The Ravishing of Constance Ch. 12


"No, not anymore," Constance admitted. She tasted the wine. French, exquisite.

"Whatever put it into your head to fuck poor Jean-Pierre?"

"It was … I just needed … I saw what happened to the other captive, Lady Beatrice, and it …"

"I see. That aroused you, watching her being well-tongued by her own maidservant and then given a good hard fucking by Michel?"

"I know it shouldn't have. I should have pitied her, been horrified for her."

Jacqueline scoffed. "Tell me, though. What turned a naVve girl like you into such a wanton wench?"

Constance swirled her goblet, studied the play of the light on the wine. She no longer felt that Jacqueline despised her. She felt, in fact, a certain trust and kinship toward the lovely blonde pirate queen. Perhaps Jacqueline was truly grateful for what she'd done to Jean-Pierre. Perhaps she had found someone to confide in.

"It was my brother," she said. "My brother, Robert."

Haltingly at first, but the words coming more freely as the wine and the sympathetic ear loosened her tongue, she told Jacqueline all of it.

Rob. Enrique. Nana Eva. Their jealousy, their fight. Her punishment. Stowing away. Walter. Lord Cuthburt. What she'd witnessed between Daisy and Greta.

All of it.

When she had finished, she waited to see what Jacqueline would say. To her surprise, the pirate woman threw back her head and laughed uproariously.

"Oh, Constance," she said. "Oh, my, but this will be splendid. The plans I have for you … I can hardly wait."

"What plans?" Constance asked worriedly.

"You'll be the perfect object of my revenge. But do not fear. Michel promised that you'd be well-treated, and well-treated you shall be. Since you were so fascinated by the plight of Lady Beatrice, perhaps we'll begin there."

"I do not know what you mean."

"You'll find out." Jacqueline stretched. "But for now, it has been quite the long day. You must be tired. I think for Jean-Pierre's sake, it would be best if you slept here and gave him his solitude."

Constance stared at her. Surely she did not mean for them to share a bed?

Jacqueline laughed again as if reading her very thoughts. "No, no. I am not that way, Constance. There are blankets, and cushions. You can fashion a bed from those. I prefer to sleep alone."


Continued in Chapter Thirteen

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