“That will teach you to fight me.”
“Leave go, Giacomo. You don’t want her unconscious, do you?”
“You’ll not lay a hand on her, you filthy swine.”
“Just see if we don’t, my brave Corsican.”
Cassie looked up through a haze of pain to see the huge man pulling off his cloak. Almost gently, he spread it on the rotting floor.
“Can we, Andrea?” she heard Giacomo say eagerly.
Andrea shrugged. “There was naught said. I was told to keep her here, the Corsican too, I guess, until he comes. If you’ve no taste for such a lovely morsel, then I’ll take your turn as well.”
A wild shout broke from Giacomo’s mouth. “No, you’ll not have her all to yourself.” His voice was suddenly crafty. “We’ll have the Corsican watch. He’s probably lusted after her himself.”
The two men holding the struggling Joseph broke into furious argument.
Cassie’s heart froze within her. They were going to rape her. God, they were fighting over the order. She tried to get control of herself, to think of something, anything that would save her. A pistol. Perhaps she could get one of the men’s pistols. Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet, but the pain in her chest was so great that she gasped aloud.
“Ah,” Andrea said, “the little lady wants us to begin. Look at how she comes to us.”
Frenzied, excited laughter met his words. He was on her in the next instant, tearing off her cloak, and ripping at her riding habit.
“No, damn you, no!” Cassie yelled. The pain in her chest faded from her consciousness and she fought him, clawing at his eyes through the black mask, kicking wildly at his legs.
“Hold the wildcat, Giacomo,” Andrea shouted.
Andrea tore off her clothing, delighting, she thought wildly, in shredding every layer. She twisted frantically, even as Giacomo wrenched her arms behind her back.
Andrea stepped back, his dark eyes glistening, his large tongue running excitedly over his lips.
She stood naked, her body quivering with cold and fear, her hair hanging loosely down her back and over her breasts.
He reached out his hand and cupped her breast. A piercing scream broke from Cassie’s mouth, and without thought, she leaned her head down and sank her teeth into the back of his hand.
He struck her, full in the face, and she fell back against Giacomo. Giacomo’s hands moved urgently over her, down her belly, around her thighs. She could hear his breathing in her ear, heavy and rasping in his lust. Cassie jerked an arm free of him and thrust her elbow into his stomach.
She heard his bellow of rage and hoped that his blow would leave her senseless.
But it was Andrea who struck her. He drove his fist into her belly, and she fell to her knees, clutching her arms about herself. She was hurled upon the cloak, her arms yanked above her head and held there by Giacomo’s knees. She felt his hands pulling her hair from her face and shoulders. His fingers closed over her breasts, tender from her pregnancy, hurting her badly.
“She does not like your gentle attention, Giacomo,” Andrea said, laughing. “Let us see if she prefers this.”
Cassie’s eyes opened wide, despite herself. Andrea had dropped his breeches and bared himself. He was built like a bull, a brute, a raging animal.
She kicked wildly at his hairy belly as he grabbed at her legs. He grunted and thrust himself between her thighs.
Dimly, as if from a great distance, Cassie heard Joseph screaming curses.
“Lay the Corsican out, Giulio. I need both of you to hold her down.”
“Bastardo!” Cassie screamed, and craned her neck forward to see Joseph slumping onto the floor. She was sobbing, screaming her own curses at them, English oaths that they did not understand.
Suddenly there were hands all over her body, rough fingers digging into her, pulling her legs apart. For an instant, the room was silent, save for the rasping breath of the men who held her. Then her body exploded into agony. Andrea drove into her, tearing her, his hands jerking her hips upward to engorge himself with her.