“You would beat me and harm your child?”
He waved away her words. “Do not try that tale with me again, Hastings. Marjorie told me you had begun your monthly flux on the day of her arrival at Oxborough. That is why I kept away from you.”
“She lies.”
He just shook his head and kept coming. The sun suddenly disappeared beneath a passing cloud. She shivered. She wasn’t breathing hard anymore. She held that rock. She waited.
It was then she knew she would not remain there for him to beat her. She dropped the rock, turned, lifted her gown above her knees, and ran into the surf.
“Hastings!”
The water was so cold she felt her breath freeze in her chest. No, she would make it. She was a strong swimmer, Beamis had seen to that when she was a child. She would swim around the side of the wall of rocks and boulders to the beach just beyond. There was another path, much rougher than this one, dangerous to someone who didn’t know it well, as she did. The water swirled about her knees. Just as she was about to dive into the next wave, she felt his arms close around her waist, lifting her free of the water, carrying her back to the shore.
She fought him, finally si
nking her teeth into his arm. He dropped her onto the dry sand, stood over her, legs spread, rubbing his arm.
“You are a fool, Hastings. That water would freeze the heart in your chest.”
“No it wouldn’t. I have swum in it before.”
“Did you seek to drown yourself?”
She lay there on her back, looking up at him. He was blocking the sun. She shivered, but not from her wet feet, not from the cold, but from the sight of him.
She saw him over her such a short time before, smiling, leaning down to kiss her, to nibble her earlobe, to kiss her breasts even as he eased into her. And she had held him close, her eyes meeting his, filled with him, and they had been together, and she had believed it would be like this forever.
She laughed aloud at her own stupidity.
He still had not moved.
She rolled onto her side, holding her stomach, still laughing. She heard herself hiccup. She felt tears burning her eyes. Stupid tears.
He came down over her, pulling her onto her back.
She whipped her legs up suddenly and drove her feet into his groin. He stared at her for an instant, knowing the grinding pain would be upon him in but a moment, knowing he would want to die, knowing he wanted to kill her. She was a red haze, nothing more than that, a red haze that dissolved quickly enough into such pain that he knew he would vomit.
“I wish you had not done that,” he said, and sank to his knees, holding himself. He was gasping with pain now, rolling onto his side.
She jumped to her feet and ran back to the path.
Gwent was waiting at the top, his hands on his hips. “You should not have done that, Hastings. Now he will have to retaliate. Are you mad? How will he sire a child if you unman him?”
“He has already sired a child only he is too stupid to believe it.”
“By Saint Sebert’s nose, why did you have to strike him there? I will try to explain to him that your mind is disordered, that you need some of his mother’s potion. Are you certain you are with child?”
She nodded. She felt very tired.
Gwent cursed. “Get you back to Oxborough. I will help Severin.”
“I will give you a rock.”
“You look dreadful, Hastings.”
“Thank you, Marjorie. You look like a goddess.”
“You are all wet and there is sand on your gown. Your sleeve is torn from your shoulder. Your feet and gown are wet. Did Severin beat you? He did not hit your face. That is wise. It could anger some of the Oxborough people who still feel some loyalty to you.”