Risk Everything (17 page)

“Anger sometimes stokes a man’s appetites, be it from the belly or below.” Meghan frowned at the sky. “ ’Tis why after battle, men filled with bloodlust fall upon any woman within their reach.”

“Is it not their right?” His voice faltered. “They have conquered their enemy and ’tis a way to show possession.” Garith watched her, his gaze intent.

“Ha. ’Tis a way to make the conquered people hate them even more.” She clenched her hands, thinking of the women she had tended from burnt-out villages surrounding Blackthorn.

Ugsome stalked around her, baring his teeth and snapping at her ankles. Garith burst out laughing.

She looked at him in shock. “What amuses you?”

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“You.”

She scowled.

He grinned back. “When you clenched your fist, the beast responded. What other signals have you taught him? Do you think you could teach me the skill?”

She stopped dead in her tracks and shook her head. “Ye are far too clever for a young man. Will ye promise not to tell anyone? Not even yer brother?”

“I dinna see it as disloyal to him.” He nodded. “Aye. It will be a secret betwixt us.”

While the sun rose high in the sky, she and Garith whiled away the time beneath the apple trees growing in the inner bailey. She chose a spot toward the far end that provided the most privacy from prying eyes, for older trees grew there, their branches heavy with leaves drooped low to the ground.

Meghan spent a good while talking with Garith to learn how much use he had in his arm and hand. The arm didna look to be completely useless. Not having a proper healer at Rimsdale, he had worked with no one. At Blackthorn, a Welshman of indeterminable age named Bleddyn, who came to Blackthorn with Damron’s wife, taught them much about healing. Meghan chewed her lip. Mayhap with exercise and training, Garith could regain some of his arm’s former use.

Without saying why, she urged him to learn the signals with his right hand. At first, she worked with his stiff hand, exercising it and helping him make a fist. She cautioned him to be patient. It would take days of working the unused muscles, but she assured him he could do it if he tried very hard.

Keeping their backs to Ugsome, they formed Garith’s hand into a fist. When he turned toward the dog and brought it to his side, the dog looked from him to Meghan, confused. After Meghan coaxed him several times by bringing her own fist from behind her back while Garith did the same, Ugsome ran around them acting as if he would tear them both apart.

Garith burst into delighted laughter. They laughed so hard Rolf was upon them afore they heard his shouts.

“Down, Ugsome. Damnation, dog, have ye gone daft?”

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Ugsome stopped in midsnarl, his scarred ears drooped beside guilt-laden eyes blinking up at Rolf.

Meghan pulled a long face at Garith, who snickered. She turned to Rolf, her demeanor serious. “ ’Tis good ye appeared, Rolf. I dinna ken what set the beastie off.”

“Were you arguing with Garith?” Rolf ’s stern gray eyes studied Meghan.

“Nay.” With affection, Garith thumped the ugly dog on its side as he answered for her. “ ’Tis not the dog’s fault. When I swatted a bug off Meghan’s arm, I ken I confused him.”

Eyeing her from head to toe, Rolf frowned. “Wear proper women’s clothin’ when you come to the noon meal, else ye willna eat,” he snapped as he turned and left.

Her temper surged back to life. “Hmpf,” she huffed. “I think not.”

His stride halted but a heartbeat in time.

Meghan spent time praising both Garith and Ugsome until Father Mark came to collect the young man. Already Garith’s knowledge was greater than all but Rolf and Alpin here at Rimsdale; at Blackthorn, the boy would not be so unusual.

Her grandda, old Laird Douglas, had seen to it that all his grandchildren could read and write, do sums so they could keep a proper eye on the accounts, plan dimensions for a new building, and even defend the castle. Damron’s mother, Lady Phillipa, saw to it they learned to speak fluent French, Ger-man, and Spanish.

Meghan was not slighted because she was a female. She studied along with them. When it came to their physical training, they were so used to having her with them that they treated her as they would have a younger brother.

More than once, they had cause to regret it. Connor gave up in despair that she would ever obey him. When she became too much for him, he turned to Damron and begged him to discipline her.

Now Rolf thought she would be docile? Bow her head and do as
he
wished? Not while she had strength in her body to defy him. She would be no man’s whore for his bedsport.

