He stood over her leering. "Lovely." He removed something from inside his doublet. A knife. The blade glinted in the candlelight.
Her heart stopped. "Nay!" She yanked at the ropes but they didn't budge.
"Calm yourself, my dear. I'm not going to cut you," he said in a subdued tone.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, loud as drums. "What are you going to do?"
"This." Lifting the hem of her smock, he sliced the blade up through the material.
She tried to press her legs together, but the ropes held them fast.
The blade slid clear through to the neckline of the garment. He placed the knife on the bedside table. How could she get her hands on it?
But, nay, she couldn't, she reminded herself.
He slowly parted the linen fabric, his evil eyes boring into her. His teeth bared and clenched, he drew in a hissing breath.
Revulsion coursed through her.
Taking up the knife again, he quickly slit her sleeves until she lay without a stitch on. She wanted to squeeze her eyes tightly shut so she didn't have to look at his revolting and triumphant smirk, but she forced herself to be fully aware of his every move. He tossed the knife and it landed with a clatter across the room, his eyes riveted to her. "So beautiful," he whispered with bizarre reverence. "Even better than I've imagined all these years."
Years? Aye, she well remembered his leers from when she was sixteen summers, the first time she'd seen him.
He placed a clammy, long-fingered hand upon her stomach. She cringed, every fiber of her being wanting to draw away from him. His cold touch was so very different fromRebbie'swarm, strong hands.
Rebbie. Where are you? I love you and I'm sorry. So very sorry.Tears slipped from her eyes and slid into her hair.
Claybourne ran his bony, spider-like hand up her side to cup her breast.
She recoiled.Bastard, she wanted to yell at him, bile rising in her throat.
***
Please let me get to her in time, Rebbie prayed, riding beside Lachlan, their horses galloping along the muddy roads south of Perth.
"'Tisthere." Lachlan pointed at a new, ten-foot high stone wall and the top of a large, slate-roofed manor house within.
Finally.Drawing up, Rebbie leapt to the ground.
"Slip over and see if the gates are locked." Lachlan motioned to two of his men on foot. "Make haste. And don't allow their guards to see you."
"No doubt they are locked." Rebbie eyed the long expanse of wall and the iron gates just visible beyond the bushes. "I'm certain the whoreson is expecting me."Rebbie'sgaze searched for a way up and over the wall. He couldn't tell how thick the wall was, but it looked formidable.
"Here, I brought you some armor." Lachlan tossed a gambeson to him.
"I thank you." Rebbie yanked off his doublet, pulled on the heavy, metal-studded leather garment and buckled the front.
The two guards returned at a run. "Aye, locked up tight and well-guarded,m'laird. We counted seven men."
"Last time we were here, one of the men found a clever way beyond the wall." Lachlan hung a coil of rope on his shoulder.
"Show me," Rebbie said. "We must hurry."
"Six of you stay with the horses. The rest follow us." Lachlan turned and raced along the wall, through thick brush and weeds. Rebbie followed, along with several more.
Lachlan stopped abruptly and looked up. "See that?" he whispered and pointed.
Rebbie glanced up to see three life-sized, nude female statues perched atop the wall, as if dancing. "Are they attached?"
