The Lady and the Earl

by Clark, Diedre

  A wicked laugh escaped his mouth. “Am I?” He grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. The sudden movements made her head spin even worse. She staggered, and her sight began going dark as the blood rushed from her head. He held her up. “If you had just been loyal, this wouldn’t be happening.”

  She laughed weakly. “If I had been loyal?” she scoffed as the room spun in circles. Her face felt swollen and odd as she spoke. “You were the one with the maid,” she said, and then she spit in his face. Her own blood and saliva splashed across it.

  Slowly, he wiped the mixture away, laughing coldly before slapping her hard in return. It wasn’t as hard as his backhand had been, but with how dizzy and weak she already was, it sent her flailing yet again. She spun through the air limply, crashing into the small table just inside her room. She feebly tried to catch her fall, but she hit the edge of the table, upturning it and herself. Once again she was lying on the floor. This time she was on her back with the small, circular table lying across her. Everything ached as she lay there, making her unable to move for the moment. The room was spinning worse than before, and she felt like she was about to vomit.

  Lucas sauntered over to her, wiping at his face before squatting down beside her. “So you’re still angry about the maid incident,” he began. “I was simply relieving myself since you insisted upon waiting,” he paused long enough to push the table off of her stomach. “It’s what men do. I’m sure even your precious Earl has a mistress,” he sneered at her.

  “What do you want, Lucas?” she asked weakly, looking up into his cold, blue eyes. She felt so vulnerable lying there on her back with him so close. But she was too weak to move just yet.

  “The only thing I’ve ever really wanted in my entire life. You,” he said simply as his eyes swept over her body. They lingered on her chest where the dress cut low, revealing more to him than she would have liked. The fear returned. Did he come here to defile her? She couldn’t let him take her. She had to fight no matter how much more she would have to endure.

  “I’ve never met a woman I couldn’t bed in a month until you. You are my perfect match, Allana. You belong to me, and I’m here to make you mine. I told you I wouldn’t let you go, and I don’t intend to either,” he finished matter-of-factly.

  Allana stared at him in disbelief. Could Lucas really be this cruel and insane? “You cannot have me,” she replied quietly, trying to gain her strength for the fight she knew was coming.

  “Really?” Lucas asked as he played with a lock of her hair. “I do not think you’re in much of a position to resist me,” he finished, smiling pleasantly at her. His expression fell serious as he gazed at her. “Do you not realize we were made for each other? I need you, and I’ve never needed anybody.” He leaned over her and kissed her softly, awaking a need inside her to get away.

  She kicked her legs hard as she squirmed beneath him. She knocked him off balance enough to turn herself over onto her belly where she tried raising her body to her hands and knees. He grabbed her arms and began wrestling with her, flipping her over onto her back. They wrestled for only a few more moments before Lucas pinned her beneath him.

  “You know you can’t resist me, my love,” he whispered against her face, laughing quietly as he forced her hands above her head and kissed her neck sensually. “Nobody can.”

  She whimpered as tears slipped down her face.

  “Just give in to your desires,” he finished hotly.

  She struggled under his weight for a moment longer, realizing it was hopeless. She just did not have the strength. If she wanted to get free, she would have to do as he suggested. Allana arched her neck encouragingly, moaning slightly as though enjoying his lips there. She wanted to scream in revulsion, but she had to make him believe she wanted him in order for him to release her hands. He sought out her lips and kissed her hungrily, moving his hands down over her body when she seemed to return the kiss with eagerness. She brought one hand to the back of his neck to keep him distracted long enough for her free hand to find the silver candlestick that had fallen off the upturned table and to the floor. Where was it? She knew she’d seen it fall, but she couldn’t find it without looking. Lucas’s kisses were growing more and more savage as his lust for her grew, and she was beginning to panic as his hands began to wander. Finally, he moved his mouth back down to her neck and to her shoulder, giving her the opportunity to look for the candlestick, spotting it only inches away. In one swift movement, she grasped hold of the cold metal and swung the candlestick as hard as she could into the side of Lucas’s head and face. The blow knocked him to the side, rendering him senseless for a few moments. She pushed him off of her and struggled to her feet sobbing. She wanted to vomit after what she’d just endured.

