by Tessa Murran
Ravenna stopped scrubbing and stared down at her. Giselle was acutely aware of the bruises around her neck where Banan had strangled her, and many others, all over her body. She brought her hands in front of her to avoid Ravenna’s scrutiny.
‘We have a dead mother in common, at least,’ said Ravanna, ‘though my father was a brute, and not at all kind.’
‘You are not close to him?’
‘It is hard to be close to a dead man. He fell at the battle of Bannockburn.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I don’t mourn him. My father forced me to marry Cormac, and so I came to Beharra, just like you, a frightened lass at the mercy of strangers. The only difference being, you can go home one day, and I could not, and my skin was not covered in bruises.’
‘It’s not Lyall’s fault, he…I…’
‘Fetch more water,’ Ravenna barked at the servant. She continued rubbing fiercely at Giselle’s hair and tutting angrily. ‘We’ll need to work hard to make something of this rat’s nest.’
After that, she said no more and, when the bath was done with, she bid Giselle wrap herself in blankets and then led her back to the keep.
As they crossed the yard, men rode in, dragging behind them a horse with a deer slung over its back. Blood oozed from an arrow shaft stuck in its neck, and its tongue lolled out, fleshy and grey.
Lyall was amongst them, and brought his horse to a standstill, just in front of her. For an instant, their eyes locked, and he smiled down at her.
Giselle saw only mockery in his look, and here she was, half-naked, in a yard full of rough men. She left Ravenna and rushed inside, ignoring Lyall’s shout of greeting.
***
Lyall watched Giselle flee inside the keep, with her wet hair, and the blankets clutched around her like a shield. Why did she shy away from him? Was it anger still, from their quarrel yesterday? He had been wounded by her comparing him to Banan. Didn’t he deserve to be higher in her regard than that? He was the one who should be angry with her, not the other way around.
The day had been enjoyable, catching up with his clansmen, renewing his bond with them after these years away. Part of him had wanted to stay in Beharra and make sure that Giselle was alright, but he had gone along with the others, as he didn’t want them to think he was indulging an English girl. He didn’t want them to see his weakness in liking her, even as he acknowledged it as such. So he had spent the last hours riding, at full pelt, chasing down a deer, with the baying of the hounds and the men’s laughter pushing thoughts of Giselle aside.
Now he had seen his captive again, his loins burned for her. Memories of Giselle’s smooth skin, soft curves, and warm mouth, hesitant but receptive, filled him with lust. Suddenly, he was back in that loch, with her belly pressed to his, her hair floating like a copper cloud, bright and warm like autumn leaves, around her creamy shoulders.
Lyall flung himself off his horse as Ravenna stormed towards him, with a face like a fury. She shoved him hard in the chest.
‘What did you do to her?’
‘If you mean Giselle, nothing? What did she say I did?’
‘She is covered in bruises.’
‘Not inflicted by me. Well, not all of them. I may have grabbed her once or twice, in anger, but it was not my intention to hurt her.’
‘What else did you do, Lyall?’
He knew he had to lie to save Giselle’s honour, if not his own. ‘Nothing.’
Ravenna narrowed her eyes. ‘You may lie to your brother if you like, but I know you, Lyall Buchanan, and you’ve never been one to resist a bonnie lass. Take my counsel, stay away from Giselle, and get the ransom as soon as may be. Then send her south and away from us. She may be a prisoner, but you shall not use her ill and behave like a lecher.’
Ravenna stormed off, and Lyall stood rooted to the spot. Her words had hit their mark. He was ashamed of himself.
Cormac came up and clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘What was all that about?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Women - always vexed about something. Now come and butcher this beast, so that we can have a hearty supper.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘There, now you are fit to be seen, said Ravenna, standing back to survey her handiwork. She had spent an age brushing Giselle’s hair, and tearing out half of it, or so it felt like, to get the knots out. It now hung down in a shiny loose plait. It was clean at last.
