Mystic Mountains

her a second glance since the day in the orchard. He would likely be glad to see the back of her. But she knew Dougal would come to her aid if he died in the attempt.
    "Oh Dougal," she whimpered. "Please help me."
    "Eh?" Reg mumbled as he moved off her.
    "I said bring her in, you dope, " his father bawled.
    "Oh, right, Dad. She 's a nice little piece, isn't she? I can see why you fancied her." Reg jumped down, dragged her across the floor of the cart by her feet, and then slung her over his shoulder like a bag of flour, ignoring her thumps and kicks. Isabella's head bounced against his back, and she choked on the stench rising from him.
    Nearby revelers warbled a sea shanty, their slurred and tuneless voices shouting the verses of a song Isabella had heard often at sea coming from the crew's quarters. Useless to yell for help, no one would hear her.
    "Careful boy, we don 't want her dying on us before we've had our fill of her, do we?" Malloy sniggered.
    Reg stomped down what must have been a narrow passage, for her feet hit the wall with each step he took. He grunted as he stopped.
    "Put her on the bed," Malloy ordered. "Then leave her to me, eh?"
    "Aw, Dad," Reg whined. "You said I could have a turn with her if I helped you." Reg kept a hand on her chest and Isabella pushed at it, rolling away from him. He laughed as he grabbed her wrist, and she raked her nails across his hand. He laughed louder.
    "Get out of here, you silly sod."
    Reg let her go, then Isabella heard shuffling. "Here, take this an ' go an' fetch us some rum next door. And don't be long, all right?"
    Malloy must have pushed his son out of the room. She made up her mind; this was not going to be the end of her. She was not some worthless little Irish biddy who deserved to be pushed around by scum such as this.
    Malloy ripped off the sacking and her bonnet along with it. Isabella bit back a scream of terror when she saw he'd already removed his trousers to free his bulging cock.
    Cringing against the bedhead she put her shaking hands to her mouth. Now what should she do? She knew the power of an aroused man, and this time had no knife to defend herself.
    "Now, then, tasty wench, it's time I got what should rightfully have been mine months ago. You've got no high and mighty Tiger Carstairs to take you away from me now." He rubbed his palms together, then fondled himself, his beady eyes narrowing.
    "Tiger will find me, then kill you!" Isabella scrambled from the bed.
    She went to dodge around him, but the room was no bigger than her bedroom at home and Malloy easily threw her back down. She fought with all her might as he came over her. There was no way she would give herself to this dung heap of a man. Better to die fighting than to die after he and his son had their fill of her. The bed smelt of urine and stale sweat.
    "Get away from me, you bloody lump of shit!" Thumping her knuckles on his back and neck, she brought her knee up as far as she could. But he was too close for it to do any great harm.
    He forced a knee between her legs and began to part them.
    Isabella brought her fists down as hard as she could on his head, one each side of his ears.
    This seemed to amuse him. "Fight all you like wench, there's no one to hear or come to your aid. And they wouldn't care if they heard you. No one pokes their noses in around here. Open your legs!" His fingers prodded between her thighs.
    Isabella raked her nails down the side of his face. Blood began to run from the scratches, which seemed to inflame him. She would never have expected him to have such strength. Grabbing her flailing hands he secured them over her head with a grasp as tight as a steel trap.
    Someone rapped on the door. "Malloy!"
    Isabella knew this was her only chance to escape. She screamed at the top of her voice, praying the person outside would come to her aid.
    Malloy clamped a palm over her mouth. Isabella bit it as hard as she could and he swore obscenely.
    "Go away, " he bawled.
    "It 's Reg." The woman rattled the knob. "The silly bugger's gone and got himself knocked out."
    "So? Let the silly sod sleep until he comes to. Not much I can do about it, is there?" Malloy returned his attention to Isabella, fumbling with her skirt and petticoats, lifting them to her waist.
    "Help!"
    She screamed and increased her struggles when he removed his hand from her mouth to grasp a fistful of material. Lust filled his bloodshot eyes when they settled on the naked flesh of her thighs. Holding