by Susan Payne
“What will you have me do? My cousin is not legally in charge or able to answer to the king, as long as, my father is alive. I have seen his avarice. How he covets everything my parents ever had, even me. He threatened to detain me, rape me, and get a child on me to secure his way to the title,” she admitted heatedly.
“So, this isn’t just about your father, then. You have a reason for running from home, too.” He watched her with narrowed eyes trying to see how much this threat meant to her escaping her cousin.
“I would gladly sacrifice my freedom and my body if it would ensure my father’s life, but it wouldn’t have. Dennis is more than capable of killing my father once I was his wife. He is too ambitious to be satisfied in waiting for a natural death. Marrying me would be leverage for the king to bestow the title and wealth that goes with it to him. After all, Dennis would not be following the male linage. The King would need to grant the lands and he may have someone else in mind, someone else he needs to keep away from the royal courts.”
“Well, there is time to figure out what would be best for your father. For now, I expect you to stay inside this room until morning when I will send someone to you.”
“Of course, Laird. Your wish is….” And that was all Gawain heard before the door shut in his face.
He could not keep the smile from forming as he thought about the impudent vixen and turned to continue to his own rooms not far away. He was wondering if he should post a guard. Then realized she didn’t know where her father was sleeping and he knew she would not leave without him.
Deciding to keep his dirk nearby as he slid into his bed, he was unsure how the young woman would thank him for her room and board once she was rested. He knew she had a dirk if not more weapons hidden on her person, but he wasn’t about to search her physically. He didn’t trust himself enough to quit once his hands were on her.
On the ride back to the fortress, Gawain had not turned around, knowing what the young woman looked like up in the saddle. Her legs splayed to both sides of the animal covered with the tight knit hose most men wore while riding through woods, the chainmail covering her more interesting attributes. The short length of dark blond hair emphasized her chin and jaw line which spelt beauty to his eyes. Her mouth, though most often held in a mutinous frown, appeared kissable.
In fact, Gawain wanted to kiss it into a soft poutiness, make those green eyes spark with desire not hatred. Even though he may have to sleep with one eye open to prevent the little vixen from piercing him with his own dagger in the night, he would think the experience of bedding her well worth the danger. He knew a smile settled on his features as he imagined her squirming under him once they were in his bed. Such thoughts had made for an uncomfortable ride home.
She wasn’t one who would choose the normal path and her story intrigued him as much as her person. How did a well-born young lady learn to fight like a knight and who let her run around dressed as a male even to go so far as to allow her to cut her hair? Gawain did not fall asleep as readily as usual, his mind and imagination keeping him awake much later than normal.
CHAPTER TWO
Jillian snapped awake at the first sound of someone outside her door. She spent the night trying to rest, yet, listening for any sign the Laird or one of his men was coming for her. She was not so innocent she did not see the interest in her host’s eyes or the way his gaze raked her from head to toe whenever he looked at her. Although she wasn’t sure he was aware of it, not yet anyway.
She contemplated trying to use that as a means of escape or to convince him to help her make her way to the border. But she didn’t actually have womanly wiles which her cousin was prone to point out at every chance he could. Of course, his thinking her as manly and un-natural was what kept him at bay for as long as he had. Now, desperation seemed to be urging him on to take greater and greater chances. She knew her father hadn’t wished to order Dennis to leave in case the man took over the castle outrightly. In case Dennis had convinced enough of the castle’s inhabitants that Lord Riley was too weak or senile to continue in his position. Dennis had played on their distrust of Jillian, as well. Only the knights and other warriors were loyal to Jillian. Accepted her as one of them and knew her capabilities.
But if her father was shown to be too weak, if she were taken prisoner, if she were forced to submit to her cousin’s wishes through needing to protect her father, then the castle could be Dennis’s. If – if – if.
Now all of that was mute. Dennis may have control of the castle, but he was there as a guest and not the lord. So much more was needed to become the lord of the castle. To replace her father, and if the king agreed, Jillian as ruler there.
When Dennis decided he had to be closer to her father than a sister’s son, her cousin decided he would commit the ultimate sacrifice and marry Jillian. He also admitted he would bring in his mistress as soon as the vows were consummated.
Jillian had punched him in the nose and left him bloody on the floor of the dining hall with a final epitaph of, “Over my dead body,” ringing in his ears. That was the day before she took her father and escaped into the night.
A light tap announced the entrance of a young serving girl. She smiled shyly. “I’ve come to set up your bath for you and to bring you clean clothes. My master said yours have been lost along the way and you have naught, but what you wear.” She stared at the clothes Jillian still wore, the tunic and hose as well as the men’s styled boots.
“I, ah, yes, I only have these clothes, but I want them cleaned and returned. Did he tell you otherwise?”
“No, m’ lady, he din’a say what to do with your soiled clothes, but I can get them back to you by evening. There’s a stiff breeze today which should have all dry by then.”
“Thank you, then I will leave you in charge of their care. What is your name? I do not like not knowing who people are.”
“My name’s, Ann, m’lady.” And she gave a little curtsy.
“I’m not ‘my lady’ any longer, Ann. Call me Jillian and we’ll get along very well.”
