Fear sent her hands trembling and Flanna saw it when she reached to take the basket from her.
“What have you gone and done?” she asked in a low voice so heavy with concern that it sounded foreign, and Dawn stared at her wondering if someone else had spoken.
Flanna grabbed Dawn’s arm and walked her far enough from the kitchen door so no one would hear. Her voice remained low when she said, “Tell me you have done nothing foolish.” She shocked Dawn even more when she grabbed at her hands and demanded, “Tell me.”
Dawn could not believe that Flanna wanted her to respond with hand gestures. She had never thought that Flanna had paid heed to them. Dawn tapped her chest and shrugged.
“You do not know,” Flanna said understanding.
She nodded to confirm, though wondered if her own folly was the cause.
Flanna genuinely looked worried for her and that worried Dawn all the more. She would have never expected Flanna to care and yet she did. The revelation startled her.
“Go wash your hands in the rain barrel and then crumple some heather in them. Lord Colum will not like it if you present yourself with the stench of onions.”
Her sharp tone had returned, though the worry remained.
Dawn nodded and went to walk around her to do as she had ordered when Flanna grabbed her arm once more.
“You come back here when Lord Colum is finished with you and let me know what he wanted of you.”
Dawn nodded and smiled, showing her appreciation the only way she could.
“Hurry, he does not like to be kept waiting,” she ordered and Dawn thought she caught a tear glisten in one eye.
After giving Dawn a shove to send her on her way, Flanna hurried off herself.
Dawn worked fast, all too aware of the suffering Colum could inflict if his summons was not answered quickly enough. She did not want to think of the punishment he could order, if she had somehow offended him. It was best she hurry and be done with the ordeal as quickly as possible.
When she finished removing the odor of onions from her hands she entered the kitchen. Silence struck and all stared wide-eyed at her until Flanna ordered the workers to tend to their chores. Dawn continued to pass through, it being the only assigned entry way for the servants to the Great Hall.
She tucked her long, dark hair behind her ears, silently recited a prayer of mercy as she walked through the narrow stone passageway until she finally came to the wooden arch. Once she stepped past, she would be in the Great Hall.
Dawn prayed for courage, but fear remained her companion as she forced herself to step forward. It was not a large room, the keep having been built small, the feudal lord having not been in residence here since long before she had arrived. It had sat in disrepair until Colum had appeared. He had the hall repaired first and a small dais was erected, the large chair in the middle more representative of a throne.
“Dawn!”
The shout startled her, so loud was it that it echoed off the stone walls. And she realized Colum like others assumed that along with being dumb she was also deaf. She hurried over and bobbed her head respectfully and kept it lowered.
“Look at me,” Colum said, though it sounded like a shout.
She raised her head cautiously, her heart beating ever so wildly that she thought it would burst. This was the closest she had ever been to Colum. She was surprised to note that his pudgy face wore a pinched expression and there were many more lines and wrinkles than could be seen from a distance. His lips were so narrow it appeared as if he had none at all. And his shoulder length brown hair was sparse on top and sprinkled with gray.
“You listen well, woman,” he ordered with a stinging tongue. “And you find a way to let me know that you understand what I say.”
She nodded and swallowed her fear, though it stuck in a lump in her throat.
“You were present at our victorious return with the prisoner Cree.”
She nodded again and dread swelled like a rising ball of fire ready to scorch her. Had Colum seen the exchange between Cree and her? Was she to be punished for gazing upon him too long?
“Cree is to be held prisoner until I receive word from Lord Gerwan as to his fate. I have no doubt that Lord Gerwan will order his execution and will want to journey here to be in attendance for it.”
Her stomach tightened thinking of the horrible suffering Cree would endure before he died. Torture always preceded executions and in no time he would scream for mercy. It would not be given, it never was. And then there were those who would cheer at his pain. A shiver ran through her and she wondered why she should care. He certainly had not cared when he himself had slaughtered so many innocent people.
“Cree’s wounds need tending. I will not allow him to die before Lord Gerwan arrives and condemns him to death. But Cree is a wise warrior and I have no doubt he already makes plans to escape.”
Why was he telling her this? This was not something for a servant to know. What did he expect of her?
“He will try to retrieve information from whoever I send to tend him, for he knows all too well that I will see no harm come to him just yet.”
A dreadful thought hit her. Could Colum be thinking of appointing her as Cree’s caretaker? Her worst fear was confirmed when next he spoke.
“He can get no such information from you.” Colum sneered. “For once your evil affliction will serve a purpose.”
Evil? He believed evil had something to do with her inability to speak? The thought disturbed and worried her.
“Your duties are now that of caretaker to the prisoner Cree. You will see that he is kept well fed, I want him to believe himself safe and a full stomach will make him feel such.”
Suddenly, Dawn understood his reasoning, for he had used the same logic on the villagers. Keeping everyone well fed gave them a sense of security when truly there was none. It made her realize just how powerless she and the villagers were.
“Do you understand,” he shouted.
