by Evie North
"But you grant favours?"
He had begun to stroke her breast now, teasing her nipple into a hard little bud, and she was struggling to concentrate on his voice.
"It is payment for our lodging, Damsel. Those who come to us for help must be helped. There are not many. Most are too afraid."
"But the price you ask . . . ?"
His smile was strained. "We are lonely. And we do not take any woman who belongs to another man, that would not be respectful to our hosts. You see why we insist upon a virgin?' And then he shook his head. "Has it been such a hardship for you, hmm? We choose carefully and there is pleasure to be had for those brave enough to journey to Castle Samhanach. Like you, Damsel, brave and beautiful. And now I want you again."
His mouth closed on her breast, his tongue lathing the nipple, before turning to the other one.
She hadn't imagined it was possible to feel pleasure again so soon, or perhaps there was some kind of magic involved, because the heat was back, prickling her skin, making her gasp and writhe against him as if she had no will of her own.
Maire wanted to ask him what would become of her when he had granted her favour, but her thoughts scattered under his ministrations. He pulled her against him, and his hand was between her legs, finding the source of her pleasure. It wasn't enough; she wanted to feel his cock inside her. When he didn't seem about to oblige, she grew impatient, and hooked her thigh over his hip.
For the first time she touched him. The rigid power of his manhood was hers now, and when she caressed his velvet skin, he groaned and pushed against her. It was heady to have such a powerful creature enthral to her, Maire thought. She was enjoying her sacrifice far more than she could ever have imagined.
This time when he entered her it felt as if he made her his in heart and soul as well as flesh. Or perhaps it was just that she wanted it to be so.
***
She must have slept for hours. When finally she woke she was beneath the covers, warm and comfortable, and she was alone. It only took a slight movement for her to remember what had happened, because her body was aching in some unaccustomed places, but she was also reminded of the pleasure she had felt.
And then she thought: Where is Murchadh?
The window was shuttered but it was possible to see the daylight peeking through a crack here and there. Was it true then that the Knights could not abide daylight? Maire looked about her uneasily, wondering if she really was alone.
There was a neatly folded pile of clothing at the bottom of the bed and she went to investigate. The white shift was of delicate linen, and to wear over it, a finely woven woollen shift, the same colour as her eyes. Maire took them up and quickly dressed, knowing she would look well. There was also a belt made of beaten gold, with the buckle shaped into one of the strange serpent's heads that were carved upon Murchadh's chair. Soft slippers completed her outfit, and there was even an ivory comb to use on her hair.
Untangling it took some time, and when she was done, she left it loose about her shoulders. Like, she thought, the virgin she was no longer.
Memories of the night came back to her in a rush and she felt her cheeks burn. He had taken her many times, but he hadn't forced her. He did not need to, she recalled wryly. She had been more than willing.
When Maire reached for the door, just for a moment she feared it would be locked, that she was now a prisoner, but it opened easily to her touch. She found herself standing and looking out over the great hall she remembered from her arrival yesterday. Was it only yesterday? So much had happened, and none of it as she had expected.
She had not been gobbled up on a huge silver platter by the Knights, as she had once feared. Now the thoughts that had sent her quaking into Murchadh's presence made her smile.
Maire rested her hands upon the railing and looked down. Around the walls, the torches continued to burn but some of the shadows had fled, and there was a smell of roasting meat. Probably the castle staff were preparing for the evening meal. Was that not when the Knights held their revels? She was rather looking forward to that.
"You are awake!"
The female voice made her jump. It came from behind her and when she turned she found herself facing a young girl, her long fair hair coiled upon her head in a braid, and her narrow figure clothed in a rosy coloured tunic with a silver belt, the buckle fashioned into the same strange beast as Maire's. The girl's eyes were green, and her stare was curious, but when her gaze dropped to the gold belt about Maire's slender waist something less friendly appeared for a brief moment before a smile took its place.
"They said you were with Murchadh but I didn't believe it. No one has come to Castle Samhanach for over a hundred years and Murchadh is so particular since . . . well," her expression turned sly for a moment before she pouted at some memory that displeased her. "He would not take me," she said. "Have you asked him for a favour?"
"Yes." Maire felt uncomfortable as the girl walked around her, examining her from all angles. "My village . . ." She began to explain about the Norsemen and what they had done, but she could tell that the girl wasn't listening.
"What is your name?" she interrupted. "I am Aela."
The name was unusual, so why should Maire suddenly find it familiar? "I am the Lady Maire. What are you doing here, Aela?" she asked curiously, at the same time searching her memory.
"I'm with Shay, or he's with me," she replied, and gave a little smug smile. She tipped her head to the side. "Shay is the youngest and Cian is the middle brother, and Murchadh is the elder. Murchadh is very old, but then so are you," she went on in a way that seemed disingenuous. "I was fifteen when I came and I have never grown old. The castle keeps us exactly the age we were when we came to it, but if we leave . . ." She pulled a face.
Maire was staring at her, because now she had realised why the name was familiar. Aela was the legendary girl from the village to the south, who had come to the Knights to ask for help for her village and never returned.
