by Fiona Faris
Ethan’s natural instinct was to refuse; the doctor was no fighter. But he was right, it would be prudent to have him near…just in case Georgiana needed him. He cast the thought aside, lest it cripple him, and allowed the doctor to examine his head.
“Well, yer head is broken open, but luckily ye seem to have a hard skull. I shall stitch it shut and give ye a paste to apply on it. I’d tell ye to take it slow for a few days if I thought you’d listen.”
Ethan just gave him an eloquent look. One that said much louder than words that there was no way that he could rest while his wife was out there, at the mercy of heaven knew what.
The doctor nodded simply and set to his work. He held out a bottle of whiskey. “Drink.”
Ethan was already feeling dizzy, and he didn’t think that adding alcohol on top of that would be a good idea. However, the doctor knew best, so he took a large gulp before dropping into the chair. “Get on wi’ it then,” he mumbled, letting his head list forward as it felt heavier than usual… it took a real effort to hold it up. The pull of needle and thread, the prickling pain, and the pounding headache kept him from completely passing out, but it was a close thing.
“Georgiana,” he mumbled, his eyelids flickering as he tried to keep them open.
“We’re ready to leave, sir. I’ve packed your horse and everythin’”, Fergus announced.
“Thank ‘e kindly,” Ethan made an effort to get swayingly to his feet. He looked to the doctor, “Are ye ready to ride?”
“Aye, sir. I shall be ready to go presently. I simply need to collect some roots from the kitchen garden.”
Ethan nodded blearily. “Alrigh’ then. Let us go.”
He walked slowly outside, his vision going in and out. He could feel Fergus’ worry as he walked by his side, hand held out as if he meant to catch Ethan should he start to fall. There was no need. With every step he took, he felt steadier. A small crack to his skull would not stop him from getting his bride back.
* * *
Georgiana came back to herself, finding that she was wet and shivering, her bones aching. She was sure that the sensation that her arms were about to be torn away from her shoulders could not be genuine. Unless she had been strung up and left to die, like the witches in Salem.
Something jostled her, and an angry voice bellowed, "Wake up ye wee besom!"
She almost lost consciousness again as she was sickeningly spun without explanation with a tenfold increase in the pain in her shoulders.
Dimly, she realized she was hanging by ropes that were cutting into her wrists, leaving her dangling like some kind of bait. Her gown was icy cold from the water, which was pouring in a thin stream from somewhere over her head, down her body, soaking her, and adding to the almost unbearable pull on her arms.
Her bare toes brushed against a narrow surface on the floor. She guessed that there were bars, which were barely enough to anchor her or relieve the weight from her straining wrists and shoulders. She could do no more than paw at the tease of steadiness, too tenuous for more. Since she couldn't feel the water pooling she had to assume she was hanging over some kind of grate in the floor
"Hold her!" The same rough voice barked, and she felt hands grabbing on both sides of her with harsh enthusiasm, but at least, thank the lord, they stopped the swaying spin that was making her nauseous.
"What are you…?" she stuttered, her throat raw. She was so cold, but she would grind them together until they cracked if she had to, to prevent them from chattering. There was a disturbing blank in her memory, and she could not remember how she got here.
Blinking desperately to clear the water from her eyes, Georgiana squinted into the dim light and tried to see her tormentors, but her eyes refused to focus properly. Her head was killing her, a dull aching throb at the base of her skull probably from hunger and being buffeted about like a puppet..
The baby. Oh, god, the baby!
"Haud yer whisht unless ye're answering a question!" An unfamiliar voice snarled, as she felt a pinch to her side. Somebody pushed her, and her head snapped to one side as her body was held in place.
"Last time, lassie…" The voice warned, "Tell us where it is, or this time we're gang tae break ye in half."
Last time? Last time for what?
Georgiana tried to calm her rising panic, clambering frantically to assemble her scattered wits.
"What are you talking about?" Georgiana rasped, twisting against the dig of fingers in her bare flesh. "Who are you?"
This time the voice stepped out of the darkness. Georgiana tried to turn her head away from the stench of old sweat, stale ale and the smell of dirt accumulated over years of being unwashed, wafting into her face. But calloused fingers held her firm and forced Georgiana's head forward. All she could see were cold grey eyes encircled by loose unsightly skin in uneven folds and a jagged scar slashing across his face.
"I'm the lad who is going tae cause ye serious harm if ye dinna cooperate. Pretty lassie like ye, it’d be a shame tae ruin tha’ bonny face. So where’s t’money then? The money yer faither gave ye when ye marrit that ne’er do well?" The man's other hand dropped down to grip Georgiana’s side viciously.
Georgiana ground her teeth to keep from crying out, both at the pain and the violation. "I don’t know anything. He gave the money to Ethan." she gasped.
The man snorted, releasing Georgiana and casting a look at the man to Georgiana's left. "Ye think we’re such dummies as tae believe the Sassenach entrusted that teutcher wi’ his money?"
