Depravity (A Beastly Tale Book 1)(7)

"What a lovely sight. A pretty girl reading a book," he said. Neither of  my sisters showed much interest in books, but he didn't fault them for  it.

I placed a marker in the book and set it to the side. "I've warmed your chair for you," I said cheekily.

He laughed and shooed me from the room, settling comfortably into his  chair. I passed the room I shared with my sisters and saw Blye sitting  on the bed, placing careful stitches into my shirt. The back panel  didn't look new, just smaller. I didn't pause, not wanting to know what  she had to do to fix it, and made my way to the kitchen. Bryn had the  biscuits in the oven with the door slightly ajar so she could watch them  brown. A knock sounded at the front door, and we stared at each other  for a moment before she waved for me to answer it. I wished for my  trousers as I pulled open the door.

"Benella," said the baker. "Still lovely in your dress. Is your father home? I would like to speak with him."

My legs shook. I knew the topic of conversation he wanted to have with  my father but assured myself that Father understood my distaste of the  man.

"Come in," I managed without a quaver. I stepped aside and let him into the kitchen.

"Wait here, please."

Leaving him to criticize Bryn's biscuits, I tapped on Father's door.  Without waiting for his call to enter, I stepped in, quickly closing the  door behind me.

Father looked up from his book in surprise. He still wore his jacket and  simple neckcloth. Papers from his few students lay spread out on his  desk.

"What is the matter, dearest?"

"He's here," I whispered in a panic. "The baker. He saw me in this  senseless dress today." I gave the skirt an agitated shake. "Now, he  wants to speak with you."

"Ah," Father murmured distractedly. "Perhaps, once he's in the study  with me, you'd like to go for a long stroll and forego dinner?" I nodded  emphatically, liking the way Father thought. The baker, now that he had  come to state his intentions, would not leave easily.

I opened the door and called to the baker. Given the size of our small  cottage, he had no trouble finding me. Despite stepping aside, he still  brushed against me as he passed; and this time, I couldn't suppress my  shiver of revulsion. His low throaty chuckle drifted to me as I closed  the door.

With a quick step, I checked on Blye's progress, hoping to change before  I left, but she still sat in the room placing careful stitches. In the  kitchen, Bryn removed the biscuits from the oven.

"May I have one?" I asked, grabbing my bag from the hook.

She made no comment about my leaving, just wrapped a biscuit in a cloth  and handed it over. I fled the cottage quietly, hoping the baker  wouldn't hear my escape.

The woods didn't feel the same as I wandered beneath their swaying  limbs. The skirts encircling my legs made passage difficult. I had to  avoid stretching bramble and muddied paths and made far too much noise  as I moved.

When I finally reached the spot in the estate wall where the rocks had  fallen, I saw nothing to harvest. Though the walk had felt torturously  long, I doubted enough time had passed to see the baker gone from the  cottage. Deciding a walk in the dark didn't bother me, I turned east to  make a full circuit around the wall, but a sound to the west stopped me.

A creak of wood and the crush of gravel under iron drew me toward the  gate where a cart fixed with a long pole like a mast waited. The gate  stood open and the cart sat just outside of it. Had someone from the  estate pushed it out? What a peculiar cart. I caught sight of a tangle  of freshly shorn vines laying loose at the base of the pole and felt my  stomach twist. The pole, the cart, the vines...I'd seen it all before  when the men had attempted to sack the estate. They'd meant to tie the  beast to it and burn him. Instead, they'd been run or thrown from the  estate and had abandoned the wagon, which had been later retrieved by  the smith.                       
       
           



       

Turning to flee, I crashed into something solid.

"Just the person we wanted to see," Tennen murmured, clamping his hands  down on my upper arms. "I thought you might run when the baker came  calling."