  The blood rushed from her aching head, causing her eyes to dim once again, this time almost to the point of blacking out. She took a few seconds to steady herself, before trying to walk. She had to get to the door before Lucas became alert. She took a couple of staggering steps when she heard him say her name. The coldness in his voice caused her to involuntarily turn and look at him.

  “You should not have done that,” Lucas said dangerously.

  He was standing now, holding the silver candlestick and rubbing the side of his head. She made a dash toward the door, but went crashing to the ground when he kicked her in the back. He was on top of her in an instance, ripping her bodice to shreds. She screamed as she kicked her legs and tore at his face with her fingernails. He was struggling to catch hold of her flailing arms when he finally gave up and slammed his fist into her face. Her struggles stopped instantly as everything began to go dark yet again. The left side of her face throbbed from the blow, and she could feel it swelling along with her left eye.

  “Now look what you’ve made me do,” he scolded. “You’re pretty face will suffer from that one.” He leaned down to kiss her now swollen eye.

  Allana felt so weak, but his touch repulsed her, feeding her strength. Grabbing a handful of his hair, she pulled him away from her face and swiped her fingernails across his cheek.

  He cursed viciously, grabbing at his face and jumping to his feet. Angrily, he kicked her hard in the ribs.

  Allana’s ribs were in agony. The pain was the worst she’d felt so far.

  “No more games, Allana. I’m sorry I have to do this, but,” Lucas paused long enough to kick her again, “I’m here on business not pleasure.”

  He was crazy. She tried to move and get up, but he kicked her again. She thought she heard cracking in her ribs. Tears were streaming down her face as she curled up into a tight ball, trying to protect her body from further damage. She couldn’t fight anymore. He was breaking her with each kick. She just wanted the pain to stop. Please, she thought, lose consciousness. But it never came. She curled up tighter and sobbed.

  “Please stop,” she tried to say.

  “What was that, my darling? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He rolled her onto her back and sat on top of her stomach.

  If she’d been able to, she would have screamed from the pain this caused, but she did not have the strength to do anything except whimper pathetically.

  “Not much fight left in you now, is there?” he asked, running his fingers over her now exposed breasts.

  He sounded so evil. A small sob broke from Allana’s chest. All hope was lost. He would take her virtue and ruin her for Declan. She would lose the man she loved forever.

  A call from the other side of her locked doors brought her hope.

  “Allana?” It was Connor.

  “Help,” she called out. But it was only a hoarse whisper, and it brought searing pain through her chest.

  “Shut-up,” Lucas hissed, slapping her to silence and listening to the door for the sound of a key.

  “Allana, what’s going on in there?” Connor called, pounding on the door and jiggling the handles. “I thought I heard you scream. Are you alright?”

  Please help me, she thought.

  “Allana, let
me in. Come on, Pet. Open the door.” There was a pause while he waited for an answer. “I’m coming in whether you want me to or not, so open the damn door!” Connor yelled, pounding once more.

  “It looks like your big brother saved you this time, but next time you won’t be as lucky,” Lucas began. “If you tell anyone it was me, I will kill your meddling brother and hurt your lovely stepmother. Pregnant or not, she is still a tempting woman. And to prove I’m serious, see how Lancelot fares when I am done with him.”

  “No, please don’t,” Allana pleaded in that hoarse whisper.

  Lucas grinned wickedly. “Just do as you’re told, and everything will be fine. Understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Now give me one last kiss before I leave.” He pulled her head up to his, causing her to groan in pain, and kissed her roughly. “Until next time, my darling,” he said letting her drop back to the floor in a heap. He jumped to his feet, grabbed something—a rope perhaps—and leapt over the balcony.