The man leaned so close that Georgiana could feel his breath on her skin. "Right the noo ye better tell me what ye did with tha’ money." The man's eyes cut to Georgiana's right, and he nodded.
She felt the fingers release her right side, and the figure moved back into the shadows where the sound of objects being moved could be heard. She wasn’t sure exactly of their plan but decided all she could do was feign ignorance and stupidity until Ethan rescued her. There was no doubt that he would come for her…as long as they had not killed him. From the questions they were asking, it did not seem they had. But where was his brother? Why was he allowing this? He had called her his wife, and if that was what he wanted, then why the torture? She felt as if she was missing something.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Georgiana exclaimed. "I don’t understand the way you speak."
The man stepped back with a disgusted noise, shaking his head. "Ye ken lassie, ah'm a patient man. I like things neat and tidy. Tell me what I need to ken, and this’ll be done wi’. We’ll send ye hame tae yer faither in one piece. Thwart us, and he shall truly regret allowin’ this travesty tae happen."
She moved back further as the man to her right came back into the weak light pushing a small cart. "Sweeney here, well, he isna sae patient, he'll tak’ his answers any way he can get them, but he likes slow, do ye no, Sweeney?"
As Sweeney approached, Georgiana had a good look at the rat-faced little man. He was balding, his body skeletal, sporting a thin twisted anticipatory smile which pulled up his narrow lips as he blinked fixedly at Georgiana. A slight movement near the door caught her eye, and she realized that the man she recognized as Ethan’s brother was now in the room with them. He made no move to stop the torture, however, but simply stood there, watching.
The man continued. "Sometimes going slow can get verra messy, but it just seems no one wants tae tak’ th’ easy way anymore and just tell me what I want." He sighed dramatically and rubbed a finger over the scar that tore across his eyes.
To her left, Lachie giggled, the fingers of one hand tracing softly down the length of her side. "Don't hurt her too badly, Sweeney. Leave a little something for me."
His touch was clammy, and Georgiana lurched away from it… every instinct of self-preservation in her body was screaming.
"Get your hands off me, you blackguard!" the words were brave, but her heart was skittering in fear as she tried to kick him.
Lachie laughed out loud pushing Georgiana’s bod
y and adding a playful spin. His raucous laughter dominated the room even as Georgiana turned erratically, literally at the end of her tether.
Someone with a hand of iron gripped her arm, and she came to a jerking halt. Nausea assailed her as her vision swam with dizziness, and sought to dominate her limited attention. She was blearily aware that other hands were encircling her ankles with something, but before she was capable of reacting, the strain on her arms became worse. She could only groan as her feet were securely tied as she hung helplessly. The bounds were so tight that she was able to rest the balls of her feet, even as her shoulder joints screamed in protest as the ropes stretched them almost to breaking point.
"The money," the man snarled, mouth to Georgiana's ear.
"I don't know what you're talking about…" Georgiana gasped, her lungs pressed nearly flat by the stretch of her body.
"Listen…" Georgiana panted. The stretching felt as if it was tearing her body in half. She didn’t know how long she could stand this... "I don't know what you want…b-b-but my father will give you anything you want to return me to him unharmed!"
Her breath came hard and fast, even as she felt suffocated with fear.
Sweeney smiled at Georgiana, at the panic in her eyes, the hungry gleam in his own eyes, making it clear he wasn't here because of any answers she might give. He didn't give a damn what Georgiana might have to say. He was a sadist and here to enjoy her pain and fear. Georgiana didn’t know if it was a good thing to play up her pain or hide it.
Her water-soaked body arched impossibly, her world-shaking, as more cold water was poured on her, and she cried out in nonverbal anguish. The impact of the water on flesh was so hard that she felt the welt it had formed on her back as a series of fiery pinpricks, before fading to a steady murmuring burn.
Sweeney put the bucket down and Georgiana slumped limply, groaning. Her body was twitching in delayed shivers. She tried to open her eyes, to find some way to resist but found none.
Sweeney glanced back at the man who nodded at him. "Another." Behind her, Lachie giggled.
This time, Sweeney reached forward and pulled at her hooks so that her naked back was exposed to him. Then smirking, he swung her around until she was vomiting, dizzy, and disoriented.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Viscount Ashness looked out at the countryside as his carriage rode along the cobbled street on his way to Bellingwick to see the duke. He could hardly suppress the smile that was threatening to break out on his face.
He dug out the missive he’d recently received from one Lachie Buchanan and reread it. They had the girl in their clutches, and they would extract from her the location of the dowry. The viscount did not care about that. Those Scottish peasants were welcome to whatever they could squeeze out of the duke’s daughter.
All he cared about was the scandal.
Twenty-six years ago, the duke of Bellingwick had come into his life and destroyed it. He had taken everything that mattered; his reputation, his livelihood and left him with nothing but ashes. He pretended that he was only following the king’s edict, but the truth was that Bellingwick had always meant to crush his family under his feet.
