Chapter 2
Hours later, Kathleena found herself unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, thoughts of that damned contract and her father's horrific words raged through her mind. Betrothed! Betrothed to a madman! With a frustrated growl, she threw back the counter pane and sprang from the bed. 'Merde' she thought and began to pace. Why must she face such complete insanity? A beautiful relentless sorceress with mysterious plans? An unwanted handsome homicidal fiancé? Rubbing her temples, she glanced at the clock. Half past two. Kathleena shook her head. As drowsy as she was, she knew there would be no sleep for her this night. Situations like this simply didn't occur. It was a fairytale, one without the usual happy ending; a fable concocted from someone's warped imagination! Still, she paused before the bookshelf and chose a title, hoping to distract her fevered brain. Throwing herself into a chair, the teenager strained to focus on the words blurring together.
At the stroke of three, Kathleena was jolted awake, the book falling from her lap with a thud. Again she heard it: the sound of a soft rap on her door. Although the hour was late, she threw open the panel expecting to see her father. He'd always kept late hours and must have seen the lamp light coming from under her door. Instead, she gasped in shock, standing face to face with an abhorrent ghost from her past. With icy blue eyes directed at her in explicable anger, he crossed the threshold with a smug grin quickly latching the door behind him.
Oh my God, no! A scream of terror clogged her throat. In an instant, a powerful palm covered her mouth pressing tender lips hurtfully against teeth until she tasted her own blood. Struggling ineffectively, Kathleena clawed at his hand with sharp nails. Duncan hissed into her ear, as evil as a serpent as he crushed her tightly against him. "Ahh, I see you remember me. Très bon."
Kathleena trembled for she was not only frightened out of her mind, but also completely confused. Images appeared to her but they were garbled and unclear. Perhaps it was her heightened state of panic for she simply could not understand his intentions. And yet, visions came to mind, some as clear as crystal. Horrible images supplied by his own memories. Her beloved brother Pierre as he struggled and drowned at the lake... A handsome gentleman lying on the ground, a knife speared obscenely through his heart; Duncan himself standing over the body, blood dripping from his hands.
Mon Dieu! Her father was correct! Duncan had murdered his sire. Tears sprang to her eyes as she wondered what he was going to do to her. If he could be so hard hearted, so cold blooded to his own flesh, then... Although clearly no match for his superior strength, Kathleena renewed her attempts to save herself. Despite her ignorance of what was to come she witnessed the absolute evil in his eyes. Pure hatred in their icy depths. Hatred for her.
Why? What have I done?
Growing bored with her futile struggles, the Frenchman savagely struck her in the throat with a closed fist. Collapsing to the floor, Kathleena stared up into his dark eyes as she painfully gasped for breath, watching as he strode toward her, menacingly... purposeful. Feeling the aura of fear crackle about her, Duncan imagined great power coursing throughout himself and she trembled as he bent down to clutch her roughly about the waist, digging his long fingers brutally into her soft flesh, pulling her against the hard wall of his body.
"Si vous criez, je vais l'abattage de tout dans ce château, jeunes et vieux. Me comprenez-vous?" (If you scream, I will slaughter all in this chateau, both young and old. Do you understand me?) Not a man to wait for an answer, he cruelly shoved her against the foot of the bed and crashed heavily on top of her before she could gather her wits and escape; his muscular body pressing hers deeply into the soft feathered mattress. A malicious smile spread across his handsome features and Kathleena froze, still as a stone, as a grinding sound of metal on metal filled the silent room.
Sliding a lethal dagger from a sheath on his belt, Duncan placed it beside her head on the pillow. Looking down, he rejoiced at the naked horror radiating from her beautiful blue eyes. "So we meet again, my dear," he snarled sarcastically, finding himself begrudgingly admiring her supple body. Short in stature but truly magnificent in every way. Kathleena could feel her flesh crawl as his sneering gaze raked over her. Non! That was not what he was here for, not what he wanted. With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat. "The last time our paths crossed… I remember it so well," he taunted. "Do you?" Despite the dangerous situation she was now in, the teenager glared and lurched upward trying to unseat him. "Yes, I can see that you do." Shaking his head, Duncan snickered quietly. "Poor Pierre… Oh well… C'est la vie."
