Page 130 of The Outlaw Viking

“He killed my father, that is why. And my brother Elwinus, too. I was only ten when my father died and Elwinus barely out of the swaddling cloths. We had no family to care for us, only the castellan, Gerard.” He said the man’s name with utter loathing, and closed his eyes as if in pain. When eyes opened again, he snarled, “I did not know what evil truly was until I knew Gerard.”

“But that wasn’t Selik’s fault. If he did actually kill your father, it would have been in battle and—”

“Not The Outlaw’s fault!” Steven shrieked in a rage, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her fiercely. “Because of him—just know this, you stupid bitch—Selik will die for the havoc he has caused in my life, but not afore he suffers mightily.”

“He has already suffered.”

“But not enough,” Steven said, shoving her away with distaste. “Not nearly enough.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I am not certain yet. You could start by removing your garments—all of them—so I can assess what you have to offer.”

Rain forced herself to remain calm, not to say anything that would provoke him into harming her or Selik. She darted a look at the two other men in the room.

Steven waved a hand in the air. “Pretend that Efric and Caedmon are not here. Leastways, they are not like me. They disdain the female form totally.”

Steven, a bisexual! “I can’t do this,” Rain protested.

“Efric, go to the guard at the prison—you know which one, the big brutish man with the lisp. Tell him to start by pulling out all The Outlaw’s fingernails and toenails. Stay and watch that it is done; then bring them back to me.”

“No!” Rain cried out.

“You object? Why? You have only to do as you are told to stay his tortures.”

Rain removed her clothing. Everything. And stood before the three men in shame while they made rude remarks.

“Her breasts are like udders,” Efric whined and pinched her repeatedly.

“And she is so tall, not womanly at all,” Caedmon twittered, prodding her with his pointed shoes, then kicking her hips, her buttocks, her thighs and calves. “I am more a woman than she is.”

But Rain didn’t care what the two jerks said about her; she was more alarmed by Steven, who was removing his clothing. She backed away, fearing she was about to be raped. When he stood before her, totally naked, his erection standing out before him like a weapon, he smiled at Efric and Caedmon, then turned to her with a sneer. “In truth, you are not to my taste, either. I like my women more delicate and much younger.”

But they made her watch while they performed their perversities. If she closed her eyes or turned her head, one of them would pinch her or kick her until she complied. Hours later, Rain began to understand their twisted minds. Sex with her would give them no pleasure—thank God she was spared that—but pain and degradation would. And all of it was directed in some odd way toward Selik.

Finally, Steven pushed her into a nearby windowless room—more like a large closet. Sinking to the floor, she heard the lock slip into place.

For days, Rain suffered indignities and violence she never imagined possible. When her body was not being assaulted with kicks or slaps or punches, they left her for long periods alone in her closet room. Rain had landed in hell, and she did not know how she would ever climb out.

Why didn’t Eirik return? The problems at Ravenshire must have been greater than he’d anticipated.

She hoped no one had told Selik she was missing. As if he would care after the scene Steven had orchestrated with her in his cell! But still, she couldn’t bear to have him hear of her degradation and blame himself for once again failing to protect someone he loved. And he would never be able to accept the fact that Steven punished her in his place.

Sometimes she wished she could just die. But not for long. She was a survivor. Mostly, she boiled inside with anger and knew she was no longer a pacifist. A pacifist could never contemplate the violence she intended to inflict on Steven if ever Selik were freed.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, a large tub was brought in, and she bathed and washed her body. When she emerged from the tub, Efric and Caedmon dressed her hair and posed her before a sheet of polished metal. It was amazing, after all she had endured, that her face exhibited none of the bruises and cuts that marred the rest of her body. Thank God, they had not raped her…yet. Other than her swollen lips and her red eyes, caused by so much crying, she looked the same as always.

Steven forced her to don a silk tunic with lacings from the neckline to the belted waist. He wouldn’t allow her to wear anything underneath; but he threw his fur-lined cloak over her shoulders, saying, “We are going for a walk. I think you need some fresh air.”

She gazed at him suspiciously. Steven did nothing without an ulterior motive.

He laughed, pleased at the contempt in her eyes. He had told her over and over that her resistance pleased him. She wished she could stop fighting.

“We are going to visit your lover.”

Rain began to shake, afraid of what Steven would do next, unable to understand his devious mind.

“You will say naught whilst we are there. Do you understand me, Rain?” He took her chin in a pincerlike grip.