“A word in private, if ye would, my laird.” He wanted to make sure Brenwouldseduce Faith, and the sooner the better, and the way to do that of course was to make her forbidden to him. He knew how the laird’s mind worked.
Bren turned back to face him with a little sigh of impatience. “Aye?”
“The lass… she’s verra innocent, and er, verra beautiful, as ye can see. I have come to think of her, even in this short time, as my own daughter, as my own flesh and blood, and so I worry overmuch for her safety. There are men about who might… take advantage. I dinna want to see her ruined before she can ever be wed. It will be difficult enough as it is for me to make a match for her.” Dirc wrung his hands in what he hoped was a convincing manner. “Ye will of course see that… uh…”
Bren clapped him on the shoulder, reassuring him. “Dinna worry, old man, she will be safe with me. No one within the walls of my fortress would dare defy my orders.”
“Thank ye, my laird.” Dirc noted, of course, what Bren had cleverly not said. He had, as usual, left himself open to do as he pleased in the matter, and this time he hoped that he would. He wished he could just tell Bren the truth and be done with it, but the laird needed to discover it for himself. The stubborn man had already erected too many barriers around his heart for it to happen any other way.
Bren turned to follow the two women back to the keep, watching the gentle sway of Faith’s hips as she walked. The way she moved; she was truly the most sensual creature he had ever laid eyes on. How he would enjoy the feel of her body moving against his, flesh to flesh, in just the right rhythm, the very same as the rapid beat of a heart.
For some reason Dircwantedhim to take her. The old sorcerer was plotting something, and he knew he should ignorethe lass for just that reason. He knew how Dirc’s mind worked. But he also knew himself well enough to know that would never happen. He was a man whose passions ran hot, very hot, and this lass fired his blood like no other. That, coupled with the fact he had not had a woman for some time… Aye, he was doomed to failure should he try to keep himself from her, but then, one couldn’t always be successful at everything. And this little challenge would be a welcome respite from his troubles; something to veil the hollow ache that had long since filled his chest and would not let him be.
Faith, realizing she had no other choice just now, besides running, and most definitely being caught, followed the woman named Mathilde into the keep. And if she had expected a dark and dreary castle, she was overwhelmed by what she saw as they stepped through the door. The main hall was bright and clean, well lit by rows of high windows near the vaulted ceiling. The tables were finely crafted of dark, gleaming wood, the finest one up on a dais near the far wall. That must be for the laird and his family. Colorful banners and tapestries lined the walls, along with various sconces that held candles of varying heights and sizes. At one end there was a magnificent fireplace surrounded by a carved stone mantel. There was no fire burning right then, but she could easily imagine the huge room lit in the evenings by dancing firelight, people gathered around it, talking and laughing, feasting.
Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks, standing stock still when her gaze fell on the banner hanging squarely over the head table.
“Oh...” The word slipped from her lips on a soft breath before she could stop it, causing Mathilde to turn and look back at her.
“Are ye alright lass?” Frowning, the maid followed Faith’s frozen gaze to the tapestry, then curiously back to her face. “Tisthe seal of Creagmor. Of our laird and chief”, she said by way of explanation. “A good, strong seal, isn’t it? I’ve always admired it, myself.”
Faith nodded and gave a shaky smile, tearing her eyes away from the image that had held her spellbound, implications falling down around her with frightening intensity. The tapestry was woven with two dragons, mouths open, reaching for a blood-red gem at the center. It was the same symbol she wore around her neck. The seal of the Laird of Creagmor.
***
Faith was shown to a chamber on the third floor of one of the towers, a room which she was to share with four other women, including Mathilde. It was not a large room, and the bed took up a good part of it. Mathilde looked around with her hands on her hips and declared that they would most likely have to bring in larger bed, one that would fit five. Having not even met her roommates, and unaccustomed to sharing a bed with strangers, Faith told her politely not to trouble herself. She would be perfectly happy to sleep on the floor near the fire for now, as she didn’t know how long she’d be staying.
Since she had no belongings to put away, Mathilde then led her to a room just off the kitchens. Apparently there were to be no further preliminaries. The kitchens were large and Spartan clean. The walls were whitewashed, and the floor paved with smooth, flat stones. There were two huge hearths, one at either end, and in one corner a well to supply fresh water so that no one would have to haul it from the main well outside. Only two women were working right now, one older and plump, and one quite young and pretty. Faith imagined that as peaceful as the kitchens seemed right now, closer to dinner time, the place would be bustling. Mathilde urged her forward.
