They rode for what seemed like hours. Mackenzie’s back, legs and butt were numb by the time they stopped for lunch. It was noticeably warmer in the little clearing he picked out. A basket of food waited for them, along with twenty of his fine men. A carriage also waited for them, hopefully to ride in for the rest of the journey.
Kirkpatrick dismounted and immediately left to go speak to his men. Mackenzie wasn’t sure how to climb down off the mount, it was huge, easily taller than her, and the ground looked rocky.
Bastard can’t even be bothered to help me down.
She attempted to mimic him, bringing her right leg over the horse and sliding off, but she wasn’t used to the riding, her waist was weak and numb, she got her foot caught on the top of the horse, lost her balance and fell backwards. She let out a sharp scream of surprise as she tumbled off the rear of the horse. The mud cushioned her fall. She lay there for a moment looking up at the sun, covered in mud.
“I know you’re used to being a pig farmer, but really, lass, we don’t wallow in the mud here in the south,” Kirkpatrick said.
“If ye’d helped me off the horse I would nae be in the mud, ya bloody hagas,” she said. She hadn’t meant for it to come out as loud as it did, and the laughter from the men who heard it could only have hurt. She was halfway up when the hand connected with her face and sent her sprawling back into the mud.
Her cheek stung from the blow, and her mind reeled; no one had ever hit her before. She tried to speak but her mouth just hung open.
“Don’t think for one second you’re here for any reason other than to spread your legs and bear me sons. You can be replaced, child, now get up, and set out the food,” Kirkpatrick stalked angrily away from her, shoving one of his men as he passed.
Embarrassed, angry and tired, Mackenzie pulled herself out of the mud and hurried over to the basket of food. She didn’t know what to do. Nothing in her life prepared her for this treatment. Some men in her clan treated their wives badly, but her da always put a stop to it if he found out about it. This…
I can’t even kill myself.
A wolf's howl echoed through the sky, blowing through the soldiers like an uneasy wind. They shuffled their feet a bit, loosening their swords; one went and got his bow. Kirkpatrick even seemed unsettled by the nearness of a wolf while Mackenzie focused on the task at hand.
The basket was loaded with meat, bread and cheese. She put some together in a bowl. She wasn’t sure if he wanted her to serve him, or just eat herself. She was torn between not wanting to get slapped again and wanting to rebel. She went for neutral. She sat down with the bowl in hand, despite being very hungry she did nothing.
Kirkpatrick finished his meeting and returned to her. He sat down in a heap next to her and placed his hand on her cheek. She managed to only flinch a little.
“Now, now, there should be no more need for that. I think we understand each other,” he said. She managed a nod with no tears.
“Good, I’d hate to have to remind you what will happen to you and your family if ye don’t obey,” he said while he ate a mouth full of bread.
Mackenzie dared not say anything back to him; she couldn’t trust her tongue. Shame and embarrassment were quickly being replaced with anger. Words always came natural to her and she knew she could shred his dignity with a few well placed ones but for her da’s sake, she held her tongue. He ate quickly, and when he made no move to stop her, she ate, too. The wolf howled again, this time closer.
“God, I’ll be happy to leave this country. How you people live here is beyond me,” Kirkpatrick said.
“Robert, get a bow and get on the carriage. See if you can spot that beast, a nice skin for my new wife,” he yelled to one of his men.
The howl was closer now. Mackenzie looked down to her hand; it’d been a dream, right? Her palm itched where she was believed she had been bit, but she wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination or not.
I could run, right now, into those woods. The wolf would chase me, if I was lucky it would catch me.
“May I have a moment, m’lord?”
“Hmm,” he said around a mouth full of food, “oh yes, but don’t wander far, we don’t want you to be a meal,” he said with a grin.
She wasn’t sure why he was smiling, but it unnerved her the way he looked at her. Like she was a piece of meat, waiting to be eaten, or taken to the market. She walked behind the tree the basket was by, then made her way to the small copse behind it of a half dozen smaller trees and a massive oak. She found a good spot and lowered her britches to pee.
She pulled them up when the sudden low growl made her freeze. He was there, the big black wolf from the other day, and she was sure now, the one from her morning trip with Deirdre. She looked down at her hand; it itched madly.
“Who are you,” she said in a whisper.
The wolf moved closer, its eyes never leaving hers.
“You bit me, you nasty beastie, why?”
It didn’t answer, it just moved closer. She knelt down on one knee, not wanting to run for fear that she would startle it.
“Okay, so ye can’t talk I guess but why are ye following me? Are ye a spirit?”
The wolf moved closer to her, she could feel its hot breath on her cheeks. Its nostrils flared as it smelled her hair, her neck, her face.
Gingerly, she moved her hand up to its ears and scratched, the change was instant. The wolf sat on its haunches and started panting. A playful grin spread across its face.
“Ye are the strangest thing I’ve ever seen, ye know that?”
It yipped at her.
“Can ye understand me?”
“What the hell, woman?” Kirkpatrick screamed, the wolf immediately growled and snapped at her, its teeth cutting a fine line down the side of her face. Mackenzie screamed and jumped backwards.
