Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
ROWEN
In the centre of Tidesfar’s ballroom, the Duke sat on a large gilt chair upholstered in blue velvet. His throne. Rowen drained another glass of wine. His father had been seated throughout most of the party held for his friends. The gout had flared back.
The music came to a halt, and the guests parted. Two men advanced, and between them a girl in a white gown, her hands held fast in theirs.
They came to a stop before the Duke. “On this fine day, in celebration of Your Grace’s birthday, we have brought you a most unique and dear gift. May we present, our niece,” said one of the men.
The girl knelt on her knees before him, and the Duke’s back straightened, an eyebrow quivering, lips parting as he studied his gift. “She is a pretty lamb,” the Duke murmured, and those words, that tone of his, sent icy prickles lashing around Rowen’s neck. “Why did you bring her here tonight?”
“As you remember, Your Grace, we had come to terms, an agreement about the girl. We have not had the pleasure of hearing back from you...” An awkward silence filled the room as the Duke’s eyes narrowed on the gentleman.
“We esteem your friendship and generosity, Your Grace. You are our dearest friend all these many years.”
“You are most eager, it would seem, Godwin.”
“We only thought you would like to see her first…” Mr. Godwin bowed.
The solicitous courtier. “The girl has been our ward almost all her life, and we have kept the maiden safe and secure from all eyes until such time as we could present her to the worthiest of men. You, Your Grace, are the worthiest of men.”
Godwin flattered with an ornate tone and such ease. Obviously, he knew the Duke well, and it was important to him to resolve the bargain.
The Duke rose from his chair and approached the girl, who was utterly still. He lifted the veil that covered her head and let out a groan. The girl raised her chin slightly, her eyes remaining downcast. She lifted her gaze and met his father’s.
Rowen’s blood froze.
My forest nymph.
Godwin held the girl’s hand and offered it to his father. “As we had agreed, Your Grace?”
“Agreed? To what?” was the Duke’s reply.
Rowen’s lips pressed together. Just as his father’s mistress had gleefully informed him in London, his father’s memory had lapses.
The uncle moved forward and whispered, “For you and she to marry? We had brought you the agreement to sign?”
His father was to marry her? This was what he had meant when he’d told Rowen he had planned a “spectacle” to humiliate and infuriate his mistress. Marriage to a young girl.
The Duke’s face relaxed. “Ah. Ah yes. Yes. Yes.” His voice had become warmer as he remembered.
“And in return for her hand,” Alastair gently continued. “Our debts to you will be absolved and taken care of in the village.”
The Duke did not respond. He was mesmerised by the girl. The girl that Rowen had kissed and held and touched and marvelled at only hours before.
“Your Grace?” insisted Godwin.
“I say, Godwin?” exclaimed one of the guests. “How is it we have never seen her before?”
“Excellent question!” remarked the Duke.
“She has not been out in society,” replied Alastair.
“He may be lying, Your Grace!” hissed a voice in the darkness, then another.
“She is our niece. She has never left our home.”
“Come now, Godwin. Such a doting, possessive uncle?” The Duke chuckled. “Nowadays, all the pretty girls are out and about early. Perhaps she is not your niece but one of your trollops masquerading as your relation in order to steal from me?”
“Your Grace, we would never dare prove false to you. She is our niece, and I have kept her safe all these years. The girl is a virgin.”
The guests audibly groaned.
Godwin lifted his chin at the guests’ reaction to his declaration. Mr. Godwin certainly knew of his father’s addictions and was making an appealing play.
The Duke took the girl’s hand from her uncle, his gaze sliding down and up her figure. “She is a delight,” the Duke’s voice had taken on that rich rolling tenor that signalled he was well pleased.
They’d put her in a white gown, but it was not an innocent girl’s dress. The bodice was tight and cut low. His father’s gaze landed on the curve of her full breasts, which peaked from the bodice, his lips curling.
Rowen’s heart thudded in his chest at the memory of his own desire for her that had overwhelmed him in the forest.
“Tell us your name, my sweet?” The Duke’s lips brushed her hand.
“Cassandra.” That elegant weave of sound that was her voice, enunciating those silken syllables, lashed through his insides, burning him.
Cassandra.
Lady Cassandra. Tristan’s sister. Who’d been left in her uncles’ care. The girl he had promised to check in on. Not only had he never done so as Tristan had asked him to, but he’d taken her maidenhood like some Viking raider who’d come upon her in the woods.
The girl he had promised to protect, he had bloody ruined. And now here she was, being offered to his father in payment of her uncles’ debts.
The bile burned in the back of his throat. This is why Tristan had made him promise to look out for her. He knew his uncles were not to be trusted.
Devil take it.
Why had he not guessed at who she was when he came upon her? A girl wandering about his property, which bordered her family’s. Instead, he’d assumed she was some village wife, tavern wench, or servant. Even a scout for a poacher. Why had the possibility not occurred to him?
Because of his weak male vanity, because of the opportunity to have a most willing and very attractive girl when he was angry and feeling sorry for himself. He gritted his teeth.
Confound it.
The prostitutes in the room craned their necks to see what all the fuss was about. Many times, his father had young virgins procured for his parties as if they were the rarest of French wines and brandies he could offer his guests. His parties had become infamous for these special delights.
The hum in the room swelled as all the men pressed forward, circling her. She stood at the centre, still. Every gaze fixed. Every hand inching closer.
Rowen’s scalp prickled with ice as his father’s fingers touched the girl’s throat. On a tiny gasp, she raised her gaze to his. “Insolent child, cast your eyes down.” She followed his command.
