by Emily Royal
“Please,” the girl whispered, “let me thank you. You’re the first person to show me kindness. My brother will hear how you helped me. Tell me your name.”
“No.” Elyssia’s voice cracked with shame. “My name will forever be associated with the evil of my actions. Forget me; forget my family and what we’ve done. I bear the burden of our shame. The only comfort I can take is in anonymity. I have no wish to hear my name on your lips.”
The girl nodded, understanding in her eyes and Edwin led her away.
A small part of the shame she carried within her was purged when Papa discovered what she had done, but to her relief, he left Alice alone. As she lay in her chamber, bruised and bleeding from Papa’s beating, she prayed for the girl; prayed she would heal, though she never knew her name.
But the girl had not healed. She had died screaming, bearing the bastard child Papa had spawned in her belly.
Her name had been Flora. Flora MacLean, Tavish’s beloved sister.
And Elyssia had ordered her destruction.
Chapter 20
The day after Ewan’s return, Tavish ordered that Elyssia and her sister be turned out of their chamber to live in an outbuilding. Barely fit for livestock, the croft they were confined to was cold, damp, and filthy, the scratching sounds at night the only sign of their companions.
The men jeered as Duncan led them to their new home, ropes secured around their necks; not to prevent escape but to further their humiliation. A stone flew across the air, striking Alice in the shoulder, and in a fit of rage Elyssia hurled herself at the assailant. With a roar of laughter, he forced her to the ground, raising his fist to strike her, but before his fist met her jaw he was pulled off, and strong hands lifted her to her feet.
Tavish.
“Don’t harm her!” he roared, silencing the man’s angry protest.
His kindness was unexpected. Had he begun to understand, to forgive her?
“Thank you.” She took his hand.
He jerked free as if her touch poisoned him.
“I didn’t do it for you,” he snarled. “I am not your saviour. I’m merely looking after my property. If any of the livestock hereabouts were harmed, I would seek to prevent it. A cow with a damaged flank attracts wolves and harbours disease. I wish to save my people the trouble of having to tend to one such as you.”
He jerked the noose on her neck before handing the rope to Duncan.
“Secure the whore and the half-wit, Duncan. Then meet me in my study. Ma wishes to return to the convent, and we leave in the morning.”
Without another glance at Elyssia, he turned his back and walked away.
* * *
“My dear.”
A hand touched Elyssia’s face, gentle at first before gripping her shoulder.
Memories of her dream where Tavish had caressed her face, telling her he loved her, began to fade, his rich, deep timbre replaced by the lighter tones of a woman.
Margaret.
Lifting her head, Elyssia opened her eyes. Pale blue eyes looked back at her. For a flicker of a moment, their expression looked hard but when Elyssia rubbed her eyes, sticky with mucus, their expression was kind. A cough erupted from her throat, echoed by a cough from Alice, whose body huddled against hers under the blanket they shared.
She had been living in the outbuilding for almost a month. Spring flowers bloomed across the landscape. The air grew warmer with the onset of summer, but at night the damp penetrated her bones, and she huddled against Alice to contain her body’s shivering. Nobody came near save Iona, who brought food. On pain of death, they had been ordered not to leave the building. Each time she ventured outside, a man advanced on them, brandishing his sword.
Tavish had given orders for them to remain until he decided what to do with them. Whatever it was would not be pleasant.
Rubbing her belly, Elyssia sat, nodding in gratitude as Margaret supported her arm and she winced as she leant against the stone wall. The dull ache in her back still reminded her of her lashing. How much more punishment could she bear? How much more could Alice endure?
Her sister moaned in her sleep, as if in answer to Elyssia’s question. Outside, living in conditions not even fit for cattle, Alice would not last long. Elyssia’s body could withstand more hardship, but as for her mind and soul—the look of hatred and disgust on Tavish’s face had broken her. Only her love for Alice prevented her from retreating into the darkness to leave her body an empty shell, devoid of any feeling or love.
