Sarah and Hugh St. Owen peered up the stone staircase, paralyzed with uncertainty. What should they do now, thought Sarah?
She froze as the decision was quickly taken out of their hands. Three men dressed in modern day clothes descended the stairway. They rather rudely brushed past the two captives and immediately surrounded them. Evidently Knights of the Abbey, Sarah thought. She recognized one of them as a civic dignitary of Perris-on-Sea.
Sarah started as the dignitary spoke.
“What shall we do with them now, Mrs. Llewellyn?”
“Take them to the Abbey dungeon below the second staircase,” came the reply.
Sarah wheeled around to see Vivien standing there holding her ridiculous hat and rubbing the back of her neck. The woman glared angrily at her stepdaughter.
“I ought to ring your neck, you little fool,” she hissed, “But that would be just too good for you.”
Hugh St. Owen drew himself up to his full height. His liquid brown eyes flashed with fire. Sarah’s heart melted once again at the sight of this man aflame with emotion and outrage.
“Just a moment, ladies and gentleman,” he said, “Enough of these amateur dramatics.”
The intruders halted for a moment. To Sarah they appeared to mirror surprise and a modicum of fear in their reaction to this statement.
“Kidnapping is a punishable offense, as you well know. I demand to know why Miss Llewellyn and myself are being detained here without due cause.”
The civic dignitary looked askance at Vivien.
“You mean you haven't told them, Mrs. Llewellyn?” he said. His eyes bulged with disbelief.
Sarah and Hugh St. Owen turned around and glowered at the hideous older woman.
Vivien shifted uneasily from foot to foot.
“I didn't think it was necessary, Samuel,” she said. The woman threw a haughty gaze at the dignitary.
Sarah stared at “Samuel.”
“I think Mr. St. Owen is right, sir,” she said, slowly. “You do owe us quite an explanation.”
The dignitary shuffled around, uncomfortably. The other two men gave him and the doctor's wife a rather apprehensive look.
“We're waiting, sir,” said Hugh St. Owen. Sarah could tell that there was a dangerous edge to his voice. Small wonder, she thought, considering the circumstances.
There then ensued a long silence.
Vivien soon broke it.
“Take them to the dungeon.” She spoke in a commanding voice that seemed quite alien to her slight physical structure. Sarah was surprised.
“There will be time for explanations later,” she continued.
Suddenly, Hugh St. Owen attempted to break free of the intimidating circle and prepared to make a run for it.  Sarah put her hand to her mouth. Would Hugh make it?
“Run, Sarah, run!” he yelled as he broke away from the group. Immediately the three men, all of tall and impressive stature, piled down on top of him and dragged the hapless stud to his feet.
“Not this time, Mr. St. Owen,” said Vivien, with a harsh tone to her voice. “Take them downstairs to cool off, Samuel.”
Without another word the prisoners were escorted by the three men down another narrow flight of stone steps to a small room with a granite door. They were shown inside and the door locked behind them in silence.  The two detainees listened as the footsteps of the jailers disappeared into the distance.
They were left quite alone.
Sarah looked around the room. It was lit by the same long, black tallow candles as upstairs in the main cave area. It smelled of the sea salt air, but felt comparatively warm for the time of the year. At the far end of the room were two wooden chairs. There was a rather comfortable looking twin bed all made up with sheets, blankets and pillowcases. There was even a bedside table with tallow candles burning. On the table were three drinking glasses and a full carafe of water.