Dawn nodded rapidly while trying to comprehend what he expected of her. She simply could not foresee herself tending Cree. Those dark eyes of his had seemed to consume her from a distance. How would his intense glare affect her in close proximity?
Already the heat started rising in her body and prickled her skin. She grew anxious that it would rush to stain her cheeks and embarrass her. This was not good and yet how could she escape it.
“You will report everything he says to me.” Colum’s hands flew around him in a poor imitation of her precise gestures. “Those signals of yours, someone must understands them—” He pondered a moment and then it struck him. “The woman Lila; she will interpret.”
A sickening sensation settled in the pit of her stomach. She did not want Lila part of this. There was no telling what she would suffer being involved. And Paul? He would be insane with worry for his wife. She would do her best to make Colum understand her so there would be no need to rely on Lila.
“You will gather food and whatever is necessary to tend his wounds and you will spend as much time with him as possible. With you unable to speak he will do most of the talking and you will report what he says. Do you understand all I’ve said?”
Dawn bobbed her head.
“One more thing.” His sneer grew wide and made his narrow lips grow narrower until it looked like he had no lips at all. “You will keep the prisoner satisfied in whatever way is necessary.”
Dawn stared at him, not certain she understood.
Colum shook his head annoyed and leaned closer to shout in her face. “You will rut with him if he wants. You do know how to rut do you not?”
The few warriors that were present laughed.
One shouted, “I can show her.”
Colum glared at him. “What did I tell you about spilling your side in a dumb one? I will have no warrior of mine seeding an imbecile.” He grinned. “Cree on the other hand can leave his seed in her belly before he dies knowing he leaves an idiot in his memory.”
The wa
rriors laughed again and Colum shouted at her. “Now be gone and do my bidding or suffer my wrath.”
She fled his presence; fear now a shadow that clung heavily to her. He was sending her to willingly submit to be ravished by Cree, and even hoped he would get her with child. Feed and satisfy his lust and the prisoner would what? Trust her? How did Colum think that such a savage would trust anyone?
She stood in the kitchen not even realizing she had entered it.
Flanna snagged a basket from the floor, shoved it at her and pushing her out the door shouted, “You forgot the thyme.”
Once outside Dawn stood bewildered, a light rain falling on her, still unable to comprehend what had just passed. Flanna joined her only a moment later and hurried her away from the door.
“You are deathly pale. What is wrong?” Flanna asked anxiously.
Dawn shook her head not believing what she had just been told.
Flanna grabbed her hands. “Tell me.”
Dawn raised her hands and started to explain, outlining someone large and then locking her wrists together, Flanna understood instantly.
“The prisoner Cree.”
Dawn nodded and went on to tap her chest and gestured tending his wounds and feeding him and then she suddenly stopped and stared wide-eyed at Flanna. Reluctantly, and with heat rushing her cheeks red, she bent her fingers just enough for the tips to touch her palm and with one finger from the other hand shoved it repeatedly in and out of the hole.
Flanna gasped. “Good lord, no. He cannot expect you to rut with the savage.”
Suddenly there was a shout from the open door and they both turned to see Goddard, Colum’s most trusted warrior. He was broad and tall, though nowhere near the prisoner’s size and his face and arms scarred, no doubt from endless battles, though the women seemed to favor him, Dawn having seen him talking with many, though mostly with Dorrie.
“Here! Now!” he shouted and they both hurried to enter the kitchen after him.
Flanna went to speak but Goddard raised his hand and silenced her.
“The dumb one will be seeing to the care of the prisoner. She is to take what food or items she wants and answers to no one but Lord Colum. Is that understood?”
Flanna gave a quick nod.
Goddard turned to Dawn. “Be quick and see to your new duties.” He snickered and raised his voice. “Understand?”
Dawn bobbed her head, knowing that he reminded what was expected of her.
Goddard left the room and there was silence. No one moved. No one spoke. They stood and stared at her.
“To work,” Flanna ordered the others and turned to Dawn. “Take all that you need.” More quietly she whispered, “May God help you.”
Chapter Three
Dawn approached the hut with reluctant steps. It was a confined shed used to house those Colum felt needed punishing. A slit no more than three fingers wide had been placed near the top of the door. It allowed the only light to enter and the guard to have a look.
Usually only one warrior stood watch. Two now stood outside in front and two others stepped from around back, snickered when they spotted her and returned to their posts.
She gripped the one basket and the bucket of water she carried and stopped a couple of feet from the warriors.
One stepped forward, equal in height to her though heavy in weight, and if she recalled correctly his name was John and the other warrior who had not moved she believed was Angus. Spending all her time in the kitchen and not permitted to serve in the Great Hall, she had little contact with the warriors and was not familiar with them all. And she preferred it that way.
John gave a quick look in the basket, nodded, and stepped back to open the door.
It was Angus, pale of skin and bright red hair who snorted and said, “We were told you were to take your time. So you will be leaving none too soon.”
With that John gave her a shove and as she stumbled through the open door, fighting to remain standing, she heard the wooden latch lowered firmly in place.
