Free Beloved Pilgrim by Nan Hawthorne Page A

bolted it.
    "Take off your clothes," he commanded. He
went to a table and poured himself wine.
    Elisabeth did not move. She wrapped her arms
around her breasts and glared at him.
    After a moment he turned and stared mockingly
at her. "What? Do you think I will just say, oh well, if you don't
want to?"
    "You are going to have to fight for whatever
you take," she growled through bared teeth.
    He took a long draught of the wine, put the
cup down, and replied, "Actually, I rather like that idea." He
strode the few feet to her and reached to grab her.
    In a flash she had a knife in her hand. He
jumped back when she would have stabbed him in the belly. "My God,
woman, are you mad?"
    She glared into his eyes. She watched him
shake his joints loose and lean forward as if looking for an
opening. He held no knife but nevertheless appeared to spar with
her. He feinted, nearly grabbed her wrist with his other hand, then
jumped back again as she avoided him. "You are quite the hellcat. I
am going to enjoy this immensely."
    She anticipated his next move, a double
feint, but was unable to move fast enough when he grabbed for her
and clasped both her hands in one of his. He twisted her wrists,
grinning at her sharp cry of pain as she dropped her weapon.
    He had his lower lip caught between his teeth
and his eyes sparkled. He did not say a word. Instead he forced her
backwards until the back of her legs hit the bed. Then he turned
her around and forced her to bend so her upper torso was pressed on
the counterpane and her knees pressed into the side of the bed. He
put one hand on the small of her back and held her down. She tried
to twist free, but it was no use.
    She could tell he was fumbling with his other
hand, pulling up her layers of skirts, finally ripping what he
couldn't push away. His grunt was not of pleasure but of
condemnation. "No arse to speak of, but they'd better be all right
for childbirth."
    Her arse exposed, she waited, forcing away
tears. She swore at him continuously, calling him names he had not
guessed a woman of her station might know. When it finally struck
her that her behavior stimulated his lust, she stopped. The next
sound out of her mouth was a scream as he forced his way into her,
tearing her maidenhead violently, and all she could do was cry out
over and over again.
    Afterwards she stayed in her awkward position
as he reached for the torn clothes on the floor. He tossed them on
the bed next to her. "Get dressed and go. I don't like to share a
bed."
    She grabbed the clothes and without covering
herself dashed as quickly to the door as the pain between her
sticky thighs allowed. She fumbled with the bolt, and then shot it
open, running out into the corridor half naked.
    As she reached her own chamber door Albrecht
stepped out from an embrasure. "My lady!" he cried with alarm.
    "Don't touch me!" she shrieked. "Don't touch
me, you bastard!"
    He saw the bruises Reinhardt's open palm left
on her face, the torn clothing, and the fury in her eyes. "I'll
kill him," he growled through clenched teeth. Putting his hand to
the hilt of his sword he started to stride down the hall.
    "No!" Elisabeth called after him after a
moment's hesitation. "Come back. Please!" she wailed.
    He slowed and stopped, turning to look at
her. The appeal in her eyes drew him back to her. He hesitatingly
put out his arms so she could, if she wished, enter them and
receive comfort. She stared at the floor, and then quietly walked
into his embrace. She could not prevent herself from shuddering at
his touch.

    Reinhardt used her again every night he
remained at Winterkirche, seemingly oblivious to everything she did
to make herself undesirable. She tried to hide, tried to lock
herself in her chamber, and even attempted to escape him, but he
had men watching her at all times. Her loyal serving-woman, Marta,
tried to soothe her, to calm her, but her constant assurances that
Elisabeth would grow used to the rough handling only made the girl
withdraw