by Lee Scott
Gillian’s gaze turned from one of surprise to icy shock. “That is not within her rights nor yours, Uncle. I have been chatelaine since my parent’s death and wish to remain so. It is my due to claim this responsibility. It was the last wish of my father and mother. Even as my guardian it is not within your power to strip me of my rights as chatelaine. You must inform your leman that you misspoke.”
Gillian forced her mouth to close. Astounded by the turn of events overwhelming her, she responded with an urge to strike out, to fight back. Giles chin tilted in proud respect and subtle defiance of his new leader.
“I will do no such thing,” Oliver hissed.
He took a menacing step forward. Muscles clenched taught with restrained anger, the older knight bunched his fists so tight his nails sliced into his roughened thick-skinned palms. Dog’s ears lowered once again and a threatening snarl sizzled from between his large ragged edged teeth. In response the castle defenders gripped their sword hilts in readiness to defend the lady of the castle. A ripple of drawn weapons shivered through the line of warriors.
Oliver’s voice lowered to a whisper meant only for Gillian’s ears. “If you want to maintain the position of chatelaine you must fight for it. I will not say nay to my leman. Your life has changed now that I have arrived. Had you not needed a guardian you should not have summoned me. Acting as your guardian I will do what I feel I must to protect this manor and its lands. Do not contradict me again. It will not be tolerated.”
While taking a leman was an accepted practice of the times, the idea that she should share her home with one was beyond Gillian’s ability to comprehend with such short notice. The whole idea would take some time to get used to. But the thought of defending her right to maintain her status as chatelaine was insufferable. Gillian shivered at the thought of this man ruling her life. She also knew it would be dangerous to defy him openly at this time.
“Very well Uncle, but do not think you can overstep your rights as guardian. The wishes of my parents are to be observed.” Her voice rang clear and loud for all to hear. There would be no whispered threats. Gillian’s boldness surprised everyone within hearing range. She sounded much stronger than she felt. She convinced herself this was not a selfish act. Never had an ounce of defiance coursed through her, but in this brief time, her uncle provoked her beyond tolerance.
“And so they shall become as mine,” Oliver said. His practiced lack of expression concealed another emotion seething beneath the surface. Schooled to hide his intentions, the steely hint of the chastising look he silently shot in her direction was passed by. Even the fleeting flex of his lips slashing through his handsome features was overlooked. “Katherine will, undoubtedly, be disappointed but will make the best of it. She is a resourceful woman.”
Oliver turned away and ordered to have the rest of the party join them. Two-dozen men in all penetrated the silence of the yard after passing under the portcullis. A simple carriage laden with trunks came to a stop within feet of Oliver and the group assembled with him.
One man opened the door and extended a hand to help the lone occupant. The delicate pale fingers rested lightly on the man’s wrist. Soon an arm, shoulder, and body emerged from the darkened interior.
Katherine was a beautiful woman. In spite of the long trip, her dark gold hair was impeccably styled in a twist that culminated with an intricate combination of braids and cords. Her pale complexion was accented with the scarlet hues reflected from her linen gown, adding just a touch of healthy color to her skin. A bit too much bosom was exposed over her bodice, but her shapely figure would be enticing to any man taking the time to look. And every man in the yard lowered his weapon long enough to take time to examine the twin swells of flesh bursting over the confining fabric. A ruby pendant, nestled in the valley of her breasts, drew attention to the creamy flesh.
Katherine was older and slightly taller than Gillian, which somehow seemed to give her an advantage. Her stature and carriage demanded attention. In spite of her over exposed chest, her dress was stylish and flattering. After a tedious journey, the woman still appeared fresh. Every hair was in place, and a blush colored her high cheekbones. She was a vision of mature beauty.
She moved with the grace of a woman who knew her own body. With an upward tilt of her chin, she stepped forward to Oliver and Gillian. Her curtsy was slight and her head never lowered. Gillian had been slighted. A sharp intake of air from a nearby servant marked the insult.