Giselle regarded her dim reflection in the metal mirror. The dark blue dress they had given her was soft on her skin, where it clung to her body. She looked like Lady Giselle de Villers again, and that was no bad thing, as she needed to remember who she was amongst these people. Prisoner, she may be, no matter Ravenna’s rough kindness, but she would not cower.
When she entered the hall with Ravenna, all eyes turned to her.
Lyall caught his breath when he saw Giselle. This was not the lass he’d lain down in the dirt with. This was an elegant, young woman, graceful, comely and refined. In her blue dress, with her hair tidied up, she looked every inch the wealthy baron’s daughter. And though he wanted her, with every fibre of his being, Giselle de Villers did not deign to look in his direction.
The tense silence, which followed her arrival was broken by Morna. ‘Come and sit by me, Giselle, for I long to learn about life in England.’
Lyall glowered at his sister, but she ignored him and patted the end of the bench beside her.
‘Are English men more handsome than Scots?’ she asked as Giselle sat down. ‘I am sure they must be, for Scotland is full of ruffians and cutthroats. There are no men to be had for husbands any more, now the English have slaughtered all the good ones.’
Giselle’s face reddened. Morna could be maddening sometimes. Though they were of a similar age, Lyall was sure Giselle would never have been as outspoken as his sister.
‘Enough of this talk of war,’ he snapped. ‘We have an English guest, and we should have a mind to her feelings, and you should show some courtesy, Morna.’
Cormac turned to Giselle. ‘Forgive my sister her tart tongue, her ire is for her brothers, not for you. You sit too far from the fire, lass, come and sit beside me.’
Giselle did as she was bid, and everyone moved along the benches to accommodate her. Morna began tearing lumps off a hunk of bread and shooting dirty looks at Cormac. Ramsay came in with a platter of roast venison and put it down, with a hard bang, just in front of Giselle.
‘You must also forgive my taskman, Ramsay,’ said Cormac. ‘He has all the subtlety of a charging boar. You might guess he has a grudge against the English.’
Across the table from Lyall, Giselle sat, red-faced and tense. The urge to reach out and touch her was overwhelming. Instead, he tried to catch her eye and, when he did, she swallowed hard and looked away.
‘Why are you not eating?’ he whispered as the conversation grew around them.
‘I’ve no appetite. I would be more comfortable eating alone in my chamber.’
‘Do you hate us all that much, then?’ he said, with a sinking heart.
‘I don’t belong here.’
‘Giselle, tell us about your home at Ravensworth,’ boomed Cormac.
What the hell was Cormac doing, singling her?
Giselle began to speak hesitantly as all eyes turned to her. ‘Well, it is not as big as Beharra, nor as grand, and we’ve no fortifications to match yours, Laird Buchanan,’ she said softly. ‘Our manor house at Ravensworth sits amongst green hills, folding into each other as far as the eye can see, and there is lush farmland and forest all around too, thick with deer and boar.’
‘So, good hunting then?’ said Cormac.
‘Yes, but the terrain is easier to navigate and not so rugged. Though from what I have seen so far, Scotland has beautiful countryside, deep glens, glittering lochs, fearsomely high mountains, which take your breath away.’
Lyall frowned in surprise.
‘So, Scotland finds some favour with you, Gise
lle?’ said Cormac, with a sideways glance in his brother’s direction.
‘Yes, it is wild but very beautiful.’
‘Aye, like my wife over there and, like Ravenna, this country has a way of taking hold of your heart and never letting go.’
Ravenna rolled her eyes. ‘You should find yourself a bed, Cormac for I fear you are in your cups to be speaking so,’ she said.
‘Aye, are you offering, woman?’
‘Not just yet, we have a mountain of food to get through first, not that I can eat much, for my stomach is so swollen with your next son.’
Cormac favoured Giselle with a rare smile. ‘Eat, lass, the deer led us a merry chase and was hard to catch. Make our efforts worthwhile.’
***
The evening dragged on and on, and Lyall was in turmoil. He kept glancing at Giselle, drinking in the sight of her. Why could he not stop looking? When she went to stand alone, before the fire, Lyall took his chance and rushed over to join her.
