Risk Everything (11 page)

“Speakin’ of the noon meal, I think I can find breeches and a shirt that will do.” Ede stood back the better to judge Meghan’s form, then turned on her heels and left the room.

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When she returned, she helped Meghan into soft brown breeches and a white cotton shirt tied at the neck with a white ribbon threaded through three holes on either side. Over the top went a dark brown tunic that came below her knees. Meghan looped the rope belt around her waist, letting it ride lower in front than in back. She could put no shoes over her bandaged feet, but Ede gave her thick wool stockings to cover them.

“Why do you not want to wear women’s clothin’ within the castle? I will be pleased to lend you any of mine,” Ede asked.

“I ne’er wear skirts if I can help it. Why should men have the comfort of breeches when we must drag a mountain of cloth about our legs?” Meg raised her brows at Ede.

Ede put her fingers to her jaw and studied Meghan. “I never thought of such. Hmm, you do have it aright about them dragging around our legs. This past winter, I kicked at mine and ended on my back deep in the snow.” She grinned at the memory and beckoned to Meghan.

“Come, sit, and I will work the snarls from your hair. I canna ken why Rolf did not bring you into the castle.” She shook her head and muttered, “Never have I seen him treat a woman so.”

Neither had Meghan. When she was but a lassie, Rolf had treated her with kindness. He had oft praised her skills when she proved as proficient as the fostered lads who trained at Blackthorn. But later, never had he treated her gently as a woman. Now, she didna know the reason for his hatred.

She had but one great fear kept hidden deep but sensed Rolf knew of it. Many years ago, his father had brought him to Blackthorn while he sought the help of her grandda, old Laird Douglas. That noon, Meghan escaped her nursemaid and hid in the storage area at Blackthorn Castle to play with a kitten.

When he went there to drink from a small cask of wine stolen from the laird’s table, the blacksmith’s cruel son found her. Afraid she would tell, he lifted her high and shook her till she spewed her porridge over his head. After he slapped her hard and she cried out, he clamped a hand over her mouth and

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crept through the shadows of the castle to carry her to the dungeons below. After tossing her in a slimy cell, he slammed the door shut.

It was darker than the deepest night and she couldna see.

She found her way to the door, but she was too small to budge it. Sure that Lucifer lurked, waiting to pull her into a deep pit, she huddled against a wall and cried the night through.

The next day, Rolf, with a frantic Connor following close behind, found her. She never revealed how she came to be there.

’Twas after that that she determined to learn the skills to defend herself.

Once Ede combed the last tangle from Meghan’s hair, Meghan stood and looked about the room. She shuddered.

This was Rolf ’s lair. She had tried hard to ignore that fact. His chain mail hung on the stand, his helmet perched atop it. A black robe hung on a wall peg, with a clothing chest sitting below it.

Earlier when he had dropped her on the bed like he couldna abide her touch against his body, the soft sheets of the bedding had enveloped her in a sensual cloud of his scent.

As if he joined her there. She couldna rest in that bed.

“If he doesna chain me in the dungeon, where am I to sleep this night?”

“Why, with me, Meghan. Now that I no longer have my Angus to share it, I have space aplenty on my bed.” Ede’s hands caressed a soft wool cloak she had folded and placed atop the table. “ ’Tis his clothing you wear. He was not comely or big like Rolf, but he was the only man in the world I would share myself with.”

“Oh, Ede.” Meghan put a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“Are ye sure ye would have me wearin’ his clothin’? I know not why, but Rolf treats me as his greatest enemy. I would think ye would feel the same.”

“Nay. Never think it.” Ede frowned and would have spoken further, but the armed guard posted outside their door rapped his sword against it and then threw it open.

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“Lord Rolf orders the Lady Meghan to come below.” He scowled and jerked his hand, motioning for her to hurry.

“I ken ’tis time I be carted to the dungeon.” Meghan swallowed her fear and forced her body to stand tall and proud.

She wouldna give Rolf the pleasure of seeing her cowed.

Chapter 9

“Unhand me,” Meghan ordered. Though the guard’s harsh fingers dug into her bruised upper arm, she ignored the pain.