I lifted my knee to hit his groin, but my skirts hampered the move, and I  only grazed him. Still, he bent slightly, bringing his head close to  mine. I jerked forward, hitting his head with my own. His hands left my  arms, and I tried to run. However, the knock I'd given myself against  his hard head turned me around, and I stumbled straight into Splane's  waiting arms. After witnessing his brother's abuse, he quickly spun me  so I faced away from him.

"Bitch!" panted Tennen, holding his nose with one hand while reaching  for the vines with the other. "I hope the beast rips you open."

His sudden punch to my stomach caught me off guard. I barely noticed  Splane's abandonment of his hold as the need to draw in a breath  occupied me. Tennen roughly grabbed my wrists, pulled them behind my  back, and tied them as I remained bent over in pain. Together the  brothers hauled me onto the cart. I caught my breath enough to struggle,  but it did no good. They lifted me over their heads and struggled to  thread the pole through my bound arms.

"Idiots," I said when they finally stepped back, sweating and red-faced  from their efforts. "You should have tied my wrists together after you  had me in front of the pole."

They ignored me and jumped from the wagon. I listened to them grunt as  they began to push the cart through the gates. Not again, I thought,  eyeing the beast's domain.

Desperate, I leaned forward so my wrists pulled against the wood, then  tried to place a foot on the pole, hoping to boost myself up and perhaps  climb to the top. My heel slipped on my skirts.

"I hope the beast catches you!" I screamed at them, no longer caring if  he heard the noise we were making. Oh, I still feared him but preferred  he catch all of us and not just me. Perhaps I would then have a chance.

They laughed as the cart stopped moving. Facing the estate, I saw  nothing but overgrown vegetation and trees. I twisted, trying to see  Tennen and Splane. Instead, I heard the creak of the gate as they pulled  it closed.

"We're not afraid of that thing," Tennen said, a distance behind me.

"Bold words for little men standing outside the gate," I said. "Come  inside and see if you fare so well. Do your own dirty work instead of  waiting for someone else to do it for you!"

"Someone? You mean something. This is the third time for you, isn't it, Benella? You won't bother us again."

Tennen spoke the truth, and I struggled against the thin vines binding  my wrists. The beast would not forgive a third trespass. I wriggled and  writhed and panted as I fought against my binding. Pain bit into my  wrists with each frantic tug and twist, and my fingers grew slick. My  hair came loose from its long braid and tangled in front of my face,  obscuring my vision.

Tennen's laughter taunted me and my pathetic struggles until the sound  abruptly stopped. I stilled and tried blowing the hair from my eyes. For  a fraction of a moment, I caught a glimpse of black eyes and brown fur  before my hair once again blocked my view. I froze. The beast. He was  here, mere feet away.

The dark trees around us had gone eerily quiet as if holding their  breath. The silence allowed the low rumble of the beast's growl to echo,  surrounding me with his menace.

A scrape against the ground and a faint creak of the wood was all the  warning I had before the beast pushed the cart and sent it flying to  crash upon the gate. The bone-jarring stop rattled my teeth as my head  smacked back against the pole. The momentum sent me forward again, a  sudden jerk stopped by my tied wrists. The vines bit deep, and I grunted  in pain.

Behind me, Splane squealed like a girl a moment before I heard their  hurried retreat. I laughed groggily as my ears rang and the world spun  from the thump to my head.

"Two little girls, that's what they are. They should be wearing a  dress," I mumbled, wincing at the pain at the base of my skull.

"Why have you returned?" asked an angry voice in a deep scraping growl.

He could speak? With a curtain of hair in the way and my vision not cooperating, I closed my eyes in defeat.

"That should be apparent, I'd think. To die."

"Why do you wish for death so badly?" the voice asked. Some of the anger had faded from it and was replaced by curiosity.

"Does it look to you like I came here by choice?" A harsh laugh escaped me. "It's not my wish, but theirs, that I die."

The longer I stood there, the more my injuries started calling attention  to themselves. My shoulders ached from their position and the recent  collision with the gate. My wrist oozed blood and my stomach twisted  with nausea. His silence along with everything else made my next words  dangerously impudent.