"But you must be over a hundred years old?" she whispered in wonder.
"I am," Aela said with a shrug.
"Why didn't you go home?" Maire asked her.
"Go home?" Aela widened her green eyes in amazement. "I did not wish to, and then . . . as time went on, I could not. If I stepped beyond the Knights' domain now I would become my true age. I would crumble to dust. I must stay, just as you will have to stay."
Maire could not hide her shock, and the girl must have seen it in her face because she reached out to stroke her arm.
"Oh, it is not such a hardship. You will grow used to it. And you have Murchadh," she went on thoughtfully, and again there was that jealous flash in her eyes.
"Where is Murchadh?" Maire asked.
Aela smoothed her silken skirts. "Don't you know?" she mocked. "Has he not told you yet?"
"Told me what?"
The girl leaned closer and now there was no doubting her enmity. "Murchadh stands above the other knights, and as his lady you will stand above me. You could become queen of Castle Samhanach. If you please him."
Maire stared. Useless to try to explain to the girl that she had no intention of standing above anyone. Perhaps after a century Aela no longer understood ordinary human emotions.
And then another thought occurred to her. "What happens if I displease Murchadh?"
Aela widened her eyes. "Perhaps I should not tell you. I wouldn't want to frighten you." She moved to turn away.
Maire reached for her hand, grabbing it and holding on tightly despite Aela's struggles. "Tell me!" she demanded.
"Ow, let me go," the girl complained. Then, making a great show of rubbing her wrist once Maire had released her, "Very well then but don't blame me if you don't like what you hear. Look at the castle servants. Look closely. I do hope you don't end up as one of them."
Maire didn't understand what she meant and would have asked more questions, but just then the old woman, Sibby, called up to them from the hall below.
Aela gave a gu
ilty start.
"Lady," Sibby's gaze slid over the young woman's face and focussed on Maire. "You must come and eat. Our masters will be back when it is dark, and then there will be feasting, but that will not happen until the hour is late. Come with me to the kitchen."
Maire hurried down the stairs but Aela did not follow her. As they moved toward the kitchen the old woman leaned closer and said, "What has Aela been saying to you, lady? You should not listen to her or be taken in by her tricks. She is a jealous one. I could have given her to Murchadh when she came to our gates but even then I knew she was not for him."
"And I am?" Maire asked with a little choked laugh.
"He is my favourite and only the best will do for him."
Then she looked at Maire, her grey eyes sly. "Murchadh is happy with you. Do not do anything to change that, lady."
Maire took a breath. "Aela says that she has been here for a hundred years and if she leaves then she will die. Is that what will happen to me?"
Sibby waved a dismissive hand. "Time goes quickly. And you will have Murchadh to keep you company. What woman would not wish for that, eh?" Her chuckle was saucy.
In the kitchen a sheep roasted on a spit in front of the huge hearth. A servant knelt nearby, a loose, hooded garment disguising their gender. Sibby gestured for Maire to be seated upon a stool at a table, and then placed a bowl of porridge before her, adding creamy milk and sweet honey. Maire had not realised how hungry she was until that moment. The last mouthful from the meagre supply she had brought from the village had been eaten on the day she arrived at the castle.
Was it so short a time ago? It felt so much longer . . .
There was a burning smell, and clicking her tongue Sibby launched herself at the servant by the spit. "Turn it!" she ordered. "If I have to serve the Knights blackened meat tonight I will tell them whose fault it is."
The servant cringed away from her but did her bidding.
"What can I do to help you?" Maire asked, pushing away her empty bowl. "I cannot remain idle. I am used to being busy."
Sibby returned with a smile. "Ah, I knew you would be a good one the moment I saw you. In time you can help me run the household, order the servants and so on, but for now Murchadh will want you to rest and gather your thoughts. The two of you need to get used to each other."
"How many souls live in the castle?"
She grimaced. "There are the three brothers with fearsome appetites, Aela, myself and the servants. Sometimes I work from dawn to dawn, and still my work is not done."
"But what of Aela?" Maire asked in surprise. "Doesn't she help too?"
The crone's lip curled. "Aela has never helped. From the day she arrived she expected to be waited upon, and nothing has changed."
She began to reply, and then a thought struck her that made her stare at the old woman. "But . . . if you were here when Aela came . . . How old are you mother?"
"I am older than you can imagine," she said, and her grey eyes indeed seemed wiser than any Maire had seen before. "I was here on the shore of the loch when the Knights arrived. They did not speak our language then, so I helped them to negotiate with the Chiefs," she said proudly. "It is through me they received so much—the castle and the loch. I am their confidante. I will never leave them."
Maire tried to imagine such a thing and her head spun. She was about to ask where the Knights were now, and was it true they could not walk in the sunlight, when the servant by the hearth turned. All thought left her head and her throat went dry.
It was impossible to tell what the creature might once have looked like because the skin on its face was burned and scarred into a dreadful mask. Had this been some awful punishment meted out to a woman who did not please her Knight, just as Aela had said? Could this happen to her if Murchadh was not satisfied with her?
She felt dizzy with the horror of it, and grasped the table to stop herself from falling.