“Do ye think I can escape ye with my feet bandaged and no boots to cover them?”

“I heard tales of how ye can disappear at will. I will take no chances and have me back flayed like he is about to do another’s,” he muttered as he shoved her ahead of him.

Meghan gulped. So, Rolf would tie her to a post and whip her? Why did he bother having Ede tend her wounds if he was about to create more? It didna make sense.

“Hold, guard.” Ede deftly slipped in front of him. “Lord Rolf can wait but a few moments more for you to allow our legs to keep up with yours.”

Meghan knew Ede slowed her steps to make it easier for her to walk with dignity, instead of stumbling about like a drunk varlet. Saints help her. She must look a fright with her bruised face and salves and bandages from head to toes. Thankfully, much of it was hidden beneath her borrowed clothing.

As the guard led her out into the bailey, she feared her heart drummed so loud a toothless old man sitting on the ground could hear it. Ede walked alongside her. Feeling the stares of Rolf ’s people, Meghan was comforted by the kind woman’s support. Several faces she recognized from yester eve’s crowd, but those seeing her for the first time looked surprised, as if she were a strange apparition. What tales had they heard? Not all looked askance, though. Many studied the dirt at their feet, appearing shamed.

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She caught her breath. The guard led her to stand not twenty paces from the whipping post. Rolf, his back to her, talked with his silver-haired friend. Alpin, by name, she remembered. Garith stood on Rolf ’s other side. Alpin spied her first and trailed off into silence. His pale blue eyes widened as he studied her.

Rolf spoke to him. When he did not answer, Rolf turned to see what distracted his friend. A scowl soon covered his face.

“Bring the woman and be quick about it.”

Rolf ’s angry face boded ill for her. Her scalp crawled.

Would she be able to remain silent after the first stroke of the lash? Or would she scream, shaming herself ?

“I knewed he would be angry for havin’ to wait,” the guard hissed at her; then he shoved her the last few feet to his master’s side.

Without the added height her boots provided, Meghan was a finger width from reaching Rolf ’s chin. She stiffened her back and stared up at him, eye to eye.

Rolf stared back. Slow and deliberate, his gaze left hers to travel over her hair flowing about her shoulders and down her back. He studied her face. His gaze stopped to examine every mark. When his silvery eyes looked at her neck, she pulled the top of the shirt to cover more of the nasty rope burns there. That drew his stare lower, for her sleeves had fallen back and bared her bandaged wrists. She lowered her hands so the shirt again covered them.

Saints! She could do nothing about her feet encased in the bulky wool stockings, other than to hunker down on her heels to hide them. Hell. She was twitching as much as her sister-by-law Elise did when Connor glowered at her for some slight misdemeanor. Be damned to Rolf. She firmed her jaw and straightened her shoulders.

“If ye think me such an unsightly mess to look at now, ye will find me far worse if that whip is meant for me,” she warned.

Garith gasped and looked at his brother. Rolf graced her with an even bigger frown. “Nay. Not for you.”

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His eyes narrowed and he added, “Yet.”

He must have remembered her taking her knife to him.

Aye. ’Twas that for sure, for he stared into her eyes to force her to acknowledge she understood. He fixed her with a glare until she nodded at him.

Three men stood there, each with a guard behind them.

They were the same men who were with him in the bailey earlier when she and Ede heard the commotion. To guard them? She spied the lout who accosted her during the night and scowled at him. Hard. Unwavering. She would ne’er forget his face.

“I have summoned you to tell me what befell you last eve.

What did this man take by force from you?”

“Is he not Sir Alpin’s man?” Had Rolf not seen her bound and tethered, no man would have tried to force himself on her.

Even hampered as she was, she had stopped him from taking that which he had been intent upon. She would fight her own battles. One day, she would avenge herself.

“Aye, but you have not answered the question.” Rolf waved his arm toward the man, irritated.

“He took nothin’ from me.” She glared up at him. “No man will take aught from me by force and live to see the sun rise the next morn.”

“Then how came you by the bruise on your face, the cuts on your lips?” Impatient, he shifted as he awaited her answer.

“I fell against the crate.”

