A Knight and White Satin

by Jackie Ivie

  Behind her, they were jamming the door closed with not just the nearly split beam that had been the old bolt, but they’d shoved the felled tree across the portal as well.

  This was not what she’d planned, although greeting the man slated as her husband had been her intent when she’d opened the door. She had no other choice. That’s what one did when facing defeat and capture. Alter the plan. Welcome the conquerors. And get a chicory-dandelion soup into them.

  “Good eve, My Laird. Welcome—”

  “Get the men into the hall! Onto the tables!” He shouted it, interrupting her and drowning out her welcome. He pointed at one of his clansmen. “You—Riley! See she’s locked up. Back in her tower, of course!”

  “But—” Dallis started to exclaim.

  “And dinna’ eat or drink anything!”

  Kilchurning turned one eye to her, pinning her in place and then he smiled. Dallis knew then what fear not only felt like but what it tasted like: metallic, sour, and bitter.

  He’d altered since the one time she had seen him, on the day of her betrothal. He’d gotten even older and balder, which was apparent as he tossed the cloak away. He’d also gotten a larger paunch. He was probably uglier as well, although the cut above his eye, the bloodied nose and the face full of beard didn’t help with the assessment.

  “You!” He was pointing at another of his men. “Get outside and locate the men! He canna’ have killed all of them!”

  “But…the champion—”

  “Lies in his own blood. That’s where that whelp is! Use the Chieftain entry. It still exists?”

  He was asking Lady Evelyn. That woman didn’t have enough sense to keep her knowledge to herself. Dallis watched her nod her head rapidly, like a baby bird. The woman had little sense and no backbone.

  “See him there. Go! Call the clan! You canna’ hold this property with a small force. And why is she still standing there?”

  A rough hand gripped her upper arm, propelling her forward. Dallis didn’t turn to see who it was. She didn’t care and her mind was already moving to the next problem.

  Chapter 6

  The woman was made of ice and her form felt just as cold. And unforgiving. But her curves were full and ripe, and calling to him. Payton liked that, above all. Curves this slick needed caressing. Loving…

  And then somebody ruined everything.

  “Payton?”

  The woman turned into ice water and started surrounding him, her limbs cloying and clinging and pulling him under. Then he was swimming, the act bathing every bit of him with chill and frost. Then he started breathing the ice water in with every pained inhalation. And drowning.

  And then he started coughing.

  “Get him up. Now!”

  The command belonged to Redmond. The ice belonged to the sea of snow melt he was lying in, and the drowning sensation was due to breathing in his own blood with every inhalation.

  “Red…mond.” Payton whispered.

  “Dinna’ talk!” The hissing came from Redmond. “Just get your arse on the sheeting!”

  Sheeting. They were making beds. At least he knew how to do that. His legs didn’t belong to him, though. Nor did his arms. He wasn’t certain about the rest either.

  “Nothing…moves.” Payton was panting with the effort of telling them the issue and losing.

  “Christ! Send for the laird!”

  “Nae…na’ my da!” Payton forced his lips to say it but nothing worked there anymore, either.

  They were shoving him, making the ice water mess slosh into his face, and that just made everything that was paining him turn to agony. Payton concentrated as the frost-woman formed again and started calling for him, kissing him with lips slick with ice and breath tinged with frigid cold. She was cold, but she took the pain away. He’d pay her later. She was worth it.

  “I told you this would happen.”

  Dallis swiveled from contemplation of the gray skies that were all the day was bringing them and looked across at her companion. Lady Evelyn was perched atop a long stool, her back straight, her gray hair beneath a mantle of pale blue silk, and a deep frown between her eyebrows to join the other wrinkles lining her face. It was exactly the picture that a lady of the castle should be presenting as she concentrated on her tapestry.

  It was also wrong. Ladies of an occupied castle didn’t sit sewing and chatting when a usurper held their property. They plotted revenge.

  “I beg to differ with you, Aunt. You most definitely did na’ tell me Kilchurning would be warring against me. Nor did you mention he’d be holding my castle and treating me like a prisoner for near five sennights now!”

  “Treating us like prisoners,” Lady Evelyn replied to her handiwork.

