Pomeroy turned and lifted the bowl high above his head. As he walked toward her, panic welled up in her chest and shot through her limbs. He came to a halt beside her. His burning eyes scorched over her skin, taking in every intimate curve and line.
I am strong enough to live through this. I will survive until Jamie comes. I will!
It was too late to save her from what Pomeroy was about to do to her, so she devoted her prayer to Martin.Please, God, let Jamie come before they kill the boy.
Pomeroy rested the warm wooden bowl on her belly, then went to stand at the base of the table. Tied down as she was, she could not fight him. She lifted her gaze to meet his and let him see the loathing in her eyes.
“I curse you to hell for this,” she said between her teeth.
“You shall know who defiles you,” Pomeroy said, his voice rising. “Who fills you with the spirit of a demon. Who weds you in the sight of the great Lucifer himself!”
The others in the room gasped as the wolf-man pulled off his mask and flung it across the room. But Linnet had known who the wolf-man was all along.
Sir Guy Pomeroy, gone mad.
The witches took up their chant again. Amid their rising voices, Linnet began to shake. Nay, she could not do this.
Pomeroy raised his arms out like a massive bird, spreading the wolf skin wide. Beneath it, he was naked, his member swollen and erect. Linnet bit her lip and tasted blood.
Pomeroy’s glowing black eyes locked with hers as he shouted, “I shall make you my goddess!”
Chapter Forty-two
“The steps are steep,” Edmund warned as he held the secret panel open for them. “God go with you.”
“I’ll not forget this.” Jamie clasped Edmund’s arm before ducking through the doorway.
Edmund glanced up and down the hall as Jamie helped Master Woodley through. One day Jamie would laugh at how he’d gone into the battle of his life with only an old man as his comrade in arms. But not today.
Edmund closed the door, and Jamie heard a distant, eerie chanting.
“Remember,” Jamie said as he fixed his torch into the brace in the wall, “you are to wait here at the top of the stairs. If I do not return, go to Edmund Beaufort.”
Jamie clambered down the long flight of stairs and hit the dirt floor at a run. Almost at once, he lost the light from the torch and had to slacken his pace. He followed the chanting through the darkness, Linnet’s description of the witches’ sabbat vivid in his head.
Lord, let me be in time to save her.
The tunnel must be taking him close to the river. A dank smell filled his nose, and he was splashing through puddles.
There was now light ahead. The passageway opened up into a larger area, lit by flickering candlelight, just as Linnet had described it to him. As he approached, he slowed his steps and pulled his sword. He paused in the shadows outside the entrance to observe his enemy before making his attack.
God in heaven! Rage and fear roared through him at the sight of Linnet lying naked on the table. Every muscle screamed to charge in blindly, sword swinging. But he forced himself to keep his head, because he must to save her.
In a flash, he took in the rest of the room: the dozen fiends thrashing and swaying to their blasphemous chant; a woman prostrate on the floor, arms outstretched; a man in wolf’s hide and mask, at Linnet’s feet.
He scanned the room for weapons. Four swords leaned against the wall opposite, next to a second entrance. Only four, though some of the devil-worshippers could have shorter blades hidden beneath their strange attire.
Jamie’s goal was simple: to put himself and his sword between Linnet and her captors. These foul demon-lovers would have to kill him to get to her. And he did not intend to die today. He was going to grow old with that woman on the table.
He took one step forward before a movement near the far wall caught his eye. What he had thought was a pile of clothing was a second captive.
His heart froze. God in heaven, how did Martin get in this place? Rescuing the two of them would not be easy.
The wolf-man raised his arms and shouted. Jamie could not hear the words above the chanting; he did not need to.
The wolf-man would be the first to die.
The chanting suddenly changed to shouts of alarm. Linnet turned her head in time to see Jamie leap into the room, sword flashing. The witches scattered before him like boys before a charging bull. In an instant, he was beside the table, facing outward, sword in one hand and dagger in the other. With a slash of his dagger, he cut the rope that bound her right wrist.
