His Bonnie Bride Hannah Howell (e reader comics TXT) 📖

"The world will soon know you left your honor in Scotland, dearest daughter. There will be no more swains sniffing at the door. You will marry Sir Hugh and there will be no more nonsense about it."

"Ye cannot wed me off. Only my father has that right. I will not wed Sir Hugh."

"Curse you," Hugh snarled, dealing her a blow that sent her tumbling off her bed. "You may be carrying that bastard's spawn even now. Have you thought of that, slut?" He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. "His seed that he regularly filled you with could even now be growing inside this smooth belly." He accentuated his words with a blow to that area.

Above the pain of the blow, Storm felt fear. She had not thought of a baby yet, now that she did, she realized her time was past due. A very natural fear of being beaten was added to by the fear of what it could do to the child she could well be carrying. There was no time to think of the disgrace that would bring her. She had to convince Sir Hugh it was not possible so that whatever beating he gave her, was sure to give her, would be only one of rage, not one specifically aimed to make her miscarry. Storm was desperate to protect the possible life within her, the child of the man she loved.

"Tavis MacLagan is no fool," she gasped as she fought to catch her breath. "The bitch that talked with ye has been with him for two years, yet has never born him a child. He spills his seed outside," Storm lied and then glared at Sir Hugh, her tongue her only weapon. "E'en an I am carrying the Scotsman's I'd nay wed ye. I'd not give ye a baseborn idiot to father."

Hugh used his fist on her face instead of an open hand. Storm slammed up against the bedpost. Even though she feared for her teeth and her ears rang, her resolve only grew stronger. Now that she knew what she could have, even though that lacked a mutual love, she would never settle for less. Hugh's brutality only enforced her refusals. She was glad that Phelan had not been brought back, for she knew that the boy would have been used to make her say yes.

Storm shook her head to clear it. "Ye do have a way with a proposal, Hugh."

"I will get a yea from you whatever way I can. Give it now, slut, and save yourself some pain."

"Pain? My dear Hugh, marriage to ye would make this seem like heaven." She turned as he swung, thus saving her teeth, but she clung to the bedpost a moment before saying, "Ye forget, I have known a man. The devil will drink holy water e'er I attach myself to an ewe-loving slug like ye." She dodged his swing. "Aye, and ye no doubt have the Crusader's disease."

She was not so lucky the next time, nor the next. When Lady Mary and Sir Hugh stripped her of her clothes she was too groggy to stop them, although she fought them as best she could. They placed her face down upon the bed and tied her wrists to the posts. Storm soon learned not to turn away from the blows Hugh inflicted, for they only landed elsewhere. Her jaws ached from holding back her cries, but each time he asked her if her answer had changed she retorted with words that held all the venom helpless fury can inject.

Soon she reached the stage where Hugh's efforts defeated themselves. Her mind retreated from the pain. A small part of her was aware that she hurt more than she thought was possible, but she paid it no mind, floating in a half-conscious state that brought a false numbness.

"Enough, Hugh," Lady Mary said. "She no longer feels it. We will try again later."

Storm wondered at the odd, husky note in her stepmother's voice. She turned her head to look at the couple only to see them through a blur, her half-shut eyes not focusing correctly. That made her wonder if what she saw was a dream conjured up by her shocked mind.

" 'Tis an odd dream," she mused silently as she watched Mary kneel before a heavily breathing Hugh and, lifting his tunic, unlace his leather riding breeches. "I wonder how I can imagine her doing that to him when I did not know that people did that." She looked at Sir Hugh and saw that he looked as savage in his pleasure as he did in his fury. "At least that is consistent."

"She is watching," Sir Hugh gritted as he caught Lady Mary beneath the arms, threw her onto the bed next to Storm and hoisted up her skirts.

"Let her," Lady Mary purred as she firmly grasped his manhood. "Let her see that our Englishmen are the stallions and the Scots mere colts. Show her how a real man fills a woman."

Their display at her side was not fully accepted by Storm's pain-drugged mind. She remained sure that she was dreaming. Disoriented as she was, she was only partly aware of the fact that dreams do not cause the bed to move nor do they usually come with all the appropriate, if exaggeratedly lewd, noises. She simply watched as they finished, rose, tidied their clothes and left.

For a while she drifted in and out of consciousness. It was not only the pain that put her into such a state but the shock of what had happened to her. The most she had ever suffered, except in a fight as a child, had been a gentle cuff. Her father had used words to direct her, words and love. Even Tavis had never struck her. To be so badly abused in a place where she had known only love, gentleness and affection was hard for her to