Mrs. Abernathy blinked as Stevens escorted the doctor into the room. "I haven't seen him, my lady. I would swear he was in the house."
She groaned low as another contraction gripped her in a painful vise. "Send someone to fetch him, please."
"Let's get you relaxed, my dear." The doctor poured liquid from a brown bottle into a cloth, making her want to retch. She would take nothing that might interfere with her mental acuity!
"No! You will not come near me with that foulness!"
She let out a hoarse scream as her belly clenched, the contraction pushing the babes further along. It was dreadfully difficult! The physician was less than useless. He seemed not to know what to do with a mother who refused the relief he'd offered, and after many hours of labor, he tried again to press it upon her regardless of her wishes.
"Do not touch me!" Elizabeth's angry growl made the physician back away with his cloth as fear filled his eyes. Mrs. Abernathy scowled and pushed him aside to settle between Elizabeth's splayed thighs.
"Get up on your knees, child. Babes come easier with a little help from gravity." She scowled at the ineffective physician. "Not by drugging the mother so much she can't push them out."
As the older woman helped get her to her knees, squatting as Mrs. Abernathy directed, she muttered, "Where the bloody hell is my husband? I wish for him to be castrated." Another sharp contraction made her groan in agony.
"Haud yer wheesht, girl, and push! These babes are as impatient as you are."
Elizabeth bore down and with a tearing scream, birthed her first babe, a son with a mass of black hair. Mrs. Abernathy lifted his squalling body above her, his tiny penis concealed in folds of skin and cord.
And Richard was there, sweaty and disheveled, but she was so thankful to see him that she didn't care about his appearance. He settled behind at her back to give her support, kissing her face as she struggled to birth the second babe. "So brave and strong. So fierce. I love you beyond life, my Elizabeth."
The girl was silent as Mrs. Abernathy held her aloft for Elizabeth to see. She did not cry. Instead, she gazed at her mother and father with cloudy gray eyes, measuring and weighing them as if she sought to discern whether or not they were worthy of her presence.
"Gabriel Michael and Amelia Rose."
"Should I not be allowed to choose a name?" Richard smiled down at her as he brushed the damp hair away from her face.
"Do the names displease you?"
"No. You chose well, darling."
He held her as she grunted to push the remains of her pregnancy free of her body, helping Mrs. Abernathy cleanse her of her labors and change the bedding.
She sighed in delight as Mrs. Abernathy settled the babes in her arms, helping her position them to suck. She was so very tired, the pleasurable dissonance of half-lucid sleep making her vision fuzzy. She allowed her eyes to close, relishing the warm strength of her husband behind her as she fed her newly born children.
Life was sweet, indeed.
∞∞∞
Days passed and she delighted in the enforced confinement that gave her a chance to bond with Gabriel and Amelia.
Like her mother had described his namesake, Gabriel was a sunny, sweet child. He rarely cried, only giving voice to loud displeasure when he was hungry.
Amelia was another matter entirely. Silent unless someone had the poor sense to separate her from her brother, she was an enigmatic child, mysterious and observant. Yet somehow soothing to her mother and brother in turn.
They'd learned better than to separate the twins. Gabriel squalled irritably when his sister was taken out of his reach. By contrast, Amelia did not cry, but screamed in rage at any distance from her brother. Bare minutes apart in age, it was clear Amelia was dominant in their relationship.
She dominated her parents as easily as she did her older brother.
A double cradle was commissioned for them. They held each other as they slept between feedings at Elizabeth's breast.
Yet now that the children were born, she remembered the witch's promise to return.
∞∞∞
The nursemaid, Stella, had taken the babes away after their evening feeding, and Elizabeth looked forward to a tender evening with Richard. She bathed and brushed her hair, dressing in a silk nightdress she thought he might like. It had been weeks since she'd given birth and she was fit and strong, well-healed from the birth.
She giggled as she spun in front of the mirror, the skirt of her nightdress swirling around her calves. Her figure had grown overly lush after giving birth, but she rather liked her new curves. The door to their bedchamber opened and closed, and she hurriedly pinched her cheeks to give them a bit of color before walking from the bathing chamber to greet her husband.
