Wages of Sin by Kate Benedict Page A

oats?’ There was a snigger from the darkness and she spun round. A figure stepped out of the shadows, quickly followed by another.
    â€˜He’s had his oats,’ said a mocking voice, ‘but we haven’t.’
    She suddenly became very aware that she was alone with the two men. Old Alice was comfortably settled and probably dozing by the fire by this time. The innkeeper, busy about his tasks, wouldn’t even miss her. She gulped. ‘Fletcher?’ she quavered, peering into the darkness.
    â€˜At your service,’ he grinned, stepping forward. Cooper sniggered again in the background. Leaning against the side of the stall, Fletcher raked her from head to foot, his eyes glinting. She shivered.
    â€˜Thank you,’ she said, pretending she hadn’t noticed anything untoward in his behaviour. ‘But I require no service.’ She waved a hand. ‘I have seen for myself that Alexander has been cared for. There is no more to be done here. I shall return to the inn now. You are dismissed.’ Concealing her fear, she moved towards the door.
    He stepped in front of her, blocking her escape.
    â€˜How dare you, sirrah!’ she snapped. ‘Get out of my way. I told you: you are dismissed.’
    â€˜Oh no, my lady,’ he hissed. ‘You don’t get away so easily. Your horse has had its oats. Now it’s our turn.’
    She whirled, to find that Cooper had moved behind her. She was trapped!
    â€˜My stepfather shall hear of this!’ she snarled. ‘He will have you beaten.’
    Cooper’s scarred face twisted in a leering grin. ‘I think not, madam. Sir Thomas is a generous man, particularly where old comrades are concerned. He’d not begrudge us our share, eh, Fletch?’ Fletcher licked his lips and nodded in agreement.
    Jane felt sick. The thought of their grimy hands pawing at her was unbearable. She fumbled at the waist of her gown and felt the hard shape of the pocket-knife she’d used to cut up Alex’s apple. Her fingers folded round it with relief and she freed it surreptitiously.
    When Fletcher made his move she was ready. She lashed out and the thin blade sliced down his cheek. He swore foully and stepped back, glaring at her, a hand to his wounded face. Blood leaked out from between his fingers. ‘You little bitch,’ he snarled, knocking the knife from her hand. ‘You’ve narked me!’ He reached for his own dagger and brought it out. It glinted wickedly in the dull light. ‘You won’t be so pretty once I’ve finished with you,’ he hissed.
    Jane closed her eyes and waited for the blade to bite into her flesh.
    It was Cooper who saved her. ‘Hold fast, Fletch,’ he muttered, seizing his friend’s wrist. ‘She’s still Sir Thomas’s stepdaughter. ‘Do you want to hang?’
    Still breathing hard, Fletcher slid the dagger back into its sheath. ‘No,’ he replied. He smiled at Jane, eyes cold. ‘But if I can’t have my revenge one way, I’ll have it another.’ He reached for a thick quirt that hung on the stable wall and flexed it between his hands. ‘Take her,’ he ordered.
    Before she knew what was happening, Cooper had seized her, twisting her round to face him. She beat her fists futilely against his chest as his wet mouth slobbered down on hers, one hand groping at her breasts. She pulled her head back, gagging at the taste of stale beer, then everything went black as Fletcher scooped up the hem of her skirts and pulled them up over her head, revealing her pale buttocks and muffling her weak cries beneath the heavy cloth.
    A bolt of pain hit her and she screamed as Fletcher brought the plaited leather of the quirt down on her exposed bottom, leaving a thin red line on the white skin. Her struggles redoubled as she tried to break free, but it was useless. She was helpless, trussed up as neatly as a pig in a sack. Another blow followed the