Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
The tormented moans from my fellow prisoners faded into silence, penetrated by an occasional cough or a cry and the scuffle of rats.
The middle of the night had arrived—that eerie hush a few hours before the dawn which children believed to be filled with monsters.
Mothers and nursemaids always said that no such things existed.
But I knew different.
I must have fallen asleep, because I saw Percy in my cell.
His empty eye sockets stared at me reproachfully, as he berated me for betraying him and told me that I would soon betray another.
I cried at him to leave me alone and the inmates’ voices joined in until one began to cackle with laughter and sing coarsely.
How long before I joined them in madness?
As patches of gray signaled the dawn I heard footsteps.
The voices of those around me howled as our host approached, each one fearful that they were the unfortunate soul to receive his attentions.
But it was my door that opened. I tried to stand, but a sharp pain shot through my arm, and I fell back as de Tourrard entered the cell.
“Good morning, Lisetta,” he said. “I trust you slept comfortably.”
“Where is my son?”
“Ah, you refer to my heir.” His teeth gleamed as he grinned. “My current heir is safe. I shall reunite you soon, but first we must resume our conversation. ’Twas most ungallant of me to stop you when you were being so—talkative.”
Blanchard awaited us in the torture chamber, the tools of his trade set out before him. A fire burned in a brazier, and the stench of oil caught in the back of my throat.
De Tourrard held me against his body, and I shuddered in revulsion as his manhood grew hard against my buttocks. He let out a low chuckle and pressed his face in my hair, inhaling deeply
“Come, come Lisetta,” he said, his voice a low slither. “I promise to satisfy you considerably more than my cousin ever did.”
He forced my head back and covered my mouth with his, plunging his tongue inside, so deep that I fought for breath.
I gagged at the obscene taste of him—the taste of sour wine and pure evil, but he only held me firmer, crushing my arm in his grip until it burned as if it were on fire.
Then I bit down, tasting blood. He released me and, snarling with anger, backhanded me across the face. I staggered back, cradling my cheek.
“Blanchard!” de Tourrard snarled.
The surgeon approached, holding something aloft. It was an iron poker, its tip glowing a dull orange. He spat on the end and his mouth stretched into a grin as I jumped at the angry hiss.
“Careful, my dear,” de Tourrard purred. “If you don’t remain still you could harm yourself more than Blanchard intends. We wouldn’t wish you to lose too much of your beauty.”
With his free hand, the surgeon grasped the front of my gown and tore at the material, exposing my breasts.
He studied them with a cool disinterest and de Tourrard laughed.
“You cannot seduce Blanchard into lenience, my dear,” he said. “I trust him completely, for he cannot be swayed by a whore’s tactics.”
He tightened his grip on me.
“Do not fight it, Lisetta. This will happen whether you wish it or no. Better for you if you remain talkative, but first you need a lesson in courtesy.”
He nodded to the surgeon who stepped forward.
Then, all sensation gave way to an intense burning as the tip of the poker touched my shoulder.
I clenched my teeth and tasted blood. The odor of burning flesh accompanied the hiss of hot metal against melting skin.
The pain was unbearable. My lungs burned as I screamed until my mind collapsed into blessed darkness.
When I regained consciousness, I was lying on my back. For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, praying that this was just another nightmare, that I was back at Jack and Lily’s home. But the smell of burning flesh—my flesh—told me otherwise. I tried to move but metal restraints held me down.
Blanchard had chained me to a bench. God help me, I was going to die here.
De Tourrard’s face appeared above me.
“Ah, Blanchard,” he said. “Our guest is ready for you again. I trust, my dear, you now appreciate the benefit of conversation. Now, tell us where you have been living with your lover.”
“My husband,” I spat back, “and you’re a fool to think I would betray him.”
The door creaked open.
“Ah, how timely,” de Tourrard said. “The family reunited. I believe you already know my whore.”
His body blocked my line of sight but when he moved I saw a woman in the doorway. She held something in her arms, and it gave a small squeal which pierced my heart with recognition.
“Geoffrey,” I croaked. “No! Don’t let him see this! Woman—take him out!”
She shook her head. “I’ll take no orders from you.”
I recognized her voice.
“Celia—sweet Lord!”
“Aye, ’tis me,” she replied, “nursemaid to a whore’s bastard.”
De Tourrard let out a low snarl. “Do not speak of whores, woman.”
He struck Celia across the face. She staggered under the blow and cowered, her face taut with fear. Once again I found myself pitying her, though she loathed me.
Then de Tourrard motioned to Blanchard who pulled the poker out of the brazier and handed it to him. He held it in front of my face, and the heat burned against my skin.
“I believe we were discussing the preservation of your beauty, Lisetta,” he said. “It will break my heart to see it destroyed.”