Kirkpatrick drew his sword and roared at the wolf. The wolf gave Mackenzie a look before running off into the woods. Kirkpatrick stormed to Mackenzie and roughly hauled her to her feet.
“Ye daft girl, how are ye even alive, as stupid as ye are,” he yelled at her. His putrid breath washed across her face. He grabbed her hand and pulled it down to inspect her cheek.
“Yer not even hurt, stupid, but lucky. Lets go before it comes back for more.” He dragged her out of the copse back to the carriage. Mackenzie didn’t resist. She just looked down the whole time. Her hand was clenched tightly in a fist to conceal the blood on her palm.
He bit me again, but the wound’s gone. What is going on?!
In the carriage, Mackenzie watched the terrain roll by. The rugged, hilly ground with its sturdy trees and mountains in the distance gave way to the more even plains of the south. Kirkpatrick drank heavily from a bottle while they rode, he said nothing to her, but she could tell he was furious. When he finally dozed off, she used the underside of her dress to clean her hand.
As night fell, she could hear the bustle of people, see the glow of lanterns and torches; it was a city. She moved to the side and stuck her head out the door. The stale air smelled of too many animals, and too many people.
The dun - it seemed wrong to call it that for its size made her da’s look like a cottage - was in the center with a massive fortress of stone and bedrock. It seemed to rise out of the very ground. She craned her neck to see to the top of it. Men in uniform circled the massive parapets.
She felt a hand on her calf that slid up her leg further than anyone had touched her before. She yelped, and almost fell out of the carriage except his grip pulled her back in. Her heart thumped in her ears, it was all she could hear as he pulled her in. She sat down in the corner, her face flush from the embarrassment of almost falling, and from having someone touch her… and something else.
She could hear everything around her, the small boy asking his ma for help, the driver mumbling about travelling at night… the wolf howling in the distance. Kirkpatrick’s grin split his face as he changed seats to sit next to her. He put one hand on her knee and the other behind he
r. Something about the way he looked at her made her nervous, and at the same time, her body delighted in the attention.
She looked up to him and her lips parted to say something when he forced his mouth onto hers. She squirmed; her instinct was to freeze as her heart stopped. His tongue slipped into her mouth, his hands roamed her legs, she shifted to push her knees together and he stopped. She closed her eyes when he pulled away, fully expecting him to slap her.
“I thought saving your village and sparing yer people might buy me some good will. I see that’s not the case. Well, no matter wife. You can be a part of your life, or you can lay there and be miserable, it's up to you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
He left her alone for days after arriving at the castle. It was huge, and it took her two days just to find the way to the dining room without being shown the way. When she asked a servant where the lord was, they would reply, “Serving his people,” and it frustrated her. She didn’t know anyone, or how to get anywhere, and it made her feel even more alone.
On the third night, Mackenzie found her way to the parapets. The door was open, no guards were present, the walkway stood deserted. It was quite a bit higher up than she was used to, at least a hundred span or more. The city, and it was a city, crowded right up to the walls. Even at night, she could hear the bustle of the people, the sound of the animals, the laughter from the inns.
She missed home.
This night had a partial moon, she could see the stars in the sky. A few clouds wafted over, occasionally breaking the view, but for the most part it was a clear night. The howl of a distant wolf rolled over the town, quieting it like an ocean wave. After a few seconds, the murmur started up again, Mackenzie smiled. Whatever was up with that wolf, she felt a connection to him.
Twice he bit her; twice he ran off. She ran her hand over her cheek, no scar or anything to mark that he nipped her. She looked down to her hand; it was the same. She hadn’t dreamt it, the wolf bit her, she was sure. Kirkpatrick must have seen the second one, but he said nothing since he unceremoniously abandoned her at the castle.
“Miss, you can’t be up here,” a guard said startling her from her thoughts.
The speech in the south was so...formal, she thought.
“Aye, I figured so, I’ll be done in a moment,” she replied.
“No m’lady, now, if you please.” His voice took on a hard quality.
She felt more and more like a prisoner each day. No one would talk to her, or tell her anything. She supposedly married their leader but she felt more like a prize than a bride. Her heart longed to be back in Cesan’s firm grip, with the smell of his sweat and the taste of his lips. She wouldn’t even mind being a farmer’s wife now. She shrugged and got to her feet, the guard roughly grabbed her shoulders and half walked, half dragged her to the door.
“Don’t come up here again or I’ll have you punished,” he said, anger showing on his face.
“I know not why it's such a big deal, it’s just a parapet,” she said.
He look confused then shoved her through the door. She hit the wall with a thump and didn’t move. The wooden door latched behind her. She resisted the urge to cry but she failed. Sliding to the floor in a heap, she let out a sob. More followed, her body racked with tears as she cried alone in the top stairwell.
***
The next morning, Kirkpatrick joined her for breakfast. His outlandish dress shocked Mackenzie; he wore a white robe over a shirt and some sort of breaches she’d never seen before. He seemed altogether overdressed and she felt suddenly very out of place in her simple blue dress and soft slippers.
He said nothing to her while he ate. Food splattered all over him, he barely stopped to breath when he drank. Mackenzie poked at her unfamiliar meal, some sort of meat and eggs that was burnt and spiced with a repugnant leaf of some kind. Her stomach growled, so she ate.