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When time for the noon meal, Rolf watched the doorway as the cook’s helpers began to carry in the meal. He expected Meghan to appear, and when she did not, he turned to Ede.

“Does Meghan sulk in your sleeping chamber?”

“Nay. She was not there when I came below,” Ede said. Her worried eyes strayed to the trencher in front of her.

“What?” Rolf bolted to his feet. “Garith, did you allow her to leave the castle grounds?”

“Nay, Rolf. I wouldna do such. Afore I joined Father Mark, I saw her safely within the castle.”

Rolf turned to Jamie. “Go atop the battlements and see if she is there. Dougald, look about the grounds. Mayhap she went out another opening.” He turned to his friend. “Alpin, help me check within to see if she mistook the time.”

Facing the room, he ordered everyone to go about their meal. He charged up the stairway two steps at a time and thundered down the hallway. He slammed open the door to her room, but one quick glance showed him she wasna there.

He threw open the other doors in his path. After he recalled only the cook’s helpers had appeared to serve the meal, a thought struck. Going below to the kitchens, he stormed into the room.

Meghan sat at the end of the table eating from a trencher filled with mutton stew. She and the cook were intent on discussing the merits of different spices to vary the taste of fish and fowl. She jumped when the door crashed back against the wall. The cook’s wooden spoon flew from his hand and splattered gravy on the floor.

“Are ye tryin’ to ruin a delightful meal, Rolf?” She looked up at him and frowned.

“Why are you not at the table in the great hall where you belong?” He stalked across the room to tower over her.

“Can ye not tell? Or is yer thinkin’ as feeble as an ancient man and ye dinna ken the reason?” She smirked and raised her brow, awaiting his answer.

“My memory is keen. ’Tis your own that needs help, lass.”

“Oh, and how is that? Ye said I was to wear proper women’s

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clothin’ when I came to the noon meal.“ She gestured around the room, reminding him they were not in the great hall. “As ye see, I dinna wear yer proper clothin’, and I didna go to the noon meal.”

“You do not remember all of it, Meghan,” his voice purred at her. Seizing her trencher, he tossed it to the floor. “I also said if you did not obey, you would not eat.”

“What a waste of good food. Are ye so thoughtless ye dinna care for the needy?” She pointed to the mess on the floor. “That would have fed two hungry children.” She could hear his teeth grind together.

“You willna eat in the kitchens or elsewhere dressed as a lad.” He thumped a finger on her chest for added emphasis.

He hauled her up out of her chair and shoved her ahead of him. “If you want food, you will do as I say or else go without,” he shouted as he herded her past the great room and up the stairs.

“Ye prig. To hell with ye,” she shouted back. “I would as soon go hungry as sit at table with a nithing of a man.”

“You will obey me, Meghan, one way or another,” he bellowed as he shoved her into her chambers. “When hunger gnaws at yer belly, you will dress as a proper woman.” He banged the door shut behind her.

“ ’Tis not as a proper woman ye are treatin’ me when ye will me to be yer leman. Yer whore.” Her yell strained her throat.

She slung the wooden bucket, gratified by its resounding crash. Afore many moons, the bedchamber door would be amply decorated with half moons.

Chapter 13

Late that evening, Ede, her eyes wary, laid a forest-green tunic, a leaf-green smock, white silk hose with ribbons to garter them, a silver girdle, and an earth-colored cloak atop the bed.

“Dinna tell me,” Meghan ground out through tight lips,

“Rimsdale’s lord and master expects me to tuck my tail betwixt my legs like a good hound and do his biddin’?”

“He willna relent. Never have I seen Rolf so determined to gain his way.” She looked down at the clothes and blushed.

“When you did not come to the evening meal, he said to remind you hunger oft makes commands easier to abide.”

“Whose clothin’ are these, and why would they allow me to borrow them?”

“Dougald’s wife was near as tall as you. She sickened from a fever but two years past. He said ’twas a shame that no one wore them.” Ede’s smile brightened as Meghan caressed the soft fabrics, but it faded slowly when Meghan spoke.

“ ’Twas most kind of Dougald, but I willna be wearin’

them.”

“Rolf vowed you will have no food till you dress as he orders. After, he was too vexed to eat himself. Mayhap he will be missin’ some meals of his own?”

