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FORBIDDEN FRUIT
By
Jaide Fox
Chapter One
Lilith Somerset was miserable, in every way that a person could be miserable--mind, body, and soul.
She despised being forced into marriage, even to a rich man rumored to be incredibly handsome. Rumor or truth, it mattered not. She hated having no power to make her own choices in life, her freedom lost to the whims of men.
Even her journey echoed the mind-numbing pain she felt, and as gratified as she was that her doom was slow in coming, it was still inevitable. She had only to look at her surroundings to know that she was in John Dentin’s, her betrothed’s, power--his carriage, his overseer, and his riders. Even the gown she wore … he had bought for her. Her body was no longer her own. In a few days, he would complete his purchase by rutting her in front of his friends and family, forever sealing their fate as man and wife.
Her mind alone remained free, but she was so preoccupied by her coming nuptials, she could think of little else.
The road--if such it could be called--bearing her to her new life was full of ruts from the recent monsoons, jouncing the carriage with each wheel rotation--its being well sprung and padded having no discernable effect on her comfort. She could see nothing from the windows to distract her from the turmoil of her mind, for a thick fog lay over the land, forcing the riders to light torches to see. Only the faint glow and the whinnying protests of the horses alerted her to the fact that she was not alone in her traveling misery.
She felt claustrophobic in the confined space, with only Dentin’s overseer, Fargus Leks, as company. Poor company at best. At the worst, a lascivious nuisance. He’d begun staring at her as if he’d like to eat her once they were out of her father’s lands--beyond his protection.
She’d done her best to ignore him, feeling safe from his advances only with the knowledge that her soon to be husband was obsessed by her purity and would likely cut off a man’s privates for daring to touch her.
If only she’d been allowed to bring her maid, Sarah … or a tome of poetry … or her embroidery….
If only….
Lilith fumed mentally and squirmed in her seat, trying to awaken the feeling back in her buttocks.
Fargus smiled at her breasts, making her feel drenched in oil. He never missed an opportunity to remind her that he was there. “Anxious to meet your betrothed, my dear?”
She sent him a look, recognizing his implication at once. She ignored it. “How much farther must we travel?” She could hardly wait to be free of him. Men were such pigs!
His eyes never deterred from her chest. “I suspect many hours yet. I’ve no notion of how long it will take in this blasted fog. The rains came sooner than we expected.”
It had been like that for two years … ever since her mother had died. They had no way of predicting the weather. It seemed almost as if the Goddess herself mourned the loss of Her daughter.
He tore his gaze from her chest to slide open a window and call to a guard. The rider pulled alongside the carriage. “Aye, sir?”
“What make you of our progress?”
The man looked ahead, as if he could will the fog to part. “I expect we’ll have to make camp soon. Dusk approaches. We’ll not reach Dentin Keep by nightfall.”
Fargus grunted in response and slid the window closed. Lilith opened hers, looking up at the sky. She could tell nothing of the time--day or night. The entire world seemed shrouded by a grey pall.
Somewhere in the distance, the piercing call of a bird of prey echoed. Another answered … then another. A falcon perhaps? She thought. Or an eagle?
A gathering wind swirled the mist around them, cloaking and then revealing her travel guard.
The horses neighed, snorting in protest. The rider nearest them barely kept his horse from bolting. Another reared, the rider’s torch falling to the ground, mud hissing under naked flame.
A vague sense of uneasiness settled over her. She gripped the window sill, watching a slow build of chaos erupt around them as the mist swirled.
Someone up ahead cried out and was abruptly silenced. The carriage slammed to a halt, nearly jerking her from her seat.
Fargus looked alarmed. “What is it?” he yelled to the driver and received no response, not daring to open his window to investigate.
Lilith wanted to close hers, but then she could hear nothing and see even less. “Shhh!” she hissed, craning her head, trying to see what was happening.
She knew by now they were being attacked, but by who and where?
A bird cried, high pitched, right above them. Someone screamed. She jerked her head in that direction, trying to see. Torches flew past. Horses bucked, throwing their riders.
“Circle! Circle round the carriage! Defend Lady Lilith!”
No one came. Either they were too busy fighting … or most were already dead.
Something heavy slammed into the ground behind them, in front. The carriage rocked violently, the front jackknifed a foot in the air, crashing back onto its wheels with bone jarring force. Lilith caught herself on the window, looking around wildly.
Fargus screamed and opened his door, vanishing into the mist, leaving her to fend for herself.
Lilith watched him go, frozen in place. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She snatched the door shut, wondering if she would be better off huddled inside the carriage or running around outside like a mad woman. She knew the countryside. There was almost no ground cover, nowhere to hide unless she crawled under a rock.
She couldn’t sit here, not with the sounds of battle outside. She wasn’t a coward, but she wasn’t a fool either. Whoever attacked either wanted her or wanted money--either way, the carriage would be their target.
Steeling herself, she opened the door and dropped to the ground. Her legs immediately tried to collapse from her weight and hours of disuse. She clung to the door, gaining her balance, fighting the panic that welled in her chest and threatened to crush her lungs and heart with fear.
Wings flapped above her, pushing great gusts of wind that swirled the mist around her, blinding her further.
Lilith hobbled forward, her heart in her throat. It was something huge. Whatever stalked her from the sky had to be monstrous in size to produce such hard currents of wind when it flapped its wings. She froze, wondering which direction safety lay. There was no safety on the road at all, she knew. Everyone had fled or was dead.
