Untamed {Mature Reading}

Chapter XLI

Bianca, for the briefest of moments, thought about fighting - maybe even just screaming for help. But as Grey pressed the blade deeper in warning, she heard the way fabric yielded, felt her skin break and blood trail oh, so very close to the lining of her spine.

Back stiff and as far away from Grey as his hold would allow, Bianca silently complied, moving where the Lord directed her near the back of the tavern. She was relieved to see Freo, the horse looking about with her ears pressed flat. But that relief was short-lived when she spied the gentleman from the tavern.

He stepped forward, a twine of rope in his hands.

With Grey's blade still pressed into her back, Bianca could do little else but raise her hands, watching in growing terror as he grabbed at her wrists, pulling them before him.

"See?" Grey's voice was like pins in her eyes. "We are all civilized here."

Fury and bitterness rose in her throat thick and fast that the priestess almost choked on it. She utterly despised how helpless she was around Grey - of how he always managed to catch her in her most off-guard, most vulnerable state. Helpless, that is what she was - helpless. 

The bite of the rope chafed her skin, making Bianca think of the last time her hands were bound - by Angus of all people, dragging her from a massacre and onto a horse that would take her to Callum. 

She was so tired of constantly being moved, dictated, by these strange men. Men who believed her lesser, a mere plaything at their disposal. She was trying to reclaim her freedom, to finally become her own woman, and here was yet another man seeming to snatch her away. 

"I want no physical marks on her," The direction of Grey's command turned to his men. "She is a tool to be bargained with, not something to elicit Lockhart's displeasure."

Lips pressed into a thin line, Bianca did not make a sound as she was roughly yanked towards Freo, whose reins were now tied to Grey's horse. The hands that lifted her up were not gentle, but at least they did not linger on her body - small mercies. She watched as he tied the end of her rope to Freo's reins - too far for her to reach. 

Grey took to his horse, glancing back to survey her and his men who began mounting their own steeds. 

Bianca found herself doing the same, noting the absence of one very noticeable figure. 

"No Rosalind?" Bianca asked, despite herself just as Grey kicked his horse into motion, prompting Freo to follow.

She watched as Grey's watery blue eyes - not the vibrant, true blue of Callum's - fall on her. His lips pressed into a hard line but his voice remained that tight, pleasant intone. "I will not force her to endure these wretched lands any longer." 

A russet brow arched. "Or she did not wish to endure your wretched lies and deceit any longer." 

Grey's head whipped around, lips curled into a snarl - a glimmer of the monster behind the man before the mask settled. "Rosalind is not your concern. If she were, you would not have been so determined to ruin her marriage and reputation." 

Bianca stared ahead, the distant skyline becoming blurry as emotion lodged in her throat, something thick and cold like sweat breaking across her skin. Quietly, she asked. "Like you try to ruin my reputation?" 

The words heald a strange weight in the air - had some sort of power as Grey's back stiffened, his head locked straight ahead, refusing to look at her. 

"An unfortunate consequence," Grey replied mildly, his voice so at odds to the tension in his body. "If there is anyone to blame, it is your Laird. Perhaps if he honoured his word like he was supposed to, there would have been no need for my attempts to... rectify matters."