‘Surely, not in a day or two? Once you find a priest, all will be well. And I can gather some possessions and come back.’
Edmund shook his head, and a sneer twisted his handsome face. ‘How can you disappoint me like this? I meant to have you this day, Cecily. I meant to take my time, bring you to ecstasy, delight in your beautiful body and that face. God save me, was there ever a face like yours? But, if it has to be this way, then so be it.’ He dismounted and rushed towards her. ‘Come here, girl. It seems we must do this the hard way.’
‘Stop, Edmund. What are you doing?’ she cried.
He took her in a rough embrace and hissed the words into her face, ‘Taking what I am owed.’
‘I owe you nothing,’ cried Cecily.
‘Oh, yes, you do. All these times, I have wooed you and held myself back. As rare and precious a flower as Cecily MacCreadie should be plucked with care, I told myself. And now you dare to defy me like this – a man of my means and station in life.’
‘But we have to wait until we are married. You said we were going to the priest.’
‘A priest!’ Edmund shook her so hard her teeth rattled. ‘You think I am going to marry you. Why would I shackle myself to an ignorant peasant, daughter of a man who doesn’t have two shillings to his name?’
The sting to her pride sparked Cecily’s dark MacCreadie temper. Hot tears blurred her eyes, but she stood up for herself. ‘And what are you, nought but a merchant’s son? Don’t think yourself so high and mighty. My father is a laird.’
He laughed and shook his head. ‘Your lovely head cannot be that empty.’
‘Edmund, please. Let us not quarrel. I love you, and you said you loved me.’
He shrugged. ‘So? A man will say anything to get inside a girl as lovely as you. I enjoyed the chase, and you have strung me along well enough. Surely a filthy reiver’s daughter cannot be that innocent? Don’t you know I can take your virtue whenever I please, and no one will think me the villain?’
‘Aye, they will. I will set the magistrate on you if you touch me.’
He put his face into hers, and it was no longer handsome. It was twisted with spite and lust. ‘You came out here time and again to be alone with me. That makes you a whore, Cecily MaCreadie, nought but a filthy Scots whore. You should be honoured that I chose you. You should get on your back and spread your legs with gratitude. If you satisfy me, if you wriggle and moan enough, I might still make you my mistress.’
‘Mistress?’
‘Yes, for I’ve no need for a wife. I already have one.’
He began to paw at her like an over-eager dog, and suddenly, Cecily hated him. All her dreams and hopes and love drained away, leaving only the scorching heat of her temper taking flame.
‘I’ll not come with you. Get away from me,’ she howled.
‘If you’ll not come to the inn and be taken in a warm bed, then we will just have to do it here.’
Cecily slapped him so hard her palm stung. Edmund’s head snapped sideways, and he staggered back, but then he swept back his arm and lashed her across the face. The impact brought Cecily to her knees. The ground was hard and cold beneath her hands. Mud spattered her face and hair, and a drip fell from her nose. It spread into the linen of her yellow dress, the spot growing in a blur of red.
‘My best dress is ruined,’ she thought, as if a stranger inhabited her body. The trees and bushes lurched around her in a blur, and her legs had no strength. She was yanked upwards by her hair. The sting of it brought her to her senses.
Edmund thrust his face into hers – lustful, intent, snarling. ‘You need to be taught some manners before your betters, girl,’ he said, spinning her around and slamming her up against a tree with a force that left her breathless. His hands seemed to be everywhere, up her skirt, tearing open her bodice with clawing fingers. His mouth crashed into hers, and when she struggled, he took hold of her throat and squeezed.
‘Be still, little fool, while I relieve you of your virginity,’ Edmund hissed.
No, he could not. He would not. Cecily raked her nails down his beautiful face with all her strength, and Edmund cursed and brought a hand to his cheek. In a blind panic, she kneed him in the belly, and when he doubled over, she ran for her life. An enraged howl came from behind as Cecily thrashed through gorse bushes, tearing at her skin and clothes. She stumbled over tussocks of grass, and her ankle snagged on something.
Cecily fell down hard in a puddle of mud, scrambling to her feet on unsteady legs. A curse came from behind. Edmund was gaining on her, and he had drawn his knife. The path ahead led to a patch of woodland. If she could only reach it, she might be able to outrun him or hide until he went away.
Her head pounded. She was alone in a deserted place with a monster. There was no one to help her. She was going to die this day.
Chapter Three
Peyton stared at the modest farmhouse nestled in a grove of chestnut trees, naked of their leaves under winter’s grip.
‘I will wait for you here as I’ve no desire to witness you trying to debauch that poor lass,’ said Father Luggan.
‘There is no debauching. I am the picture of chivalry with Lorna.’
