’Twas of no use. One of them galloped up next to her and with a swift jerk, pulled her from her saddle across his own. She landed on her stomach with the air knocked out of her and saw the ground race by at a dizzying speed. She’d failed.
“Bitch!” Michael’s voice was tight with fury as he slowed his horse to a walk. “Foolish woman!”
Victor barreled up to them. “I’ll take her, Father. ’Tis my right to enjoy what little time we’ve left together. ”
Maris struggled as she was shoved over to the younger man’s mount and placed in front of him on the saddle. Michael gave her a hard slap to the face, stunning her, as Victor’s arms tightened around her waist.
“What are you going to do?” she demanded, trying to ignore the pounding in her temple from the blow.
Victor laughed harshly. “You seem so concerned about your wedding, my dear, that I should hate to disappoint you and have you forego your wedding night. ” One of his hands slipped to close over her breast as he pushed his arousal into her bottom. “I would expect that to occupy us for some time, and then…well, my love, I do not see any purpose in returning damaged goods to your bridegroom…if indeed he still lives. ” His fingers pinched cruelly at her breast, closing over her nipple so that she could not suppress a soft gasp of pain. “And I have no use for damaged goods myself. After all, ’twould do no good for me to beget a child upon my sister, now would it?”
“What?” she gasped from pain as much as shock.
“What, Father, you did not tell her that we are blood?” Victor asked, his hand moving to cup the full weight of her breast, fondling it roughly.
Michael looked at Maris. “Your mother, whore that she is, begat my child before she married Merle of Langumont and birthed you. ”
“You are my father?” The pain from Victor’s seeking fingers faded in light of this revelation. “Nay. ”
“Oh, I assure you, ’tis true. ”
“But…I was to marry…your son…my brother. ”
Michael shrugged. “I did not know you were my daughter at that time. I didn’t learn of it until your stupid mother told me as we set out for Breakston to save you. In truth, it didn’t matter to me or to Victor…but your papa—Merle—must have learned this, for he told me he’d changed his mind over the betrothal. ” A cold smile of such evil spread his features that Maris felt nauseated. “I could not accept that decision. ”
The nausea turned to cold anger. “You killed my father,” she whispered.
“Oh, nay, he did not,” said Victor, leanin
g forward to thrust a tongue wet with slime into her ear. He murmured, “Nay, ’twas I who loosed the arrow into his back. ”
Maris jerked away from his cold mouth and was just as harshly jolted back onto a solid chest. “Nay, lady, you’ll not escape me this time. Long have I waited for the opportunity to break your arrogance and impudence, and I’ll have no more delays. ” He sank his fingers into the mass of braids at the back of her scalp, pulling her head backward at an impossible angle, and kissed her forcefully.
Just then, the sound of galloping reached their ears. All three turned to see a single man on horseback careening through the trees.
Maris’s heart leapt until the man drew closer and she recognized him. Bon de Savrille. How could he be involved in this mess?
“Halt!” Bon cried as Michael and Victor started to wheel their horses about, ready to make their escape. “Unhand her!” Bon did not slow, and his momentum brought him to their sides. Maris saw that he brandished a sword that glittered in the afternoon light and she took the opportunity to pull loose of Victor’s hands.
With a quick elbow into his abdomen, Maris launched herself off the saddle, stumbled, then started running through the woods as fast as she could. There were shouts of anger behind her, and she heard a scream of pain from one of the horses, but she kept running.
There was no sound of horse’s hooves following her, but she knew in her numb mind that when they finished their battle—whoever was left—would chase her down.
Swallowing back nausea, Dirick leaned forward over Nick’s neck. His head still pounded and his entire body throbbed with pain…but his intent was single: to find Maris.
He refused to allow himself to think of what could be happening, what she might be going through, as he led the party of men through the forest. Fortunately, several people had spotted Michael and Victor with Maris and Dirick had had to waste little time in discovering their trail. The odd part, he reflected, happy to focus on some other puzzle so that he wouldn’t go crazy with worry, was the third man who had followed in their wake.
The sun was lowering and soon the forest would be dark. ’Twould be next to impossible to follow the trail in the dark, and this realization was the impetus that drove him on.
He could not lose her.
Dirick swallowed back the unmanly urge to cry in frustration. She was his, she was to be his…tonight, he was to wed with the only woman he’d ever wanted with such deep, certain need. He drove his heels into Nick’s middle, pushing the destrier even harder than he did in battle. This was the most important battle he’d ever fought, he realized numbly. He could not lose it.
He almost missed seeing the shadow that rushed out from a deep thicket, until it was nearly beneath Nick’s hooves.
“Help me!” it cried.
“Maris?” Dirick pulled back on the reins, wheeling Nick aside on his hind legs, landing just next to her. He was out of his saddle in an instant, aware of the rest of his men gathering around them in the forest.