Blue eyes narrowing in fury at the unmistakable note of triumph in his voice, Kathleena sent her knee into his crotch, greatly satisfied at his harsh intake of breath. Through his pain, Duncan could see that she was enormously pleased in spite of her fear. Growling low in his chest, he clutched the opaline handle of the dagger." You bitch! And I did so want to take my time; so wanted to enjoy your suffering..." With a heavy hand placed over her mouth, the tip of the razor sharp blade pressed deeply into her throat; her hot blood pulsing wildly as he sliced her from ear to ear. Blinking first in complete disbelief and then pure shock, the unbelievable waves of agony began.
(Mon Dieu, s'il vous plaît, laissez-moi mourir!) she cried deep inside herself.(My God, please let me die!)
As the blood poured from the wound unstaunched, she could feel her life fading. Through her terror she heard her punisher then; his voice coming to her as if from a great distance. "Do not worry," he hissed mockingly; his hushed tones chilling her more than had he roared in anger. "You shall live, no matter how much you may wish otherwise. I will not grant you a quick death for that would end my enjoyment much too soon!" Although barely conscious, Kathleena was fully aware when the great weight of his body left hers for she began to shiver from cold. Glancing about, Duncan smirked nastily as he'd found what he'd been searching for. Grabbing the water decanter, he emptied it into the washbasin and placed the glass against the slit of her throat.
Oddly curious, she forced her tired eyes open immediately wishing she hadn't for he now held the container aloft. It was filled with her blood - thick and crimson. Examining the contents, Duncan chanced to look her way. Surprised to find her wide-eyed and watching him, he tilted the glass to her as if holding a delicate flute of champagne and, to her ultimate disgust, put the jar to his lips swallowing her warm, red essence. Repulsed, Kathleena moaned soundlessly, heavy lids closing as her eyes rolled back into her head.
Glaring at her with intense contempt, the Frenchman reached into his breast pocket and removed a needle and a spool of strong cat gut. Bending over her, he hissed cruelly, "Si elle est de me forcer à souffrir à travers cet engagement, si je vous jure doit vous!" (If she is to force me to suffer through this engagement, so I swear shall you!)
Kathleena's mind whirling wildly out of control, she was finally beyond hearing; having slipped into a far off dream world. She never experienced the sharp stab of the needle as it entered her bloody flesh...
Forcing her swollen eyes to open, bright sunlight splashed across her face. Staring up at the ceiling, Kathleena found herself in bed and breathed a huge sigh of relief. She was alive! It was nothing but a horrendous dream; an unholy nightmare brought on by the vile discussion with her father. Attempting to rise, her mind screamed in agony as an excruciating pain immediately ripped across her throat.
(No, please, Mon Dieu!)
Cautiously lifting a slim hand, fingertips stumbled upon the coarse ugly sutures. Duncan's vicious warning echoed through her mind. I shall butcher anyone you dare tell. I shall force you to witness their suffering as I gut them before you. You shall live with the knowledge that they had to die due to your inability to keep your damned mouth shut! True, I may hold the knife but it will be because of you! Now, let us see how well you can keep a secret, hmmm? She could still hear his hushed maniacal laughter rippling through her.
Frozen with unbelievable fear and waves of pain, Kathleena sobbed deep inside herself. Even a slight attempt at any movement caused her more agony than she believed she could ever endure and still be considered alive. (I must! I must move! If one of the servants should find me here like this. If father…) Her long tresses were caked with blood and she found the only way to be free of the pillow was to actually tear herself away, immediately finding herself at a whole new threshold of hurt. Unsuccessfully struggling to rise up from the bed, Kathleena closed her eyes as wave after unending wave of pain passed over her, able to do nothing but suffer as tears ran from beneath closed lids.
Several moments passed before she summoned the courage to try again to move, knowing she would need every ounce of will power she possessed just to slither from the bed without crying out. A scream would surely bring everyone in the maison coming to her aid. Kathleena vowed no one would needlessly die because of her, not disbelieving for an instant Duncan's promise of torture and death. Not after this.
