back out of the stall, into the night air, and circled around, satisfying his suspicion that the last of the Heavenly Host had arrived. There was a door at the opposite end of the stable, near the guard, leading out toward the overgrown woods. They thought no one would approach from that side. They relied on their distance from the city for protection. They were wrong.
He would have liked nothing more than to beat the guardian monk to a pulp, but he couldn’t afford the time. He made do with a manure shovel, smashing it over his head so the man went down in a sprawl of limbs. He recognized the face—some pimply-faced young squire up from the country, no doubt looking to join the ton. He took the robe belt off him, noticing in disgust that he was naked underneath. It only made sense—he was expecting an orgy. Benedick tied the boy’s arms behind his back, looped the rope around his ankles and left him trussed like a chicken. For good measure he took his handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it in his mouth to keep him quiet before depositing him in one of the other stalls. And then, picking the lantern up in a calm hand, he started down the steps into the tunnels.
He held the lantern aloft, looking around him. This entrance was past the one they had used a few days ago, and he assumed they would be gathering in the large central room. He peered into the dark behind him, but there was no trace of light, and he moved forward, as quietly as he could, in case there were any latecomers.
The tunnel opened out into a room, one they hadn’t seen before. It was lit by a few smoking torches, the shadows adding to the ominous feel of the place. The room was smaller than the gathering hall, with lower ceilings and numerous alcoves arranged for licentious purposes. Long, low tables were set out, laid with cold meats and breads, wines and ale, and another with a bizarre arrangement of fruit and vegetables as a centerpiece, consisting mainly of grapes and something pale. And then he caught his breath.
The centerpiece festooned with grapes was indeed something pale. It was the completely nude body of a woman, a familiar, gorgeous body.
Melisande.
He leaped for the table, half-afraid he’d find…
But she was alive. Breathing. In one piece. Her arms and legs were bound, tied to the table, and they’d put her on a huge platter with bits of greenery around her, and dark purple grapes placed at strategic places on her. Her eyes were open and she was staring up at him in mingled fury and entreaty, and he realized they’d gagged her.
Never a bad thing, he thought, half-giddy with relief as he began unfastening the restraints. Melisande had struggled so hard the knots were impossible to undo, so he simply took his knife and cut through, hoping he wouldn’t slice her as he did so. The moment her arms were free she sat up, pulling the gag from her mouth and throwing it, while he cut through the leg shackles. And then she launched herself at him, ignoring the knife he still held in his hand, almost knocking him down.
He caught her, all that lovely, naked flesh, pulling her into his arms and crushing her against him, kissing her, openmouthed and hungry. She was shaking all over, her eyes wide and shocked. “I thought you wouldn’t come,” she whispered. “I was so afraid.”
He wanted to reassure her, but he was too busy kissing her. And she was kissing him back, her hands pushing the cassock away, fumbling with his clothing. He caught her wrists, frowning down at her, but she simply struggled.
“I need you,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “I need you to…they touched me. They put their filthy hands on me, and I can’t stand it. I need you to wipe out the feel of those awful hands. Please, Benedick.”
He was past rational thought. Fury at her words washed through him, as well as lust that he knew he should ignore. But her hands were desperate, and he’d been so frightened, and he pulled her back into the shadows, into the darkness, and pushed her up against the wall.
There was no time, no need for preparation. She was wet, he was hard, and he simply released himself from the breeches, lifting her up and bracing her against the wall before he thrust