Two nuns, each laden down with a tray of steaming food, hurried in, their eyes lowered. Placing their trays on the great refectory table, they hurried out as quickly.
Skye pulled from her husband’s grasp. “How thoughtful!” she exclaimed brightly. “We have been sent supper.”
“I’ve no appetite for food yet,” he said in a surly tone.
She raised the cover of a dish. “Look! Boiled shrimp! And here’s a lovely capon, and a small joint of mutton! If we don’t eat it now, it will get cold.”
“Let it!” He came swiftly up behind her and loosened her laces, sliding his hands around to cup her breasts. “This is what I’m hungry for, Skye,” be said, squeezing her flesh. “The food will wait. Your laces are loosened. Go into the bedroom, finish undressing, and wait for me in the bed.”
She closed her eyes to squeeze back tears. “Oh, Dom!” she pleaded. “Not here! I’ll do whatever you want me to, but not here in this holy house. Not here!”
“I hadn’t considered it that way,” he said thoughtfully, “but the idea of fucking you in a convent appeals to me. Shall we pretend you’re a young nun about to be ravaged by a Viking chief?” She blanched at his sacrilege, and he snarled, “Quickly, Skye! I’m hot for you-having been denied my marital rights for over a month!” He punctuated his words with a light slap to her cheek.
She wanted to fight him, but she had been so badly broken by the news of Niall’s marriage that she couldn’t find the spirit. She fled into the bedroom and, with shaking fingers, pulled her clothes off and climbed into the big bed. A moment later, Dom entered the room, drinking from a goblet of wine. Placing the goblet on the nightstand, he undressed swiftly, letting his clothes fall where they dropped. When he turned to enter the bed she bit back a cry of terror. Niall had been a big man, but Skye’s husband was unnaturally large, enormous. Seeing her fear, he chuckled. “The wenches in Paris call me Le Taureau! Do you know what that means?”
Terrified, she nodded. “The bull.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Aye, the bull!” he said proudly. “And I am, wife! Now spread yourself wide. I’ve got something for you!” He tore back the covers she clutched to her breasts. The sight of her naked body inflamed his lust, and he flung himself on her.
Skye managed to gasp, “But Dom! I am not ready!”
He raised himself above her, and gazed down at her. “You’re not ready?” His look was incredulous. Had he not been so astounded he might have hit her. “You do not have to be ready, Skye. I am!”
And she felt herself being ripped asunder by his monster sex. Before she could cry out, his hand clapped over her mouth. He pushed himself into her, muttering all the while, “You’re tight as a drum, woman! Burke’s cock must be no bigger than a worm, to have left you so tight!” He grunted his pleasure while, beneath him, her eyes reflected pain and fright. She tried to lie still, hoping to ease the pain, but she couldn’t. She writhed in an effort to escape him, and mistaking her actions for growing passion, he laughed. ”I knew it! Beneath all the ladylike manners you’ve the makings of a good whore! I’m a lucky man!” And he drove deeper and harder into her. “Don’t fear, lovey,” he panted, “I’ll teach you many a good trick to please us both!” Then, with a growl of pleasure, he collapsed.
For a moment they lay sandwiched together, then O’Flaherty got up and, returning to the dayroom, poured himself more wine. Skye felt tears gushing down her cheeks, but she made no sound for fear of angering him. She heard him lifting the covers of the dishes, sampling the food. He didn’t think to offer her any.
Coming back into the small bedroom, clutching a chicken leg, Dom sat on the side of the bed. He patted her backside. Skye feigned sleep, hoping he would leave her in peace. She heard the sound of his slow, methodical munching, and then the leg bone hit the floor. ”Spread yourself!”
Resistance was useless. She was his wife, his chattel. She obeyed and was once again subjected to pain and degradation. When he was through this time he rolled off her and fell asleep on his back, snoring contentedly. Skye waited until she was sure he slept soundly, then crept from the bed. She could barely walk, but she would have crawled on her hands and knees to get out of that room.
Gaining the dayroom she shakily poured herself some wine, spill- ing half on the table. Adding some more wood to the fire, she collapsed into the large chair.
Niall! His gentle hands, his loving mouth! He had sought to please her while teaching her to please him. Damn him! Damn him! She had been betrayed. They had all been right. The great lord’s heir had only been amusing himself with her, and his lust for her in- nocence was no less foul than Dom’s lust to subdue her. A hand dropped on her shoulder, and she started, looking up with dread.
“I woke, and you were gone,” he said plaintively. “You’re weep- ing! Still sad I’m not Niall, eh?” She wiped at the tears guiltily, quickly shaking her head, and his tone softened a bit. “I probably hurt you,” he said matter-of-factly. “Well, don’t worry, Skye. It’ll get easier with use, and you’ll soon stretch to take my bulk. Come on, lovey. Let’s fuck a bit more, for if you can’t sleep then I’ve not used you enough. Besides,” he chuckled lasciviously, “you’re a far sweeter piece than I thought you would be.”
All the rest of the night, while she endured her husband’s em- braces, she hated Niall Burke with a growing fury, and considered how she would revenge herself on him one day. Oh, yes, he would pay for her broken dreams.
And a similar scene was being enacted miles away, at the strong-hold of the
MacWilliam.
Darragh O’Neill Burke had been destined for the Church since her birth. Her eldest sister had been betrothed and eventually wed to an O’Connell. Her middle sister had been betrothed to Niall Burke. But Ceit had died suddenly last winter, and Darragh, who had been in her beloved St. Mary’s convent since the age of five, was brought home to take her middle sister’s place in the marriage bed.
It was a particularly tragic choice, for Darragh O’Neill had a true religious vocation. When it was decided that she would replace her sister, Darragh was two days from taking her final vows. Her father and his troupe of men had arrived with much noise and shouting, just in time to prevent Darragh’s blond hair from being shorn. O’Neill had waived the return of Darragh’s dowry from the religious order, knowing that mis would make Darragh’s mother superior more easily amenable to his change of plan. He lost nothing by it, as the money had been paid in full eight years prior, just as Ceit’s dowry had been paid to the MacWilliams at the time of her betrothal.
The mother superior explained the change to the horrified young nun, saying smoothly that God and Our Lady had quite obviously made other plans for Darragh. Darragh must accept God’s will with good grace. She would leave the convent immediately and wed Lord Burke. Weeping bitterly, the girl obeyed.
Thus Niall Burke was greeted on his wedding day by a pale girl whose red-rimmed eyes gave evidence of much weeping. As he had not been fully informed of her religious commitment, he was annoyed that she should face the marriage with so little enthusiasm.
Later that evening, when the bride and groom went to bed, Dar- ragh fainted at the sight of her naked husband. Niall gently elicited an explanation from Darragh. Touched, he gently stroked the pale blond hair. “I think that, under the circumstances, there’s no need for us to hurry the physical side of our marriage,” he said quietly. ”Let us take time to know one another better.”
The truth of the matter was that Niall had no taste for raping unwilling virgins. And he cursed both their fathers for their blind stupidity. The girl had a deep religious commitment, and he ques- tioned whether she would ever get over that. He laughed bitterly. They had torn him from the woman he loved, who would gladly have given him sons, because his father didn’t think her highborn enough! And in her place they had given him a dedicated nun! It was too funny, and he would have laughed again had he not become aware that his new wife still seemed troubled.