  She lay there breathing shallowly. Was he really gone? She couldn’t see out of her left eye, for it was swollen shut, and her body hurt all over. She tried not to cry because it caused even more pain, but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Why had he done this to her? She tried to move, and cried out from the agony it caused. The dark room began spinning. Now it comes, she thought as she fought to stay conscious. Please hurry, Connor. The last thing she heard was the click of a key and the doors to her room crashing open.

  Chapter 20

  Connor burst through the doors to Allana’s room in a frenzy. Darkness met him, causing him to stumble over an object that was out of place. He stared at it for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness in order to decipher what he’d tripped over. It was a round table which used to be on the other side of the room over by the terrace doors. What was it doing over here? His stomach dropped as he took in the rest of Allana’s dark, disheveled room. It was a disaster.

  “Allana!” Connor called out. Where was she? Fear gripped him as he searched for her.

  He was unsure what he would find, but he definitely was not expecting to find her unconscious body on the floor in the condition it was in. Her face was bruised and swollen with dried blood smeared across it and fresh blood oozing from her nose and bottom lip. Her left eye was turning a nasty purple color and was swollen shut. Her hair was sprawled out around her head tangled in knots, and her clothes had been torn around the bodice, exposing parts of her chest that brought anger and fear to Connor’s soul. Had she been defiled? There were bruises around her neck and arms, and she had blood spatters across her gown. She looked as though she’d been run over by a stampede of horses.

  Connor glanced around the terrace for signs of her attacker but knew he would not find anyone there. He had announced himself before entering the room, giving the intruder time to get away. Connor was furious. Who had done this? If he ever found out, he would kill the man.

  He moved over his limp sister, heart aching for her. “Allana, wake up,” he said soberly. She moaned when he lifted her head to his lap. “Oh Lana, who did this to you?”

  A woman gasped from behind him. Connor looked just in time to see Martha fall to her knees where she wept from the sight of her mistress.

  “Martha, you must fetch my father. Martha? Martha!” She was in shock. “Martha, did you hear me?” Connor said loudly, gaining her attention.

  She nodded.

  “Good. Go, and on your return, bring warm water to clean her wounds.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The old, gray-haired woman climbed to her feet and left the room quickly.

  Connor put his arms under his sister to pick her up. She felt his presence and panicked, struggling against his hold. It was a weak struggle, but it almost caused Connor to drop her.

  “No, please,” she whimpered when he refused to let her go.

  His heart broke at the sound. “Allana,” Connor said soothingly. “It’s Connor. You are safe now.”

  She tried to open her eyes, but they were too swollen. She sobbed from frustration and fear.

  “Shhhh, I’m here. You’re truly safe. He’s gone.”

  She relaxed enough for him to carry her to her bed and cover her exposed body with a blanket. He brushed her matted hair away from her face, and his own tears slipped down his cheeks.

  “Connor,” she began hoarsely and so quietly Connor had to lean in to hear her. “He’s going after Lancelot. Please, you must save him.” It was a struggle for her to speak. The pain was visible even with her unrecognizable face.

  “He’s still here?” Connor asked uncertainly. Could he be so lucky?

  Allana nodded. “Please Connor, help him,” came her feeble reply.

  Connor hesitated slightly before acting. If her attacker said he was going to hurt Lancelot, perhaps Connor still had a chance to catch him. “I’ll go investigate. Father should be along any moment. Will you be alright until he comes?”

  Her lips moved in reply as her head made the barest of nods.

  He kissed her forehead before swiftly leaving the room and racing to the stables. Rage drove him. He would make Allana’s attacker suffer for hurting her.

  Once in the stables, Connor drew his sword and cautiously entered. His blood was pumping as he listened for any odd noises. Unfortunately, he heard none, only the soft voice of Dalon coming from Lancelot’s stall. Connor strode over to the stall and found Dalon and his grandson Fredric nursing a scared, bloodied Lancelot.

