her palm.
She swallowed, forcing herself to continue washing him in long strokes, running the cloth up his chest and over his neck. His member stiffened, and she felt a heady rush of power that she could have such an effect on him.
Soaping up the cloth again, she ran it over his shoulders, mentally counting the hand spans across his shoulders. The lye smell of soap mingled with the scent of warm male skin.
More water wet the front of her gown as she leaned across him.
How weird to be performing such a task dressed as she was. The houpelande was a far cry from her two tattered kirtles. She had not worn anything so fine in years and this seemed a bizarre task to do in such a garment. The musky scent of the wedding gown’s ermine trim intensified as water dripped on it.
Montgomery had a bumpy crescent shaped scar on his right shoulder and four freckles on his left. Those would make nice touches on her next miniature.
Standing, she fanned her face. The chamber seemed over-warm. Wetness seeped from her woman’s core. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have lusted after a man and planned murder in my heart.
Montgomery rose from the tub, skin glistening. Rivulets of water wiggled down his chest and arms.
Dear saints! His sex had become enormous. Her prayer cleared like incense on a windy day. Her nipples tightened, and more heat pooled in her groin.
He chuckled.
A prickling sensation crept up her cheeks. Heavens, her eyes must be wide and round as feasting goblets. She blinked, trying to regain her composure.
“You’re not afraid?”
“Afraid?” she said dumbfounded.
“Of having me inside you.”
The gentleness in his tone disconcerted her. “I—uh—” At once she realized that she was not scared because she had not been thinking of the sex act itself, only on the beauty of his male member. Of how she would mix the colors to paint it. She would need lead white, cinnibar, and massicot.
She hid a grimace. She had no need to be afraid of copulation because she planned to slay him afore the night went that far. Bowing her head, she started her confession again. Forgive me, Fath—
“Come, wife, you have had enough of knowing my body. ’Tis time that I saw yours.”
“Nay!” She caught herself and smiled tightly at him. If her clothing was removed, he would see the dagger. Their plans would be ruined. Her father would be hung. Her sisters raped.
She could not allow herself to go weak now.
“Forgive me, my lord,” she coaxed. “I seem to be more nervous than I had first thought. If only you could lie on the bed that I might touch you a little longer. As you said, we have all the day and night to consummate this union.”
The gleam in his eyes was predatory, but he walked to the bed. The tight round muscles of his buttocks flexed in a fascinating erotic dance. He lay across her mattress, propping his head up slightly on a pillow and lacing his fingers behind his neck.
Her mouth went dry. She took in his chest, trying to discern the exact location of his heart.
It seemed a shame to kill a man so perfect in form. Mayhap—
At that moment, a loud scream and frantic barking sounded outside the chamber.
She gasped. ’Twas Adele and Panthos!
Quitting the bed, she raced to the door and yanked it open. In the tower’s stairwell, Adele was being pulled down by two burly soldiers. Her cane lay on the stones, and her dark hair flailed around her as if in a windstorm. Her skirt flapped about her knees.
“Adele!” Brenna screamed. “Cease! Cease!”
Ignoring her, the men laughed as one dove atop her sister and yanked her skirt up above her thighs. To one side, a man held back the snarling mastiff.
“Adele!” Brenna lurched into a run to rescue her sister. She slammed into something that felt like a wall. Montgomery! She blinked, stunned for a second, then sidestepped him.
He caught her and pulled her back. “Nay!”
“They are hurting my sister!”
Holding her by one wrist while she fought to get away, he peered down the hallway.
Adele scrambled for her cane, and one of the men struggled to get his breeks down. The mastiff spun and bit the man holding him who, in turn, kicked him, but neither let the other go.
Frantic, Brenna struggled against her new husband.
“Cease!” Montgomery bellowed out. His voice rang through the hallway bouncing off the castle’s walls.
The men looked up. Montgomery gave them a deep glare and made a short swipe across his neck with his finger. The message was clear: continue and be slain.
Brenna gasped, surprised at his action. He was a beast. What would he care about her sister being raped when all of them were there to conquer her family’s castle? This union was naught more than legalized rape.
Adele wobbled to her feet. She was unsteady without her cane. She gazed around dazedly and caught Brenna’s eye. “Do it!” she commanded. “Do it now!”
Brenna had no doubt what she meant.
“’Tis our only chance.”
Panthos barked, lunging upward to her. The men wrestled the dog to the ground.
Stark reality slammed onto Brenna. There were only two things that would happen in the wedding chamber—either she would be swived or The Enforcer would be killed. If she didn’t destroy this man, ’twould be both her and her sister lying beneath Montgomery men. And no doubt Panthos would be put down.
“Do it!” Adele cried. “Afore they rape and murder us all! We can get away if we act now! I know the way out and men are waiting!”
Now was her best chance, whilst Montgomery was naked, unarmed and unsuspecting.
Without another thought, Brenna yanked the dagger from her bodice, and lunged it at Montgomery’s heart.
“What the—” Montgomery twisted aside, as lithe as a tiger caught off guard.
The knife struck skin, slicing in a clumsy arc across his chest and glancing off his shoulder blade to stick shallowly in his flesh.
He grunted. A thin red line oozed blood down his chest.
Her heart lurched into her throat and she backed away, realizing what she had done. She’d been too close. This was not how she had practiced; she should have thrown the dagger, not lunged at him. Her stomach felt sick and her knees liquefied as if they had turned into water.
He scowled at her, dumbfounded, his hand grasping the hilt of the dagger. “Christ Almighty, wench.”
Her underarms prickled