Ann seemed worried and confused but answered, “Yes, m, yes, Jillian. I’ll be right back with the hot water and tub.”
Several men carried in the tub and then buckets of hot water. Ann provided a towel and bath salts although she peered worriedly at Jillian’s cropped hair and tisked. “I can mayhaps bring some pins and we can pin the front bit back, but I don’t know….”
“That’s all right, Ann. I simply let it dry. I don’t do anything special with it.”
“Not even to go downstairs? Dress it up for dinner mayhap? There’s lots of people at dinner, umm, the Laird and all, you know.” Ann tried to convince Jillian of the need to do up her hair in some manner. Suggesting it be woven into braids on the sides or curled in ringlets in the back.
“I – let – it – dry,” Jillian said distinctly, but not angrily.
“Yes, m, Jillian. Do you wish me to help you disrobe for your bath now?” Ann asked somewhat cowed by Jillian’s refusal to have her hair styled.
“No, I’ve been bathing myself for years and I find I am completely capable of doing so. I will call when I am done so we can get rid of the water. If you can, will you ask about my father,” Jillian said having already taken off the chainmail the night before to get more comfortable. It was lying on the corner floor along with her wide, heavy belt sans the sword.
Settling down into the water, Jillian felt more relaxed than she had previously in this grand home. Her father may have been master of a castle, but that was a dramatic name for what really was more of a reinforced manor house. While the size of what she was in now was overwhelming to her. It being the largest and most fortified of any she had seen before.
Not that she had seen many. She never strayed outside her father’s lands since her mother passed over eighteen years ago. Jillian didn’t even remember what she had looked like, but sometimes when she smelled verbena, she remembers a woman coming into her room and singing to her. Jillian had tried
to remember those songs, but cannot hold a tune. She thinks if the woman was her mother then Jillian had not inherited her fine singing voice.
Jillian pulled the dress on to cover the lace trimmed smock before putting her arms into the quilted short gown, tying the lacings on the front tightly to her thin frame. The shoes didn’t fit, being too long, but they stayed on her feet if she walked with care.
Ann returned with a braided cord. “I think we can tie this around your waist, my, Jillian, and it will hold the pieces in place. The gown might be a little short. You are a fine tall female, that’s for sure. I don’t think I’ve seen such muscles on a woman before.”
As Ann thought about her honesty, added quickly, “Not that they’re not feminine or anything. Simply that most of us never get that kind of exercise, except mayhaps the washer woman.” Then her eyes got large again thinking Jillian may take offense and find the comment rude.
Jillian smiled instead. “I spent a lot of time working on these muscles, Ann. Lifting logs and buckets of water so I could finally be able to swing a full-sized sword with accuracy. I still practice weekly, but haven’t recently. I’ve been traveling.”
As Ann picked up the corset Jillian had discarded from the clothes, Jillian said, “I never wear stays. I do not need them and it hampers my movements too much. You can take them back to where you got them.”
Ann nodded without saying anything and took the offending stays after cleaning up around the tub.
Then remembering again, Jillian asked, “Have you heard anything of my father?”
“Oh, yes. He was up early and ate a large meal then asked to return to bed which is where he is right now.” Ann answered as she picked up the pile of dirty men’s clothing and took them out the door with her. “Someone will be back to take you down to the hall although most have already eaten and off for the day.”
Jillian would like to be able to tell Ann she didn’t need food, but that would be a lie and would be more detrimental to herself than anyone else. She needed to build up her stores of energy as well as get her body rested. Continuing to take her father to England was their only salvation. Once there, they would need to beg old friends for the favor of food and lodging. She didn’t know what else she could do. Petitioning the king and proving her father could not keep his property protected wasn’t going to gain support of their wish for the king’s help.
The door opened abruptly and a rather formidable woman a few years older than Jillian entered without ceremony. This was not a servant. Her clothes were of very fine quality and a gold necklace proclaimed her to be a lady of the household. She wore a lace trimmed cap and white apron over a round dress. Certainly not the master’s mother so mayhap a wife? She was definitely someone who found Jillian’s presence a bother and unnecessary interruption to her life.
“I’ve been told to bring you to the hall for a meal. Everyone else has been fed, but the servants will bring you food.” Then she turned quickly. Jillian stepped swiftly and with her longer stride caught up with the shorter woman, but did not ask anything of her.
Jillian wanted to tell her that if Jillian had had her way, she and her father would both be gone from this place and miles away by now. But this woman wasn’t the object of her displeasure and waited until she saw that gentleman to make her complaints known.
Instead, she bit her tongue and followed the woman through the passageways and down two sets of steps before finally coming out into the open. She saw several long wooden tables and benches in a great hall boasting a large fireplace at both ends with sizable fires wafting heat throughout the room.
Jillian sat where the woman indicated at the end of one of the first trestle tables, near the fire and furthest from the head table. Jillian did not take it as a slight. After all, she had tried to kill the master of this house. She wasn’t here on her own decision. More as a prisoner, but for now she would have to accept it. Once she got her strength and sword back, it would be a different matter. Once her father was stronger and rested, as well. Then they would be on their way, hopefully, without her cousin finding them and putting an end to their one chance at freedom.