Inch by slow and painful inch, she dragged herself to the edge of the mattress stopping to catch her breath. Finding the pain would not permit her to sit upright, Kathleena quickly realized, to her horror, that she must slide to the floor. (No... Oh God, this will be impossible!) Biting her bottom lip to keep silent, she clenched the counterpane tightly between her fingers, holding onto the fabric in a near death grip. (This will work!) she thought, (It must!) As she began to cautiously ease herself over the side, Kathleena's already weakened strength failed completely and she crashed to the hard floor with a thud. No longer able to contain her cries, she wailed in agony.
(Mon Dieu! Aidez-moi!)
Despite Duncan's threats, she needed someone desperately. She waited, but to her surprise no one came. Why? Her cries for help…they echoed throughout the entire room. Surely... No! Kathleena froze with the stunning realization that it was all in her head. Beginning to panic, she called out for her sire. (Father! Aidez-moi! Father!) Her lips opened, her mouth moved but the sound was filling only her mind, not her ears. Shock hit hard as she suddenly understood. Duncan's grueling attack had rendered her mute. (No! Noooo!) Despite her need, she tensed at the sound of a gentle knock on her door. Had someone heard her fall?
"Kathleena? C'est moi, Madeline... May I enter?" After their discussion last evening, the woman found she wished to better know her stepdaughter before she must depart for America. Too, Charlotte and Charles were asking for her. They wanted to break their fast with their new sister. She knocked again and as her hand began to turn the knob, Kathleena trembled uncontrollably, forcing her to inhale sharply. The simple tremor coursing through her body assaulted her with another crippling wave of pain.
(Oh no! Madeline, please stay out !) She silently implored. Although she knew she needed help, Kathleena did not wish to cause the woman's death. The children needed her. Her father needed her. She held her breath, impossible to know whether Duncan had secured the latch after his diabolical actions.
"Maman?" The plaintiff sound of a soft voice drew Kathleena's attention. Frantically, she tried to will the child. (Oui Charlotte...please, call your mummy away... make her leave! ) The wave of agony had somewhat reduced and she lay with her cheek against the cold wood of the floor, listening intently to the conversation. "Maman," the little girl whined. "I've finished my toast. You promised I could go to the stables and see Kathleena's mare."
Dieu Merci! The little one was obviously horse mad! (Oui! ) Kathleena hoped desperately. (Please Madeline! Take her to visit Deidra! How can you deny that precious child anything?!)
With Charlotte pulling firmly on her wrist, Madeline looked back at the door one last time before reluctantly allowing herself to be led away. As Kathleena heard their footfalls diminish down the hall, she closed her eyes breathing in relief. (Move!) She demanded of herself. (Quickly, you must act before anyone else comes!) With that horrifying thought in mind, she was able to summon the strength hidden deep within to combat her misery. As soon as she was on her feet however, a great wave of nausea struck, causing her to stumble to the chamber pot and spew the meager contents of her stomach from last evening's sup. The retching movement forced her backwards to the floor, the shuddering agony so intense that, had she the means to do so, Kathleena knew she'd have slit her wrists, ending her torture.
When again able to move, she slowly and carefully crawled across the floor. Dragging herself up to the basin she cleansed her mouth with water, wisely refusing to look at the image in her mirror. Slowly turning toward the bed, Kathleena clutched the post so tightly her knuckles turned pale. A copious amount of blood had turned the linens scarlet. Spying the gruesome water glass lying on the duvet, she closed her eyes, recalling the moment when Duncan drained it of her blood. Never would she forget. Forcefully swallowing the lump of bile forming in her throat, Kathleena moaned silently at the pain that the simple act caused her.
Mustering all of her concentration, she focused on the task ahead: to remove the soiled bed clothes without losing complete consciousness. Tossing the linens onto the dying embers in the hearth, the articles instantly burst into flame; the fire leaping high as the evidence of the vile deed commited in this room was destroyed. Adding the pillowcases and comforter, she frowned at feather mattress, at the blood that had soaked through. Unable to do anything more, Kathleena carefully made her way to the bedding closet and drew several sheets and shams from the rack.
As she'd finished putting everything back to rights, she crumpled across the bed, the welcoming arms of sweet oblivion tightly grabbing hold.
