Page 57 of This Laird of Mine

Doubt flickered across Agatha’s face. “Why would you use her like that? It’s very unlike you.”

“She’s a beautiful woman. I gave in to temptation.” Jules shrugged. “As you said, my father chose well.”

Claire’s face paled.

Jules tore his gaze from the hurt in Claire’s eyes and narrowed his gaze on the woman before him. “You are a fool, Agatha. You only saw what you wanted to see. You are a fool and a coward.”

She spat at him. “Chain him up!” she shouted at the man who held Claire. The cloaked figure startled, then came forward and, with trembling fingers, gripped Jules’s right wrist, securing it to the wall.

For a heartbeat Jules fought the assault until he caught a glimpse of the desolation on Claire’s face. Her pain was almost unbearable. He closed himself off to it, focusing on the madwoman who wanted revenge. He had to make her think he wanted nothing to do with Claire. It was the only way to keep her safe.

The lackey pressed Jules backward against the stone and secured his left wrist in the all-to-familiar restraints that were fixed to the stone. His feet were next, until he was securely detained.

“Do you remember what it felt like, to be helplessly chained to a wall?”

He remained silent, fighting the desolation and panic he had lived with every day of his incarceration.

“No? Well, perhaps I should remind you of more than just the loss of your freedom. How about this?” She withdrew a whip from beneath her cloak, uncoiled it, and sent it flying across the space that separated them.

Pain bit into his chest as the lash reached its target. He bit back a groan, forcing himself not to react. “Why?” he asked, grateful his voice remained strong, not revealing the terror that threatened to swamp him. He had to stay in control.

“Eventually, you will beg for that which you once denied.”

“Never.”

She gave him a demented smiled as she sent the whip singing through the air once more, but in the opposite direction.

Claire!

Claire cried out at the biting sting of the leather as it connected with her shoulder. The lash tore her gown, leaving her shoulder and the welt beneath exposed.

With a growl of fury, Jules threw his body toward Agatha, desperate to be freed.

“Oh, yes,” Agatha said with a note of glee in her tone. “You will beg me for just about anything before I am through.” Murder burned in her gaze.

Jules fought against his restraints, like a wild animal caught in a trap. “You are right,” Jules bit out. “I will do whatever you ask, just leave the others alone.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jules saw that David had almost sliced through his bindings. “You want me to touch you, Agatha, I will, but only when we are alone.” He would touch her all right. He would gladly wring her neck and willingly go back to gaol for her murder if only to protect the woman he lo—

Jules blocked off the thought. He could not lose himself to his emotions. Their survival meant playing along and convincing the madwoman before him that what he professed was the truth.

Agatha lifted the whip once more, and a thrill of fear clutched at Jules. “I am yours, Agatha. All you have to do is release them.”

Indecision clouded her eyes even as a maniacal smile tugged at her lips. She hesitated, searched Jules’s expression, and must have liked what he reflected back to her. “Very well—” Agatha’s words ended abruptly when David sent the second lackey flying backward. David gripped Agatha about the neck, dragging her back against the wall.

Agatha’s eyes bulged from her head as she attempted to break free of David’s strong grasp. She struggled to breathe. Her fingers left David’s arm to disappear beneath her cloak.

“Watch out!” Jules warned a second too late as she brought a dagger up and slashed David’s forearm.

He grimaced, but held tight.

“You . . . will . . . pay . . . for this.” Again, Agatha brought the dagger up, this time aiming for David’s neck, but instead of striking out, she howled—the sound a mixture of rage, fury, and frustration. The animalistic sound echoed through the chamber as Penelope plunged David’s dagger into the woman’s side once more.

“The first was for my finger. The second for Anna. And this is for Eloise.” Penelope struck a third time. She pulled her hand back, her once-pristine bandage now covered in blood.

“That’s enough, Penelope,” David said forcefully, jarring the young woman out of her vengeful stupor.

Penelope’s eyes went wide and her face paled with horror. She dropped the dagger at her feet. “What have I done?”