“I see the food of the south isn’t quite appetizing to you,” he said after watching her poke at her plate.
“It’s just nae what I’m used to,” she said as she forced herself to take a bite of the meat. It wasn’t as bad as she feared, and she was very hungry.
“We must do something about the way you speak, it doesn’t sound civilized,” he said with a chuckle.
Her face burned with embarrassment and the memory of his swift slap made her hold her tongue.
“Excellent, I’ll have you behaving properly yet. Perhaps tonight you can warm my bed,” he said as he rose. “Finish your breakfast then stay in your room. We have guests today and I don’t wish them to see you, understood?” he waited for her to respond.
“Aye,” she said between bites.
Anger flooded him and his whole body shifted, he slammed his fists on the table, “Aye? AYE? You will respond to me as your master, wench, or I will feed you to the pigs,” he screamed at her.
The sudden explosion of anger forced her off her chair and she scrambled into the corner as tears erupted from her eyes and streamed down her face, she could barely nod. Without saying another word, he turned and left, two servants came in behind him and started clearing the food.
Between racks of sobs she managed to say, “But I’ve nae finished eating?”
They ignored her as they cleared up the food. She managed to climb her way back to standing with one arm, while wiping her face with the other. She couldn't stop the crying but she hid it as best she could.
She left the room and could barely walk as she sobbed her way back to her small quarters. A guard stood outside of it and opened the door for her. She tried to smile at him as she passed, but he didn’t return it. The door closed and locked behind her.
She flung herself on the bed and cried until exhaustion and hunger took her.
***
She awoke to the sound of the door being unbarred. A male servant entered carrying an arm of clothes, a bottle of something she didn’t recognize and a brush.
“Get undressed, put this on, drink this, and for god's sake braid that rat's nest of hair, I’ll be back shortly to escort you to the master's room.” He didn’t wait for a response, he just left.
She sniffed the bottle. It smelled like her father’s breath after a night of drinking. The clothes he left her were sheer. She resisted the urge to start sobbing again and did as she was commanded. She shed her dress first, it was cold in the room; even with the fire, goosebumps peppered her creamy white skin.
The sheer gown went over her, it was one piece and hid nothing. She burned bright red just putting it on. Next, she pulled the brush through her hair until she could braid it, nothing elaborate, and finally she picked up the bottle. She wished she could have taken what Gwen offered her but the guards had taken everything she had.
She took a drink and coughed, it was bitter and acidic, it burned her throat as she swallowed. She took another drink, it wasn’t as bad that time, and finally a third. By the time she put the bottle down she was feeling warm and light headed.
The servant returned, he was an older man, probably her father’s age, the grin on his face was unsettling. He took her by the arm and stood her. Then he walked around her, admiring the view. He grabbed her again and led her out. The halls seemed particularly busy, full of guards, servants, maids, mostly men, and they all stared as she walked by.
Her heart beat in her chest so hard she feared it would burst. She knew what was next, she would lay with him and then there would be no escape for her, not ever. The tears returned and her stomach tightened. With no food to cushion the effects of the concoction, it left her feeling queasy.
The main bedroom was larger than the dining hall at her da’s dun. A massive four post bed filled with pillows and blankets was in the center of the room. Kirkpatrick was at one side reading a letter of some kind. He didn’t even look up when she came in, just motioned toward the bed. The servant dragged her there and pushed her down. He grinned at her as he left, the door shut, but there was no locking sound this time.
Kirkpatrick rose and shed his robe beh
ind him. Mackenzie's breath caught in her throat. He was as well muscled as Cesan, his chest rippled with each step. Her eyes drifted down to his legs, she quickly looked away. Never before had she seen a man’s sex. Despite what her stepmom believed, she was a virgin.
Her mind drifted somewhat. The alcohol in her system was making things fuzzy. There was a noise outside, some sort of commotion. Kirkpatrick was on her, his hand roaming her skin, his taut belly pushed against her. Part of her mind shut down to what was happening, she didn’t want it, but she had no choice. Her father, her village, all would be destroyed. His hot mouth kissed her neck, then her shoulders; his hands grasped her breasts, she moaned, out of fear, and the strange feelings it sent through her skin.
A woman’s scream cut through the fog of her mind, the door crashed inward with a thousand splinters. Standing in the ruin was a man, tall, with flaxen hair, clothed in fur. Kirkpatrick jumped to his feet. Mackenzie tried to focus on the intruder but whatever they gave her to drink made it hard.
“Guards, guards,” Kirkpatrick screamed as he retrieved his sword. The intruder stalked into the room and slapped Kirkpatrick aside like a gnat.
“Mackenzie, are you okay?” the man said.
“W-who are you,” she managed.
“A friend,” he said. He lifted her up with one arm and held her close to him. He backed out of the room, sword toward Kirkpatrick.
“If you know what’s good for you, Kirkpatrick, stay in your little kingdom. If you come looking for her, it will be yer doom.”
Mackenzie tried to stay conscious but the concoction was too much. She felt movement and the air rushing by her. The smell of the city faded, then only darkness.
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