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Authors: Johanna Lindsey
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entertain oneâs guest with a companion, and while this girl seemed a bit reluctant to join him, he would soon warm her.
Without speaking, Rowland pulled her into his room and closed the door. He did not let go of her for fear that he would lose her in the dark. But he loosened his hold when he heard her crying.
âI will not hurt you,â he said gently. âI do not give pain without reason, so you must not fear me.â
Rowland, still drugged, did not realize that he was slurring his words and that his French was interspersed with the old Norse tongue his father had taught him long ago.
âIs it my size that frightens you?â he asked, gazingdown at her small form. âI am not much different from any other man.â As he stood gazing down at her, he suddenly recognized her.
âBe damned, woman, you try my patience sorely! Have you not given enough trouble for one day? I will cajole you no more, but take what your mistress has sent me and be done with you!â
Brigitte had been terrified from the moment he began to speak, for Druodaâs chamber was across from them, and she was sure she would hear. But she could not understand what he was saying. He was obviously drunk, slurring his words, but he was also using foreign words. His tone was harsh, and that was enough to make her see that she was again thwarted. There would be no escape for her tonight.
Her silence led Rowland to think she had acquiesced, and he began fumbling with his clothes. But the wine had slowed not only his wits. Desire was not there. So he toyed with the woman, shoving her down onto the pallet and opening her cloak, not in the least surprised to find her naked beneath. His fingers touched the smoothness of her legs and thighs, and the warmth between her legs. He continued his exploration roughly, moving toward her breasts. They were ample breasts, full and ripe for squeezing. There would be bruises there come morning, marks from the strength Rowland was using without realizing it.
But he was not hurting Brigitte. Nothing could hurt her. She had fainted the moment her back touched the pallet with such brutal force. She had been naked beneath the cloak because she could not bear to have anything touch her back. She had hardlybeen able to stand the cloak. To touch her throbbing back to the rough pallet had been beyond endurance.
But Rowland did not know she was unconscious. Nor did he realize that his movements were slowing, or that he was nearly asleep. As soon as he positioned himself for thrusting, Rowland passed out.
Chapter Eight
E arly the next day, Hildegard pounded on the Normanâs door, wanting the knight away as soon as possible. A second later a terrified scream came from within, and Hildegard quickly threw open the door.
âGod in Heaven!â she gasped, seeing Brigitte on the pallet beneath the Norman, their bodies naked and entwined. âDruoda will kill someone for this!â
She hurried from the room, leaving Brigitte and Rowland looking at each other, startled and embarrassed.
Brigitte pushed him away, moaning as she shoved her back into the mattress. The pain was not as bad as it had been, but her back was still sore. She had still not escaped Druoda, and it was this man who had stopped her twice.
All that had happened to her yesterday was terrible enough, and now it seemed she had also been raped. Was there ever a woman as cursed as she was? Raped, but thank God she had fainted and could not recall the act. For that single mercy, Brigitte was grateful.
Rowland got up without a word and dressed quickly. He could not help glancing down at the naked body that had been pressed so warmly againsthis. He grunted. Her body had been pleasing to lie next to and to look upon, which was more than he could say for the rest of her. She was filthy and bedraggled. He could not even guess her age, though her body was firm and she had a sweetly shaped face. He recalled that her voice was young and
Without speaking, Rowland pulled her into his room and closed the door. He did not let go of her for fear that he would lose her in the dark. But he loosened his hold when he heard her crying.
âI will not hurt you,â he said gently. âI do not give pain without reason, so you must not fear me.â
Rowland, still drugged, did not realize that he was slurring his words and that his French was interspersed with the old Norse tongue his father had taught him long ago.
âIs it my size that frightens you?â he asked, gazingdown at her small form. âI am not much different from any other man.â As he stood gazing down at her, he suddenly recognized her.
âBe damned, woman, you try my patience sorely! Have you not given enough trouble for one day? I will cajole you no more, but take what your mistress has sent me and be done with you!â
Brigitte had been terrified from the moment he began to speak, for Druodaâs chamber was across from them, and she was sure she would hear. But she could not understand what he was saying. He was obviously drunk, slurring his words, but he was also using foreign words. His tone was harsh, and that was enough to make her see that she was again thwarted. There would be no escape for her tonight.
Her silence led Rowland to think she had acquiesced, and he began fumbling with his clothes. But the wine had slowed not only his wits. Desire was not there. So he toyed with the woman, shoving her down onto the pallet and opening her cloak, not in the least surprised to find her naked beneath. His fingers touched the smoothness of her legs and thighs, and the warmth between her legs. He continued his exploration roughly, moving toward her breasts. They were ample breasts, full and ripe for squeezing. There would be bruises there come morning, marks from the strength Rowland was using without realizing it.
But he was not hurting Brigitte. Nothing could hurt her. She had fainted the moment her back touched the pallet with such brutal force. She had been naked beneath the cloak because she could not bear to have anything touch her back. She had hardlybeen able to stand the cloak. To touch her throbbing back to the rough pallet had been beyond endurance.
But Rowland did not know she was unconscious. Nor did he realize that his movements were slowing, or that he was nearly asleep. As soon as he positioned himself for thrusting, Rowland passed out.
Chapter Eight
E arly the next day, Hildegard pounded on the Normanâs door, wanting the knight away as soon as possible. A second later a terrified scream came from within, and Hildegard quickly threw open the door.
âGod in Heaven!â she gasped, seeing Brigitte on the pallet beneath the Norman, their bodies naked and entwined. âDruoda will kill someone for this!â
She hurried from the room, leaving Brigitte and Rowland looking at each other, startled and embarrassed.
Brigitte pushed him away, moaning as she shoved her back into the mattress. The pain was not as bad as it had been, but her back was still sore. She had still not escaped Druoda, and it was this man who had stopped her twice.
All that had happened to her yesterday was terrible enough, and now it seemed she had also been raped. Was there ever a woman as cursed as she was? Raped, but thank God she had fainted and could not recall the act. For that single mercy, Brigitte was grateful.
Rowland got up without a word and dressed quickly. He could not help glancing down at the naked body that had been pressed so warmly againsthis. He grunted. Her body had been pleasing to lie next to and to look upon, which was more than he could say for the rest of her. She was filthy and bedraggled. He could not even guess her age, though her body was firm and she had a sweetly shaped face. He recalled that her voice was young and
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