He sighed wistfully.
“Do you know what I deem to be your most beautiful feature?”
I shook my head, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response.
He shrugged his shoulders. “It matters not,” he said. “I shall tell you anyway. It’s your eyes. They are gray as a storm cloud. How it will break my heart to harm them! My consolation is that you have two. One beautiful eye will remain after today.”
Celia gave a muffled cry.
“Silence, whore!” de Tourrard barked.
He fisted my hair and yanked my head up, holding the poker close. The heat stung my eyes, but I kept them open. If this was to be the last time I looked upon de Tourrard, I wanted him to see the hatred I bore him.
“We both know that you will betray him eventually,” he said. “Why not save yourself—and me—the pain of seeing your eyes turn to dust?”
I forced a smile, putting on the mask I had worn for his cousin, and spoke coldly and clearly.
“Then turn them to dust, de Tourrard, for I will never betray the man I love. I would join you in hell first.”
He edged the poker closer and a searing pain speared through my head.
Tears blurred my vision while I waiting for the agony.
Never before had Maman’s advice been so beneficial.
I shifted my focus away from the poker in front of me and began to count, slowly, in my mind.
By the time I counted to ten it would all be over.
Before I reached five, hands fumbled at my restraints. De Tourrard sat me up and returned the poker to the surgeon. Celia watched me but her expression no longer showed contempt. I almost thought I saw admiration in her eyes, then it was replaced by fear as Blanchard moved toward her.
“You see, Celia,” de Tourrard said, “Though she may be a fool, Lisetta is more of a lady than you could ever aspire to be. You squealed like an old sow to betray her while you spread your thighs for me in the dirt.”
He turned to me. “You have passed a test, my love.”
“A-am I free to go?” I said, unable to suppress the flare of hope.
“No, my dear,” he laughed. “But, if the love you bear the bastard you married will not loosen your tongue, I’ll wager the love you bear his brat will.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered, fear solidifying in the pit of my stomach.
“The child is comely, is he not?” de Tourrard said. “And, he has his mother’s eyes.”
“No!” I cried. “God, no, Wulfric! Have mercy—you said he was to be your heir!”
“You little fool!” de Tourrard snarled. “He’s as disposable as that whore who holds him.
If you refuse to talk, then you shall live the rest of your life knowing what your lack of co-operation did to him while I chain you to the wall and rut you daily until you give me a son.
Or, you can see him grow to be a fine man—a de Tourrard.
But I swear to you, Lisetta; only death will separate that child from me. ”
“You’re insane,” I cried, “leave him alone!”
“Are you willing to talk?”
Geoffrey’s little hand poked out from the blanket, and he squirmed in Celia’s arms, seemingly aware of the danger. Blanchard clasped my son’s wrist and lifted the poker.
“Stop!” I screamed. “Please! I-I’ll tell you what you want if you leave him be.”
“All I need is the name of the village, my dear.”
I shook my head. “First, give me my son.”
“You are in no position to bargain.”
De Tourrard had won. He had given me an impossible choice—to risk the life of my husband, whom I loved, or to destroy my innocent son, who depended on me. The choice was simple. Vane could fight. He had a chance if I betrayed him. But Geoffrey had none.
“Balsdean,” I whispered, my voice thick with defeat. “H-he’s in the village Balsdean.”
De Tourrard’s countenance changed almost immediately, becoming the charming, handsome courtier I had met as a child. Even then I had not trusted the dead expression in his eyes. He took my arm, praising my loyalty, and bade Celia follow us, chatting as if we had been on a pleasant excursion.
He returned me to the bedchamber.
“Give me my son.” I hissed, gritting my teeth in pain, my shoulder pulsing with a raging fire.
“Later, my love,” he purred. “First someone must tend to your shoulder for you have had an unfortunate accident. As soon as you are recovered you will ride with me to Balsdean so the bastard can see who betrayed him. It shall be our first outing as a family. How pleasant! Geoffrey will enjoy riding with his new papa.”
Clasping the back of my neck, he drew me to him.
“My beautiful bride. I fear you would not please me tonight, but we have the rest of our lives to relish each other.”
I turned my head away in disgust as he caressed my cheek, running his fingertips across my mouth, and I tasted soot on his skin. He pushed me into the chamber.
“Come, Celia.”
I gave a sob at the sight of her holding my precious child.
Standing in the doorway she cradled him almost lovingly, her eyes moist with tears.
She dropped a curtsey before following de Tourrard out of the chamber.
The door closed behind her, and the key turned in the lock.
De Tourrard thought to imprison me but he would never understand the love a mother has for her child.
Though I longed for freedom I could not leave while he had my son.