I ventured to ask, “Is he a kind man to serve, our laird?”
Brenna the maid stopped mid-chew. “Aye…not that I’d ken any different. The old laird died before my time here.”
I pushed a little bit of the blood sausage to the edge of the plate for her. “Would a girl in my situation have reason to fear him?”
Brenna snorted again, swiping the sausage in two hands to nibble the end. “Wouldn’t ken about girls in your situation. I’m a good girl from a good family.”
Unlike me, she meant. So she must know, after all, what I was here in the castle to do. And soon after that I was out of food to share with her, all by myself. One day of loneliness turned to two, then three, then four. Until I was finally so eager for something to happen, that I was honestly eager for the laird’s summons.
It t came in the wee hours of the night, when I was awakened from my bed, and led to his…
~~~
It was a tall warrior who came to summon me; an unsmiling one with dark eyes and a scar on one cheek. He didn’t speak at all beyond barking out orders to follow him—not even to tell me his name—though I think I remembered his compatriots calling him Malcolm.
He took through the castle on naked feet, my steps soft and halting on the cold stone the closer I got to the carved wooden doors to the laird’s chambers. Torches sputtered when we knocked upon the door, and I swallowed when the door opened to reveal the laird sprawled upon his upholstered chair, one leg dangling casually over the arm. In his hand, the Macrea held a wineglass, which he emptied quickly, swallowing it one gulp.
I saw—to my surprise—that he wasn’t alone. Two more of his warriors were there too, one examining the leather-bound books in the dark wooden case. Another staring keenly at me, as if his hungry blue eyes could see the outline of my body under the gown. The hungry-eyed one said, “I cannot believe this the same lass we found at her father’s cottage?”
“Don’t be daft, Davy,” the laird said, with a laugh. “Of course it’s the same girl. Give them a bath and some perfume and some food for their bellies and even the daughters of crofters turn to beauties.”
He thought me a beauty? I shouldn’t have flushed with pleasure to hear it, but I did. After all, if my fate was sealed to one of misery, I might as well take what pleasures I could. And though I knew men found my looks pleasing, none had ever called me a beauty. “Thank you, my laird,” I said, glancing down at the embroidered nightclothes I’d been provided, appreciating them anew for the way they showed the curves of my hips.
As if he could read my thoughts, and sense my appreciation, he said, “Don’t get it in your mind that you’ve been treated well for your own good, lass. You have been made presentable for your clan chief. Now come before me and kneel.”
There was no kindness in his voice and only the barest hint of lust in his eyes. However, he had look of a man who owned me and knew it. I’d once fancied the lord, thought often of the day we met. Truth be told, some nights, remembering his handsome face and the strength of his hand on me, my fingers had sometimes danced down my body at the thought of being with him.
But now that I was in his presence, I felt more fear than arousal. And resentment, too. He’d kept his part of the bargain and spared my father, so I was bound to keep my part, too. But it didn’t mean I was resigned to the life of shame he wished to make my own. Still, the command to kneel was oddly comforting. It was an assertion of his command; there was someone in charge, someone who knew what he was doing, and all I had to do was obey.
I crossed the room, lowered to my knees before his chair, and dropped my head.
“Do not think me a fool, little crofter’s lass. I know you must fantasize of taking a rich man for a lover. A man who will free of you of poverty and reward you for your beauty with riches. You may enjoy this evening or you may not. Know that it doesn't matter to me, and that either way, I own you until I am sated of you. Whether that be this night, or the next, or the next month, or the next year, or ten years, you have given yourself to me. And so your disobedience will break our agreement. Am I understood?”
Breathless, I nodded, strangely grateful to have someone talking to me, even if it was in this harsh manner. But it hadn’t occurred to me that he might want me for more than a night. More than a week. The unlimited nature of my pledge now seemed terrifying. Still, I would have made it if I was to be the laird’s plaything for the rest of my life, so long as my father wasn’t executed in front of his children. Remembering that there had been no other choice, and that I would have made the same one all over again, I nodded my head. “I understand, my laird.”
“Do you know these men?” he asked.
I swallowed, daring to glance up at them in spite of my memory of the slap I received the last time I looked up without permission. “Should I know them?”
With a jerk of his chin, he
motioned to the man at his left. “The dark brooding bastard who brought you here to me is Malcolm—my best swordsman. The blue-eyed clown drooling over you, is Davy.” Finally, with one finger, he pointed at the warrior with the book in his hand. “And this brawny bairn is my cousin Ian. He disapproves of you—and me for that matter.” Ian’s jaw clenched at being mentioned, but he never looked up. “Nevertheless, he’s sworn fealty to me as have all the men in this room, and they’ll bear witness to your shame.” I swallowed and nodded, because I could do nothing else. But the laird was unsatisfied. “I said the men in this room will bear witness!”
With that, Ian slammed his book shut, crossed his powerful arms across his tartan-adorned chest, then stared hard at me. At that moment, the laird reached for the collar of my sleeping gown, yanking at it harshly. Ripping the fabric open, exposing my breasts to the cool air. Not only to the air, but to the feasting eyes of his warriors. Instinctively, my hands raised to cover myself, and the laird caught them. “No. Let me look.”
Strangely, though, he didn’t look. He simply waited for me to lower my hands, then nodded with satisfaction. “Now remove your shift, lass, then crawl on your hands and knees like an animal.”
Yes, he still wanted my shame, and I needed to give him what I had left of it. I took several moments to compose myself enough to lift the shift over my waist. But somehow I found the strength to do it. The men were all silent, watching me as I stripped to bare skin. Then I crawled to the bed where I was to submit myself to their depravity. My breasts swung heavily beneath me as I crawled, my hands trembling with the embarrassment as I crossed the wood planks of the floor. A hoot sounded behind me, and other lewd noises and shouts came from the laird’s men.
“Magnificent teats!” Davy called cheerfully.
Malcolm said, “I admit, she has a nice round rump to slap.”
And the laird himself said, “I like the curve of her spine, the flare of her hips; she’ll make a nice cushion under a man.”
I reached the edge of his bed, my forehead touching the richly embroidered coverlet with gold-tasseled fringe. I’d never seen anything so lovely—and its warmth and darkness seemed, at that moment of humiliation, like my salvation. But all at once a strong arm grasped me round the waist and hauled me up. It was the laird—he was so strong and stealthy I hadn’t even heard him move from his seat. Then he threw me down onto the bed like a sack of grain, my hair spilling over the linen-covered pillows.
Then he was on me, his hands in my hair, his mouth descending over mine in a kiss. A kiss that stole the breath from me. He kissed me hard, taking my mouth, claiming it as his own. And I gave over to him for this kiss. I hadn’t expected it; hadn’t known it would be so warm. His lips, his hands, all fevered. I tasted on his mouth the sweetness of wine and in my own mouth…burning desire.