A Breath of Snow and Ashes - Diana Gabaldon [613]
“She’s bitten me thumb off, the bitch!” Eyes watering in agony, Mr. Howard swayed to and fro, cradling his wounded hand against his chest. Fury flooded his face and he lunged toward her, free hand drawn back, but Bonnet seized him by the wrist and pulled him aside.
“Now then, sir,” he said. “I cannot allow ye to damage her, sure. She’s not yours yet, is she?”
“I don’t care if she’s mine or not,” Howard cried, face suffused with blood. “I’ll beat her to death!”
“Oh, no, surely ye don’t mean that, Mr. Howard,” Bonnet said, his voice jovially soothing. “A cruel waste that would be. Leave her to me, will ye, then?” Not waiting for an answer, he pulled Brianna after him, dragging her stumbling across the room, and thrust her toward the silent factotum, who had waited motionless by the door through the conversation.
“Take her out, Manny, and teach her her manners, will ye? And gag her before ye bring her back.”
Emmanuel didn’t smile, but a faint light seemed to burn in the black depths of his pupilless eyes. His fingers dug between the bones of her wrist and she gasped with pain, jerking in a vain attempt to free herself. With a single quick movement, the Ibo whirled her round and twisted up her arm behind her back, bending her half forward. Sharp pain shot up her arm as she felt her shoulder tendons begin to part. He pulled harder and a dark wave passed over her vision. Through it, she heard Bonnet’s voice calling out behind them as Emmanuel propelled her through the door.
“Not in the face, mind, Manny, and no permanent marks.”
HOWARD’S VOICE had quite lost its choked note of fury. It was still choked, but with something more like awe.
“My God,” he said. “Oh, my God.”
“A charmin’ sight, is it not?” Bonnet agreed cordially.
“Charming,” Howard echoed. “Oh—the most charming thing I believe I have ever seen. Such a shade! Might I—” The hunger in his voice was evident, and Brianna felt the vibration of his footstep on the carpet, a split second before his hands clamped tight on her buttocks. She screamed behind the gag, but she was bent hard across the table, with the edge cutting into her diaphragm, and the sound came out as no more than a grunt. Howard laughed joyfully, and let go.
“Oh, look,” he said, sounding enchanted. “Look, do you see? The most perfect print of my hands—so white on the crimson . . . she is so hot . . . oh, it’s fading. Let me just—”
She clenched her legs tight together and stiffened as he fondled her naked privates, but then his touch was gone, and Bonnet had taken his hand off her neck, and was pulling his customer away from her.
“Ah, now, that’s enough, sir. After all, she’s not your property—not yet.” Bonnet’s tone was jovial, but firm. Howard’s response was immediately to offer a sum that made her gasp behind the gag, but Bonnet only laughed.
“That’s generous, sir, so it is, but ’twouldn’t be fair on my other customers, would it, to be takin’ your offer without letting them make their own? No, sir, I do appreciate it, but I mean to auction this one; I’m afraid ye’ll needs be waiting on the day.”
Howard was disposed to protest, to offer more—he was most urgently in earnest, he protested that he could not wait, was ravished by desire, a great deal too warm to abide delay . . . but Bonnet only demurred, and in a few moments had ushered him out of the room. Brianna heard his voice protesting, dying away as Emmanuel removed him.
She had stood up as soon as Bonnet took his hand off her neck, wriggling madly to shake her skirts down. Emmanuel had tied her hands behind her back, as well as gagging her. If he hadn’t, she would have tried to kill Stephen Bonnet with her bare hands.
This thought must have been visible on her face, for Bonnet glanced at her, looked again, and laughed.
“Ye did amazing well, darlin’,” he said, and leaning over, negligently pulled the gag down from her mouth. “That man will empty his purse for the chance to get his hands on your arse again.”
“You God damn . . .