When next she awoke, the boudoir was chilly and darkening from the setting of the sun. (How long have I been like this?) Kathleena knew she must rise, to stand before someone came looking for her... unless – No… if they had, she would not be here now. (Move! ) Her body was so stiff and still so very weak, she could not find the strength within to will her parts to obey. (Duncan cannot win! You cannot let him win. Father, Madeline… those two innocent children...) His threat was her motivation. (Move now!) Finding what little power she could muster, Kathleena slid down the side of the bed, crying out silently as one of the sutures caught on the mattress. Closing her eyes, she tried to think, tried to focus on anything but the slashing pain. Tears of unbelievable helplessness slid past long lashes. She still needed aid, of that she was certain. As quickly as the thought entered her mind, she forcefully dismissed it. No, she couldn't, wouldn't involve anyone else. She had to help herself or everyone would die and she would be responsible. (No one must know! No one!)
Time... All she needed was time. An idea came to her, crafted from a deep desperation. (Oui! It will work...it must!) Slowly creeping to the desk, Kathleena pulled herself up to its surface. Finding a pad in one of the drawers, she clutched the pen and plunged it into the inkwell. While hastily scrawling a few words, she closed her eyes and prayed to God she sounded convincing.
With the sheet placed between her dry lips, she slunk across the floor like a beaten animal and slipped the paper beneath the door into the hall beyond. Reaching up to make certain the lock was secure, she trembled as almost immediately heavy bootsteps echoed throughout the corridor; getting louder, coming closer. (Please work… Please work…) Kathleena repeated the mantra over and over again in her head.
Worried about his daughter, Jacques had come to investigate. Kathleena had not come downstairs at all today nor had she requested any meals to be sent up. Was she hurt? As he approached, he noticed a piece of paper on the floor before her chamber. Crouching to pick it up, he quickly scanned the lines.
Father,
You must excuse me for I have suddenly become quite ill. I do not wish to sicken the entire household. Charlotte…Charles… I couldn't bear it if they came down with something. All I wish for at the moment is rest. I hope to feel much better in the morning.
K.
As her father tapped on the door, Kathleena held her breath. "Ma chere, do you want for anything?" When she didn't reply, he sighed. Perhaps she was asleep. "Get well, ma fille. If you find yourself in need, ring for Gibson. I shall see you demain."
Hearing his steps fade, hot desperate tears rolled down her face. (Father, please … Oh, how I wish you could help me...)
The sun setting lower against the horizon cast long shadows on the far wall of her room and Kathleena's heavy eyelids fluttered closed. (Rest!) she begged. (Please let me rest. Only for a little while... Tired… So very tired…)
(No! You must stay awake! Get up! Move! C'est des conneries! ) (This is bullshit!) Having only until morning to do what she must, Kathleena reluctantly hauled herself from the floor gradually making her way to the large doors that led out to the terrace. A look of firm resolve flashed across blood stained features. The deep darkness of night would arrive within the next hour. She vowed to be ready. She had to be!
Half walking, half stumbling about the room at a snail's pace Kathleena gingerly gathered essential supplies for a bath, making certain to include a comb to tackle her blood encrusted curls. Breathing deeply, she chose a gown from the wardrobe and closed the doors. She had all she needed. It was time. She was ready. No, she … she wasn't. Returning to the closet, the girl rummaged for something … there: a simple neckerchief. Of all the things she could possibly need, this one article would be the most crucial. Kathleena stared out the window. Finally evening had come. Time was quickly slipping away. Clutching the key to her room, she slipped silently onto the balcony and listened for any suspicious noises below. The loud chatter of stone martens the only sound to greet her, she reluctantly peered over the rail unable to see the ground for the night was as black as pitch. Her only comfort was the knowledge that she would be safely concealed in the darkness.
