Kitty Ransom awoke as a heavy hand clamped
against her mouth. She started to yelp, but her startled
breath was cut short against the large palm, and her eyes
flew wide in the darkness. At first, still dazed with sleep,
she thought it might be Michael Urry and other young
men from the nearby village of Totland; they had snuck
out to the bluffs, to her father’s estate, Rosneathto have a
spot of fun with her, a wicked prank of some sort. After a
moment, however, it occurred to her that the hand
against her face was rough and calloused, as if from a
lifetime of harsh labor―something scrawny, privileged
Michael Urry and his friends had never known.
That realization left her seized with sudden fear, a
fright that only mounted as the man seized her above the
crook of her elbow and hauled her abruptly, roughlyout
of bed. She danced on her tiptoes for a moment beside
him, tangled in her bedclothes and heard scuffling
footsteps and heavy breaths from around and behind
them. By her quick estimation, the sounds accountedfor
at least five other men in her room.
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