“Sir John Fraser kept his face remote. Showing any kind of fear would give his captor an advantage. At least de la Roche hadn’t found Siobhan, or the man wouldn’t have returned here to torture him again. Sir John took slight comfort in that knowledge. “Where is the Spear?” De la Roche twisted the thumbscrews until a soft crunching sound filled the dark underground chamber where Sir John lay strapped to a table by the ankles, waist, shoulders and wrists. Despite his determination to remain unaffe...cted by the torture, a gasp escaped his throat. A sharp stab of intense pain tore through his thumb, before a blessed numbness took hold. The Frenchman’s assistant, Claude Lemar, smiled down at Sir John in the torchlight. The man was dressed in a mud-colored monk’s robe. His face was long and lean, with pockmarks dotting his cheeks. His lips were pouty like those of a sullen boy as his light eyes gazed at his subject. “Shall we move on to your other thumb?” “Kill me now.” Sir John struggled to keep the fear from his voice.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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