Releasing her bag at the same height as the handrail, Kathleena counted as it hit the ground. (Une, deux, trois … Mon Dieu!) She estimated the fall to be at most twelve feet with nothing to soften her landing. Her hurts were so new; this drop was going to add more pain to her already ravaged body. Realizing it was time to begin, she placed one shapely leg over the balustrade and then the other. Sitting on the edge, she struggled to muster her courage. (There is no choice… I cannot be seen like this. Damn you Duncan, you bastard!) Thankfully this initial pain would not have to be repeated. Slipping back into the chateau would be simple. Thanks to her and Pierre's younger exploits, she knew every entrance, even those well concealed. And, in the off chance she was seen on her return, she would not look as monstrous as she did now.
Praying for the strength to face even more agony, Kathleena took a deep breath and began to lower herself until her entire five foot two inch body was stretched to its limits. She groaned silently. The position of her arms above her head puckered the skin on her chest and throat causing pain to radiate from her slashed flesh. There were but two choices; to continue to hold on and endure the pain or simply let go. Either way, these remaining seven feet were going to hurt like hell. Ultimately, the decision was taken from her. Losing her grip on the railing, she fell, crumpling to the ground on impact.
She cried noiselessly, tears of pain blinding her for long moments. (No! There is no time… No time for this! Move, damn you!) Retrieving her bundle, Kathleena clutched it tightly against her breast and limped east into the vast woods beyond the property. She had to find the beautiful grotto she remembered playing at as a child with Pierre. Thoughts quickly turned to her brother...happy memories her companion as she carefully picked her way through the overgrowth of horse chestnut trees and thorny brambles.
With great love she recalled how Pierre would fancy himself a rogue swashbuckler; the grotto, his wild, abandoned island in the center of the ocean. "Come play with me, Kathy," he would say in a severe older sibling tone, a tone that brooked no argument. "Je besoin d'un prisonnier." (I need a prisoner.) Kathleena would find herself standing at the highest point above the falls, a sharp stick to her back, forced to jump. She would scream with glee, swimming out of the way as she landed; Pierre immediately following. She smiled at the wonderful remembrance.
With her throat now throbbing more painfully, the pleasant thoughts were dashed as Kathleena was forced back into the present. Raising a cautious hand to her ravaged flesh, she felt blood, warm and sticky course down her chest into the bodice of her ruined gown. Realizing she must've torn a stitch when she fell, she decided to care for it after she bathed for at that moment, she heard the familiar sound of so long ago and hurried toward the babble of rushing water. She must be quick about it.
Tossing her bag near the edge of the pool, Kathleena carefully eased from her dress
. Shift, shoes and stockings eventually followed. Testing the water with a toe and finding it surprisingly pleasant, she clutched the bar of rose soap and waded to the deepest end below the falls. Attacking her hair with a vengeance, she tasted blood as it ran down her face along with the rinse water. Only when she could run her fingers through her copper colored locks without catching, did Kathleena consider her hair properly cleansed. Feeling her strength begin to vanish, she quickly lathered her svelte body and, slipping beneath the surface once more, strode back to her effects.
At the water's edge, she found herself shivering. Not from the sudden night breeze that stirred, not from the chilling of her damp flesh but something else entirely. Kathleena glanced around frantically, the darkness so thick she could see nothing.
(Not Duncan! Not again!)
Cruel punishing fingers dug into the soft flesh of her upper arms. Hauling her from the water, he drew her nude form against the hard wall of his chest.
(No!) As she panicked and thrashed against him, the last of her meager strength faded. A savage sweep to her legs and she fell limply to the ground. On her in an instant, Duncan noted her marked silence. "What is this? No unkind words?" he questioned nastily. "We are alone. Why do you not scream at me or at the very least, beg me to explain why I have done this? Come, Kathleena… It will give me another reason to punish you."
(Punish me…for what?! What have I done to deserve this? What have I done to deserve any of it?!) Wriggling her hand free, Kathleena furiously sank her sharp nails deeply into Duncan's fine cheek. Extremely conceited, he instinctively reacted, striking her viciously across the face. A great surge of agony washed over her as her head lurched against the ground.
Removing a handkercheif from his breast pocket he staunched the blood. "Did you believe I was finished with you, pute?"(bitch). Of course he wasn't, but she hadn't dreamed he would return this quickly. "Still silent, hmm?" he asked, looking down at bloody cloth he held. Her silence was unnerving. "Say something," he growled threateningly. Wide eyed and frightened, Kathleena's blue eyes spoke volumes. Duncan chuckled as comprehension dawned. "Do not tell me that the little scratch I gave you left you voiceless." She glared up at him as his insane laughter intensified. He grinned, taunting her. "No, I believe you are incapable of telling me anything."
