Twenty-three
The mournful melody from the lone bagpipe player vibrated off the rafters of the stable. Garrick leaned up against a hay bale serenading Amiria with a Scottish tune as old as the Highlands itself. He had a look about him that said he would have smiled had he been able to and not miss a note. Amiria took up the song and sang with a purity most could not compare to. Her father would have been proud to hear her sing the song of her ancestors in perfect Gaelic.
For Amiria, she simply had come to tend Caliana when she noticed her piper on the way to the stables. He had seemed somewhat lost with the majority of the castle knights riding off with Dristan. She motioned for him to join her and, as she took up her brushes and began to coax a shine into her horse’s mane, she listened joyfully when Garrick took up the tunes from days of old. She smiled happily whilst a part of her childhood played for her listening pleasure, for ’twas a humble reminder of when days were simple and she was able to just be a child.
Memories flashed afore her of when she and Aiden shadowed their father and Killian with their little wooden swords. She had thought when she and her brother had grown that her sire would appoint Killian as their captain, for ’twould have been a logical decision. She had been surprised of his choice in Ian, since he was younger by several years. It had not seemed to bother the older man though and she was thankful to have Killian to watch over her like a relative. There were not many who could be considered so devoted that he would willingly lay down his life for her and her twin.
Her thoughts for some reason turned to Devon when he had first been brought to the castle by his father. The lad had been terrified to be sent to Berwyck as its newest page. Yet still he knelt with an unknown confidence of a boy of only eight summers as he pledged his fealty to his new laird.
Caliana nickered and brought Amiria out of her musings as Garrick continued playing much to her delight. She continued brushing her horse ’til the slamming of the stable door made her jump anxiously. She was not thrilled by whom had entered.
“Cease that infernal caterwauling!” Hugh demanded as the sounds of the pipes abruptly became off tune.
Amiria nodded her consent and with a brief nod of her head, Garrick took himself and his pipes from the stables in haste.
“Do you never dress as you should, woman?” Hugh asked, disgusted as his eyes raked her up and down.
His distaste at her hose and tunic had little impact on her as she continued on with her labor. “’Tis none of your business how I deem to dress myself.”
“Perchance ’tis time someone makes it his business. Remove yourself from the stall and come hither, wench!” Hugh ordered.
Amiria arched her brow at his words and cursed to herself that once again she was without her sword. She did not relish the fact that Dristan had left her defenseless, especially from the gleam she noticed in Hugh’s eyes. She knew that look and what he wanted from her, which did not bode well for her person. She could only pray she would be able to reach the knife she had safely tucked into her boot, should the need arise.
“You forget yourself, sir, as to who I am if you think to order me about. You are not my lord that I must obey you,” Amiria replied with a sneer of loathing. With another brief glance towards Hugh, she looked him up and down much as he had done but a moment afore. She found him lacking and not worth her time. She turned her back on him and resumed her brushing.
A growl rent the air, and Hugh pressed forward in a rush. He opened the stall door, startling Caliana, who began to prance at this intrusion to her grooming. Ignoring the horse, he made a grab for Amiria as she tried to distance herself from him, only managing to take hold of her long plait of hair. ’Twas enough to get her immediate attention. He ignored her shriek of outrage, as he forcibly pulled on her tresses, yanking her from the stall. Her feeble attempts to keep his hands off her person only amused him, if his chuckle was an indication of his mood. Slamming the stall door, Hugh pressed her up against the solid wood, staring into her mutinous eyes. Her hands were held in a viselike grip.
“You, my little hellcat, will do well in the future to heed my words when I have speech with you,” Hugh promised. “The alternative will not be pleasant, I assure you.”
Amiria saw into the black depths of his eyes and only had a moment’s hesitation afore she replied boldly. “As I just said, you forget yourself. I belong to Dristan.”
He laughed maliciously. “You poor young delusional fool! Do you honestly think you are so different than any of the other whores he has taken to his bed? You are only one of many and surely will not be taken to wife.”
“Think you are so dissimilar?”
“You will be well pleased once in my bed. I guarantee it.”