She moved in front of him as he removed his coat and shirt, stretching upward to kiss him. Richard allowed it, but turned away.
“You should put on a more appropriate nightdress, Elizabeth. It is too cold for such foolishness.”
Biting her lip, she said, “I thought we might enjoy relations, my lord.”
“Not tonight. I’m very tired.”
She nodded and pulled another nightdress from her chest, holding back her acidic reply, along with the hot tears burning behind her eyes. Richard was tired every night and she was tired of asking. Perhaps he was disgusted by her postpartum body, or was unwilling to share her attention with the babes. Whatever his problem was, it would be a cold day in hell before she asked again.
“In fact, I’ll sleep in another chamber so I don’t disturb you.” He reached to pick up his dressing gown.
She held up a hand, stopping him. “Don’t bother. You said you’re tired. I am not, so I will be in the library.” She left their bedchamber, her heart aching when he did not stop her.
The next morning, she waited for him in the morning room, hoping he would deign to share breakfast with her. She desperately wanted to discuss the witch.
He stomped down the stairs, his feet heavy as he entered the room. Sitting across from her, he filled his teacup without speaking and opened his newspaper.
Scowling, she pushed away her empty plate. “Richard, I would like to discuss her. You recall she promised to come back, and—”
"Don't worry so much, pet," Richard snapped. "The guards won't allow her close."
Her mouth fell open at his harsh tone, and she swallowed the words she’d planned to say. Instead, she murmured, “Yes, my lord.”
Elizabeth resolved to keep her thoughts to herself in the future. Richard grew snappish and awful whenever she mentioned Angeline, but she continued to worry. She hated when he called her pet, but she said nothing to him. He was too easily angered after the births, and she did not want to fight with him. Without another word, she left him to tend their babies.
The babes were both holding their heads up now, and she thought Gabriel might master rolling over very soon. Amelia seemed content to watch her brother's antics, but she wasn't far behind.
Elizabeth's brother had been only two months old when the witch murdered him. Her children were older than that now. Perhaps, the hag had gone on to easier prey. She said a prayer for that unknown mother who might lose her child.
∞∞∞
She was roused from sleep by gentle hands positioning Amelia at her breast. Stella usually brought them one at a time, yet she suddenly wanted both her children.
"Give me my son," she whispered.
"He isn't yours."
The sibilant hiss twined around her ear, pushing the part of her that wanted to be subservient aside. She pulled Amelia from her breast and set her between the pillows on her bed. Their bed. Hers and Richard's. Amelia gazed at her as if she understood her mother's torment and encouraged perseverance and faith.
Elizabeth got up and stalked forward, wearing nothing but a wrapper.
Gray strands twisted through the witch's tangled mane and wrinkles drew sharp valleys across her forehead and cheeks. Frown lines radiated from her lips, leaving her looking pinched and
sour.
"You've looked better, Angeline. At your age, you should take care of your appearance." She circled the witch, staying carefully out of reach as she remained within touching distance of her daughter.
Gabriel was missing, though, and she was a hair's breadth from attacking the hag. Her fists clenched, and she dug her nails into her palms to keep her hands still. "Where is my son, witch?"
Angeline laughed, her face sagging into wrinkles and the caverns of advanced age. "Do you not even wish to know where your husband is?"
Elizabeth languidly secured the buttons on her wrapper as she met the witch's eyes. "I'm sure you'll give me a story you think will cause me distress. Why don't we ignore the lover who discarded you and get back to my son?"
Angeline hissed, her breath leaving her in a cloud of hate and violence. "Bitch. You are not a good pet."
"On the contrary. Richard tells me I'm a very good pet," Elizabeth purred. "You are simply lacking in imagination." Her hands clenched and she moved into Angeline's personal space, nearly touching the witch even as the closeness made her want to retch. "Give me my son, and I'll let you go without summoning the footmen to throw you out."