  “Us? You can come and go at will! You are nae prisoner.”

  “Should you swear the man fealty, he’d probably grant you the same,” Lady Evelyn replied.

  “Never.” Dallis hissed. “He has nae right to hold me. He has nae right to hold my castle. He has nae right to dismiss my servants and put idiots in their place that canna’ even cook a decent meal!”

  Dallis shoved at the untouched platter of under-cooked venison they’d sent her way. And then she was pushing the heavy leaded glass doors to her oriel open to heave whatever her belly contained over the balcony. Again.

  Behind her she heard her aunt clicking her tongue. “I’ll ask for a nice gruel to be delivered a bit later for you. It will soothe your ills.”

  Dallis passed a hand across her mouth and grimaced. “You’ll do naught of the sort. Have a dirk delivered, instead. I’ll show him fealty!”

  “Kilchurning was to be your lawful wedded spouse, Dallis.”

  “He can rot in hell! I’ll never accept him. Na’ now.”

  “You should na’ spend more time out in the elements. Come back inside. Your cheeks redden and you ken the chill you’ll catch.”

  Dallis stepped back into her tower room, pulled the glass back into place, and shivered. Her aunt was right. The day held a cold the flames in her fireplace couldn’t defer. She couldn’t fight anyone if she got sicker…and it was without cause. She’d never been ill a day in her life, and now each morn, she suffered. It was enough to make a high-born noble-woman clench her teeth to prevent any anger from sounding. Dallis hadn’t the same control. She realized it as she kicked at the platter of food they’d brought, congealed now in its greased sauce, and losing a joint of meat as it rolled into the rushes.

  She should have listened to lessons of deportment better.

  “I’ll na’ catch a chill. I’d na’ be so weak a-fore him.”

  “Which is why he bides his time and ignores any pleas on your behalf.”

  “Who would dare plead for me?”

  “Well, doona’ look to me. I’m na’ that dense.”

  “It’s na’ Leroy Dunn-Fadden, is it? The worm. Why dinna’ my great late husband, Payton Dunn-Fadden, gift me with a steward of immense stature and a good sword arm? Why did he leave a spineless meal-sop of a man? I’ll tell you why. Because he had nae regard for me. Which is why I returned it.”

  Lady Evelyn made the sign of the cross about her, leaving off her needle for the motion.

  “Now what?” Dallis asked, crossly.

  “Leroy Dunn-Fadden lived up to the duties entrusted to him. He dinna’ plead, and he was nae meal-sop.”

  “Then, where is he?”

  “Kilchurning has a rule, Dallis. He lives by it…and he’ll die by it. Anyone who serves a purpose is put to that purpose. He has the more comely of your wenches serving…well, they’re serving. They then spend all day recovering from their service.”

  “Recovering?”

  “’Tis a decided chore to service that many men. At night.”

  Dallis knew she was blushing. Thanks to Payton, she knew what such service meant now.

  “Kilchurning’s put the strongest men to shoring up the castle defense, others are put to squiring for his knights and caring for the horses. Anyone who sp
oke up and claimed a skill, he put to work. He doesn’t na’ have the sense to check. You already ken he doesn’t have an eye or nose for who can cook and who canna’. Anyone else…is put to the sword.”

  “And…Leroy?” Dallis’s heart sank on the name.

  “He dinna’ claim to cook. He claimed to be your guard.”

  “Oh dear God.” Dallis went to her knees on the floor. She still felt the cold stone through the heavy voluminous velvet of her skirt and the three layers of linen she’d used for warmth beneath it. That was why she was shivering. It wasn’t reaction to what she’d just been told. It wasn’t!

  “How many did he put to the sword?” she asked.

  Lady Evelyn shrugged. “I dinna’ ken for certain. I dinna’ think you interested.”

  “Of course I’m interested! They’re my…people! My…clan. What there is of it. Damn him!” If she got loose, she’d find him and—

  “If we were in the gate tower, you’d na’ have to ask. You could simply look out from your balcony and count the heads he’s skewered and put out on poles as a warning.”