“Now Faith, this is Berta, and this is Fiona. The laird has ordered that ye start by helping them with their tasks in preparing the meals. Perhaps if ye do well enough here, ye can try laundering tomorrow.”
Faith stared at the two women for a moment.Kitchen help? He’s made me into kitchen help? She almost laughed out loud, but stopped herself in time. No doubt Berta and Fiona already thought her more than a little strange. So her place at the castle was to be that of a servant. What had she thought? That she would be brought here and made into a princess?Well, that’s the way it always happened in my childhood fantasies.
Though her gut instinct said she should be humiliated (she did, after all, nearly have a PhD, and more learning than any of these people would ever have) really, what better way was there to learn about life in this castle than to work in it? And now that she had taken a moment to think about it, it was true that everyone in a castle needed to pitch in with the work to earn their keep. It wasn’t the same sort of life she was used to at all, where food came from supermarkets and you were always warm as long as you remembered to pay the heating bill. In the end, she was surprised at how easily her thinking adjusted to this new world. Besides, she liked to cook.
Her emotions had never flip-flopped from one such extreme to another in a single day before, or in a single minute, but now she gave Berta and Fiona a cheery smile. She was perhaps lucky to be someone with so many different sides to herself, because right now the historian in her rushed to the forefront, and her mind became so engaged in the opportunity to learn that she was even able to forget about the dragon seal she had seen in the hall, for now. And the suspicion rising in her gut that it was Bren’s ring she wore around her neck even now. His ring that had brought her here.
She drew in a fortifying breath. “Where do I start?”
Fiona exchanged a glance with Berta, who seemed to be in charge here in the kitchens. Berta appeared to be sizing her up, but in the end she nodded once, and Fiona led Faith to a long wooden table in the center of the room, stained and well-used, but clean for all that. At one end was a selection of short-handled kitchen knives.
“This is where we prepare all of the meat for cooking. Ye can dress these pheasants to begin with.”
She pointed to a brace of dead birds hanging from a beam in the low ceiling, and Faith’s smile faltered. She had absolutely no idea how to dress a pheasant. She had never in her life even had the opportunity to do so. Or the inclination, really. She looked at the other women apologetically, biting her lower lip.
“Um, all right. I might need a little help though, to get started. You see, I’ve never actually done this before.”
Berta and Fiona exchanged another look. Faith raised her chin and took a deep breath. “If you’ll just show me how to do it, I’m sure I can finish the rest on my own.” It was going to be a long day, for all of them.
“Laird, a word if I may.”
Bren had just opened the door to his private study, intending to finish a few things he had been putting off. The weather had been fair and he’d opted to be outside training or riding most of the time instead. But today it was pouring down rain, and he’d given his men a rare day’s rest. He opened the door farther and waved his steward inside. Though a small man and lean of frame, not at all cut out to be a warrior, the steward kept the castle running smoothly at all times, and was in fact indispensable. Aye, he had a great respect for Colm. He nodded his permission, and waited for the steward to speak.
“It’s the new lass, my laird. The one that came in just two days ago.”
“Faith. Aye, what of her?” Despite himself, he felt his heart beat a little faster just at the mention of her name. He had barely seen her, these past two days, with training and other duties taking up most of his time. But every time he had glimpsed her in passing, his heart had leapt into his throat andnearly taken his breath. He would have to make some time to spend with her, and soon. He could feel the anticipation of finally touching her like a living thing inside of him, hungry and wanting. It had been a very long time since he had felt such delicious excitement, and he reveled in it now.
“Well, it’s nothing really, just that a few of the other lasses have said to me how odd it is that she has to be taught every chore from the beginning. She does a fine job after, aye, but she came here no’ even kenning how to make a proper oatcake, or even what the simplest tools are used for. Couldna even dress a pheasant or set the laundry to boil without being shown first, they said. Och, it’s all verra strange, and I just thought ye should ken it.” He paused, rubbing his chin in thought. “Though it may be she’s just a bit simple. I hadna thought of that, the poor lass.”
