Chapter Two
“Fiona!”
The redheaded vixen turned at the bar to see Jerud swagger in the door, with his scowling face gleaming angrily.
“My love, what’s happened to you?” she asked as she saw a bloody cut on his chin.
“Nothing you need to worry over, Fi,” he said. “Get me some ale.”
“But you look horrible! You’ve been fighting again, haven’t you?”
“Not your worry, Fiona,” he answered darkly. He gave her a swift smack on the behind and sent her on her way.
Fiona returned with a tankard of the tavern’s best brew, then sat down across from her fiancée, trying to discern what manner of predicament he was in. Too hot-headed for his own good, Jerud would be in some kind of scrape nearly every week.
She watched him down a full mug of the ale and wipe his face on his sleeve. She suspected that he’d already been drinking, the way his breath smelled so foul and his expression hardly had the tender softness she was used to seeing, especially when he was speaking to her.
“So you won’t tell me your woes?” she asked, very cautiously.
“I said, it’s not your worry.”
The tavern door opened and one of Jerud’s burly friends, Kevin Stroud, strode inside. Spying Jerud, he and moved toward their table. “He’ll fight you, brother,” Kevin announced.
“And I’ll beat him to a bloody pulp,” Jerud said, with a grimace that made Fiona shiver.
“Please, Jerud, don’t go fighting again?” Fiona pleaded with him.
His eyes softened, but for only an instant. “This doesn’t concern you, you keep to yourself.”
“Jerud you’re not thinking clearly,” she tried again.
“Get on,” he scowled as he turned back to Kevin. “We can settle this tonight,” he said. “You tell him. If he has the guts!” Jerud was shouting as his friend made a hasty purposeful retreat.
Fiona graced her fiancée with a pair of sad green eyes, afraid to speak with anything but her facial expression.
“Don’t say it woman,” he told her.
“You don’t have to be angry with me, Jerud,” Fiona shot back indignantly. “I’m only thinking about you.”
He eyed her carefully, letting his gaze go beyond the surface level, to the more pleasing aspect of his relationship with the sensuous woman. He inspected her bosom, that was pressed against the wooden table, the generous cleavage appearing to beckon him away from all other thoughts. He didn’t have time to take her properly, but maybe something quick, in the shed behind the tavern. He seized on the thought and let it settle in on him. His cock was responding pleasantly in his pants, beginning to throb against the rough fabric. The prospects of her dark hole lured him, as did the vibrant dark eyes that reached out to him with a steady assurance that there was some peace within her limbs and fragrant body.
The ale swimming through his system was making him a little light headed, a good brisk fuck would bring the blood back into his body, where he needed the strength for a good fight. Rising from his the table, he grabbed Fiona’s hand.
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed in surprise.
“You’ll find out.” Jerud was not acting like he usually did. The good-natured man that so easily wooed her was absent, replaced by a man whose darker passions were riding on the surface, as a cloak of frightening agitation.
“Jerud, please!” she said, trying to squirm away.
He grabbed her about the waist, and half carried her out of the Tavern’s back door.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Fi, just take a little from your arse to inspire me!”
“You can’t now!” she howled, as her legs and arms kicked and flailed.
“I’ll take what’s mine,” he informed her, hauling her into the wooden shed.
His hands worked at a frenzied pace, once he set her back down on her feet. Hastily pushing her over a stack of firewood, he lifted her skirt while he pulled his hard cock from his pants.
The woodpile scratched her arms, the suddenness of the assault frightened her, and she would have done anything to get away. Yet this was Jerud, and he’d never hurt her before. Her best instincts were to simply relent. When her ass was bared, he played with the pink white cheeks, his hands diving into the waiting warmth. The familiar feel of her lover’s hands soothed Fiona’s fears, and a silly excitement seemed to flow from him to her, so she struggled less to get away. When he thrust his prick deep into her hole with an eager zeal, it sent a shock of sparks through her whole system.