  Dallis swallowed. Quickly and rapidly. She shook her head before covering her face with her palms. Nothing was working. Her belly was churning the warning.

  “He dinna’ get enough of them, though. I do know that much.”

  “How…do you ken?” The question was hesitant, unlike her normal assertive way of speaking. She’d worry over that later.

  “’Tis what he says,” her aunt answered.

  “So, now he talks to you?” Dallis raised her head from her hands and looked over at her aunt. The woman was bobbing her head and nearly smiling. She’d worry over that later, as well.

  “Everyone talks amongst themselves while I’m about. They think me dense.” The woman shrugged. “I let them.”

  Dallis opened her mouth to reply and shut it. Opened it again. Shut it again. And stared.

  “I’m a frail, elderly spinster. What harm can I possibly do?” she asked.

  Dallis’s lips twitched.

  “Aside from which, I am not a Dunn-Fadden. I’m Caruth. Should the Kilchurning still wish an alliance…? Well. I’ll be clan.”

  “An alliance?”

  “Who is going to stop him? You? I think na’. ’Tis you he’s wishing the alliance with.”

  “God damn the man!”

  “’Tis unlucky to damn others, Dallis. And we’re going to need as much luck as the others.”

  “What others? Who in this farce is lucky?”

  “The Dunn-Fadden clan outside in their own crofts when you decided to open the gate and invite their enemy in. They were lucky.”

  “I had to open the gates! You were there. You saw it. One more shove and he’d have busted through! A surrendered castle is sometimes spared. A castle that is taken gets razed…and all within suffer. I did it to spare us!”

  “That is your fault as well. I told you. Did you listen? We knew the wood was weak and the bolt rotted clean through. That’s what happens when the elements leak from split stone above it. That’s what the Dunn-Fadden heir sent funds to fix. I doona’ think it was for buying his death. Perhaps you should have listened to my warnings. We would na’ be here having these words.”

  Dallis blew out a sigh and ruffled the loose hair at her forehead. “If Kilchurning had to send me a companion for this past fortnight and ten, why did it have to be you? Is he hoping to wear me down with your words of guilt?”

  “I am your companion.”

  “Only through the vagaries of fate,” Dallis grumbled.

  “Nae. Through the untimely demise of my betrothed. Had he lived—?”

  “You’d have seen him to an early grave with your words, instead of the ague that took him. That’s what would have happened.”

  That was contemptible, and she knew it. Dallis watched her aunt’s shoulders dip ever so slightly. The woman was a spinster with a sharp tongue. Worse, she was probably right with her words. That’s what smarted the most.

  “Forgive me, Aunt Evelyn. My tongue betrays me. I over-spoke on that.”

  “Bide your time, Dallis. ’Tis what everyone else is doing.”

  “For what?”

  The woman shrugged again, turned back to locate her needle and then started sewing again. “You should join me, you know.”

  “At sewing? My castle is overrun with vermin and you suggest sewing to cure it?”

  “Makes the wait seem more tolerable.”

  “What are we waiting for?”

  Dallis’s knees were getting cold from staying on the floor and the fire could use another log on it before too long. She was looking at that when her aunt answered.

  “You.”

  “Me? If he’s waiting for me to swear fealty, he’s going to die of auld age first! I’ll never pledge my troth to that man!” She was on her feet and getting warmer with the emotion behind the words. The fire could still use another split log. Dallis busied herself at that, poking the ashen remains of a log until the embers glowed red again, and then adding one from the stack that the servant kept replenished, when he wasn’t bringing her noxious smelling meals. Which reminded her as her belly rumbled. She was hungry now.

  The past days had all been crazed with the same odd illness. First, to heaving all morn until she shook with the spasms, then to ravenous hunger. There was no explanation for such illness and she wasn’t telling anyone of it! She’d been keeping it hidden for over a fortnight now. It was just more bad luck that Aunt Evelyn had witnessed it today.

  “Would you be carin’ for a bit of gruel now, Dallis lass?”

  “Depends on what I have to do for it,” she grumbled, settling the log into place with the tongs and then replacing them. The hearth needed sweeping, but it was glowing warm. Dallis swiveled on it, putting her back to the warmth.

