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“Bring the virgin to me,” Mountbane said, “and we will.”
Charlotte nodded and went her way. She thought the morning would be the best hour to advance the plot and so she waited until then.
Chapter Fifteen
In the dungeon now, the Lady Charlotte found herself surprisingly comfortable in an atmosphere that had been so filled with anxious musings and tremendous pain—and, of course, overwhelming bodily delights. She gazed on the cowering young virgin on the floor and smiled to herself knowing what terror faced her. Charlotte envied her. As horrible as her first months had been in Ilusia, those hours at the mercy of the ruthless Caius were her first moments of sexual ecstasy. She’d received the most amazing physical gifts. And then the wedding, that fine, fine feast of debauchery and perversion. It could not be surpassed… it was there she first made love to Sir Tristan. As Charlotte settled on the picture of the man, her body burned again. She tried to push the thought away, but it was just too present with her to disappear.
Still, no relief from her required chastity, she would have to guard against too much stimulation in this task. She could not afford more nights of sexual misery. She hoped that a few labors as an attendant mistress in the dungeon might placate her needs; but thoughts of Tristan would not do. This undertaking must be made without his remembrance. No, she’d keep her mind fixed to her purpose, on the fledgling submissive, Rosaura, who now knelt so sweetly, with such trembling and such innocence. Her virgin body would soon be torn apart—and before that—her virgin mind would be wasted. She would learn of the bizarre and twisted paths of her country’s darkest secrets.
It had been a fine ceremony, Charlotte thought, as she reminisced about the brief moments between Rosaura and Mountbane earlier that day. Of course, it had been a shock to the girl coming before the ruler and making her hesitant request. Her body quavered and she was nearly in tears.
“What is it you desire?” Mountbane had asked her while pouring out all the verve of his most domineering mien. Had this been too much? Charlotte wondered at the time. Still, Rosaura remained firm in her conviction.
“I wish to be trained in your dungeon,” she’d said sweetly.
Up to that point Mountbane had no verification of Charlotte’s success, and this nearly made him smile with glee. He did, however, keep his poise.
“For what purpose?” he asked the girl.
“So I might better serve an Ilusian husband.”
“You are wise to seek this instruction. But what of your father?”
“He will not approve.”
“And would it be wise to dishonor one of my finest nobles?”
“I respect my father and yet he is shallow in his thinking. There is no way that he can protect me from my homeland and its practices forever. No man in Ilusia wants a comely but untried, untrained wife.”
Ah! She was far more than comely, the Lord was thinking—so Charlotte presumed as she listened on. “That is true,” he agreed. “Should I speak with your father on your behalf?”
“If it pleases you.”
“And are you truly ready to withstand the rigors and punishments this entails?”
“I must be ready. I can’t let my life slide by denying myself half of what I desire. I have already, foolishly, allowed myself to be lured into a woefully lacking love.”
“Then so be it,” Mountbane announced dryly. Though Charlotte could see that Mountbane was holding back his own desire, she also witnessed the shuddering sweep of satisfaction that was
so manifest in Rosaura as she took in the commanding presence of this man. She’d felt that satisfaction, too—but it had lied to her of many things, distorting the nature of Ilusian love, making her hope that this lust had real affection behind it.
In this case, however, she had to consider Rosaura. She was Ilusian by birth, and she felt her submissive birthright in her bones. Perhaps, unlike herself, Rosaura would not fall prey to the same miseries that plagued a noble-born woman from a land across the borders. Then too, as Mountbane suggested, there was something quite different about this possible coupling—most notably her husband’s surprising appetite for the girl. He was smitten, truly smitten.
It was not for Charlotte to predict outcomes. Her task was simple and she was on with it determined to win her freedom.
Charlotte waited herself, now, standing beside Loria as Caius circled the virgin and made his plans. “She knows her place,” Caius remarked seeing Rosaura’s surrendering essence in her untrained but wholly submissive pose. “She’ll be much easier than you were,” he declared to Charlotte.
“I’m sure, sir,” she agreed.
“You’ll whip her first,” he announced.
“So soon?”
Caius stared at Charlotte with a steely eye, the first such glance she’d seen from the dungeon-master in many months. Their paths rarely crossed except for those few times in the last year when Mountbane sent her to be flogged. However, that hadn’t happened in nearly five months since Mountbane had given her up to the chastity belt.
“Do I need to retrain you before I train her?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Charlotte said stepping forward. She was no Gwnyth, and was unaccustomed to the procedures or feelings of command. It felt almost unholy taking the whip from Caius’ hand and circling the young maid. But she would take on the task. “Stand,” she ordered.
