Liam's attention went from the book to Darcy's face. His eyes narrowed, and he met her challenge with a snarl. "No, darlin', there won't be any more burning 'cause there will be no more reading!"
She tossed her head and said, "If you want to waste your mind, Liam, that's your choice, but I'll not join you on the road to stupidity."
Quick as lightning he smashed her across the face with the back of his hand, and she reeled onto the table sending the candlestick flying. Putting her hand to her face, Darcy looked at Liam in shock. There was a vacant, lifeless expression in his eyes which struck terror into her heart. She knew he equated education with the aristocracy, and tonight she represented the ruling classes. Lunging for the door, Liam caught her waist. She felt the iron grip of his huge hands as he slammed her against the plaster wall.
As she slid down the wall dazed, Liam grabbed the back of her blouse. As he pulled her up, he snarled, "You think you're better than me, don't you?" and he vaulted her into the fireplace. She hit the mantle squarely across her shoulders, her legs crumpling beneath her. Darcy’s head hit the hearthstones like a melon. Liam rolled her over planting his knee on her chest. The last thing Darcy saw was his huge fist rising to smash her face. As the room moved farther and farther away, Darcy struggled to remember the prayer "Hail Mary, full of grace—
Chapter 6
It felt like fingers were tapping all over Darcy’s body. Her mind moved in a thick fog until she realized rain was pelting her as she lay in the mud. The earth felt cool on her burning face. Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over her, and she rose to her hands and knees retching. A flash of lightning illuminated the McBride cottage, as she fell back down into the mud.
Darcy couldn't understand why she was outside, and she tried to rise again but intense pain would not allow it. Her wet hair lay in long, muddy tangles, and her clothes were filthy and plastered to her skin. Gradually the details returned to her, and she shuddered to think of someone finding her out here, disgraced and humiliated. She remembered all the justifications for the thrashing of a woman such as, "I think she likes it," or "She must have done something to deserve it.” She couldn't bear the thought of anyone blaming her for Liam's shameful behavior.
She pulled herself up onto her hands and knees, shaking from pain and weakness and crawled like a hurt animal to the door of the cottage. Leaning heavily on a small bench, she gathered all her strength and hauled herself into a standing position. On wobbly legs, she entered the cottage, supporting herself on the walls and furniture until she struggled to the bed where she threw herself down. She slept for hours until sharp pains roused her, and she opened her eyes.
Pushing herself up, she looked down at her blouse. "Oh sweet Jesus!" she exclaimed. It was covered with blood, vomit, and mud. The bed sheets too.
She rose from the bed, managed to light a candle, searching for Liam. With every ounce of strength she pulled herself up the stairs to check his bed.
The room was vacant, and she heaved a sigh of relief backing down the stairs. Darcy limped over to a small, cracked mirror and gazed into the glass. She gasped. She didn't recognize the monster with purple, swollen eyes. Caked blood had hardened around the cuts on her face, and her lips were swollen to double their ordinary size. Moaning, she fell back onto the bed.
Darcy lay for a long time too exhausted to move, trying hard to ignore the throbbing in every part of her body. She turned her head and noticed that streaks of light were breaking across the dark sky. There was not enough water in the house to clean the blood and filth from her body. The town well would be surrounded by women at this time of day, so Darcy lay helplessly in bed trying to think of what to do. Suddenly, it
She tossed her head and said, "If you want to waste your mind, Liam, that's your choice, but I'll not join you on the road to stupidity."
Quick as lightning he smashed her across the face with the back of his hand, and she reeled onto the table sending the candlestick flying. Putting her hand to her face, Darcy looked at Liam in shock. There was a vacant, lifeless expression in his eyes which struck terror into her heart. She knew he equated education with the aristocracy, and tonight she represented the ruling classes. Lunging for the door, Liam caught her waist. She felt the iron grip of his huge hands as he slammed her against the plaster wall.
As she slid down the wall dazed, Liam grabbed the back of her blouse. As he pulled her up, he snarled, "You think you're better than me, don't you?" and he vaulted her into the fireplace. She hit the mantle squarely across her shoulders, her legs crumpling beneath her. Darcy’s head hit the hearthstones like a melon. Liam rolled her over planting his knee on her chest. The last thing Darcy saw was his huge fist rising to smash her face. As the room moved farther and farther away, Darcy struggled to remember the prayer "Hail Mary, full of grace—
Chapter 6
It felt like fingers were tapping all over Darcy’s body. Her mind moved in a thick fog until she realized rain was pelting her as she lay in the mud. The earth felt cool on her burning face. Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over her, and she rose to her hands and knees retching. A flash of lightning illuminated the McBride cottage, as she fell back down into the mud.
Darcy couldn't understand why she was outside, and she tried to rise again but intense pain would not allow it. Her wet hair lay in long, muddy tangles, and her clothes were filthy and plastered to her skin. Gradually the details returned to her, and she shuddered to think of someone finding her out here, disgraced and humiliated. She remembered all the justifications for the thrashing of a woman such as, "I think she likes it," or "She must have done something to deserve it.” She couldn't bear the thought of anyone blaming her for Liam's shameful behavior.
She pulled herself up onto her hands and knees, shaking from pain and weakness and crawled like a hurt animal to the door of the cottage. Leaning heavily on a small bench, she gathered all her strength and hauled herself into a standing position. On wobbly legs, she entered the cottage, supporting herself on the walls and furniture until she struggled to the bed where she threw herself down. She slept for hours until sharp pains roused her, and she opened her eyes.
Pushing herself up, she looked down at her blouse. "Oh sweet Jesus!" she exclaimed. It was covered with blood, vomit, and mud. The bed sheets too.
She rose from the bed, managed to light a candle, searching for Liam. With every ounce of strength she pulled herself up the stairs to check his bed.
The room was vacant, and she heaved a sigh of relief backing down the stairs. Darcy limped over to a small, cracked mirror and gazed into the glass. She gasped. She didn't recognize the monster with purple, swollen eyes. Caked blood had hardened around the cuts on her face, and her lips were swollen to double their ordinary size. Moaning, she fell back onto the bed.
Darcy lay for a long time too exhausted to move, trying hard to ignore the throbbing in every part of her body. She turned her head and noticed that streaks of light were breaking across the dark sky. There was not enough water in the house to clean the blood and filth from her body. The town well would be surrounded by women at this time of day, so Darcy lay helplessly in bed trying to think of what to do. Suddenly, it
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