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Large flakes fells as if angels in heaven were having a pillow fight. Though the snow was beautiful it was cold and sharp. Crisp, white, pristine, shining covering that transformed the landscape making it a magical land full of wonder and undiscovered mysteries.
The Duke of Langley had it seemed, gone completely mad – at least that is what Sophia thought, when he pounced on her on her morning walk.
She had not been paying attention to where she was going when, from behind a thicket of bushes, the Duke of Langley had emerged, drunk as a skunk and brandishing a pistol.
“Your Grace!” Sophia had gasped, for the first time in her life experiencing what felt like mortal terror.
“I had wanted to meet with your future husband m’dear,” the Duke of Langley said, licking his lips. “But instead I have stumbled across the prize he won – and now I intend to claim you for my own.”
The Duke lunged at Sophia, who though afraid, leapt out of his way. He chased her through the bushes – the twigs and branches scrapping painfully at her bare arms – before finally catching her and pushing her to the ground.
“Stay till,” the Duke roared, delivering a most painful back-hand that made Sophia think her jaw had fallen off.
Dazed and disorientated, and acutely aware that the Duke was brandishing his pistol most recklessly, Sophia found herself being dragged through the woods by her hair. At first she had no idea where they were going, but as the trees began to thin, Sophia recognised the hut which belonged, long ago, to a hermit.
“What fun we’ll have, Lady Sophia,” the Duke was saying, a wicked smile upon his lips. “And how I long to see Roderick’s face, when I tell him that I have debauched the prize he thought was his.”
Sophia registered his words through a haze of pain, as she realised what he meant to do to her, she began to struggle violently, but every move she made was agony as the Duke has a strong grip on her hair.
“Stop struggling,” the Duke said through gritted teeth, before finally losing patience and smashing the handle of his pistol against her temple.
Sophia registered the pain, and thought longingly of Roderick coming to save her – before her whole world went black.
***
When Sophia opened her eyes, it took her a moment to recollect where she was and what had happened – though only a moment, as the Duke was sitting beside her, a lewd smile on his face.
“Finally my love has awoken,” he said in a mock voice, rising from his seat, and coming to sit on the bed, which was no more than straw covered with blankets, beside her.
“How pretty you are,” the Duke said, taking her chin in his brutish hand, and painfully turning her face upwards so that it faced his. “I shall enjoy plucking your flower, young lady…”
The Duke dipped his head to hers, and forced his lips upon her most grotesquely. Sophia longed to cry out in disgust but was afraid to in case he should force his tongue into her mouth, so instead she settled for pummelling him with her fists.
“Stop struggling, God-damn you,” the Duke roared after a few minutes of struggle, though Sophia did not cease.
With a grunt o
f rage the Duke drew back his hand and slapped Sophia squarely across the face. The echo of the slap seemed to reverberate through the entire hut, and as the Duke gathered his breath, and Sophia tried to control the pain she felt – the sound of horses galloping and men shouting could be heard not too far away.
“I’m here!” Sophia screamed, leading from the straw pile, and pushing past the Duke who was momentarily shocked by the speed of her reaction.
He soon gathered his wits however, and leapt for his pistol which was laid on the table and pointed it at his young captive, who was screaming her lungs out.
“Stop it,” the Duke said in a low ominous voice, cocking the trigger and aiming it square at Sophia, who immediately stopped shouting.
The voices outside could be heard quite clearly now, and among them Sophia recognised Christopher.
“It seems we are backed into a corner, Lady Sophia,” the Duke said, sweat coating his lips, his eyes manic as he scanned the hut for a means of escape.
“Please, Your Grace,” Sophia replied, keeping her wary glance on his hand which held the pistol. “Please give yourself up. I shall explain it was all just a misunderstanding, you shall not be in trouble.”
“Roderick will see me hung,” the Duke replied in a low rasp.
A thunderous banging on the wooden door of the hut distracted him, and sensing her opportunity Sophia jumped forth and wrenched the pistol from his hand.
In the altercation that ensued, it landed on the dirt floor. The Duke lunged for it while Sophia ran for the door – she had to escape!
“Sophia!”