Turning, she moved as quickly as she could into the meadow alongside the road. There were no trees, but she thought she might find a shallow ditch to hide herself in. She had stumbled only a little ways into the meadow, however, when she heard the great flutter of wings above her again.
It swooped low, landing only a few arms length in front of her. Horror filled her when she saw what manner of beast it was, for it was a griffin--the wings and head of an eagle, the body of a lion. Upon the beast’s back sat a man in leather armor, a warrior of formidable proportions. His expression hard and uncompromising, he leapt from the griffin’s back and strode toward her, his cloak and long blond hair fluttering around him. The purposefulness of the warrior’s approach galvanized her, freeing her from her frozen state of terror. She turned to run. She had barely launched herself into flight, however, when he caught her from behind, his arms snaking around her waist and jerking her off her feet.
Screaming in fear and anger, she whirled to fight her attacker. He released her abruptly. Grabbing her flailing arms and thrusting them behind her back, he jerked her up against him.
“Cease,” he growled. “No harm will come to you.”
She didn’t believe him. He’d attacked her coach with his beasts. “I’m to take the word of a highwayman? Take what you want and go!” she commanded.
He looked at her hard for several moments. “Very well, my lady,” he growled. Releasing her wrists, he bent over, pressing his shoulder against her rib cage as he caught her around the knees and tossed her over his shoulder.
Lilith was so stunned by the move that he was halfway back to the griffin before she’d recovered enough to fight him again, screaming and kicking and clawing at his leather jerkin. His hand came down on her rump. Hard.
“Be still, you shrewish wench!”
Lilith gasped in outrage, both at his familiarity with her rump in manhandling her and his derogatory comments. “Shrew! How dare you call me a shrew, you knave! You bastard of a wart hog! You scum of humanity! Put me down this instant! My betrothed will skewer you like the pig you are.”
He set her down so abruptly her arms pin-wheeled and she landed on her already abused rear. She’d barely bounced to a halt when he fell to his knees, straddling her legs.
Horror filled her. Her eyes widened. My Goddess, she thought, he means to rape me.
She was so stunned, he had already whipped a scarf from his cuff, shoved it into her mouth, and tied it around her head, before she realized what he was about. Her scream of outrage was muffled by the gag he’d placed in her mouth. Enraged, she swung at him. He grabbed her arm, dragging it behind her back as he moved around her. Not to be so easily thwarted, she swung backwards at him with her other arm, clubbing him several times with her fist before he caught that one as well, binding her wrists together.
He was breathing heavily when he jerked her to her feet. “Now, my lady,” he said through clenched teeth, “Would you prefer to ride the griffin astride, or on your belly? Because either way, you’re coming with me.”
* * * *
Lilith had never been more glad of anything than when the griffin alit on solid ground. Her ribs ached from being draped over the back of the beast. Her buttocks were numb from the frigid air fanning the skirts of her gown. Her hair had come loose from its pins and threatened to blind her.
The monster who had captured her climbed down, dragging her from her perch. Her knees wobbled and gave way, and she landed in an ignominious heap on the planking of the ramparts. She glared up at her tormentor.
Without a word, he grasped her arms and hauled her to her feet again. “Can you walk, or must I carry you?”
If carrying her meant slinging her over his shoulder, she didn’t think she could bear any more of that. “Mmmwahh,” she said around her gag.
He pulled the gag away from her lips. “What was that, my lady?”
“Pig,” she snarled.
He replaced the gag. Grabbing her around the waist, he threw her over his shoulder. She groaned.
She struggled for all the good it did. She was no dainty bit of fluff. She stood toe to toe and eye to eye with many men, could look down upon more than she liked. This man still towered over her and was strong as a bull besides. Too tired to put up more than a token protest for the moment, she gave up as he crossed the bulwarks, trying instead to see where he was taking her. She could see very little beyond his back and the flooring they traversed, however, and the attempt to observe from her upside down position only made her dizzy and ill. Fighting it, she closed her eyes, merely listening as he walked downstairs and passed through a doorway into the castle, traversed several hallways and finally entered a small room.
She didn’t realize it was to be her cell until he deposited her on the narrow bed. She immediately began kicking him as she landed on her mattress, which she doubted was very little softer than the floor, rolling onto her back and arms for leverage. He grunted and caught one foot, securing her ankle to a bed post with a length of silken rope.
She screamed around the gag--muffled to futility--and kicked the side of his head as he was bent over tying her down. He dropped her foot, holding his cheek, turning a murderous glare on her. Her belly quivered with fear, and she paused a moment, wondering if she’d gone far enough to make him throttle her. Grabbing the offending foot in a rough grip, he secured it to the other post, leaving her spread eagle.
He made short work of freeing her arms from behind her back, moving quickly and allowing her only a few scratches and slaps before she was securely strapped down.
The silk rope held her taut, allowing her little wiggle movement. It didn’t hurt or abrade her wrists, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Considerate bastard, she thought furiously, wondering if he thought for one moment that that small a consideration would make her feel less murderous.
He was breathing heavily by the time he finished. Straightening, he stared down at her, giving her a hard once over. She tensed, expecting the worst.
He surprised her when he walked out of the room without a word and slammed the door shut.
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