“You wish me to be clean and properly attired before you hang me?” she asked as Ansel rose, stepped over to her, and took her by the arm.
“You do appear very improper, Gisele. One would not wish to shock the poor people attending your execution, would one?”
“Oh, indeed, one might,” she muttered as Ansel dragged her out of the great hall.
Gisele did not understand what was happening, and that frightened her. If Vachel were just going to execute her, what did her cleanliness and attire matter? She disregarded his cold words of explanation. That was just a sick jest. There was really only one reason for him to want to clean her up and dress her as a woman, as far as she could see. Vachel quite possibly shared his cousin’s taste for rape.
Ansel shoved her into a large room, where he grabbed a timid maid by the arm and whispered some instructions to her before he shut the door. Gisele ignored the muscular, silent Ansel standing guard and looked around the room. Her fear grew. This was a man’s room and, although she dearly wished to be proven wrong, she knew it was Vachel’s.
For a brief moment, she wondered if he were going to offer her freedom in return for her favors. Then she recalled with whom she was dealing. She wrapped her arms around herself as she shivered, but nothing would keep the chill of fear away. If she judged Vachel right, he had looked at her, decided he wanted her, and intended to use her until he tired of her. Then he would have her executed for the murder of his cousin. It was a very tidy way to have a mistress and then be rid of her when he got bored, and she suspected Vachel would savor the simplicity of it all.
She looked around the room again, but saw no way to escape. One glance at Ansel told her she would never get any help there. Vachel had warned her that Ansel’s loyalty was absolute, and she believed it. Her only hope was escape, for she knew Vachel would show no mercy, but unless some miracle happened she was trapped. Gisele fought the urge to weep with helplessness, not wanting Ansel to see it. He would tell Vachel, and Gisele was sure that man would find some pleasure in her sorrow and fear.
When the tub was brought and filled with hot water she watched the maids closely. The women were all silent, heads bowed and spirits broken. None of them would offer her any aid. As soon as the tub was filled and the maids had slunk away, she turned and looked at Ansel.
“You could at least turn your back,” she snapped, fear making her temper short. Was he supposed to have a taste of her, too?
“Non,” he rasped.
“I will not disrobe before you.”
“You will, or I will do it for you.”
Gisele hesitated for a moment and then Ansel took a step toward her. Trembling with embarrassment, she turned her back on him and shed her clothes. Just as she got ready to step into the bath, he grabbed her by the arm and turned her around. Gisele stood stiffly as he looked her over as if she were a slab of meat about to be set upon the Lord’s table. The fury she felt over being subjected to such an indignity briefly burned away her fear. When he released her, she spit a curse at him and climbed into the tub. She easily ignored him after that, taking her bath as if she were alone in the room.
Once she was out of the water and rubbing herself dry with a soft drying cloth, Ansel pointed to the clothes one of the maids had spread out on the bed. She really did not want to put them on, for it seemed as if she were accepting her fate by doing so. Unfortunately, the maids had taken away her boy’s clothing, and her only other choice was to remain naked. As soon as she was dressed Ansel looked her over again, nodded, then left her alone. She winced as she heard a heavy bar being slid across the door.
Choked with fear and despair, Gisele flung herself onto the bed and indulged in a brief, hearty cry. It did not make her feel all that much better, but she hoped it would relieve her of the urge to do so again. The very last thing she wished to do was show any sign of weakness in front of Vachel or one of his minions.
She was facing rape. Nothing she told herself could change her conviction that that was the fate Vachel had in store for her. Someone who did not know the DeVeaux might think she was about to be forgiven, perhaps even set free, but she knew these men. Ansel had not looked her over to be sure she was not injured. He had done so to be sure she was clean and would not sully his master when the man forced himself upon her.
Nigel had so carefully eased her fears, so gently shown her that passion could be a beautiful thing. She had not forgotten all the cruel, ugly things her husband had done to her and probably never would, but Nigel had helped to soften the hard edges of the memory. Now yet another DeVeau was about to ruin it all. She would have to endure new horrors, new humiliations. Everything she had shared with Nigel was going to be spoiled, even the pleasant memories drowned by new ones bred of cruelty and pain. Gisele found that to be the saddest thing of all.
The bolt was slid back on the door and it slowly opened. Gisele resisted the urge to try to hide somewhere in the large room like a terrified child. She stood tall and straight as Vachel entered. A little maid scurried in silently behind him and set a tray of food and wine on a table near the bed, then scurried back out. As the door shut behind her, Gisele caught sight of the hulking Ansel just outside of the door.
She tensed as Vachel drew near, plucking at her growing curls with his long, pale fingers. It was hard to look at such a beautiful face and believe that it belonged to such a cruel, evil man, but Gisele had no doubt about his true nature. Michael had also been beautiful. It would be a sort of justice, she mused, if such men had faces as twisted as their souls so that they could be more easily recognized.
“You even cut your hair,” Vachel murmured. “Was it vanity that made you then curl it as it grew?”
“I did not curl it.” The way he studied her as if she were some unusual creature he had found in the forest made her nervous. Gisele did not think it was safe to have a man like Vachel find her interesting. “It grows like this.”
“Intriguing. Have you guessed what I plan for you?” He placed his hands over her breasts, his gaze fixed upon hers. “You did not have to bind yourself.”
It was hard, but Gisele made herself act as if his touch meant nothing to her, as if she felt absolutely nothing, not even the disgust that was churning her stomach. “It rapidly becomes clear that you do not mean to flatter me to death,” she drawled.
“I may yet utter a few flatteries. I am sure my late, unlamented cousin taught you nothing, but I am curious as to what that rough Scot may have shown you.”
“He showed me how to escape your family and how to fight. Give me a sword and I will show you.”
Vachel stepped back and then slowly circled her before coldly smiling at her. “Non, but I will keep your boast in mind. If you speak the truth about your skill, I may be able to make interesting game of it.”
Gisele did not even want to think about that. “It will be hard to show you when I am dead, and the hanging will be soon, will it not?”
“It will not,” he murmured. “I have other plans. My family hungers for their revenge upon you, but they can hunger for a while longer. They do not need to know that you have been found. You may take your ease here, with me, in this room. We will pleasure each other for a while.”
“Do you think I will play the whore for you just to save my neck?”
“I did not say that it would save your pretty neck.” He lightly encircled her throat with the long, cold fingers of one hand.