He did not believe her, for his eyes narrowed, his lips thinned in anger. When he reached to feel over the crown of her head and found the swollen lump there, she winced.

“Aye, and sure you did. I ken you gained this lump when you bounced back against the opposite wall, hmm?”

“Somethin’ like that.” She shrugged and refused to look away. “Though not against the opposite wall. Ye well know yer tether gave me but a few paces to move.”

Ha! Was that shame that flashed through his eyes? His jaw twitched, and his brows near met in the middle of his forehead.

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“How can I mete out fair punishment if I dinna have the truth?” he shouted.

“The truth is that ye thought me so loathsome ye bound and tethered me in a stable and left your guards to see I didna slaughter all in their beds,” she yelled back. “By yer actions, ye made me helpless. Fair game. I willna help soothe yer soul by placin’ the blame on another.”

She turned her back on him.

He twirled her around and lowered his face until his nose touched hers. His voice lowered, ominous in the way he spoke through a jaw held so tight he forced the words through his teeth. “Ne’er turn your back on me, Meghan of Blackthorn, unless ye want to feel the flat o’ my hand on your proud rump.” Each word came out deliberate, careful, a slight pause between them.

Before she could reply, he stalked over to Fergus. His right fist flashed out to blacken the man’s eye, his left streaked to slam into his stomach. As the lout began to fall, Rolf grabbed his tunic to hold him upright and pummeled him until Rolf finally grunted with satisfaction. He hoisted Fergus higher, sucked in a deep breath, and his right fist sped up from low on his body to crack against Fergus’s jaw. He toppled like a fallen tree and was out like a candle’s flame held afore a brisk evening breeze.

“Alpin, if Fergus ever again dares enter Rimsdale’s lands, I will see him whipped back across the borders. I want him gone. Now.”

Alpin winced at the roar of Rolf ’s voice. He beckoned to several men, who hauled the senseless man over to a waiting horse and threw him over its back. They tied him there, then mounted and led the horse out Rimsdale’s gates.

The horses’ hooves striking the stones as they crossed the bridge sounded like an ominous message. No one moved until the horsemen disappeared into the woods. Rolf turned a grim face toward his own two warriors.

“I should turn you from my service. I ken how you thought

’twas no vicious captive you guarded but a woman. Ten lashes

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for falling asleep while on guard,” he said to the first man, then turned to the next.

“Ten and five lashes for taking money to shirk your duty.

Had your woman not been expectin’ her fourth, I would see you gone from here. In all conscience, I canna deprive her of your help.”

“Not deprive her of his help?” Meghan asked in disbelief.

“What aid do ye think he will give if he isna able to move about for the next sennight?” She shoved her hands on her hips.

“Barbarian! Neither man deserves to be whipped. At Blackthorn, we have not the need of the whip. Had ye better treated yer men, one wouldna been so worn he fell asleep. Had ye provided for them, the other wouldna have taken coins.”

“Not content to strut about attired in men’s clothing, are you? Now you wish to direct me on how to discipline mine own men?” He folded his arms and eyed her as if he thought she had lost her wits. “So. Tell me how
Sir
Meghan would mete out fitting discipline.”

Her eyes scanned the bailey as she rubbed the side of her nose, thinking. She noted the various structures built against the base of the curtain wall and nodded.

“If a warrior sleeps durin’ guard duty atop the gatehouse or battlements, around a camp or siege site, I wouldna haggle with whippin’. Were he under my orders in
those
circum-stances, he could verra well lose the skin on his hide,”

Meghan allowed.

The warrior’s face blanched and he gulped. Fear flashed in his eyes as he stared at Meghan. She looked at him and frowned.

“Such lack of discipline could cause the death of his com-rades or the defeat of a castle.” She paused for a moment.

“But this man guarded a woman rendered helpless, one he knew was powerless to do harm. For a sennight, set him to cleanin’ the cesspit. I doubt he would sleep afore the chore was done.”

“Yew!” Garith wrinkled his nose in disgust.

As Rolf watched the man, the warrior’s face showed emo-

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tions that ranged from abject fear to revulsion. The duty was one a common varlet would do. Degrading. Aye. This discipline the man would remember.