Читать книгу The Agincourt Bride онлайн | страница 40

‘No!’ I screamed as the man pulled Charles towards him. ‘He did say Chartres. The queen said they were going to Chartres! That’s all we know.’

With sudden and vicious momentum, the duke swung round and swiped my cheek with the back of his hand in its studded gauntlet. Stars exploded in my head and I fell back against the bed, gasping with shock. ‘You stupid slut!’ I heard him shout through the ringing in my ears. ‘Why didn’t you tell us that straight away?’ He began to issue orders to the man he had called Deet. ‘Get the men mounted immediately. We can be sure that the queen will not hurry. She will have rested overnight at Melun. But they must not reach Chartres. We will cut them off at Étampes. Go, man! I will join you very soon.’

My head was still spinning but I managed to haul myself to my feet as Charles was abruptly released and ran to my arms. My cheek was burning and the unfamiliar taste of blood was in my mouth where my teeth had cut the inner flesh.

Behind his hawk-like beak, Jean of Burgundy’s grey eyes glittered, fixed not on my face but on my unlaced chemise and my breasts, scarcely covered by the thin cloth. I felt blood dribble from my cheek and mingle with the sweat running cold between them.

‘Let that be a lesson to you, slut,’ he sneered, moving towards me.

His gaze was like an obscene caress and my skin crawled. Slowly, he removed the gauntlet from the hand which had struck me and from its bristling surface he flicked a scrap of what I assumed was my own torn flesh. Without the glove I could see that his hand was white and soft and I cringed, thinking he was going to grope me. The thick, sweet smell of him was nauseating.

‘Name, slut?’ The repetition of the insult was effective in reducing me to an object, without free will.

I heard myself say in a croaky whisper, ‘Guillaumette,’ and immediately regretted it. Why had I told him the truth? The unusual name marked me out. Why hadn’t I said Jeanne or Marie and been lost in the crowd?

His let his hand hover over me and a cruel smile twisted his lips as he relished my mounting terror and disgust. Then, instead of reaching downwards to grope my breasts as I feared he would, he let his fingers linger briefly on my battered cheek. When he withdrew them, they were red with my blood. My gorge rose as I watched him push them one by one into his mouth and suck them clean. His action struck me as so revolting that it was all I could do not to vomit over his steel-clad feet.