Amiria squirmed, trying to break his hold on her without success. She liked not what she saw in his visage, nor did she care that he began to press the length of his body against her own. “Release me you insolent filthy whoreson! Think I would welcome you to share my body after I have known Dristan of Blackmore?” She gave a short laugh, not caring as she watched his anger rise. “You are an even bigger fool than I if you believe such drivel.”
“And you seem to be under some misconception that I care whether I take you willingly or not!” Hugh fumed as his face flushed red with fury.
Beyond caring, Hugh plunged downward, taking her lips beneath his own. Amiria clamped her mouth shut as he attempted to pry her mouth open by biting hard into her lip. If he thought she were in truth a hellcat afore he tasted of her, ’twas nothing compared to what he had now unknowingly unleashed.
Amiria fought him against the violation he attempted as best she could and when he at last tore his mouth from her own, she let out a mighty scream of outrage. As she struggled in earnest, she sank her teeth into his arm, since this was the only part of him she could reach. Apparently, ’twas enough but, when he released one of her arms, ’twas only long enough to swing back his arm, slapping her hard across the face. Her head reeled from the impact and she fought against the pain of her cheek, even as stars danced afore her eyes.
The sound of her tunic ripping caused her to come somewhat out of her stupor. When the intrusive feel of his calloused hand roughly kneaded her breasts, causing pain to penetrate her head, she struggled fiercely to somehow reach her dirk. She had just managed to feel the tip of the hilt when the distinct sound of a sword pulled from its scabbard halted Hugh’s progress to further divest her of her clothes.
“Release the liedy if ye have any care fer yer sorry hide!”
Hugh pushed Amiria away and she fell to a heap on the stable floor. She cringed, whilst he took a moment to view her naked breast with a lick of his lips. She quickly retrieved her torn garment and pulled the fabric about her, protecting what she had left of her modesty.
Hugh turned to face an extremely angry Scotsman whose claymore was drawn and menacingly pointing the weapon in his direction. He was obviously surprised Dristan had not taken all of her guard as he might have thought. If being interrupted in his play had not been enough, then the sight of her piper standing behind Killian with a smirk of satisfaction on his features caused Hugh’s anger to further heighten.
Hugh must have known to yield the day for he held up his hands in at least a temporary show of surrender. He began to back his way out of the stables even as Killian continued to bare his blade in his direction ’til he at least came to stand afore his mistress.
“’Til later . . . my lady,” Hugh mocked, taking one last view of Amiria. He began to whistle a merry tune as he left on his own accord.
Humiliated, Amiria tried to keep her composure ’til she saw a helping hand come into her vision. Her body shook whilst, holding her tunic together, she held out trembling fingers ’til they were taken in a firm grip. Once pulled to her feet, she found herself wrapped in a comforting embrace. ’Twas not ’til she felt Killian’s hand caressing her hair that she finally gave into her fear as heart wrenching tears poured from her eyes. He held her as her father would have done with a slight swaying, giving her the reassurance she stood in need of.
She allowed herself but a few moments of letting another comfort her ’til she at last regained her composure. Clearing her throat, she took a step back, wiping the tears from her face with the sleeve of her tunic. Her features once more showed that of a woman holding her own, even though inside she knew this false bravado would crumble once she gained the privacy of her chamber.
Amiria watched both Killian and Garrick for any signs of pity and thankfully saw nothing in their eyes to show what they were feeling. “We will not speak of this,” she declared hoarsely.
“Ach, I doona ken how ye figure tae keep this silent, lassie,” Killian predicted. “Not tae Ian, and certainly ne’er tae Laird Dristan.”
She raised her head proudly. “All the same, I will endeavor to keep this from them both.”
“If ye say so, milady.”
Amiria fetched a small woolen blanket from a hay bale and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Remember . . . not a word. Do not betray me.”
Amiria left them in the stable with that final reminder. If she had taken the time to look back upon her men, she would have seen how they watched the proud young woman make her way to the keep. With whispered words, they each made a vow to keep their eyes on their mistress and, more importantly, the ever dangerous Hugh of Harlow.