“Ha. Once his anger wanes, he will eat his fill.” A thought brightened Meghan’s spirit. All was quiet. She would go to the kitchens and find bread and cheese.

She got no farther than the door. Jamie lounged outside, his shoulders propped against the far wall. He smiled and waggled

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his fingers at her. She rolled her eyes and waggled her own back at him. As she closed the door, she heard him laugh.

Rolf was determined to make her obey his every word. He wouldna care if she grew weak with hunger but would still force her to become his leman in another day’s time. Locked in this room, she would find no way to escape. A compromise was in order.

“Ede, Blackthorn ‘trophies’ adorn the walls below. Will ye bring me what plaids and tunics ye can manage?” Meghan pressed her lips together and thrust out her jaw, determined to be as stubborn as Rolf. “If he insists I dress in proper women’s attire, it will be in Blackthorn’s tartans.”

“Most everyone is abed.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it, then added, “You canna wear them as they are, for the, uh, stains.”

Meghan squared her shoulders. “Bid a servant fetch a bath. I will wash the blood from the clothin’. If I hang them out the window opening, the breeze will dry them. If they dinna freeze.”

Time flew past. Ede brought what would not be noticed if it was suddenly gone. She helped Meghan, and when they were done, they tore the most damaged tunic into strips. They tied these strips to a washed garment, hung it out the window opening, and secured the other end to a handle on the bathing tub.

Satisfied with their work, they slept peacefully.

The next morn, as the first rays of sun lit the sky, Rolf waited in the great room for Meghan to appear.

“The lady will soon arrive,” Jamie said as he came over to him.

“She isna dressed in breeches? She has donned proper clothin’?” That she had readily given in surprised and disappointed Rolf.

“Well, now”—Jamie did not meet Rolf ’s eyes—“she has not donned trews.”

“Leggin’s?” Rolf shot to his feet. “ ’Tis best you not let her out of that room if she wears pants of any type.”

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“Nay, no leggings,” he said. The corners of his mouth twitched.

Meghan breezed through the doorway looking rested and cheerful. The room quieted, then the men started laughing, and the women hid their smiles behind their hands.

“She got ye there, Rolf,” the blacksmith choked out.

“Aye,” said someone else who sounded disappointed. “I liked the breeches better, man.”

In the middle of the room, Meghan pivoted slowly. She wore an oversized tunic, tied at the neck with strips of plaid.

Gathered around her waist were yards and yards of tartan. A man’s tartan. Blackthorn’s tartan. So much of it she looked fat as a portly pig. To secure it about her waist, she had pulled it up under her breasts, then wrapped a leather belt twice around to hold it. Her hair lay tangled about her like she had stood in a high wind, and dirt smudged her face.

“Do I look more the woman to ye, Rolf ?” She turned to face him. “ ’Tis as ye ordered, for yer own lasses wear the tartan. I willna don MacDhaidh colors. Since I dinna have my own, I wear what ye claim belonged to my brother’s men.”

Rolf clenched his hands and beat them against his thighs.

Why did Ugsome snarl and snap as if he were in a brainsick frenzy, not knowing where to attack? Garith choked on his laughter as he grabbed the beast around the neck and calmed him. Meghan’s mouth twitched with amusement.

He took a deep breath. He couldna deny her food, though in truth she wore men’s clothing. He nodded. Bit by bit, he would force her to his hand.

“Well, now, goin’ without eatin’ seems to make me fatter.”

She chuckled as she tried to sit.

“Allow me.” Garith grinned and pulled her stool farther away from the table.

Rolf watched as she tried to lower her added bulk to it. She couldna. Finally, she grasped the bulky cloth on each side and lifted it so her legs could bend and her sweet arse sat on the stool.

Strange. Why had he thought he would be less drawn to

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that portion of her if he couldna see her fetching curves? Now he pictured her beneath the yards of wool.

Soft. Rounded. Made for a man to kiss and nibble.

Would the skin there on her nether cheeks be as golden as the silky breasts he had glimpsed?

The thought of her stretched naked beneath the sunlit sky quickened his heartbeat. None but him would see her thus again. His heart thumped as he imagined swiving her beneath a canopy of trees. Gentle beams of golden sunlight would filter through the leaves to caress her naked skin. The image hardened him near to bursting.