Well, now the viscount was about to get his revenge. He would tear down the duke’s family and make them a laughing stock. Bellingwick would, at last, feel the same kind of pain he had unthinkingly and callously inflicted on others. Viscount Ashness made a fist, his nails digging into his palm. The anger he felt was as fresh as if the duke had taken everything from him only yesterday. He would use it, make it work for him. He could not wait to see the duke’s face when the viscount apprised him of the horrors that were taking place to his only child.
* * *
Georgiana gasped as the cold water hit her in an icy wave, ripping her from the welcome cocoon of unconsciousness, her bound hands rising up to form a useless shield, shoulder joints screaming at the sudden movement, as more freezing water showered her as she lay face down on the floor.
Her startled cry drew a chorus of raucous laughter as she tried to get away from the blast of buckets of water being poured on her.
The spray chased her across the rough wooden boards of the floor as she skittered backward, hands attempting to block her face, choking as she sucked in the water, trying to breathe. Her ankles were tethered by a short piece of rope that allowed movement but wasn't enough to let her get to her feet. The power from the hose was strong enough to shove her around and hurt where the blast struck bare, bruised skin and muscle.
Every inch of her body ached from hanging for God knew how long in addition to having cold water poured on her. She had some vague recollection of threats that had been carried out with sick enthusiasm but the details had melted together into one large mélange of misery.
"Rise and shine, Georgiana!" she recognized the voice despite the fogginess in her brain.
No, wait…
Tòmas… the other man, Sweeney the Sadist, had called him that…- Georgiana had christened Sweeney that way due to his hungry and callous smile… the one that had broadened with every agonized twist of Georgiana's body or hoarse cry.
With no warning or command, they stopped soaking her with water, leaving Georgiana coughing and shivering, and she made desperate efforts to focus her mind into coherent thought. She squinted into the dull light shining from the lamp dangling from the rafters above them. She didn't remember blacking out, her shoulders felt as though her arms had nearly been torn from the sockets.
How long did I hang here after I lost consciousness?
She looked about to see if she was alone. The room was empty save herself and her erstwhile companions. She hoped to God that didn’t mean they had Ethan somewhere…she wasn't sure if she was happy at the thought that Ethan might be safe or terrified at the idea that he might get himself caught by these sadists, in an attempt to save her.
"I have tae admit," Tòmas said, cutting off Georgiana's scrambled thoughts. He squatted down in front of the girl and studied her thoughtfully. "Ye’re a tough nut tae crack."
He slapped Georgiana casually, causing her ears to ring. The blow knocked her sideways into a pool of water.
"Hit ye a little harder than I meant tae the first time," Tòmas commented. He made a humming noise. "Wasna much point in trying tae talk with ye out cold. So we tossed ye in here 'til ye came tae, and we could continue with our conversation."
He raised his hand again, and Georgiana couldn't stop herself from flinching.
Tòmas laughed as he watched Georgiana shudder with cold.
"Ye're a deuced mess, lassie," Tòmas remarked conversationally. He stood suddenly, towering over Georgiana's sodden and aching body. Rubbing his hands together, briskly, Tòmas whistled.
"Jings, tis cold in here. Are ye cold, Sweeney? Lachie?" he asked, turning to his companions.
Sweeney smiled. Lachie giggled behind his hand, his other hand still holding on to the bucket.
"I'm aboot tae freeze my fuds off. I think I'm going tae get some coffee and warm up. Ye want some coffee?" he asked Sweeney, who grinned and nodded.
Lachie smirked and licked his lips, watching as the water ran from Georgiana's hair down her face and dripped off her chin. Georgiana watched him warily back. Sweeney was a sadist, but the young laird was dangerous on a whole new level that she had no desire to experience.
Turning back to Georgiana, Tòmas stretched out his leg and shoved her with a dirty boot. "Sae sorry, but I dinna bring enough coffee for four. Guess ye'll have to just make do."
Georgiana lifted her head; the fury in her eyes should have been enough to fire her exhausted body to action. "You won’t get away with this."
She forced the words out through clenched teeth to keep them from chattering.
Tòmas laughed again, lowering his bulk once more to Georgiana's level and taking her jaw in an iron grip, easily holding her despite her effort to jerk away. "I ken ye ken where ye’re dowry is and how we can get tae it. But if ye think yer little husband will come and re
scue ye; or maybe yer da? Ye’re mistaken.”
"I told you—" Georgiana spat.
Tòmas shook his head, "I dinna believe ye, yesterday, lassie. What makes ye think I’ll believe ye today? I have tae tell ye that ah'm feeling a lot less patient than I was then, so dinna lay there and feed me poppycock aboot ye dinna ken anythin’." Tòmas's voice lost some of its reasonable tone. "My boss here, Mr. Buchanan, he wants that money, and what he wants, he gets. That's all. Gi’e it tae me, and we can still part friends."
"I don't know anything…" Georgiana wheezed, "about any money! My fath…-"
Tòmas’s hand tightened on her face as he motioned for Lachie to come closer. Lachie's eyes sparkled, and he gripped the bucket with ill-concealed excitement.