He sighed then, sounding truly disappointed. "Well, that does make it easier for you, does it not?" At her curious expression, he shrugged. "I understand that you will be leaving France very soon." Feeling her body tense beneath him, Duncan grinned. "I have many espions (spies) at my command. Could you believe a certain number are firmly entrenched at Le Chateau de Tell? Is it one of the upstairs maids? A gardener, perchance? Could it possibly be Gibson? Perhaps, I am lying to you. You will truly never know. But you can be certain that when enough francs are offered, even your nearest and dearest ami will betray you. You would do well to remember that."
As a look of sorrow crossed Kathleena's face, he sneered. "I also understand you have not communicated with anyone that I had come to you. You do realize what would have happened had you done so. I must admit, the note was a touch of genius. I admire you." Pressing himself more firmly against her nude form, he hissed, "Do not become accustomed to it." Despite his hatred toward the woman under him, Duncan felt himself harden and shook his head with a snarl. "Before you leave here, I will issue my final commands." Lowering his voice he growled, "Heed them well, for I am a man who always honors his word." As he spoke, a finger slowly ran along the coarse sutures on her throat. He was pleased when Kathleena tried to shrink away, causing herself pain in the process. "You trust you will be safe simply because…?" Suddenly, Duncan's focus on his words of torment faltered as he felt fresh blood on her delicate skin. "It seems you have split a stitch," he tsked. "You must be more careful." As he dipped his blonde head to her throat she paled, aware of his sinister intentions.
(No! Fils de pute!) (Son of a bitch!)
The feeling of Duncan's warm mouth against her flesh caused Kathleena to tremble with remembered revulsion. She could do nothing but close her eyes as he sucked against her flesh, drawing her warm blood into his mouth and down his throat. Without warning he pulled away, running his hand across his lips. She was surprised when he voiced no cutting remark about his vile deed. Again, Duncan returned to fiddle with his handiwork.
"I have made it impossible for any man to gaze upon you with feelings of desire. You do look the freak, Kathleena. Yes, it would surely take a man with a strong constitution to feel anything but disgust or at the most, pity for you. I must say," he chuckled nastily, "I could have sealed your flesh together with much smaller stitches, scarcely leaving a mark but then, what would be the fun in that?" Kathleena thrust up against him in fury. "Do not even think of it!" he hissed, gripping her ravaged throat, recalling the other night when she had nearly brought him low with her knee. Her eyes watered and she inhaled deeply as his hand caused renewed agony.
Duncan snorted as he raised himself from Kathleena's bare frame to tower above her. "My last instruction... and even I must confess, I am truly amazed." He then muttered to himself, "Surely this time, she…" shaking his head, he said. "I do hope you have seen enough of your beloved papa to satisfy you for, from this moment forward, you will no longer look upon any man's face with those beguiling blue eyes of yours. If you do, and believe me, I will have my informants observing you closely; I will personally take great pleasure in burning your eyes from their sockets with blazing coals." He smirked proudly as he watched her entire body quake at the frightful possibility. "Yes, can you not picture it? You will be able to trust no one in this world. I had planned to issue an order that forbade you to speak, however..." his voice trailed off, words not necessary. "You will remain pure until your twenty-first year and, when I do finally claim you, I will end your life." Icy blue eyes narrowed into tiny slits, Duncan's hatred pinning Kathleena to the ground. "Nothing but three more years will impede my vows to my beautiful Claudette."
As a look of utter shock and horror crossed Kathleena's pale face the Frenchman snarled, "Did you actually think this bloody engagement was my doing? I promise you, I shall not be the only one forced to suffer this demented situation." Whirling on his heel to leave, Duncan paused without looking back. "One final note of caution…Take great care… Do not become too at ease while in America. You never know the exact moment will come, but one day you will turn around and I will be there."
Walking away, his eyes burned brightly with pleasure as he heard her retch violently.