Angeline slapped her, but Elizabeth ignored the ineffective blow and drove her fist into the witch's belly, causing her to bend over and gasp for air. Grabbing a handful of gray hair, she yanked the witch's head up. "Where is my son?"
Hard hands grasped her from behind, and she screamed in anger as the witch backed away with a smirk.
"You're a very lucky girl that I don't have you beaten for your cheek."
Elizabeth squirmed until she faced her captor and stilled in shock.
"Angeline said you enjoyed her touch, pet. Aren't you happy that she's returned?"
Richard's voice was measured and even as he spoke, he did not meet her eye. Instead, he stared into space, a rictus grin upon his face as he restrained her.
Amelia watched the conflict with wide gray eyes but she didn't cry out as Richard pulled Elizabeth from the room and frog marched her down the stairs and into the cellar.
The witch had done something to him. It wasn't the same spell she'd placed before. She could see him fight against it, to no avail. His hands were hard on her arms as he tugged her along beside him toward an unused pantry. His eyes met hers, aching, pain filled, beseeching. Agonized.
"I'll fix this," she promised.
He shook his head, tears leaking from his eyes. "You can't— I can't fight this! I'm so sorry." He roared in pain and pushed her into the pantry, shutting and locking the door behind him and leaving her in darkness.
Chapter 18
May this marriage be full of laughter, our every day in paradise.
Rumi
Her breasts grew heavy and tight, filled with milk that should be going to her children. She ignored the discomfort and continued digging at the hinges with the broken fork she'd found on the floor. It was probably wasted effort, but she would not sit like a ninny while the witch held dominion over her house and her family.
The door opened suddenly, revealing Stevens. He grimaced and tossed her a loaf of stale bread before setting a pitcher and a cup on the floor.
"The master should have disposed of you," he hissed. "Upstart bitch."
She felt sick at his words, but had to try to engage him. "Wait!"
"You have no authority here, stupid girl. I can't imagine anyone would give you a damned thing."
She'd wanted to ask him to bring her children so she could feed them. Yet she knew he wouldn't even consider passing along the request. "Lord Denforth misses Angeline! You should send word to him that she's come back."
Stevens laughed, the sound chilling her bones. "I should. The three of them can beat you. Perhaps, they'll let me watch." He slammed the door, leaving her once again in darkness.
What an utterly foul little man! She'd never liked Stevens but hadn't had the opportunity or reason to sack him. While he’d been polite after Angeline had left, his eyes followed her almost constantly, even in Richard’s presence, and he was very slow to obey her orders. Indeed, he often pretended not to hear her, unless someone else was watching. The guards Richard had promised her were useless. If Angeline had Richard under her thumb, he would have sent them away. She'd been too involved with her babies to notice.
Yet she had known something was wrong. Richard had been short and dismissive to her. She was sure the change in his behavior had been because of Angeline. How long had the witch been watching them? Had Roland noticed anything amiss? She had no way to answer those questions and sighed heavily as she picked up the lump of stale bread. She had to keep up her strength.
Sooner or later, they'd let her out and she had to be ready for the opportunity. When she'd finished the bread and pitcher of water, she opened her wrapper. If she didn't get rid of the pressure in her breasts, she'd be in agony. Milk soon began to dribble into the empty pitcher and she sighed in relief. She expressed as much as she could then curled her body into a corner to rest.
∞∞∞
Boots stomping on the stairs alerted her to a visitor. Her breasts were full again, but she had no idea of the time. She stood as straight as she could, refusing to let anyone see her cower. Light stabbed her eyes as the door slammed open, revealing Michael. He stomped into her cell of a pantry and grabbed her throat, tugging her close.
"I'm going to pretend to bite you, and I want you to scream, darling. If you want to save your children, please do as I say."
He bit her ear gently, yet she screamed as if he'd torn the lobe from her body. She hoped that he had a plan, but if he didn't, she could come up with something.
"Shut up, bitch!" He slapped her then yanked her head back and attacked her ear once more. "That was very good," he whispered. "I hope you forgive me someday, but I don't have any other ideas."