Sarah thought hard. This was no prison cell. Obviously someone must live here on and off. She looked up at Hugh St. Owen’s glistening, muscular body and gazed straight into his eyes.
“This must have been a Druid priest's cell of some sort,” she whispered.
“There's no need to whisper, Sarah,” said Hugh. He looked down into Sarah’s beautiful green eyes. “The walls are made of stone, and so is the door. No one can hear us.”
Sarah nodded and walked across the room. She perched herself on the side of the twin bed. She gave out a long sigh.
“Oh, Hugh. This is all so ridiculous.” She looked around the little room once again. “What are we doing here? No one wants to give us an explanation. It seems evident that Vivien is up to something, but what?”
Sarah felt a terrible thirst. She reached out and poured a glass of water from the decanter for herself and one for Hugh St. Owen. She drank half of the glass of water.
Hugh St. Owen looked across the room at his disconsolate companion. He strode across and drank greedily from his water glass to quench his thirst. He sat down beside her on the bed. Sarah gazed at the sexy man's body. Even in this precarious situation, all she could think of was the nearness of Hugh sitting beside her. His loincloth strained to conceal his private parts. They bulged out of the flimsy garment leaving nothing to the imagination. Sarah dived into the man's waiting arms and almost absent-mindedly began to caress his manhood under the cloth.
Again Sarah felt a thrill of excitement at the feel of his flesh. Her heart began to beat wildly with wonder and anticipation as she felt his thick member stiffen and grow large beneath her massaging hand. In a moment, Hugh St. Owen reached out and almost tore off Sarah’s dress. His hands immediately felt their way under her panties and his fingers began to rub the smooth slit and her already damp opening. His hands caressed the delicate pubic hair surrounding the delicious aperture. Deftly, Hugh slipped his fingers inside her and massaged her damp and waiting fissure.  Sarah leaned back on the twin bed, allowing for easier access to her appetizing orifice. It was like deja vu all over again, except that this time it wasn't the mysterious Stranger doing it, but Hugh St. Owen himself!  There he sat. His muscles rippled on an almost perfect body. His enormous penis now stood at attention, ripping aside the flimsy loincloth. He was ready to penetrate the still virginal valley of Sarah’s nubile body.  Sarah looked up. He had the same large manhood as did the Stranger. She knew that any minute he would tear at the opening of her sex, trying to force his way in. She was ready for the sexual assault that was imposingly inevitable and very much desired.  His manhood penetrated her virginal barrier and he was ready to thrust it all in.
“Do it Hugh! Do it!” she gasped.
She stared up into the concentrated gaze of his liquid brown eyes, now, like the Stranger's, hardened into steely determination.
Suddenly, Sarah felt the bed beneath her begin to spin out of control. Her breathing became heavy. She was almost out of breath with excitement, and she started panting for air.  Her head began to swim. She began to lose consciousness.
“Oh no!” she thought, “Not now. Not when Hugh is about to claim me as his own…”
The room continued to spin even faster. Then everything went black.