  “I’ll tell them it’s for me. I’m the one has sworn fealty. I’ll have to answer to your father should we meet again in this lifetime. ’Tis me who bears the brunt of clan censure. Na’ you. All you have to worry over is Dunn-Fadden.”

  “Why? He’s…dead.” Dallis felt her heart twinge and ignored it. Again.

  “I dinna’ mean the son, Payton. I meant the father.”

  “Laird Dunn-Fadden? Why?”

  “The man only gets to keep the Caruth Dale where he built his castle, if the son holds on to this one. ’Twas the Stewart king’s ruling.”

  “Oh.” Dallis had forgotten.

  “So all bide their time. All.”

  “For what?” The words said as sourly as the taste in her mouth.

  Lady Evelyn bent to her task, speaking again to the field of heather she was stitching in minute detail onto the fabric.

  “The Dunn-Fadden clan has been gathering. Just outside of arrow range. For days now.”

  “I have naught to fear from my father-by-law.”

  “I would na’ be so certain.”

  “He’ll want Kilchurning’s blood. As do I. I’ve naught to do save welcome him and my release.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Why must you always be so cryptic! Say what it is and let the blame fall! The Dunn-Fadden will revenge the fallen and I’ll get my keep back from Kilchurning’s grip. Dunn-Fadden will have his own castle back and I’ll have what I always wanted. Freedom. I dinna’ see what I have to worry over.”

  “Perhaps,” came the answer again.

  “You are so maddening!” Dallis burst out.

  “Come. Pick out a color and sew. Mind you doona’ pucker it as much as last time. I had to take out all your stitches.”

  “Then why ask it of me? You ken my lack of skill. I was na’ trained to needlecrafts. I was trained to run a household, keep a hearth fire burning, fill a larder, balance accounts…brandish a dirk. Revenge an ill. I was na’ trained in sitting about worrying!”

  “You admit to worry? Odd. I’ve seen you pace with intent, rail with anger, and screech with fury. I’ve na’ seen worry.”

  Dallis chewed on her fingernail in thoug
ht. Her aunt was right. She had been pacing. She was not a shrew, though. Lady Evelyn was.

  “I over-spoke again. I meant waiting. I sit about waiting. Not worrying. I leave that bane for the spinsters of the world.”

  Lady Evelyn sighed this time. “Your barbs doona’ affect me today, Dallis lass. You have made me too satisfied. I’ll be the first to let them ken the wait is over, and they’ll have what they want.”

  “Are you daft? First you tell me I must bide my time, and now you drift into being fey by telling me the wait is over? And all without sense? This is na’ companionship. This is argument.”

  “You want bread with your gruel? I’ll go and order it.”

  “I want to be let free! Grant me that and I’ll find my own meal.”

  “He allows you the run of the tower. You’re free.”

  “Up. He allows me this floor and the turret. This is na’ freedom. ’Tis worse than a caged bird! At least a caged bird is given something to perch upon! And food worth the eat.”

  “You canna’ go to the turret anyway. Na’ today. The weather forbids it. In fact, ’tis so cold, the garde-robe is almost too far to venture unless the need is too great.”

  Dallis didn’t need the reminder. Even with the fire at her back, it was still chilly in her rooms. That’s why the ladies of the castle kept to their solar in the winter months. That room was directly above the main hall and shared a fireplace with it. If Kilchurning had a bone in his body devoted to chivalry, he’d have known that and made it available to her and Lady Evelyn.

  Dallis shuddered. She was being greedy and selfish and heartless. What was a bit of chill when she still had her head? Nor was she being forced into a differing bed each eve. All she was really suffering was enforced boredom, Lady Evelyn’s tongue, and badly prepared and cooked meals.

  “When is Dunn-Fadden going to attack? Do they ken?”

  “Nae. ’Tis why he’s had his men on orders to patrol in two shifts per day. On rotation. Constantly watchful. And then he sends them to their rest. He does na’ ken how draining that is.”

  “Draining? How?”

  Her companion giggled. “You think your wenches unskilled in the love art? Please, Dallis. ’Tis a woman’s greatest weapon.”