Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
CASSANDRA
She squeezed her eyes shut. This, she reminded herself, this was why she was here.
To ruin her uncles.
Ruin them forever. Whatever it took.
The old Duke’s cane slid down her bare flesh and struck her once again, sending hot tingling flares all through her. Her knees weakened, and her blurry gaze filled with his guests, their attention fixed on her in the candlelit dimness of the vast room.
Demons all of them.
A trickle slid around her neck. Her blood from his bite? She relished it. They would not see more blood from her tonight, these men. She had taken away their sick pleasure, had she not? A triumph. Her triumph.
She had enjoyed congress with a fine-looking man. They could not take that away from her. It had been quick and fierce and sharp, but it had been honest, for it had been her choice. If she were to die tonight, it would not be without such an experience.
Murmurs of excitement raced through the room. The shadowy figures seemed to close in around her. The sudden warmth of their bodies and the smell of their colognes sickened her insides.
“Are we to have an auction for the girl as we did the month before last?” asked one.
Applause and cheers rang out, and a number of men declared themselves in rapid fire as they pressed forward.
“Yes!”
“I beg you, Your Grace…”
The Duke’s voice boomed. “I would not give this budding flower to any of you vipers!”
Her fingernails dug into the wooden table.
“Nay, I have a most excellent idea for our entertainment this evening.” The Duke’s gaze stuck on a figure in the shadows, and, blinking, Cassandra struggled to make out the person.
“Come forth, Francis.” Emerging from the dark corner was a young man with short hair.
He was younger than her. Very well dressed.
His dark eyes glimmered in the flickering candlelight. Was that excitement? Was it menace?
The Duke laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Have you ever been with a woman?”
“No, sir.”
Laughter roared through the room.
The Duke grinned. “Tonight you shall.” Squeezing the young man’s shoulder, the Duke faced his guests, who let out gasps.
“Surely, we are all weary of the same, tired pageant? What better than to witness the boy and the maid in their first congress? I shall sacrifice my wedding night to this thrilling spectacle. We shall proceed to the family chapel, for this is truly a rite that deserves a holy setting.”
Applause rang out. Hushed exchanges. “Indeed, Your Grace. How refreshing for us all in honour of your birthday!” bowed a man in a wig in the old style and fine brocaded clothing.
The Duke whispered in the boy’s ear, and the young man only smiled and bowed his head. “You honour me, Your Grace.” Chest out and cheeks flushed, Francis removed his frock coat and moved behind her.
The Duke smacked the side of her leg with the cane. “You shall take the cane, my lamb. And then in the chapel you shall take his innocent cock, as innocent as your cunny, eh? We shall soon see.”
Applause rippled through the room. A servant brought the Duke a glass of wine; the sounds of him drinking greedily filled her ears. A whipping noise sliced through the air, and pain exploded on the back of her thigh, flaring through her flesh.
A cavalcade of groans and grunts pressed in on her. Cassandra’s lungs crushed together, her every muscle stung.
The Duke placed the cane in the boy’s hand. The room leaned forward. The young man let out a peculiar laugh. “May I touch her first, Your Grace?”
“Eager buck,” said the Duke.
“Do not touch her!” thundered a voice.
His voice. He was here.
Cassandra stilled. The room stilled.
“Let go of her, boy, or I will kill you, I swear it,” the voice roared, its command whipping through the room. A lash that shocked her heart and lungs back to life.
Gasps and murmurs of outrage swept from the guests as the Duke moved forward. “Who dares to speak? Show yourself.”
“It is I, Father. I speak.” The man from the woods stepped forward. That morning in the woods when he had claimed the land as his, she’d known who he was. The Duke’s son. Tristan’s friend.
The sudden silence that had gripped the room was maddening. Why was he defending her? To what end? Gallant, to be sure, but she had no expectation of gallantry from any man ever. They’d all shown her disdain and spite and pernicious intent.
The old Duke’s back straightened. “How dare you interrupt me!”
“No one shall touch her. No one.” The son quickly smoothed her dress down her legs, grabbed her arm, and lifted her from the table. Cassandra stumbled, her gaze clouded, but a firm hand at her back steadied her.
“How dare you!” The elder Duke shouted. His face reddened as his lips snarled, his body shook, his wig trembled.
A rough choking sound exploded from his lips, and he collapsed to the polished floor in a clumsy heap.
His body was overtaken by a fit, his limbs jerking as a servant held his head off the hard floor.
“All of you must leave now. Leave, you cannot stay!” the son commanded as he gestured to the many servants. They dashed about the room, shepherding the partygoers out.
He loosened the old Duke’s necktie as a manservant aided him. “Send for the doctor.” The manservant ran. “Father? Can you hear me?”
The old man’s eyes rolled in the back of his head, a gruesome display. His body suddenly ceased movement.
“What have you done?” The young man hovered. “You’ve killed him!”
“Shut up!” The duke’s son glared at him. “He’s not dead. And you are not welcome here. Get out!”
“I will not. I am his son.”
“You are his bastard. Leave so that my father can be attended to or I fucking swear I will throw you out myself.”
“I dare you to try. All this over a trollop?”
He slapped him. “She is the daughter of a Viscount. I’ll not have her treated thus, especially by the likes of you.”
“She was given to Father to do with as he pleased, and he chose me to—”
He punched him, and Francis staggered back. “You will leave my house by first light.”
“I shall not.” His chest heaved. “Mother is on her way.”
“You and your mother are no longer welcome here, bastard.” He gestured to a servant. “Pack his belongings immediately.”
A red imprint flaring on his skin, Francis raced out of the room.
Cassandra’s uncles stood in the doorway, their faces stripped of certainty. Would they force her to return with them? They still needed their bargain resolved. But their benefactor lay helpless on the floor, still and senseless.
Whatever came next for her, it would not be the path they had chosen for her. For the first time, it would not be what they wanted.