Jerud was not for one minute the man she was used to. There was something more, like a devil was in him. And yet, she was still succumbing, even as she was so mixed up she didn’t know what she should do. Her burning loins were exploding with too much sexual heat to suddenly squelch the feeling.
Jerud banged against her back side hard, his hand occasionally slapping her rear as if he was riding an animal.
“Oh, god, oh no,” she burst into tears, not so much from pain, but the hard driving effort. Her own orgasm was about to break loose, even as it felt like Jerud had forced it from her body. But, her quick rush of pleasure was cut short, as Jerud rammed himself against her, and cried out with a vibrant roar of finality.
He did not pull away at first, but collapsed against her, so she could feel his heavy muscled body pressed tightly to her backside. His cock was still hard and throbbing, but as the moments passed it began to subside and slowly soften. His groin seemed fused to her, a prickly sensation beginning to make her squirm, as the air hit their sweating, out of breath, bodies. It felt as if some lead weight was being lifted from her backside when Jerud finally pulled away leaving Fiona to stand on her own. She had no idea what manner of man would greet her as she recouped from the ruthless screw. The fierceness scared her. And one look in his eyes and she could see that the copulation had only taken part of his frightening darkness away.
“You’re a good woman, Fiona McTavish,” he said, his large hands reaching out and bringing her close to him, so that he cradled her in his arms.
She began to cry again, though she had no explanation for the tears. He stroked her head with gentle hands, but she could still feel the brewing agitation in him. And when they began to hear the commotion outside the woodshed, he pushed Fiona away.
“I have to go, luv. You stay in the tavern and take care.”
“You’re going to fight this man?”
“I have no choice,” he replied.
“No choice? What is this about?”
“I told you, it’s none of your concern, you stay in the tavern and don’t come out!” He was more sullen than ever, and the scowl that broke out on his face scared her. His tone of voice was so severe. He’d never ordered her around this way. She might have thought that her own life depended on her staying in the tavern, but she assumed this fight, with whoever it was, was a personal matter between Jerud and the scoundrel that enraged him.
At the door of the shed, he motioned her to his side, and pushing her through toward the back of the tavern, he gave her a fierce shove. “Stay inside!”
She saw him skirt around the side of the building, and out of sight.
Inside the tavern, Fiona heard a few shouts, but nothing more. As the dreadful minutes dragged on, she wanted to race outside to see what was happening. Jerud and this sworn enemy must have been fighting in the field beyond the tavern.
“I have to see what’s happening!” she finally told Jon Travis.
“Don’t Fiona! It’s Jerud’s battle not yours. You’re of no good to him going out there and inciting more of this nonsense.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
He looked at her cautiously, his eyes narrowing as he stared into her green ones. “You don’t know?”
“Know what!”
He cleared his throat and stared longer, as if he didn’t want the unpleasant task of this explanation. “He’s fightin’ over you, Fi.”
“Over me? Why in heaven’s name?�
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“Some bloody fool from the north county was saying some pretty mean things about you. Your Jerud is defending you honor.”
“Damn with defending my honor!” she roared. She was grabbing for her shawl, ready to bolt from the door.
“Don’t go, Jerud is right. You’re better off out of sight. It really started with that, but there are other things. Your Jerud doesn’t know how to hold his tongue sometimes.”
“Then he needs me to help him, the bull-headed bastard!” she exclaimed.
But as she was about to bolt from the tavern, she heard scuffling just outside the door and backed away. When the door suddenly burst open, a half dozen men, including the gallant blacksmith that had tried to secure her honor, and several of Jerud’s friends were carrying her lover into the safety of the tavern.
“Been hurt awful bad,” Kevin said.
Fiona looked at Jerud’s face, seeing nothing but blood, that looked as if it was flowing from his eye, and a deep gash above it.
“Didn’t know he’d have a knife,” she heard Jerud groan. It was the only thing he said, and it was not necessarily to her, since it was unlikely that he even knew that Fiona had pressed her way to his side. The men carried him to a room at the back of the tavern where there was a bed for him to lie on.
