Page 122 of Duke of Diamonds
Fiona shook her head violently, trying to force sound past his grip, but it only made him laugh—a low, menacing chuckle that turned her stomach.
“What’s that, darling?” he mocked, tightening his grip.
Her heart pounded like a drumbeat of dread.Where was Isaac? Someone—anyone—please...
Fiona writhed against him, her muscles straining in desperation, but Aaron only pressed harder, pinning her cruelly against the hedge. The thick cloak she wore shielded her from the bramble’s thorns, but it did little to guard against him, or the dread clawing up her spine.
Hot tears welled in her eyes, blurring the edges of the moonlight above.
Someone must wake. A servant fetching water... a restless soul pacing the hall... anyone.
Her lungs screamed for air, her spirit for release. She needed deliverance—from this man, this nightmare, this shadow that refused to vanish. More than anything, she needed Isaac.
“You are the reason I am ruined and alone,” Aaron growled, his fingers weaving possessively into a lock of her hair. His voice was slurred, thick with drink.
You did this to yourself,she wanted to cry.You sowed your own ruin.
“Like your father, you now carry a debt,” he murmured, as if the thought amused him. “Though the old fool has somehow scraped together the coin and returned it all.”
Fiona’s mind raced.Paid? All of it? How?There had been no indication—no mention of such a thing.Had Isaac?—?
“But your debt,” Aaron sneered, “is not in coin.” His thumb traced along her lip, the touch revolting. “You’ve always been beautiful, Fiona. If only I could tame that unruly spirit.”
He leaned in, his mouth nearing her neck.
Revulsion rose swift and sharp within her.
She bit him.
Her teeth sank into the fleshy pad of his finger, and he yelped, wrenching back with a guttural curse. The next moment, his palm struck her cheek with brutal force.
“You wicked little doxy,” he spat.
The sting of the slap made her head reel, but anger burned through the haze.
“Keeping yourself for that beast you married? Have you given him your heart, then? Is that it?”
He leaned close again, eyes wild. “I bested him once. And I shall do so again. You belong to me.”
“Never,” Fiona hissed, fury coursing through her veins.
With all the strength she could muster, she drove her knee upward.
He crumpled with a strangled groan.
She made to flee, stumbling as his hand gripped her robe, dragging her down. Her body struck the ground, the impact jarring.
Aaron loomed above her almost instantly, panting, enraged.
“You will pay for every misery you’ve brought upon me. You and that wretched husband of yours.”
“I do not think so,” a voice cut through the night.
The weight against her vanished in an instant, and the thud of a body hitting earth echoed in Fiona’s ears. Blinking past the blur of tears, she beheld Isaac, like a storm incarnate, striking Aaron with a furious precision.
“You dare lay your hand upon my wife?” Isaac’s fist met Aaron’s face with a sickening crack. “You filthy cur—” another blow, and another, each one fueled by something deeper than fury.
Aaron flailed, attempting to rise, but Isaac gave him no room, no quarter. He drove him back to the earth, fist after relentless fist.