Trapped with a savage.
Her heart beat madly in her chest and her breathing turned labored. If she could speak she knew she would scream with fear. With the hut so small she had hit the far wall, only a few steps from the door leaving her to assume that the prisoner was on the other side and barely a few feet from her.
The gray skies and light rain allowed for little light to enter through the slot and so the confined space was mostly dark with a sprinkle of shadows. A slight stench stung the nose and she knew it would grow worse for the hut was only cleaned out after someone served their time.
She heard the rustle then and moved along the wall to the door, hoping what little light was available would reach into the shadows if she looked from a different angle. There was another movement, another rustle, and fear prickled her skin.
It took a moment to make sense of what she saw and when she finally did, she shivered. To her left in the corner a huge shadow loomed. It moved slightly and she pressed herself back in the corner by the door, her only means of escape yet by no means accessible.
“I can smell your fear.”
His voice was deep and tinged with menace and her legs went limp. She struggled to keep from collapsing and tried to calm her trembling hands. But he was right, her fear was potent, her courage slim.
Cree stepped out of the shadows and her breath stalled. He was so very large, more so at this short distance than seeing him from afar. And so sinfully handsome, even in dismal light, one would never think him a savage. But evil was a cohort of deception and she would do well to remember that.
“Colum sends me a plain one.”
For once Dawn was relieved to be thought plain, perhaps then he would not find her to his liking. At least she prayed he would not.
“Come over here.”
Though his voice low, it was no less a command. One that Dawn had no choice but to obey. It was seeing that his wrists were no longer bound that caused her to hesitate.
“I give an order only once.”
The threat in his tone left no doubt that she should pay quick heed to his warning. With limbs that refused to stop trembling, she stepped forward. Three small steps and she stood in front of him, her head lowered, daring not to glance in his eyes.
“Look at me,” he snapped so sharply that her head shot up.
If she could have gasped she would have, though in a sense her eyes did for they spread wide. His dark eyes intoxicated and as before she felt a tingling warmth take hold of her flesh.
“You will tend me.”
Not a question, but another command. She nodded and placed the burden of the basket and bucket on the ground. Reaching in the basket, she snatched a hunk of cheese to hand him.
He took it and as he broke off pieces to eat, he walked slowly around her, at times so close that his bare arms brushed against her. Even through her linen shift she felt his rock-hard muscles and knew his strength must be unfathomable.
He stopped in front of her. “You will need to stop trembling to see to my wounds.”
That he saw she quivered and smelled her fear, left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. She often felt that way without a voice to defend herself. But what good would a voice do her now. Even if she screamed the guards would not come to her aid.
He grabbed her chin roughly and his dark eyes bore into hers. “Do you understand what I say?”
Dawn nodded as best she could, his grip strong and then he quickly released her. She tore off a chunk of bread from the loaf to give him, hoping it would keep him from talking while she saw to his wounds.
He took it and remained standing where he was, a wise choice since it was the only spot that had a modicum of light. She got busy, praying that once she was finished tending him the guards would let her leave.
Dawn scooped up a full dipper of water and held it out to him. He drank it and handed it back to her. She then poured water over a clean cloth she retrieved from the basket and proceeded to gently clean
his chest of the dried blood. She continued to wet the cloth from the dipper and wring it out on the ground so that the water in the bucket would remain clean to drink and use for cleansing.
With each swipe of the cloth she saw that his wounds were nothing more than scratches. While it was unlikely that his chest could deflect arrows, axes or swords, the taut, hard muscles certainly felt to have the strength of an impenetrable shield.
She moved around to his back and was met with more muscles. What truly amazed her was that his body bore no scars. There were few, if any, warriors who did not bear a battle scar and many thought the more scars the more courageous the warrior. But was the true mark of courage for a warrior to walk away from battle without blight on him?
After wiping his chest and back with the wet cloth one last time, Dawn took a fresh cloth and rubbed him dry. Her bare hand followed the cloth making certain she had cleaned away all dried blood.
“You have a gentle touch.”
Dawn yanked her hand away and froze.
Cree spun around and grabbed hold of her hand. “Swallow that foolish fear of yours or you will suffer for it.”
Dawn could do nothing but stare into his eyes and their darkness only served to frighten her more. How could she be brave against a man of his size? Even now his hand could easily crush hers. She would be a fool not to fear him.
“You forgot one wound,” he said and took her hand and shoved it down into the top of his leggings.
Shocked by his actions, she fought to control her panic. She pressed her fingers along his flat, hard flesh just below his waist, but found no wound. She glanced back up at him.
“Lower.”
She looked again but even the dim light she saw nothing and reluctantly loosened the ties so that she could ease his garment down lower on his hips.
“Keep going,” he said.
She gently worked the leather down, her fingers brushing along more muscled flesh. And then she noticed the large bulge between his legs and though she near froze again, she fought against it. Was there truly a wound or was this a ploy to have her touch him intimately?
Highlander Unchained (Highlander Trilogy 1) Page 2