“I wish to help you, my dear.”
Margaret crouched next to Elyssia and wrinkled her nose at the smell of damp and dung—a smell Elyssia had almost choked on at first, but she hardly noticed now.
“How can you possibly help us, Lady Margaret?” Elyssia croaked, the cold rasping against her throat.
“You’re still in danger.”
“We couldn’t sink any lower.”
Margaret sighed, pity lacing her expression. She stroked the tendrils of hair out of Elyssia’s eyes—hair, sticky with grime and sweat. “What do you suppose my beloved Tavish is thinking this very moment?”
“I’ll wager he does not think of us. I’ve not seen him in almost a month.”
“You’re wrong.” Margaret ran a fingertip across Elyssia’s forehead, the sharp nail scraping against her skin. “You know yourself how deeply he loved his sister. All his hatred has been directed towards your father. You think he has treated you badly until now. But now he knows you ordered Flora’s destruction, his eye of vengeance has been trained on you. He departs to fight the English soon. Do you think he’ll be content to leave you behind—untouched?”
Elyssia winced as a fingernail dug into her cheek.
“Forgive me,” Margaret said, “there’s nothing I can do to save you from his wrath. Please believe me when I say that I would have gladly accepted you as his mistress—even accepted your bastard.”
Elyssia closed her eyes, but the soft voice continued, relentless, each word driving a sharp sting of pain into her heart, only serving to confirm that she was lost.
“He has left to escort his mother home. When he returns, he’ll stop at nothing to make you suffer tenfold what Flora suffered. You have one hope for salvation, and I’m the only one who can give it to you.”
Elyssia sought out Alice’s hand underneath the blanket while her sister slept on. Her future stretched before her—the illness which had begun to show signs of spreading into Alice’s lungs, leading her to a slow, painful death. What then? She had no one to love and care for save a bastard child doomed to be slaughtered as soon as it entered the world or to suffer a life of derision and hatred as poor Conall. To live a life no better than that of a dog until she, too, succumbed to the elements.
Death. Margaret was offering her death.
“I understand.”
As if she heard her condemn them both, Alice whispered in her sleep, the word on her lips driving a stake into Elyssia’s soul.
“Finlay…”
Poor, sweet Alice had never known love—and never would—all because of Elyssia’s sin.
Margaret’s eyes narrowed before she smiled and nodded.
“Good. Then you must do as I say if you are to leave. It’s not been easy to secure your passage to the borders.”
“Leave?”
“Aye, my dear. But it must be done today before Tavish returns. I’ve put everything in order. You can trust me.”
Alice stirred and opened her eyes. She coughed and squeezed Elyssia’s hand.
“Think of your sister,” Margaret said. “Your leaving here would benefit her also.”
“Aye,” Elyssia whispered to herself, “Tavish would never care for me now, and I cannot protect Alice.”
Margaret nodded. “He would never acknowledge your bastard. Are you strong enough to withstand the scorn of those who surround you here, begging for scraps of food with your bastard hanging onto your breast?”
Elyssia shut her eyes but Margaret’s voice sliced
into her consciousness, her tone sharpening almost as if with relish.
“You’re English. Our clan will always despise you for it. They’ll never believe your child is Tavish’s. They would say you whored your way through the clan and the brat could be anybody’s get. Look how they treated your half-brother!”
“Can Conall come with us?”
Margaret shook her head. “The price will only secure passage for you and your sister.”
“Price?”
“Aye.” Margaret’s lip almost lifted into a smile before she frowned. “Come, there’s no time to lose. It must be now.”
“Now?”
“Aye.” Margaret’s voice grew more urgent. “Think, my dear, think of your sister. What would become of her?”
“What will become of me?” Alice’s voice was hoarse, evidence of the water in her lungs. Ignoring her, Margaret squeezed Elyssia’s shoulder.
“You gave the order for Flora to be raped. How long before Tavish returns to issue that same order to his own men? Your sister…”
Alice—dear God! At all cost, she must be spared.
