She followed his gaze to her thigh and then wiped the blood with the edge of her gown. “It’s his blood, so it doesn’t matter.”
Cheeky wench.
“Do you know how long you’ve been here?” she asked.
“I’ve lost count. A fortnight or longer.”
She seemed puzzled by that. “Fortnight? What do they want with you?”
“They’re testing me.”
“For what?” Anna asked, smoothing down her gown.
“I don’t know.”
“Is your leg still bleeding?”
He lifted the edge of his kilt. Dried blood still crusted the cut on his thigh, but it had closed up overnight. “Thank you for tending me.”
She glanced away. “No problem. We have to get you out of here and back to your family.”
Family. Several faces rushed through his head so fast he didn’t have a chance to recognize them. It was damned frustrating.
The woman, Anna, walked to the cell bars. He glanced at her bare legs, wondering why a whore would feel so familiar to him. Perhaps he had glimpsed her briefly when she was put into his cell.
She grabbed one of the iron bars and tested it, then went around the cell testing them all, as he’d done when he awoke in here. “They’re strong,” he said. “I’ve checked them all.”
“We have to find some way out of here.”
She was serious. Was she barmy? Women didn’t break out of dungeons and fight guards. “I’ve tried to escape. Then they started giving me potions to keep me under control, and one of them keeps a pistol aimed at me. If they got it close enough, and I wasn’t half asleep from their bloody potions, I’d disarm them and kill them both.”
She turned and looked at him. “I think I know what you…” Her mouth closed, and she shook her head slightly. He wondered what she had been going to say, but she bent to inspect the lock, which bared her legs almost to her arse, and that’s all he could think about. The polite thing to do would be to look away, but he couldn’t make himself. She must turn a good profit. “How did you get here?”
“I followed the skinny guard, Lance.”
“How do you know Lance?” Had he used her services?
“I saw him talking to someone outside my friend’s house.”
He glanced at her indecent gown and wondered if her friend was a whore too.
“I wanted to know why he was there.” She continued prowling the room, an odd action for a woman, but she moved with grace and power that tightened his loins. What the hell was wrong with him, thinking about how bonny she looked when they were both trapped in a dungeon, and he still didn’t know how he’d gotten here, or why? They just dragged him away and beat the hell out of him, waited for him to heal, and did it all over again. He would have tried to escape—he was certain he could kill the guards—but every time they opened the door, they either had that bloody pistol or slipped him a potion that made him helpless as a bairn.
What now? Even if he could escape, he couldn’t leave a woman here. Not even a whore. Not after the things they’d done to him.
The guard appeared at the door holding a plate. “Stand back.” He set the plate down and held the pistol on them as he unlocked the door. He slid the plate inside. “Eat,” he said, leering at her. “You’ll need your strength.” He tossed in a basket with towels. “And take a bath, both of you.”
The woman’s eyes met his. He saw a flicker of alarm underneath that bravado. The guard expected them to bathe, without privacy. They both ate their food, and he tried not to think about it. It didn’t work. There wasn’t a lot of her that wasn’t uncovered, but he was unusually curious what the rest looked like.
“Don’t they believe in cooking?” she asked, taking a small bite of the rare steak.
He shrugged. “They prefer it bloody.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “I wish I had a bowl of cereal.”
What was cereal? A roar echoed somewhere in the dungeon before he could ask.
“That must be the hybrid,” she said. “What is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“If they’re calling him a hybrid, he must be a mix of two different species.”
She seemed troubled by the thought, as he was. He found it just as troubling that she wasn’t hysterical at the thought of something as alarming as hybrids. “I’ve heard him, but I haven’t seen him.” He took a bite of his meat, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“I think he saw you. The guards said they didn’t move you from the torture room. They thought he carried you back here. Do you remember anything?”
“Someone carried me, I think.”
“Maybe the hybrid felt sorry for you? They’re probably doing the same thing to him that they’re doing to you—” She broke off.
Were they trying to turn him into a hybrid? He looked at Anna’s legs stretched in front of her. Long, firm, and very bare. What would they do with her?
“Could I have a drink of your water?” she asked.
Her cup was in the other cell near the pot. His face warmed, remembering how she’d used hers. He handed his over. “I’m sorry you had to…” He wasn’t sure how to phrase it, but she knew what he meant. She didn’t look at him but focused instead on his cup.
“It’s OK.” A slight smile touched her lips. “I’ve faced a few embarrassing situations before.”
“Aye?” He kept forgetting what she was, or what he suspected she was. She looked like a whore, but although she acted damned strange, she didn’t have the manner of a whore.
She handed his cup back. “They keep talking about their master. Do you know who he is?”
“I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him. I feel I ought to know him.” He’d dreamed of him, dreams that felt real, like memories trying to surface.
“What does he look like?”
“Black hair, long. Pale, bonny face.” Speaking of bonny…“Is there someone looking for you?” he asked. “Do you have a husband?” He didn’t want to just come out and ask if she was a whore.
“I’m not married.” Her voice was firm, almost as if he’d insulted her.
Aye, a whore then. A woman with her beauty couldn’t have escaped male attention for long. “What about family?” Everyone had family. The thought made his chest tight. He must have a family. Were they searching for him?
“None.” Her voice sounded flat. Bitter.
“They’re dead?”
“My mother is. I don’t have a father.”
Everyone had a father. “What about brothers, sisters?” He saw faces in his mind, but the vision vanished as fast as it had come.
“No. I have cousins and friends,” she said, her voice warming. “They’re all I need.”
What kind of friends allowed a woman to sell her body? “Are they looking for you, do you think?”
“I don’t know if they’ve realized I’m missing.” She sounded worried. “I’ve got to get out of here. I think someone’s going to attack them. I have to warn them.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Something I overheard from the man Lance was talking to.”
This made very little sense. What was her connection to this place and to Lance? It was apparent that he didn’t want her here, and the fat guard, Bart, hadn’t expected her.
After they ate, he waited as long as he could. “They don’t offer much in the way of privacy. I need to use that fancy pot.”
She stared at him until he felt uncomfortable. Perhaps it was an insult to mention it after she’d had to help him piss into a cup, but bodily functions didn’t consider circumstances.
“Fancy pot?” She looked at the pot, her expression puzzled.
“Sorry to mention it, but…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll…just be over there.” She stood and walked to the front of the cell, turning her back to him.