Her hand reached forward to the keys hanging from Gillian’s waist. “Have you made arrangements for me?” she asked sweetly of Oliver. Gillian stood her ground but clutched the chain in her hand. Anne gasped at her boldness. “Your room is being prepared. Please let me know if there is anything you might require. Cecily will attend you.”
“I’m sure you would like to bathe and rest before we join Gillian for dinner, Katherine,” he said as his hand gently intercepted his leman’s before contact was made with the keys and drew her slender fingers to his lips. “We will work out the details of our stay with my niece, the chatelaine, in good time.”
“But, Ollie.” she whined. She fluttered her eyelids in an appealing display meant to entice her lover to condescension.
“We will work out the details later, my dear,” he soothed.
Katherine’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she looked to Gillian. Any emotions Katherine held seemed exposed for the world to see.
Gillian stiffened and stood firmly ready. For the first time in her life she had adversaries. She would need to learn to deal with them head on.
In his defense, Gillian had to admit Oliver had exercised some restraint in the midst of strong pressure from his lover. Having much practice in schooling her face to hide all emotion boiling around inside, Gillian looked the two in the eye and once again offered them the opportunity to cleanse and rest.
“Cecily, please show Sir Oliver and his guest to my parent’s room, and provide a warm bath and some food,” Gillian said.
“But My Lady,” Cecily argued.
“It is my request, Cecily,” was all Gillian said before she turned and walked as calmly as she could force her legs to obey.
Her role as chatelaine required that preparations for guests must be made, and after directing servants to see to her uncles needs, she busied herself with the tasks of preparing a feast. Every household chore was performed from memory without the requirement of special thought. And it was a good thing too, her mind was too numb to contemplate her future. She had her work cut out for her.
Gillian knew she must prove her ability to run the estate to her uncle. Every detail for the next few weeks would have to be completed to perfection but without seeming like an added burden. Gillian could easily have her authority undermined if the servants became angered by her new demands, while Katherine entices them with false promises of a better life. Her grasp on chatelaine was tenuous at best, and only if she were very clever would she be able to hold on to it.
It was clear from the onset that Sir Oliver had not placed any loyalties to family. God help her, she was alone.
Chapter Two
“Dog, for a big brave beast, you seem in need of care during storms,” Gillian said. Her hands stroked the big head that had burrowed deep into her lap. Standing as high as her waist, the brown dog with black muzzle had to lean forward to rest his chin on her legs. He had a particularly striking chiseled square face, but his size was the most imposing feature. And Gillian insisted that when he was with her she could see a smile on his large black wiggly lips.
With her chair pulled close to the comforting fire, the chatelaine sat resting her head wearily against its high back. Absently, her hand stroked Dog’s shoulders and back. Her mind relived the events of the past few months.
While she rested, she could hear the frequent crashes of thunder outside. A storm of enormous proportions was passing through the area. Candlelight paled as the flashes of lightening bolts striking the earth lit the sky. With every strike, Dog whimpered s
lightly and hid his head under Gillian’s hand. Too many bolts to count made the dog’s flinching continuous.
Anne sat near the glow of the fire laboring over a particularly intricate piece of handwork. The light was better close to the fire and warmer too.
As the night wore on, the lightening flashes were followed ever more closely to the thunderous crackling. Now, the sounds broke almost instantly with each flash. Gillian felt sure some stones in the walls of the manor were being hit. It wasn’t safe to venture outside to find out which ones were damaged.
Gillian worried about the village. Certainly a few strikes inside its borders were inevitable. And with the intensity of this storm, she feared the whole village might be lost. A quiver worked its way up her spine.
The sound of footfalls broke Gillian’s reflections, and her head snapped up. The two entered the great hall and made their way toward her. Oliver’s elbow was extended and Katherine’s delicate hand wove around it and perched lightly on his forearm. Standing at five foot eleven, he looked down on many and towered over Gillian. Although considered tall at five foot four, she reached only his chin, and he nearly doubled her weight. His body was like that of a giant oak, thick of neck and limbs.