“How will you bear it,” Margaret continued, “to see Alice thrown to the ground and—”
“No!” Elyssia cried, and Alice sat up in fright at the strength in her voice. “Please, I beg you, stop!”
“You must understand the urgency of your situation,” Margaret hissed.
Nodding, Elyssia struggled to her feet before helping Alice up. Taking her sister’s hand, she followed Margaret out of the building.
Two men stood waiting. The first, short and lean, held the reins of two horses. Elyssia recognised Malcolm, the young man who had been less hostile than the others. The second man towered over the first. Tall and heavily built, he stood feet set apart, hands on hips, fingers clasping the hilt of his sword. A broad smile stretched across his fleshy face, a smile of triumph and lust.
Angus.
Margaret gripped Elyssia’s hand.
“It’s the only way. I trust none else to betray Tavish and take you home. Angus here will take you to the borders—and beyond if he is able.”
“Are we leaving, Lyssie?” Alice coughed.
Elyssia nodded. “Aye.”
“Come then,” Margaret said. “I’ll bid you farewell and wish you a safe journey.”
“Not yet,” Angus stepped forward, his smile broadening. “There’s the matter of payment.”
He leered at Elyssia. “Take the half-wit, Lady Margaret, while I collect.”
Margaret took Alice’s hand. “Come with me, child, while your sister pays for your safe passage.”
Elyssia’s skin tightened, and cold fingers of dread clasped the back of her neck.
“I have nothing to give him.”
“Aye, you do,” Angus growled. He unbuckled his sword belt and threw it on the ground. “You have something I want, whore.”
Dear Lord! Elyssia’s flesh crawled with understanding.
“I will not!”
“Aye, you will,” Angus leered, “and this time you’ll be willing or I shall take your sister instead. I prefer a willing whore, but an unwilling half-wit shall suffice.”
The cold hand of resignation crawled through Elyssia’s mind, devouring the remainder of her soul. For now, she truly had lost all humanity, been reduced to a mere animal, a vessel for the lust of others, to be used and discarded.
It had to be done—for Alice’s sake. Alice, the one good thing she had left to fight for. There was no reassurance Angus would spare Alice, but Elyssia had no choice but to trust him. If they remained at Glenblane, Alice would be given to the men eventually, her body torn apart and reduced to dust.
Hunching her shoulders in defeat, she motioned towards Margaret.
“Please,” she said quietly, “I have no wish for my sister to see this.”
Malcolm cleared his throat. “Bring the lass to me.” An undercurrent of pity thickened his tongue. Elyssia focused her eyes on the ground until the irregular gait of Alice’s footsteps stopped. Looking up briefly, she was just in time to see Margaret’s retreating back as she disappeared into the main building. Alice’s golden head was buried in Malcolm’s chest, the young man holding her tight against him. He nodded towards Elyssia before closing his eyes.
“Come here, whore, and give me my due,” Angus growled behind her.
Elyssia looked into red-rimmed eyes, meeting his stare with defiance. “If you want your payment, you must take it.”
“Nay, whore, you must offer yourself. Ye was willing enough when Tavish fucked you.”
He jerked his head in Alice’s direction. “Unless you please me and take pleasure in return, I’ll seek payment elsewhere.”
She took an involuntary step back, and his face darkened.
“I’m not a patient man. Unlace your gown.”
The price made clear, Elyssia closed her eyes, fighting the revulsion which threatened to engulf her. Her body was lost. From the day they took her, she was a fallen woman. What further harm could they do? It was a small price to pay for Alice. For a brief moment’s degradation and pain, she would soon be home—and under Richard’s protection.
Dear Richard. She’d have to throw herself at his mercy.
In her mind’s eye, Richard called her name, stray tendrils of his hair ringed with sunlight, the jewels on his hand glistening as he reached out to her. Her brother had always given her strength. She called on him now, letting his love and kindness flow into her as her trembling fingers fumbled at the laces of her gown. Richard’s clear voice offset the grunts of approval coming from behind.