*************************************************************
 

Sarah opened here eyes.  The light seemed to tear at her eyelids unmercifully. She arose to a sitting position. She felt very groggy. She had a searing headache. She screwed up her lovely eyes and looked around her.  She was still in the Druid’s cell.  Hugh St. Owen was standing over her dressed in a rather tight and sexy pair of paisley-design pajamas.
Sarah looked up at her companion.
“Wh…what happened?” she asked. Every movement seemed extremely painful. Her head throbbed intensely.
Hugh St. Owen looked down at her.
“The water, Sarah, it was drugged,” he replied.
Sarah pursed her lips. She felt very angry. It seemed as if she had spent the last few days being either sexually assaulted or drugged in some way. The whole thing was ludicrous. A girl could only take so much.
She glanced up at Hugh with an angry look. Her beautiful green eyes flashed with fury.
“If we get out of this, Hugh, Saint Owen’s Abbey or not, I am going away for a rest. Enough is enough,” Sarah said.
Hugh St. Owen sighed a manly, deep sigh and sat down beside her on the bed.
“I know how you feel, Sarah,” he said, “You've really been through the mill. I don't blame you. If you have to go away for a rest maybe you should go. But Vivien de Gallois sure has a lot to answer for.”
Sarah stared at her comrade in arms.
“You know, Hugh, I wonder if her maiden name is part of the clue to this mystery.” Sarah rubbed her temples in an effort to alleviate the pain. “Your grandfather referred to her in the same way. He called her a witch persistently.”
“That she is,” nodded Hugh.  His muscular arms bulged as he reached across and squeezed his companion. He held her head close to his muscular chest in an effort to soothe her. Sarah felt so safe and warm in his loving arms. The headache was actually beginning to go away.
Sarah raised herself and looked up into Hugh St. Owen’s concerned gaze.
“Hugh, I feel so embarrassed. I can't believe I lost consciousness just at the point where we…where we…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes began to fill with tears.
Hugh St. Owen drew her even closer to his chest.
“There, there, Sarah, it can't be helped,” he said, “There will be another time.”
Sarah looked up and smiled at him through her tears.
“I like your sexy outfit. Where did you get those pajamas?”
”Well,” Hugh replied, “ I was out cold too for a while, Sarah. After I came around I found these clothes underneath one of the pillows. So, I put them on.”
“They seem made for you,” said Sarah. “Very tight and very sexy. Of course, they don't improve on the loincloth.” She gave a naughty giggle.  Hugh beamed with pride.
Just at that moment the couple heard a cry.
“Listen!” exclaimed Hugh; “Did you hear that, Sarah?”
“Yes,” said Sarah. “Hugh, what is it?”
Almost in reply to Sarah’s question they heard a muffled voice from behind the granite door.
“Hugh! Sarah! Are you there?”
“We're here!” cried Hugh St. Owen. He got up and bounded to the door.
Sarah got up from the bed and straightened her dress and hair.
“I must look a mess,” she thought.
“Can you open this door?” Hugh yelled at the voice from behind the door.
“I think I can,” came the muffled reply.
There was a sound of keys jangling. Then being forced into the lock. In a few more moments the heavy door swung open.
“Mr. St. Owen!” Sarah exclaimed.
Hugh St. Owen stood rooted to the spot as he looked at his own grandfather ? Peter St. Owen ? a man he had thought dead for over fifteen years.
Sarah looked at the two men. Grandfather and grandson eyed each other with something close to wonder and amazement. It was quite a reunion, thought Sarah. And in very strange circumstances.
“We don't have time for explanations right now. Let's get out of here,” boomed the imposing voice of the older man.
Sarah and Hugh did not hesitate. They scrambled up the narrow stairway and into the main cave, which was thankfully empty. Then they scurried up the main stairway and out of the door and into the broad daylight of the Abbey grounds. Sarah looked around. It felt like mid afternoon.
“Come along,” said the old man, pushing them forward under gray and threatening afternoon skies.
There at the perimeter of the Abbey grounds was the taxi driver and his taxi awaiting them. The driver's jaw dropped as he looked at Hugh St. Owen running towards the taxi in his paisley pajamas.
The three people climbed in and were off in a trice.
“How did you know where to find us?” asked Sarah. The Abbey ruins receded into the distance.
The old man turned towards Sarah.
“You have to thank the taxi driver for that, Miss Llewellyn,” he said. “When you didn't return after a little while he became concerned. I saw him parked there and learned that he had offered to wait for you. When you didn't show up he began to investigate. He heard enough to run out and tell me what was going on.”
“I almost collided with Mr. St. Owen,” the taxi driver added. He peered at his three passengers through his driving mirror. “It seems like you two had a very lucky escape.”
“But what were you doing there, grandfather?” said Hugh St. Owen.  He peered wonderingly at the old man. Sarah could tell that Hugh hadn't yet got over the shock of meeting his erstwhile relative.
“It's quite a story, I'm afraid, Hugh. I'm sorry that everything must seem a mystery, “ said Peter St. Owen. “I do owe you an explanation.  Look, why don't we go somewhere private where I can explain? Things are not what they seem. Things have got a lot worse.  I fear that the two of you are in real mortal danger.”

Sarah’s blood turned to ice at this comment. Her head began to spin.

What did Peter St. Owen mean? Why were the lives of Hugh St. Owen and her own in such terrible danger? What sexual designs and maneuvers was Vivien de Gallois planning? Why were they taken prisoners at the Abbey and how was the old man able to rescue them? Why were the Abbey Guardians so angry with Sarah and the sexy young man? Would Hugh and our lusty young heroine ever get the chance to complete their tryst together? So many questions and so many mysteries! See the next exciting installment in Chapter 14 of Sarah Llewellyn and the Druid’s Curse coming soon!
 

Read Chapter 14: Snow White, The Seven Dwarfs, and a Fairy Godfather for Sara
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