As if on cue, Dog’s head raised and a continuous low deep warning ground out as his mind was occupied beyond the storm. “Easy, Dog,” Gillian soothed. The animal ceased its complaint, but observed Oliver with interest and breathed heavily as he watched the intruder move through the room. Never since the man arrived at Longmore had Dog been accepting or even tolerant of his presence.
Anne shifted nervously in her seat. Her body stiffened as the two walked arm and arm into the hall. She had seen many of these petty confrontations.
“Why must that beast be allowed in the living quarters?” Katherine asked.
“He is my pet and companion,” Gillian replied in the sweetest of tones she had cultivated over the past months.
“He’s a filthy beast, and I want him removed immediately,” Katherine hissed. “A dog is not a companion. A person is a companion. Perhaps you are unskilled at obtaining true companions and must satisfy yourself with an animal.”
“I regret you feel that way. As long as I am here, Dog will stay with me,” Gillian declared stoically. In the months since Oliver had arrived, the tension between them had been steadily building. His impatience could only be characterized as ungentlemanly and her response as unladylike.
“Well, that is what I want to discuss with you, Gillian,” Oliver said with a smile.
Both Oliver and Katherine then looked at each other, and Gillian prepared herself to receive the outpouring of thoughts the two were spinning in their heads. When they both looked again at Gillian, Katherine’s triumphant smile nearly blinded her.
Oliver’s upper lip curled as he spoke, “Well, not a companion exactly, although some may believe it to be so. I believe I have found a suitable match for you.”
At his words every muscle in Gillian’s body tensed, but somehow the thought of marriage without any knowledge of the intended groom sapped every ounce of strength away. If she hadn’t been sitting in a chair, her knees would have given way. A dizzy fog enveloped her, and she sat motionless for several moments, blocking the flight or fight instinct that had first assailed her.
“A lord of noble bloodlines has shown some interest in taking you to wife,” Oliver crowed. “It has taken some negotiations on my part, but I believe it will be a suitable match for you both.”
“Who is this man?” Gillian asked with anger and fear mixed in her voice. “I did not know you had put me up to bid.”
“You might even know him. It is Lord Phillip Thornburgh,” Oliver answered as if her sarcasm was unnoticed. “His lands are not far from here.”
“The only Thornburgh I know is a man who was my father’s friend. In truth, his age might pass him off as my father.”
“You know him then!” Oliver chuckled perversely. “He will look after you and in turn your land will add to his holdings and his taxes. You will thank me for my consideration, niece. A man of experience might not rush to bed you like some bitch in heat.”
“How dare you speak to me thus,” Gillian shouted. Her cheeks bloomed with scarlet indignation. Instantly angered, she flew out of the chair and stood to face her uncle. Her neck angled back as she struggled to meet his gaze. “Why did you not speak with me about this arrangement before?”
Dog snarled in earnest and took a threatening step toward Oliver. A click of snapping teeth forced Oliver back one step. Anne sprang to her feet and restrained the animal. Dog rumbled low and deep under the maid’s protective grasp.
“I am speaking to you now. And from your reaction it is a good thing you were spared the negotiations. Clearly, it would be unseemly for a female to negotiate a marriage.” Oliver’s anger was overshadowed by the delight shown by his leman. He glanced warily at the dog. “It is my place to make the arrangement, and it is your place to obey. The choice is mine, and I have selected an eligible match. Be glad you are not destined to wed a rakehell, or worse yet die an old maid.”
“I will not marry him,” Gillian countered angrily. Her hands came defiantly to her hips.
Twisted pleasure turned to a flash of anger. One swift stroke of Oliver’s meaty hand caught Gillian on the cheekbone, and she flew with its force down hard against the stone surface and slid across the rush covered slate stones of the great hall. Her head struck the table leg. Unconscious, the young woman lay still on the cold surface.