The rough hands touching her body were not those of the man who lay claim to her on the ground, but the hands of her brother as they ran hand-in-hand into the forest to gather leaves, laughing as the bright colours swirled in the breeze, catching the sunlight.
A dull ache in her knees vibrated through her body as she was pushed to the ground. The cold against her legs threatened to penetrate her dreams. Biting her lip, she withdrew once more into the world of her imagination, her mind wandering free as her body obeyed the gruff commands of the man behind her.
A sharp sting of pain signalled her descent into savagery, rough, hard thrusts, coarse hands squeezing her body, urging her to cry out. Closing her mind, she opened her body, letting scream after scream leave her lips—howls of despair which drove him into a frenzy of lust. With a roar of triumph, he speared her once more, falling forward, his weight crushing her body. She reached forward and gathered a ball of mud in her fist and smeared it over her face, eradicating her features. No longer Elyssia, she was merely an animal—a soulless, nameless animal.
He rolled off her, and a rush of cold air tightened the skin across her legs. Kneeling up, she waved away his proffered arm and ignored his scornful laugh.
“I knew you’d moan like a whore.”
A tight coil of self-loathing burst inside her and she pitched forward, body spasming as violent waves of nausea engulfed her, and she retched, body heaving until her back screamed at her in agony. Her wounds reopened as her skin stretched with each convulsion.
“Lyssie!”
Alice struggled against Malcom’s arms, but he held her firm.
“No!” Elyssia cried. “Don’t come near me!”
Malcolm nodded pity and understanding in his eyes.
“Come, Lady Alice,” he said. “Your sister needs time alone.”
She heard voices in the distance. Margaret had not left. Callum stood next to her, his eyes burning with hatred.
Angus’s low chuckle thickened her blood.
“Aye, ‘tis best they know what a whore ye really are. Master Tavish always planned to return you to your father with a bastard in your belly. He’ll thank me when he returns. Come, whore, ‘tis time to return the sow to the animal that spawned her.”
His fleshy fingers dug into her arm as he dragged her towards his horse. In the distance, Margaret took the hand of the young man next to her and returned to the building.
Callum had seen her. When Tavish returned, his brother would not hesitate to tell him of her whoring.
There was no turning back now. Whatever beating Papa would give her would pale into nothingness compared to the punishment Tavish would mete out.
Elyssia was lost. She may have secured safe passage home, but it had been at the cost of her soul.
Chapter 21
The evening sun cast shadows which stretched ahead of Tavish towards his destination. Glenblane would soon come into view. Having escorted Ma back to the convent, he now headed home to prepare for war. The news which had arrived from William Wallace shortly before Tavish had left with Ma was the news he’d been waiting for. Wallace was mustering an army to defeat the English. The prospect of battle gave Tavish something to focus on. Soon the purposeful sound of steel against steel would echo around the courtyard as his men trained to fight. Almost all of them would leave to join Wallace’s army, except for those who had lived too many summers—or too few. But how many would return?
Callum had pleaded with Tavish to let him fight, but he was too young. The impulsive boy had even petitioned Ma for her support, but Ma deferred to Tavish, as she had always deferred to Da.
Ma had been well schooled in the duties of a lady—to maintain a household, raise children, and tend to the sick. Not once had she questioned Da’s judgement. It was a trait she shared with Margaret—that of a biddable wife, neither to question nor challenge.
Marriage to Margaret would be easy, but where was the excitement in an easy life? To never have his authority tested. Should any man be given such power?
If only Margaret had more spirit, more courage, like…
…like her.
He bit his lip, and the pain brought comfort, banishing all thoughts of the creature in the outbuilding. That whore had murdered his sister as surely as if she had crushed Flora’s life force with her bare hands.
Why, then, did she continue to haunt his dreams: the memory of her voice; the feel of her body enveloping his; always slipping into his mind when caught unawares?