The Inheritance by Irina Shapiro Page B

hand felt like a sledgehammer as it hit the side of her face.  Isobel fell back on the bed , tasting blood from her split lip.  She looked up at John in shock.  His face was contorted with rage, and she tried to scramble away from him as he grabbed her ankles and pulled her closer.  Isobel continued to struggle, so John grabbed her and flipped her onto her stomach.  She tried to wriggle away, but he pinned her wrists with one meaty hand, and held her legs in place with his thighs.  She heard the clink of metal as his belt buckle hit the stone floor, then closed her eyes as he yanked up her dress and rammed his cock inside her.  She screamed, but John bent forward, and clapped his hand over her face as he viciously thrust into her again and again.
    Isobel lay there until she heard the door slam behind him , tears streaming into the embroidered coverlet.  She slid off the bed onto the cold stone floor, and leaned her head against the feather mattress.  At last, she got up and wiped herself with a moist towel.  The towel came away stained with blood and John’s seed.  Isobel’s knees were shaking so badly, she could barely stand, so she crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over her. 
    What was she to do now?  Who would help her?  John was her husband.  The only way out of this marriage was for her to die , and she wouldn’t give the bloody whoreson the satisfaction.  It would make his life too bloody easy.  He would pay for what he’d done.  She didn’t know when, and she didn’t know how, but he’d pay.  She would make sure of that. 
    She must have fallen asleep , because by the time she opened her eyes the room was almost dark.  She was sore between her legs and her face felt tender and swollen.  She sat up and pulled up the blanket to her face as the door slowly opened.  She could see John’s silhouette in the doorway, illuminated by the sconce behind him.  He walked in slowly and stood by the bed.
    “Isobel?” he called softly.  She didn ’t respond. 
    “Isobel?” he tried again.  John sat down on the side of the bed and gingerly reached out for her.  She rolled to the side, trying to get away from him.
    “Isobel, I am truly sorry.  I dinna ken what got into me.  I saw ye from the window parting ways with Rory afore returning to the castle, and I lost my head.  I thought ye went with him to get revenge for this morning.  I dinna mean to hurt ye, lass.”  He sounded truly contrite, but Isobel didn’t care.  She remained silent, glaring at him in the dim light of the room.
    “Isobel, please.  Forgive me.  I won’t hurt ye again.” 
    Isobel sat upright, dropping the coverlet.  She brought her face close to his, so he could see her swollen jaw.
    “I will forgive, but I will not forget , and if ye ever hit me or touch me in anger again I swear to ye here and now that I will take yer sword and run ye through from heart to cock.  Is that understood, husband?”  She spat out the last word and saw him cringe. 
    “ Understood.  Will I have Mary bring ye some food?” he sounded full of concern, but Isobel knew what he was after.
    “Nay , I think I will go down to the Hall for supper; it’s my birthday after all.”  She wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily.  Let everyone see how the future laird treats his wife.
    John hung his head in shame.  He pulled something out of his pocket and reached out his hand to her.
    “I got ye something.”  She took the object out of his hand.  There was just enough light to see that it was an ornate silver cross on a leather thong. 
    “Thank y e, John, but I think I’ll wear this necklace for now.”  She touched her fingers to the warm crystal and John looked away.
    “As y e wish.”  He left the room and didn’t return that night. 
    Isobel didn ’t go down the following morning, asking Mary to tell everyone she was ill.  Her face was still swollen, and her lip was so tender that she could barely eat