“It’s bad miss,” the blacksmith told her.
“Why did you do this!” Fiona screamed loudly, as she tried to put her hand on Jerud’s bloody brow.
“Hush miss,” someone said, and as she watched the blacksmith mop Jerud’s brow with a cloth. The blood continued to flow and the well beaten man passed out.
“Will he be okay?” she asked, looking up at the men for some encouragement. Her eyes ready to gush with a flood tears.
“I don’t think so, Fi,” Kevin said, kindly. He pulled at the side of Jerud’s vest, to show an even bloodier wound at his side. “The knife went deep,” he said.
Apparently the knife in Jerud’s side went as deep as the one that suddenly pierced Fiona’s heart. She covered his body with her own, as the life passed out of him, as one minute she could feel his breathing chest and the next minute she could not. He lay so still, soundless, no blustery commands, no gallant smile, no witty repartee, no Jerud left in the room, just an empty shell of man.
“You cry your heart out all night, Miss,” the blacksmith told her at the tavern door. The commotion of the night had ended, and the crowd of curious were dispersing.
“I suppose I will,” she agreed, as fresh tears were surfacing. It felt better doing this than holding in the grief. For a gruff man, the blacksmith was being awfully kind. So much kinder than the others.
“They blame me, don’t they?” she said, looking up at the man’s dear face.
“It was Jerud’s battle, not yours,” he replied.
“Jerud would say that,” she conceded. But now Jerud was dead, and there was no lover, and no one to defend her. “I should ask your name, sir, we’ve never been introduced.”
“Joshua, Joshua Kane.”
“Thank you, Joshua Kane,” she said, smiling lightly, pouring out sadness and gratitude in the same instant. She was weary, with too much to think about, and no desire for one blessed thought at all. She wished she could just curl up and die herself, let the angels take her to Jerud wherever his soul was. It seemed much more pleasant than living her life without the future they had planned.
Chapter Three
For two weeks after Jerud’s burial, they scowled at her, barked commands, and did not let Fiona forget that it was in a fight over her that their friend Jerud Daugherty died.
She assumed the worst of this harassment would die away, though for days she did nothing but wait on the tavern guests, and then retreat quickly to her room upstairs when the evening was over. She rarely saw the mysterious blacksmith, perhaps he thought her troubles would die away too, she thought.
“I’ll just have to protect myself,” she repeated over and again to herself.
“Is Leedy Mallick getting rough with you, Fi?” Mr. Travis, asked her one afternoon.
“I can handle him,” she assured her employer. “He gets a little drunk and starts talking but I shove him away.”
“I’m not so sure,” he said, shaking his head. “These men are scoundrels, Fiona, and you have no man to take care of you now. I’m not so sure this little valley is the right place for you.”
“I know no other place, sir,” Fiona replied with a haughty proud tone. “This is where I was born, bless both my poor parents. I shall stay here, I wouldn’t know any other place to go.”
He shook his head, looking at the lovely young woman, thinking that like all the other young lasses in this poor valley, she’d be used up quickly, hopefully at the hands of a husband, and not these ruffians or the roving bandits that passed through their gentle village.
There was a brisk penetrating wind howling though a shadowy evening, just after sunset. Fiona was on her way to the smoke house with cured meat, that Jon Travis wanted her to put there. A strange shuffling at her back caused Fiona to turn abruptly around.
“My gawd! You shocked me!”
Leedy Mallick was leering at her with pitiful eyes that gave off a light she’d not seen before on any man. Either he was very drunk, or crazy.
He reached out to grab her and she dropped the meat to ground. Wanting to cry out, the best effort that escaped her was a squeal, before Leedy’s hand clamped down on her mouth.
“Don’t say a word, whore,” he seethed in her ear. “I’d as soon kill you as keep you alive.” Something hard pressed against her ribs. Were it a knife, it was close enough to slash her, a pistol, her life could be over in seconds.