‘You look very well this evening, Giselle.’
She would not look at him.
‘Ravenna and Morna pinned me down and sheared me like a sheep.’ He rubbed his stubbled chin. ‘What do you think of me, now I am clean.’
‘Even less than I thought of you when you were dirty,’ she said, staring down into the flames.
‘So, you are angry at me still.’
‘You left me alone with your family. You handed me over to strangers last night, as though I were a stray dog and walked away.’
‘What did you expect me to do? I came to you, later, to see if you were alright, but you were asleep, and I could not bear to wake you.’
He put his hand on her arm to comfort her.
‘Lyall, don’t.’
‘Are you saying you missed me?’
‘Of course not,’ she said jerking her arm away.
‘At least you got the soft bed I promised. Are you comfortable in your chamber?’
‘Am I ever to come out of it? Will you lock me up in there and forget about me.’
‘No, if you are disobedient I will beat you, and make you sleep in the stables with the dogs and horses.’
Her mouth fell open.
‘I’m jesting.’
‘Then you are hateful.’
‘Forgive me, I could not help it. The look on your face, and such a fair face it is.’
He stood for a moment, watching the light from the fire flicker over her features. Giselle looked miserable. Perhaps it was cruel to tease her.
‘Lass, I must beg forgiveness for my anger on the road here. When you compared me to Banan, I was offended, and so I was harsh with you.’
‘That was unfair of me, and I take it back.’
So, she was meeting him halfway, which surprised him as women usually nursed a grudge like they nursed a bairn.
He edged closer to her. ‘You are a vision in that dress.’
‘Don’t say such things.’
‘I can’t help it. I never saw it before, under all the muck, but you are truly beautiful, Giselle.’
‘I am a prisoner, so I suppose I have to endure your jests.’
‘I think you are becoming more than a prisoner to me, Giselle, and we both know I am not jesting.’
‘Lyall, in truth, I do not know what to think of you. In some ways, I feel safe with you, but after what happened in that loch, I know full well, I am not.’
For an innocent virgin, she had a way of saying things which aroused and enticed him. And the strange thing was, she had no idea that she was doing it.
Giselle bit her lip anxiously, and her colour rose. ‘That William O’Neill fellow, the one who threatened us by the loch, how does Morna know him?’
‘You will have heard of the battle of Bannockburn, well, Cormac and I were in the thick of it. Ravenna heard of a plot to kill Cormac and to betray the King. Morna came with Ravenna to warn us, and, on the way, they were taken by some outlaws. O’Neill was one of them and, for some reason known only to him and the grace of God, he freed them both. He was later captured, at Bannockburn, as a traitor, and was to be executed for fighting on the side of the English. My sister spoke up on his behalf, and got Cormac to free him.’
‘So they feel they owe each other a debt?’
‘Aye, and I don’t know what passed between them, but whatever it was, Morna has not forgotten him. I think she nurses some kind of fancy for him, but it is a dangerous one, you’ve seen why for yourself. Cormac says Will Neill is known along the coast as a thief and a pirate and people fear his name. But Morna will not be told, for she is headstrong. It is past time she was wed, but my sister refuses to settle on a man, and rejects any who pay court to her. I think it is because she saw things at Bannockburn that frightened her, as have you at Wulversmeade, things no young girl should witness. I think it has made Morna wary of men, and now she does not trust easily.’
Lyall followed Giselle’s eyes to where Ravenna was leaning against Cormac’s back as he ate his supper. She leaned in and kissed her husband on the crown of his head and Cormac placed his hand on Ravenna’s where they lay on his shoulders.
‘Ravenna and Cormac seem very much in love,’ said Giselle, wistfully.
‘They are now, but ‘twas not always so. Those two were ordered to marry by King Robert. Ravenna is a Gowan, and her clan and ours have been in a kind of war for years. King Robert wanted us to stand united against our common foe - the English. So, he ordered them married, to seal an alliance between the Buchanans and the Gowans. Those two may have hated each other on their wedding day, but eventually, they found they wanted each other, and love grew from there.’