Anne gasped and dashed for her friend, but Oliver’s hand gestured for her to stay back. Dog lurched forward with a vicious snarl, but only caught a fang in the velvet coat instead of sinking into flesh. Oliver’s arm swung back and as the dog disengaged it ripped the fabric, releasing the animals grip. The dog flew through the air and landed on its side, skidding along the floor.
Witnessing only the blow, Giles advanced on Oliver with an expression of cold fury.
“Stand fast!” Oliver demanded. “Correction and punishment of defiance is well within my rights as her guardian. If you desire to stay in your position here, you will leave our family dispute alone. Leave us now!”
Giles now crossed over to where Gillian lay. “You are wrong, Sir,” Giles said. “My allegiance is to the Lady. And if you were not her Uncle, you would be dead by now.”
“You would dare stand in my way?” Oliver shouted. “I am her guardian.”
“And it would be a fitting epitaph on the stone that covers your grave,” Giles said. And before you think about calling your friends, remember this, I earned my knighthood on the field, not from an inheritance.”
Oliver said nothing. He knew the man was right. But he was still determined to not back down. Both men’s attention was quickly diverted, however, as Gillian began to move. Her hand came up to her head, but she sat still on the cold stone floor. Dazed, her feet moved to grip a spot beneath her, but her heels worked for naught. Fuzzy thinking prevented enough correction to get upright.
Sir Giles outstretched hand provided enough stability for the chatelaine to stand. His hand rested at her waist, prepared to rescue in case she should topple. And sway she did. Her head wobbled and her body followed. Gillian leaned into the knight.
“Leave us and take this, this beast with you. Put him in the pens where he belongs,” Oliver added. “I do not want to see him in the hall as we dine.” He had no desire to have another knight witness his family business.
“No!” Gillian cried. “He can’t stand the thunder.” Her eyes pleaded with Giles. She took one step but swayed again. Dog growled again at Gillian’s cry. “Easy now, Dog,” she soothed. If Dog attacked Giles in order to stay with her, she might never see him again. “Go on Dog.” A trickle of blood coursed down her shoulder from the cut on her head.
“I should not leave you,” Giles insisted.
Unaware of the exchange between the two men, Gillian soon recognized the hatred in both their eyes. Not wanting anything to happen, G
illian took Gile’s hand in hers and gently said, “Please go now. I’m sure my uncle and I can work this out.
Still, Giles would not move.
Oliver watched Gillian. The despair he read in her face pleased him. Tears of anger and frustration slid down her cheeks. Oliver learned much. Gillian could be manipulated if the stakes were high enough.
Deciding that he had taught his niece a lesson and not wanting a fight, Oliver said, “Gillian, we are at the end of this conversation. There will be no further talk of it. I have considered what is best for you and you will do as I say. Go on now. I am sure you are tired and desire to rest. When you think on this some more you will see I have made the best decision.”
Gillian nodded. A steady stream of tears coursed down her cheeks as she and Anne locked arms and made their way up to her room. Giles waited outside her door with Dog until he was satisfied she was safely attended. At last he led the dog to a pen outside.
Anne ordered a glass of wine and a bowl of cool water. The cut on the back of Gillian’s head stubbornly refused to stop bleeding at first. Before the maid could staunch its flow, trails of blood spotted the young chatelaine’s gown making it unfit for wear, but the pliancy of wine dulled its import.
Gillian then applied the cloth to her swollen cheek in hopes of keeping the swelling to a minimum. The dangerous relationship with Oliver had taken a turn for the worst. He had crossed the line of physical abuse, and Gillian feared he would use it on her again.
Sleep eluded Gillian throughout the night. Endless tossing and turning exhausted her body and her mind. But she had to remain strong for the servants and the villagers. They needed her, and she was determined not to allow her uncle to get in her way. She also wanted to make sure Giles would not be hurt or killed. Anne had told her what he had done and Gillian knew that Oliver would never face Giles again without someone else at his side. Around midnight she had insisted Giles get some rest. She convinced him she would be safe. Her door was thick and had a heavy bolt. He had reluctantly left.