Of course, Cullen ached for revenge against Balford, but he had his son to consider. She knew they were both safely aboard his brother’s ship and could set sail for America without a problem. Why take the chance of leaving his son fatherless?
The metal door of her cramped cell squeaked open and torchlight startled her eyes, now too familiar with the dark. She squinted against the glare until her eyes finally adjusted to the bright light. She didn’t move, her chains and metal cuffs tight and rubbing her skin raw with the slightest of movements.
The soldiers roughly disengaged her chains from the wall. They didn’t wait for her to stand but dragged her out of the cell along the dirt floor. Try as she might she couldn’t grab hold of the chains to ease her skin from being rubbed raw by the metal cuffs. Her body twisted about like a fish too long out of water as the soldiers yanked her along, gleeful in their torment.
She shut her eyes and mouth against the dust that was stirred up but could not shield her body from being battered as the soldiers moved her quickly through the narrow halls. She winced, though held her tongue as she was dragged up stone stairs, her ribs, hips, and legs taking a beating.
Once outside the dungeon, the warm breath of spring burst across her face, and she realized that morning had claimed the land. Her dark cell had kept her oblivious of time, and she hadn’t known whether it were night or day. She had yet to meet with the Earl of Balford, but had a feeling that was about to change.
She had heard the soldiers whispering that the earl was due back the next day following her capture. They were excited and pleased with their prize and were certain the earl would reward them.
While they dragged her to the manor house, on-lookers gawked at her, no doubt reminded of the consequences of the earl’s wrath. She ignored the fearful and sympathetic stares and thought only of Cullen and Alexander.
They were safe, and she hoped they would remain so. She would not betray them no matter what tortures the earl inflicted on her. He would only kill her in the end anyway, and what purpose would her death serve if she didn’t protect those she loved?
She was pulled to her feet, forced up the steps and into a room in the manor house. She felt awkward amidst the fancy furnishings, so polished and proper, and she so grimy and bruised and in chains. But she stood tall, her head high, her chin thrust out and her pride intact.
A man fancy in dress, with a cunning glare, entered the room and waved a laced-trimmed handkerchief in front of his turned-up nose as he passed by her.
“I forget how offensive the dungeon can be to the senses,” he said with distaste.
Sara shrugged. “It is what you make of it.”
His brows arched, and she knew she’d surprised him. He expected her to cower and beg for mercy.
She’d spit in his face first. She was the wife of a true warrior, after all, and would not sully his name. She would stand with pride and honor against this evil man and fight to the end.
“I am surprised he chose you as a wife,” the earl said. “My daughter was much more beautiful and much more a lady.”
“He didn’t choose me, I chose him, so you waste your time if you think he will come for me. Our marriage was nothing more than a bargain, which he fulfilled. He’s now free to do as he chooses.”
The earl sat down in a yellow silk-covered chair and crossed his legs. He fit the room, pretentious and extravagant, not real or solid, like a truly strong man. This man, she thought, allowed others to fight his battles and had powerful alliances to protect him. He was false in appearance and manner and could never be trusted as friend or foe.
“It doesn’t matter,” the earl said. “He will come for you.”
Sara laughed. “You have a long wait if you believe that. I was nothing more than a thorn in his side, and he will not risk his life for me.”
Her own words hurt to hear, but they were the truth. Cullen had no room in his heart for any woman but Alaina. She wished it were different, but it wasn’t, and she couldn’t change how he felt—or how she felt. She loved him, whether he loved her or not, and she would protect those she loved
It wasn’t a matter of choice. It was a matter of the heart.
“Cullen is an honorable man, though a fool. He will come for his wife,” the earl argued.
“You’re the fool if you believe that.”
A deep flush started at the earl’s neck and crept up his face, and thinking that he might just burst into flames made her smile.
“I will enjoy having your tongue cut from your mouth, though not before I hear you beg for mercy.”
“You’ll have a long wait,” she quipped, refusing to let him think his threats frightened her.