Free Juliana Garnett by The Quest

sudden thump as she saw lamplight skitter off the blade of his dagger. Holy Mary, but he meant to do much worse than beat her.… She should have gutted him when she had the chance instead of hesitate as she had done.… Now he would kill her for certain.
    She couldn’t help a soft cry when she felt the cold steel of the dagger slide over the shrinking flesh of her belly as he sliced her undertunic from neck to hem. It fell apart, baring her body, and she clenched her teeth, expecting at any moment to feel the thrust of the blade in her heart.
    Instead she heard le Draca curse softly, his lips curling back from his teeth. “Jésu, but you still cower. Do you think I would harm my only hostage just for the sake of murder? Aye, ’tis plain that you think just that. Be still, or I will truly cut you by mistake. And a sin it would be, to mark this lovely body … nay, lady, do not move.”
    In three quick slices he’d cut away the rest of her tunic and left her naked and shivering on the straw mattress. He rose and gathered up the shreds of her garments, balling them into a tight bundle. He gazed down at her with a tight smile.
    “As you refuse to make your mark upon a letter, I shallsend your garments to Seabrook in your stead. Your cousin will recognize them, and I vow that the earl will understand the message I send with this shredded clothing.”
    Annice could not respond. She lay staring up at him, not even daring to attempt covering her nudity. The Dragon gave a harsh laugh. He stepped forward again, bending a knee on the mattress and making the ropes squeak a protest. Once more the dagger flashed. She felt a sharp tug on her head, and when he lifted his hand, he held a length of her hair.
    “ ’Twill be enough to convince him I do indeed have you, don’t you think, milady?”
    She nodded mutely. It was not until he had carelessly tossed Sir Guy’s cloak over her and shut the door behind him, locking it, that she realized he meant her no more harm. By the Holy Virgin, he had swept her from terror to anger and back again in but a few short moments. She shuddered. Rolf le Draca was a devil, indeed, just as so many had named him.

C HAPTER 4

    S ir Guy FitzHugh stared up at his liege with a troubled frown. Light reflecting from the hall’s fire flickered over his face and made his hazel eyes glisten. He held the ruins of Annice’s garments in his hands. ’Twas plain to see where a blade had sliced through linen, and he did not speak for a moment. When he did, his words were cautious. “Am I to assure Lord Thurston that the lady is unharmed, seigneur?”
    “Nay. Assure him of nothing save that she is my hostage. He may read into those rent garments what he wishes.” Rolf tilted his cup, eying Guy’s furrowed brow with a scowl. Not even wine could wash away the sour taste in his mouth; Lady Annice’s fear had rankled. It should have pleased him. Aye, he should be well pleased that he had left her quaking on the bed. Mayhap it would bring her to her senses. Draining the last of his wine, he slammed his cup to the table.
    The noise made Sir Guy jump slightly. His hands tightened on the ruined garments until the knuckles were white. “I shall give the message as you wish, my lord,” he murmured. He hesitated, and ’twas plain he wanted to say more.
    “Speak, Sir Guy,” Rolf finally said impatiently “You have the doleful countenance of a whipped hound. What is it?”
    “The lady.” He drew a deep breath. “Is she well?”
    “Well enough.” Rolf’s eyes narrowed on his knight. “Albeit she is defiant and stubborn and probably deserves a sound beating. Rest easy on that score. Even if ’twas my wont to abuse women, I remember too well Hugh de Beauchamp.”
    Guy’s head snapped up; his hands stilled on the pouch into which he was stuffing the ruined garments. “Beauchamp?” he echoed in an odd tone. “What has he to do with the lady?”
    “The old lord was her father. He has been dead over ten