Page 47 of A Rogue and a Noble Lass

Warnock cackled and waved to the guards.

“I thought ye might say something like that. Maybe it’s worse for ye tae see pain inflicted than tae feel it yerself,” he said.

Beitris heard a groan. Brody was dragged in. His face was a mess of bruises and his eyes were barely open. He couldn’t move under his own power, and so his legs were limp, trailing behind him like the loose reins of a horse. He was dumped beside Beitris. Warnock wasted no time in bringing the cudgel down with two hands, right in the middle of Brody’s torso. There was a sharp crack as Brody doubled over. He spat out a plume of blood and then settled on the ground.

“Nae!” Beitris replied.

“Aye,” Warnock hissed. He swung the cudgel like a club and hit Brody’s flank. He screamed wide-eyed and twisted, too late to protect himself. “I will dae this tae every member of yer family. I will make ye watch as I torture them all. Their tears and blood will flood this Great Hall, and it shall be the greatest triumph this land hae ever seen.”

“Ye are a monster. That is nae victory… that is… that is… there are nae words.”

Warnock laughed again. He put his hand on Brody’s outstretched arm and pressed down with his boot, crushing Brody’s wrist. Brody’s cry was guttural and raw.

“Stop, just stop! What dae ye want? Why are ye daeing this? Is it about Logan?”she asked, the name feeling like poison upon her tongue.

Warnock drew his boot back. He turned and paced around the floor. Brody’s head lolled towards Beitris. Blood pooled on the floor as it trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Forgive him… tell him I forgive him too,” Brody wheezed, then closed his eyes.

“Ach, it’s interesting ye should mention his name. I understand that the two of ye became close. It’s good tae ken that ye are drawn tae Warnock men.”

Warnock turned and looked at Brody. Disappointment clouded his features, evidently upset that he could not gain more amusement from his toy. He gestured to the guards, who came marching up and pulled Brody away. The point had been made.

Warnock wielded the cudgel menacingly. With the pain still throbbing in her limbs, Beitris didn’t think she would be able to choke him even if she managed to get her hands around his throat. She looked at him darkly, a truth she had dared not face nagged at the back of her mind.

“What… what dae ye mean?”

Warnock tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Dinnae he tell ye, lass? He’s my son. My blood flows through him, nae that he’s ever proven himself worthy of it. Too much of his lowborn Ma in him,” Warnock muttered.

Beitris could not describe the wave of revulsion she felt passing through her. The hands and lips that had caressed her, the breath that had promised such sweet things, the heart that had beat in rhythm with her own… they had all been possessed by a Warnock. And yet hadn’t she suspected this? She’d always kept the truth at arm’s length, not wishing to face it, preferring instead to remain in ignorance and keep a veil of doubt over her eyes because she could never love a Warnock.

She could never… and then it hit her. Logan had probably sworn the same thing.

Had he hated her all this time?

Had her kisses been poison, or had he been fighting his feelings?

“But dinnae worry yer pretty wee head, lass.”

Warnock leaned down and cupped her cheeks, his long jagged nails cutting into her skin. Beitris fumed inside, but her eyes darted to the side, seeing the cudgel, knowing that if she tried to refuse his touch he would bring it down upon her and she would be left disfigured.

“Ye will see that everything hae worked out for the best. Ye are here for a reason, my greatest prize. Ryan Knox’s daughter. But soon enough ye will be something else, something more,” the words rolled out with great emotion. His eyes gleamed with ambition and greed. “Ye will be my wife. Beitris Warnock,” he rasped.

Horror shook Beitris’ heart once again.

“Nae! Nae!” she cried.

Warnock threw his head back and laughed. This time Beitris did try to wrest her face free, but Warnock’s grip tightened. He squeezed her jaw and then all trace of amusement fled his face. He leaned down. She could feel his stale breath and see his yellowed teeth. The rivers in his eyes were visible, and she knew she was looking into the face of someone who was pure evil.

“Oh aye, lass, aye indeed. I will take ye as my wife. Ye will bear me a son worthy of my name. Even I hae tae admit that men with Gilmour and Knox blood are strong. I almost hae one of them for my own. Perhaps I shall hae better luck with ye,” he said.

At the reference to Angus, Beitris felt rage explode inside. She turned and quickly bit down on his fingers. He yelped in pain and quickly enough she was upon him, throwing all her weight. Warnock staggered back and swiped his claws at her face. They caught her cheek and she felt blood oozing out, but she didn’t care.

All she wanted was to kill him.

Soon enough her hands were around his throat and she was straddling him. His eyes bulged as he panted for breath. Beitris was so focused on fighting through the pain that she didn’t see his hand crawling like a spider to the cudgel. She only saw the shadow of movement when it was too late.

It crashed against the side of her head and she was left reeling. Dazed, she was flung from him. Warnock snarled as he returned to his feet and kicked her stomach. She rolled away, clutching her abdomen. He put his boot on her chest and raised his cudgel. He sneered at her.