continued what he was doing. He would have ravished her. But he would return. He would return tonight; Roland knew it. He knew he must get her away from Tyberton first or he would have failed.
    Still his rage made him tremble, and he was