The Bruised Thistle by Ashley York

Author:Ashley York
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Highland
Published: 2014-02-04T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

The pain in Iseabail’s head was excruciating when she finally came to.

The sun beating down on her back, the soreness in her arms, and an annoying moaning had woken her. She lay across the horse on her belly, and her ribs ached from its constant jarring. With a start, she realized the moaning was coming from her. The horse stopped. Though her face still hurt, and all she could see was grass and clovers, she was relieved to find she could now open both eyes. She tried to move her fingers, but they were numb. She closed her eyes, hoping for the oblivion of sleep.

Her uncle had other ideas. He came to stand beside her. “How are you feeling, my little Iseabail?” His breath reeked of onions and rotted teeth. “Are you comfortable enough?”

His smug smile incensed her spirit. If she had not hurt so much, she would have spit at him. On second thought… No, there was not enough water in her mouth even for that small act of defiance.

“Would you like me to help you down?” he asked.

At the chance to no longer be trussed up like a deer, tears sprang to her eyes unexpectedly. Her weakness disgusted her.

Did Calum plead for his life?

“Please.” She held her breath. It would have been no surprise if he denied her—he was a cruel man—but he lifted her almost gently from the horse and placed her beside him at the fire.

“You have caused quite a bit of excitement.” He chastised her as if she had stolen cookies, and with a fleeting smile, no less. Chatting as if relaying gossip, he untied her hands, bound with such anger that the rope had cut into her skin. “But I know you have always longed for adventure. Now your mother, you know...”

His lids suddenly lowered, his eyes rolled back while his tongue swept along his lower lip. His nostrils flared as if he had caught the scent of a hunted animal. Iseabail held her breath. She knew that look. It was one she had come to recognize, a sort of madness. His body tensed, but then he exhaled, and she relaxed slightly.

“…she loved adventure. She would skip around the room in her short little nightdress and sing songs of being with the captain of a big ship. Did you ever hear those songs, Iseabail?” His calling her by her real name was a good sign. She shook her head, and he turned, gazing into the fire.

When that look came over his face, she knew he wanted to use her for his own satisfaction. She dreaded that look. Whether it was in the solarium she had never found comfort in again, his room, or her own, he would find her. Sometimes, while in her room, she would try to convince herself that she had been wrong about the look, that he was not coming. Just as sleep was taking her from the hell her life had become, the door would open. Despite knowing better, she would hold out hope that this time would be different.

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