She screamed again as he moved his mouth to her throat, allowing her to whisper in his ear. "It's better than I've got. Thank you for coming. Roland?"
Moving back to her ear, he bit once again as he pinched her breast. After she'd cried out and struggled against him, he said, "He sent word to me yesterday. Stevens and the witch will expect things. Are you ready to fight?"
He lowered his head to her breast, pretending to bite the swollen flesh to allow her to answer. "I'm ready," she whispered.
"That's enough," Stevens called from the doorway, laughter in his voice. "Let's get the little whore to Lady Angeline."
"I'm so sorry," Michael whispered as he got a tight grip around her neck and dragged her from the pantry.
She'd already forgiven him by the time he dragged her up the stairs to face Angeline. She was perched upon Richard's lap, stroking his bare chest as he gazed above her head. His vacant stare made him look drugged. What had she done to him?
Amelia rested where she'd left her, silent and watchful, though Elizabeth could smell the foulness of waste emanating from her poor daughter. It made her sick, and she mentally begged forgiveness from her sweet girl.
Gabriel was equally silent as he rested in Stevens's arms, even though the odious little toad pinched and prodded at him, grinning maliciously.
"Let the bitch feed the whelps." Michael's voice was hard and emotionless as he pushed Elizabeth into the room. "We'll send them off with their nursemaid and have some—" He winked and licked his lips as he gazed at Elizabeth. "We'll have some fun."
"Capital idea, darling. I hope this convinces you to take me up on my offer."
"I'm thinking about it." He pushed Elizabeth to the bed.
She fell, nearly landing upon Amelia, then gathered her to her breast. Amelia gazed at her, gray eyes solemn as she sucked. Gabriel whimpered as he was brought to her, but he soon settled at her breast next to his sister. Too soon, she was finally, blessedly empty.
Angeline smirked as she snatched her children away, handing them to a terrified Stella. Elizabeth called after the retreating woman. "Please clean them up and make them more comfortable."
She cried o
ut as a vicious slap rocked her head backward.
"It doesn't matter whether they're clean or not. I plan to take them both." Angeline sniffed as she prodded Elizabeth with the tip of a heavy cane. "You seem to be a fertile broodmare. I'm sure you'll have another soon enough."
Elizabeth flew toward her, hands extended into claws as she raked at the witch, her nails leaving bloody furrows down Angeline's face. She screamed angrily as Richard and Michael pulled her away, holding her arms so tightly she thought they might break as they tore away her wrapper.
Wiping the blood from her face, Angeline said, "It is well past time that you were punished, pet. You ruined my lovely torture chamber, so we'll have to make do with what we have." The cane whistled through the air as Richard and Michael pushed her to the bed. They soon had her tied, spread-eagled upon the bed, easily overpowering her when she struggled. The first blow fell and she nearly broke a tooth holding in her scream of pain.
"Count them, pet."
"Bugger off, hag." Elizabeth’s angry snarl ended in a gasp of pain as the cane fell once more.
"You are a very bad pet."
The witch laid a gentle hand on Elizabeth's head. The touch itself didn't hurt, but her head suddenly ached fiercely. Bloody hell! The witch was trying to put another geas on her!
"No, you don't!" Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly, fighting against the intrusion. Amelia's gray eyes flashed in her mind's eye and the witch jerked her hand away with a hiss.
"You nasty little slut!" The cane fell rapidly, punctuating her words. "I'd planned to make this easy on you, but I won't bother. I simply don't understand why you insist on making this so difficult for me."
She threw the cane aside with an irritated huff as she looked outside. "Oh well, I suppose I'll have to cut my fun short, anyway. It's nearly midnight." She slapped Elizabeth's thigh. "Once I have the energy from your little whelps, I'll make sure you regret crossing me."
Turning to Michael, she muttered, "Get her untied and bring her outside." She smirked nastily. "And don't bother to dress her. She won't need it." She snapped her fingers and Richard followed her outside, his shoulders bowed as he stumbled along behind her.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 21