Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Falcon rested a shoulder against the pillar and crossed his ankles as he stood there.
“Mama send you to get me?”
His best friend in the world shrugged and Bryn nodded. She had. He stepped away and walked inside with his friend pacing him, still silent. Taking off his coat, he handed it to a passing servant and paused before heading back to the drawing room.
“She’s not here.”
“What are you talking about?” The room did feel different. Emptier.
“Your lady. She’s headed out. They left.”
He frowned. “Already?” He’d thought he would have more time to see her today.
“Her fiancé is here and they went to meet him.”
Anger smashed him like waves against the hull of a ship during a storm.
“I see.” The words were forced.
Falcon grunted, and Bryn glared at his friend as the words he’d uttered sank in to his mind.
Rosamunde was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Was this what a broodmare felt like? Rosamunde continued standing in the middle of the room as the overweight, balding, smelly man circled her for the umpteenth time. What he looked for, she hadn’t a clue. His pockmarked face wasn’t the problem. His halitosis was, but she had smelled worse. It was the way he looked at her, like he was imagining all the disgusting things he was going to do to her.
Castor Adimari. An Italian count. Older than her own father and a man who made her skin crawl.
Could she run away? Probably not. She still wore the dress she’d donned to pay her respects to the St. Martins, and it wasn’t enough layers. Numerous times he had reached out to touch her only to drop his hand at the last second. The feeling had been akin to spiders running over her skin and she hated those things.
“We have a deal. You agreed to give me the money in exchange for her.”
She barely flinched at the words from the man who should have protected her. At least she was in his study, the warmest room in the house. Although, after this, she doubted she’d ever be warm again.
“Yes, how you say, an exchange.” The count grinned at her before lewdly licking his lips. “I would have a word with her alone.”
Fear spiked.
“Of course.” Her father rose from his desk and headed for the door. Once there, he paused. “You don’t get to touch her until I get the money.”
A low laugh that served nothing more than to spread the fear in her jumped from him. “You know, in Italy we try our purchases before making them.”
“You’re not in Italy. I’ll be back in five minutes.” The door closed behind him.
The man stopped before her. “You’re fat.”
Chin up, she didn’t move. Didn’t respond or react. They were only words and they couldn’t hurt her any longer. People who were supposed to love and protect her said worse things on daily basis. What power did a stranger’s words have? None.
“You’re not as attractive as your sisters but you’ll do.” He reached out and this time he touched her face with one finger, the dirty, cracked nail churning her stomach. “I will have you. I will break you.”
No more guesses on how the rest of her life would be. Hell.
“I have friends who have a penchant for fat girls. Perhaps they will like a turn with you. I do enjoy watching them take their fun.” He ran his hand down his large belly to his groin, where he grabbed himself.
Rosamunde swallowed down the bile. It wouldn’t do to show him fear. She didn’t argue he would get it from her in the future but right now, she would be brave.
As he held himself in one hand, he grasped her breast in his other and squeezed. Hard.
“I may burn you with my mark. My teeth.” He grinned and the fear fully blossomed within her. He was sadistic. “I cannot wait,” he said, twisting her nipple, “to have your fair skin covered in welts and my seed. No marks on your face of course, have to be able to be seen in public, but I will cum there.”
The doorknob turned and he stepped away from her, putting a respectable distance between them the moment her father returned.
Had it been five minutes already? She didn’t know more than that it was hard to breathe and to keep standing.
“I will have the money for you tomorrow.” The man turned and walked out, never once looking back at her. No bending over her hand. Not even pretending to be kind.
“He doesn’t seem so bad. You’ll get to travel.” Bradford nodded and shooed her from the study. “Your bags are packed, you should rest. You don’t look good and he deserves to get a bride that looks as best she can. Not a lot you can do but some rest can’t hurt.”
Woodenly, she trudged up to her room and sat on the bed, the packed trunks not the slightest concern for her. It didn’t matter. This man was going to kill her at some point.