She felt his other hand pulling at her skirt. Her eyes widened as she recognized what he planned to do. By then, without her realizing it, they were behind the shed; and with the frightful wind, were she to scream, there was little chance anyone would hear her.
“You must be missing your cunt poked, whore,” Leedy snarled. There was a disgusting bit of spittle on his lips, and she fought to keep her face from him, though those horrid lips were beginning to descend on her.
Annoyed by her heavy woolen skirt, Leedy turned his attention away from her mouth, to the task of pulling the garment away. His hand suddenly found a place to hold on to her thigh. She was afraid she was going to sick to her stomach, the retched smells of his body, and the rush of fear running rampant though her body were making her nauseous.
“Let go of me!” she whispered desperately.
“I told you not to talk,” he confirmed his earlier message, the implement that threatened her, pushed even harder against her.
He reached for the top of her underwear and would quickly yank it down, when all of a sudden some mysterious force propelled Leedy away. His body abruptly fell to the ground some distance from Fiona, leaving the woman in a state of dumbfound shock as she stared down at her attacker.
At her side, the blacksmith, Joshua Kane, grabbed at her, leaving Leedy to his own devices, and Fiona was swept up on the dark horse, and carried away.
She rode behind the man in a mindless oblivion, with a torrential rain pouring down around them, soaking them to the skin. Nonetheless, she was warmed by the unexpected but clear assurance that this swift move had protected her life, and she could be nothing but grateful.
Chapter Four
Fiona woke to a bright sun streaming through the curtains of a small room. The bed she slept in was covered with a lace edged coverlet she would never have expected at the blacksmith’s home. There were other delicate things in the room, a lovely carved chest, a fine porcelain vase, and a thick rug by the bed that belonged in some gentleman’s home, not Joshua Kane’s.
When the burly blacksmith had carried her away on his horse the night before, the rain had penetrated her clothes, and he threw his own cloak around her shoulders to protect her. The ride to his home was far longer that she anticipated. When they arrived at the quaint cottage, both were soaked to the skin.
Inside the warmth of his house, Joshua had lent her one of his white night shirts and a robe to use for the night. She had sat in a chair by his fire for a time, letting the heat of the flame get inside her weary limbs.
Fiona had said very little to her rescuer, still shaken by the brush with rape and possible death. She considered her escape nothing but miraculous. But with death so close, she wondered if it might not have been better to die, as face what would happen now that she’d survived Leedy’s attack. He was not the first man that had assaulted her since Jerud’s death, though she had not taken any of the unwanted advances seriously. What would she have done if Joshua Kane had not been there? And what of Joshua Kane? What was his intent bringing her to his house, she a young woman, and he an older man? This arrangement was scandalous at best, though she could be certain, at least for the time being, no one knew of it. How long that would last was difficult to speculate.
All these thoughts clamored for space in Fiona’s worried brain, but she was at the very least assured that Joshua Kane’s first inclinations were honorable. He was insistent that she simply rest after her awful ordeal.
“What am I to do sir,” she finally spoke as the fire was dwindling down, and it was clearly time to retire for the night.
“Nothing tonight. You’ll think about it in the morning, Fiona McTavish,” he ordered her sternly. “You need your rest now.”
She was content to obey him, her mind not ready to solve any problem
With the sun up and shining into the room, the world now looked much brighter to the barmaid. Though, as she sat up in Joshua’s lovely guest room, she still wondered how this sudden turn of events would play out.
Pulling herself out of the bed, Fiona realized by the position of the sun, that it was well into the morning, and she’d slept far longer than she was accustomed to. She looked to see that her clothes had dried, and Joshua had apparently delivered them to her, as they were neatly lying on a chair just inside the room. Dressing, she took a quick look in a mirror hanging over the chest of drawers, wishing she had a brush to comb out her tangled mass of hair. Pinching her pale cheeks, she then dashed out the door to find her rescuer.
In the Forest of the Night & The Barmaid and the Blacksmith Page 13