  “What happened here?” Connor asked.

  “Someone tried to beat the poor beast with that board over there, the one with the nail sticking out of it. Then it looks as though he switched to a razor ended whip. Or maybe it was the other way around. I don’t know exactly. All I know is it was a cruel hand that did this,” Dalon replied in disgust.

  “How long ago did this happen? It doesn’t look recent.” Allana said the intruder was going to the stables to do this, but from the looks of the wounds, he’d done it before he attacked Allana.

  Dalon glanced at Fredric. The boy quickly looked away. “Don’t rightly know when the poor boy was attacked. Most of the wounds had clotted over and dried by the time we discovered him. He was quite the mess and full of fear. Freddy was the only one who could calm him.”

  Connor felt ill. Had he just left his sister in the hands of her attacker once more? Did the intruder tell her he was going after her horse to get her rescuers to leave her so he could finish the job he’d started?

  “Is something the matter?” Dalon asked.

  Connor shook his head. His father was with Allana. The intruder would have known Connor would send for him, surely. It would have been too dangerous for him to linger. Allana was safe now, but she needed medical attention. “Fredric, we need the doctor. Take our fastest horse and go fetch him. Can you do that for us?” Connor asked.

  “For Lancelot, Sir?” the boy asked in confusion.

  Connor didn’t have time for this. No matter what he told himself, he still feared for Allana’s safety. He needed to get back. “No. Lady Allana has been injured.”

  The boy’s eyes widened in horror. No further questions were asked. He darted from the stall, oddly grabbing at his ribs as he ran to do as Connor had asked.

  Connor sighed in relief. He turned to Dalon. “I have to get back. Take care of Lancelot.”

  Dalon nodded, staring after Fredric with a look of worry on his face.

  Connor had no time to contemplate it. He rushed back to the house, frantic for Allana. He’d left the master keys in her room. If the intruder truly hadn’t left, they would have to hack their way through the doors without those keys.

  Fear soared through Connor as he bound up the stairs two and three steps at a time. What if he was too late? If the attacker killed Allana, Connor would never forgive himself.

  He burst through Allana’s doors ready to fight. Relief shot through him as he spotted Allana lying safely on her bed with Lilly tending to her wounds and his father pacin
g worriedly to the side.

  The lamps in the room were lit, revealing how badly Allana truly looked. Her entire face was swollen beyond recognition, her nose looked like it was broken, and her eyes were both black and blue, one swollen completely shut and the other partially shut. Cuts covered her lips, and bruises surrounded her neck.

  Connor swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “I sent Fredric for the doctor,” he informed the room, yet his eyes never left Allana’s swollen face.

  His father nodded. “That relieves me. I was about to have Jennings roused to do it. Now we just wait.”

  Connor stared at Allana with pity and anger. His heart ached for his sister and the pain she was going through both physically and emotionally. It angered him that someone could be so cruel. If he could only find out who had done this, he could avenge his sister. “Allana, I have to know. Who did this to you?” Fear spread across her face. “Allana, you have nothing to fear. We will protect you. Tell us who did this, and we will bring him to justice.”

  He could tell crying pained her, but more tears slipped from her eyes.

  “I cannot,” she said, barely audible.

  “Why? Did you not see his face?” Connor asked desperately. How could she not tell him who had done this horrible thing to her and to her beloved Lancelot?

  “I…,” she turned her head away and moaned in pain. “Hurts…so….”

  “Allana, please tell me,” Connor pleaded.

  “Can’t,” came the raspy answer.

  “We can protect you, Allana. Please.” He had to know. She had to tell him. Just seeing the pain on her tear-stained face caused his blood to boil with rage.

  “Allana, Connor is right. If you know, you need to tell us,” their father said softly.

  “I…do not…know.” It was such a struggle for her to speak. Her voice was hoarse and unrecognizable.

  “But—”