“Yes, oh yes…the Viscount’s daughter,” said the Duke. “Child, as a young man, when I was looking to marry, I had my eye on your mother. A fine-looking female. Alas, she had been promised to your father. But now, I shall have her delectable daughter.”
The girl’s shoulders stiffened visibly. The walls closed in on Rowen.
“Your Grace?” Godwin’s hoarse voice cut through the feral fog. “Are we agreed on terms?”
“Terms?”
“The signing of our terms must be now, or I cannot relinquish the girl.”
“Relinquish?” His father’s voice was sharp. “You are in no position to dictate terms or time to me.”
“I-I only meant to say that—”
“You have no say.” The Duke’s voice thundered through the room. Rowen’s spine stiffened at the familiar sight and sound of his father’s irritation unleashed. The Duke relished his power over these eager and desperate men, and they had pushed when they shouldn’t have.
Now they would pay a price.
The Duke narrowed his eyes at them. “Do you know how much money you owe me? How many years I have allowed your humiliation to slide? How deep my largesse to you and your brother has gone? Why, no one else would ever be so generous to two such as you.”
“Forgive me, your Grace. You have been so very generous, and we are indeed grateful,” exclaimed Godwin, his hands at his chest. All we ask is for her inheritance which, upon her marriage, shall be released.
It will be of no burden to yourself. None at all.
We would never wish that. Simply an exchange, and we shall nevermore bother you again. But we must sign—”
“This is most tiresome. This is my birthday celebration, and now I wish to see if this little lamb pleases me.”
“Your Grace?” The uncle slanted his head, his hands now stiff at his side.
“I wish to see if she is to my liking. If she is obedient in every way.” The Duke’s hand cupped the girl’s breast, and she let out a tiny gasp as her uncle’s eyes widened.
Rage roiled in Rowen’s blood.
“This is not what we had agreed upon,” Godwin raised his voice.
“Silence!” The Duke’s hand rose in the air, and two burly manservants took hold of the two uncles and pushed them away from His Grace.
“This is a humiliation!” Godwin cried out. “We had an agreement.”
The Duke approached Godwin. “I have already paid for the girl for years and years, a thousand times over.”
This was where his father flourished. That same flip of logic, that same threatening tone that Rowen had endured over the years now seemed more vile, more horrible than ever before.
“I shall indeed marry her and fill her belly with my seed.”
Rowen’s hands clenched into fists as he fought the nausea rising in his throat.
“How wonderful, Your Grace,” Godwin sputtered.
“But first, I must teach you a lesson in humility and obedience.”
Rowen’s lungs burned. This was the world he knew: authority, humiliation, obedience. And now he saw it was the world in which Cassandra too had been living.
The two uncles struggled in their captors’ grip as the Duke returned his attention to the girl.
He walked about her in a circle, studying her, as if she were a newly acquired sculpture with which he was intrigued.
“She is beautiful, is she not, my friends?” He touched a lock of her hair that was beside her cheek, and she remained still, her eyes fixed to the floor as the guests eagerly remarked on the girl’s beauty.
“You are mine to do with as I please. Say it, my lamb.”
The guests tittered and groaned in the darkness. A darkness that filled Rowen’s vision.
“I understand,” her voice came clear and strong in the grand room.
The old man desired piteousness and desperation from his females.
“Say you are mine.”
“I am yours.”
“Ahhh…” The Duke pulled her to him and planted a kiss on her mouth. She did not struggle or cry out. She was quite still.
A roar rose in Rowen’s throat. He had taken those warm, full lips this very morning, and their lush sweetness had been given to him freely. Now she was a prisoner. A prisoner in his father’s poisoned claws.
The Duke’s head slanted. “Little lamb, are you not afraid?”
Rowen stilled. Cassandra had not displayed the desired fear, or panic, or struggle.
“Should I be, sir?”
Gasps and nervous laughter broke out. Now his father would punish the girl for the sin of bravery. Nay, arrogance.
The Duke’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you most certainly should be afraid, child.”
He launched at her and bit her neck. The girl cried out. Blood trickled down her throat. The guests marveled, whispers and gasps racing through the room. Rowen’s veins filled with molten dread at what might come next.
He wouldn’t dare.
His father was unable to swive. No matter how excited he was by the prospect, he wouldn’t take the chance in public, would he?
“I know you Godwins. The two of you could have been plundering the girl all these years, and now are trying to pass her off to me? She certainly would not be worth the coin you are asking.”
“No, Your Grace! I promise you.”
“Is she even yours to offer?”
“We are her only living relations.”
“I need to be sure.” The Duke motioned to his servants, and they took the girl in hand. Lady Cassandra was pushed chest down onto a small table that had been brought forth.
Rowen’s heart thundered in his chest. He had put her in danger. He knew very well that his father saw himself as some kind of medieval warlord and was relishing the part. The Duke lifted the girl’s skirts, revealing her bare flesh. A servant appeared at his side and held out his cane.
The Duke slid the tip of the cane up the back of the girl’s long leg, and in a swift blur of motion, struck her. The girl cried out as a red welt appeared on her flesh. Rowen’s body shook. The Duke let out a groan at the sight.
“Your Grace, this innocent girl is your intended. Have mercy on her!” Godwin pleaded.
“I shall treat my intended as I wish. And I wish to see how she endures, for my wife must endure.” He laughed, and a round of warm laughter ensued.
His father wanted to punish the girl for being so damned fetching because he was unable to take her. And so he would put all his passions into his cane to show his prowess over her and his authority over her uncles so that no one would ever again forget their place.
No, you could never forget your place.
The Duke tapped the cane gently over the girl’s buttocks, and her legs visibly tensed. “Are you afraid now, little lamb?”