Another older woman entered the hall wearing a large apron and a kerchief over her head. She brought a large bowl of brose and a hunk of soft cheese on a piece of brown bread. A cup of cider also appeared in front of Jillian and her stomach growled noisily knowing it was so close to having something inside it for a change.
Giving a quick thanks to God, she began eating. She was unable to keep herself from gulping the hot toasted oat mixture down by the spoonfuls and taking bites of bread and cheese in between. She finally slowed as her stomach decided it had enough or too much. Jillian spent a few minutes without adding anything to her body, letting the food catch up with her before losing it all after eating so quickly. She finished her meal at a more sedate pace and felt better as it stayed down. She would not make that mistake again. It wasn’t a pleasant way to spend her time.
The woman who guided her to the hall finally came back. “It is time for you to return to your room. I’m busy and cannot take the time to watch you.”
Jillian, her normal confrontational-self present, answered, “I can stay down here until my father shows himself and then get ready to leave. I can find my way back to my room for my things.”
The woman gave what could only be described as a venomous glare. “Those were not my instructions. I’m to leave you in your room to rest.”
Jillian knew whose orders those were and was about to argue, then realized she wasn’t ready to leave, yet, anyway. She needed to make sure her father was rested and stronger and that they could get to their horses. Retrieving her sword was another worry for another time.
It wasn’t until the evening meal was being called that the well-dressed woman again arrived unannounced at the bedroom door and demanded Jillian follow her to the great hall. Jillian did as she was told since she was hoping to speak with her father. She was sure he would be there at this time of day. She hoped he would be more rested and they could now plan to leave on the morrow.
As they entered the hall, Jillian went toward the table and bench she had occupied that morning, but the other woman continued walking past it. On towards the raised head-table before stopping and turning with a sour face to Jillian. Pointing her to the chair next to the larger central chair, Jillian stared into the eyes of the man who engaged much of her thoughts that day. First with curiosity and then with anger, flipping between the two until she thought she would go mad with it.
Drawing her brows down in concern, she realized her father sat on the other side of the Laird, the expression on her host’s face inscrutable. She did note that he too cleaned-up well although even yesterday in the murky light of the forest, he looked good.
His sharp blue eyes watched as she stepped onto the dais while she noticed the shoulder length black hair brushed back from his face, showing off the now strong clean-shaven jaw and cleft chin. She assumed there could be slight dimples framing his wide lips, but he wasn’t smiling at the moment so Jillian was on guard as to his intentions.
He wore dinner dress extremely well. Broad shoulders filled out the wool cloth coat and lace hung to mid-hand, brass buttons decorated the front and wide cuffs. A brocade waistcoat with wide lapels and lace cravat covered what was left of his shirt. His buff colored breeches tucked into high boots as he stood waiting.
He raised one eyebrow to indicate his uncertainty to her mood.
“I won’t stab you with my eating knife, Laird, so you have no worry. I see my father is content and stronger and I have you to thank for that.”
“I merely gave him the time he needed to sleep and some food. He did the rest. I see you are much more…” He stopped to let his eyes rove over her body and back to her face. “Refreshed and rested yourself.”
“I am and I thank you, but I must implore you to return my sword and allow my father and me to leave and be on our way,” she said prettily. She wasn’t used to using feminine w
iles to get her way but wasn’t averse to doing so if they worked.
Her host took a deep breath. “About that, I believe your father and I came up with a plan that would safeguard his life and make the long harsh trip to England unnecessary.” He glanced away a moment before meeting her gaze once again, but not before she saw the pupils enlarge and focus on her lips.
Her father was too far away to speak with, but he turned toward his daughter and smiled. More relaxed than she had seen him for months, ever since her cousin had invaded their home and began to take over. Jillian relaxed, too, seeing how calm her father was and sat back getting ready to enjoy her meal.
The dishes were brought out to the table by servants who eventually sat at the end of the long trestles and kept jumping up when a bowl was emptied or something more was needed. The service appeared effortless and as long as Jillian could ignore the many curious glares and outright stares, she enjoyed the food placed in front of her.
Gawain found himself unable to take his gaze from his female guest for more than a moment and tried to keep his mind on the present, not on what he would like to do with her later in the night. He recognized her beauty yesterday once she allowed him to know she was female, even with her damp hair looking like muddy seaweed hanging down over her face. Now, it was a brilliant red-gold and framed her face in rippling tendrils. Her large expressive green eyes still sent him daggers, but they were sheathed more than on the previous afternoon.
Her mouth was often the object of his attention as she took small pieces of meat and vegetables daintily between them and chewed slowly, letting her tiny pink tongue sneak out and sweep any juice from the moist lips and then disappear again. He found himself almost hypnotized by every little movement and he couldn’t understand why.
He was uneasy as to her reaction to her father’s decision. What he had seen of her temperament did not bode well for an alliance, but something deep inside him knew it was what he wanted, what he desired. It would be an interesting next few days. After that, he hoped his patience and stamina would be rewarded. Whether Jillian ever agreed would be the foremost question and would be left unanswered for a while, yet.