"Go and rest, lady," Sibby was saying with a frown, perhaps believing Maire's reaction was due to fatigue. "You will need your strength when Murchadh returns."
A splintery cackle followed her from the room.
***
Maire went back to her chamber with her thoughts in turmoil. Could she believe what Aela had said to her? Was that poor creature once like her? She lay down upon the bed and closed her eyes, just for a moment, and instantly fell asleep.
It was into darkness she woke, and the caress of a big, scarred hand.
"Damsel," he said, and his voice did its usual trick of stealing her breath and making her senses spin.
"Murchadh," she whispered.
The sound of his name in her mouth pleased him, she could tell. She reached to touch him and found his skin cold and damp and, when she pressed her face into the hollow of his throat, she breathed in the salty sea.
"My village . . . ?"
He shook his head. "Not yet. I am waiting for my brother Cian to return from the north. Then I will deal with your Norsemen, Maire."
"Then where were you?"
He sighed and rested his face against her hair. "So many questions. I was watching over my domain."
"But the sunlight . . . I thought . . ."
"Thought what?" She could hear by the sound of his voice that he wasn't pleased with her. And wasn't pleasing him what she must do, if she didn't want to end up like that poor creature in the kitchen?
"Nothing, it's nothing." She turned her face so that their lips met.
He groaned softly, deepening the kiss, and rolling over onto his back, pulled her on top of him. After a moment she forgot she was playing a role. His touch, his body, worked their magic, and in the heat of the moment nothing mattered but Murchadh, and the pleasure they could make together.
It was afterwards that she remembered, on their way down to the great hall. Murchadh grasped her hand in his, leading her to the head of the table, and sat her on his right hand side. There was some significance in this evidently for she heard Aela's indignant murmur.
"Welcome, Maire," she said almost at once, covering her true feelings with a smile, but her eyes were hard. The girl was leaning possessively against a knight with hair the colour of wet sand and eyes as blue as summer.
This must be Shay, she thought, and a moment later Murchadh introduced him as his youngest brother. Shay was handsome, but Maire found him a pale shadow compared to her Murchadh. Did that mean she was under some sort of magic spell? she asked herself. Or was she falling in love with him?
Just then there was a disturbance at the door and another Knight strode in. As big as Murchadh but with hair of a light brown and hazel eyes, he seemed pleased to see her.
"My lady," he said, bowing over her hand. His expression was admiring, almost flirtatious. "I have heard much of you."
Maire looked at Murchadh, aware of him tensing at her side. He looked black as a storm cloud, but the other man only laughed.
"My brother considers you his," he said, as if to her alone, although everyone else could hear. "I had best watch my step."
Murchadh gave him a slap on the shoulder that nearly knocked him over. "This is my brother Cian," he said dryly. "He thinks he is amusing. Now he is back I can grant your favour, Damsel," he added in a softer voice, watching her face.
Maire nodded, dropping her own gaze to her plate. "Thank you, Murchadh."
His hand covered hers and once more she saw the evidence of old injuries upon it, and wondered about the many battles he had fought over the centuries.
Then the servant appeared with carved meat piled high upon a platter, and the men began to eat. But Maire had glanced at the poor creature's face and she had no appetite. And worse, there was another servant, and although her face was not scarred she dragged her leg as if it had once been broken and never properly healed.
She was aware that Murchadh had noticed her silence and with an effort she tried to smile as the three brothers spoke of Cian's trip north, which had evidently been to do with a woman, or so she guessed from the barely
veiled innuendos between them.
Aela was watching her as if waiting, and when Maire could no longer avoid the other woman's gaze, she smiled slightly and nodded toward the servant with the scarred face. Maire did not need to hear her words, which were too low to be heard anyway, for she knew what she was saying. This could be Maire if she did not please Murchadh, and if she wanted to avoid such a fate then perhaps she should leave. Before it was too late and she was trapped here forever.
The meal went on and on, and it was a relief when Murchadh stood up and took her hand, saying they would retire. There was more banter, but he ignored it as he led her from the hall toward the stairs.
However once the door was closed on their bedchamber, he turned her toward him with hands that held her upper arms so tightly they bruised.
"What is it, Damsel? And do not say nothing because I will know you lie. You are changed; your thoughts are turned inward. Something has happened and I want to know what it is."
His dark eyes were fixed on hers and when she opened her mouth to deny it he gave her a little shake. "The truth, Maire."
Maire swallowed. What did it matter anyway? She would tell him and then he could do with her as he willed. Perhaps it was better to know her fate at once rather than to let the waiting drag on.
"The servants . . . I know they are women who displeased you." She lifted her chin and stared back at him, fully aware of the condemnation in her face.
Did something deep in his eyes change? But all he said was, "Go on."
"How could you punish anyone so? No matter what they did? And will that be my fate too, Murchadh, if I do not please you enough?"
He let her go and went to the fire, which was blazing with a wonderful heat. Maire wanted to creep closer and hold out her hands to it, but she forced her feet to stay and her back to remain straight. If she was to be punished then she would not be a coward about it, not after all she had been through already.