‘They certainly don’t look like enemies.’
‘Nor do we, Giselle, talking before the fire, like old friends.’
‘But that is just for the sake of your family. We are all pretending tonight, that I am not English, that you don’t all hate me, are we not?’
He took her by the elbow. ‘Of course, we don’t hate you, well, Ramsay does a bit, but he hates everyone who is not Cormac, and Cormac hates everyone who is not a Scot. As to Ravenna, she is like Morna and does not trust easily. And my sister, well, she is in a fearful sulk with me and is trying to discomfort me. What a strange lot you must think us.’
‘Everything is strange here. All I want is to go home.’
Anger flared in his breast. He was trying to be kind to this girl, so why must she insist on ignoring his good intentions. It irritated him to be so misunderstood. ‘Well, you can’t,’ he said in frustration.
‘Then I would beg your leave to go to bed. I am fearfully tired, and my bones ache from that ride and sleeping on the hard ground.’
Now she was making him feel guilty. ‘I will take you to your chamber, Giselle.’
‘I’ll not run off, and I can find my own way, I am sure.’
‘No, you can’t, so, like it or not, you will endure my company.’ Before she could protest, he took hold of her hand and led her from the hall.
Lyall could feel eyes boring into his back, but he kept on going. He was heartily sick of his family’s stares and their judgements. He didn’t need their leave to take his prisoner…ah, there was that word.
‘Lyall, please,’ protested Giselle, trying to tug free.
He ignored her, and they walked in silence to the upper level of the keep and her chamber. At the door, he turned to her.
‘Giselle, listen to me. You may not want to be here, but it is here that you find yourself. It may be some weeks before a ransom comes, and so you must reconcile yourself to it. I will not force my company on you if you find it distasteful. This ordeal will all be over soon enough, and you will be gone, back to England.’
To his horror, she burst into tears, soft sniffs turning to great big sobs and, before he knew it, there was no stopping her. Lyall froze for a moment and then gathered Giselle into his arms, feeling her body heave and shake against his chest. How delicate and small she was as if she would snap like a twig if he hugged her to
o hard.
Lyall daren’t move, for fear of making things worse, but he put his hand gently on the back of her head and cradled her for the longest time, as she cried out her misery. When Giselle’s sobs had subsided, he pulled her back from him. Some hair had stuck to her face, so he reached up and gently swept it back.
Giselle sniffed and drew a hand across her nose, like a child. Even crying, with a red nose, she was bonnie, and his hand still rested in her hair. Lyall stared down into her wide, blue eyes as a strange tenderness made his chest ache. Did she fear him? She should, for he wanted to kiss her more than anything.
Instead of being the honourable man he strove to be, Lyall took her mouth with his, in a rush of feeling. She gave a little moan but did not resist, and before he knew it, he was pulling her tight against him. Their kiss became heated, and Lyall dragged her through the door of the chamber and kicked it shut. Every carnal urge seemed to come on him at once, hands searching, grasping at her throat and then down to cup her perfect breasts in his hands, hot flesh against flesh, his mouth devouring hers in a rush. They staggered over to the bed and fell onto it.
Lyall kissed her over and over, with a passion that surprised him. Remembering her wet body in the loch brought a pulsing hunger to his loins, so he pulled her dress quickly up to her waist, exposing a bright triangle of copper curls between her legs.
‘By all that’s holy, a saint could not resist you, Giselle, and I am but a man.’
Lyall lay over her, tearing at his braies, pushing her down into the bed and spreading her thighs with his knee. He readied himself to enter her, with a cock like an iron bar. The lass wasn’t pushing him away, so surely she wanted this too.
As he was about to go inside her, Giselle looked up at him, her face full of some kind of plea.
‘Lyall, do you care for me, a little at least?’
In all honesty, there was only one answer to give. ‘Of course, I do, you little fool. Why would we be like this now if I did not?
Giselle gave him a nervous smile. ‘Lyall, if I do this, what will become of me? Will you keep me here or will you send me back south, to my father?’
