Chapter Seven
Lilidh was out of breath and straining with each step by the time they reached the lower level where the hall was located.
Dougal had gone slowly, but that mattered not right now.
The pain in her leg, eased by the long soak in the hot water, was back in full force.
Spasms pulsed through her leg with each step.
Finally they stopped and Dougal let her catch her breath.
When she looked up and met his gaze, she saw pity enter and she hated it.
‘Hold out your hands,’ he said. Dougal took the length of coiled rope off his shoulder, found the end and tied a looped knot in it.
Her time as a prisoner officially began now and all who saw her would know it.
She reached up and tucked the strands of hair that had come loose from the braid back behind her ears and then offered her hands to him.
She needed to stay alive until Rob and her father could sort this out.
She needed to remain unharmed or her father would not let a stone remain standing in this keep or village. So, she did not fight this.
When he finished, he let some rope drop between them and began to lead her into the hall.
All the talking stopped as she entered and she could feel their scrutiny as she made her way slowly towards the front.
To the dais where Rob no doubt sat eating.
Along with the scoundrel Symon who’d brought her here.
She swallowed back her anger with him, because she must stay in control of herself for now.
Her head pounded with each step. She noticed some of those watching muttered or whispered under their breath.
Some looked away and would not meet her eyes.
She saw hatred and distrust in some; in most she thought she recognised pity and sympathy.
Especially from the women. By the time they walked the length of the big chamber, she was limping badly and out of breath again.
But she squared her shoulders when she stopped before him, for she was a MacLerie and would not let them forget it.
‘Here she is, Symon,’ Rob said loudly enough for all to hear. ‘Not too coddled, as you accused.’
A young woman sat between the two men and she realised this must be the Lady Tyra who Beathas had mentioned.
Lovely, with long, auburn hair and green eyes and a heart-shaped face, the look in her eyes seared Lilidh with hatred.
As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, and the woman turned her softened gaze towards Rob.
Lilidh blinked, thinking that exhaustion had caused her to see something that was not there after all.
‘Must she be here at all? Her very presence insults me.’
Bold, this one was, to say such a thing.
Lilidh was the equal to any noble-born woman, daughter of an earl, so to hear such a thing surprised her.
Prisoner, aye, but a noblewoman none the less.
Symon’s sister bowed her head—a humbling nod in other circumstances, but one played just for Rob and the others now. Even Lilidh could see it plainly.
‘Take her back, Dougal,’ Rob called out.
‘Hold!’ Symon shouted when Dougal took her by the arm. ‘She is a prisoner here and should not have a life of leisure while we wait to hear from the MacLerie.’
A few men called out in support of his words with loud, rude words and noises. From the sound of it, they believed she should be performing personal services of a kind she did not wish to think upon. She lifted her face and looked to Rob.
His calm expression surprised her.
He did not look as though he was interested in her at all.
He stood then and walked to where Symon stood, ignoring the lady’s soft pleas to return to her.
Now, watching her speak to Rob, Lilidh suspected that she was more than simply sibling to the brigand.
When Rob reached Symon, he pushed his cousin out of the way and took her by the arm, tugging her up on the step.
‘Lady Lilidh MacLerie is mine. You brought her here, Symon, and I claim her as chief. For as long as she remains here, she is mine alone. If anyone else touches her, they answer to me.’
Her face must be the colour of her favourite ribbon—scarlet!
How could he boldly claim such things when she stood there with them?
And making such a claim in front of both Symon and his sister shocked her, but at the same time, it reassured her.
His grasp loosened and she stumbled down from the step, regaining her balance once there.
She thought him done, until he spoke once more.
‘But you are right, Symon. ’Tis wrong for a prisoner to expect to be treated as a guest. When I have no need for her, she will work in the kitchens.’
She could not help it—she gasped at his crude insinuation and his command. Work in the kitchens? She would not. Lilidh began to walk away when she found her path blocked by Dougal. ‘I am not your servant,’ she said to Rob and she faced him.
‘You will do what you are told to do, lady,’ Rob ordered as he approached. ‘You will do it when you are told to do it. Or I swear that I’ll be delivering your dead body to your father once he arrives.’
In spite of not believing he would harm her, the sight of his fists clenching and opening, clenching and opening, made her take a step away. She began to back up until Dougal blocked her path and she could go no further.
Was this was a Rob she’d never known? Unpredictable?
Dangerous? Was whatever leniency he’d granted her the day and night before over now and did she face him as an enemy this morn?
And she was not only alone, but also very overwhelmed and confused.
Unable to stand up to him in strength or power, she did the only prudent thing in this situation.
Lilidh dropped to her knees and bowed her head.
If every foul word she’d ever heard or overheard tried to force its way onto her tongue and out of her mouth, ’twas no fault of hers.
Keeping silent at a time like this went against every fibre in her body and soul, but she was no fool.
Staying alive to fight another day in another way was her plan.
If it required her to swallow all those curses, then so be it.
For now.
Rob grunted from somewhere above her. He grunted!
Then Symon seemed to copy the sound. From being raised around so many egotistical, proud, strong men, she recognised it as the sound men made when their pride was satisfied.
When she dared to raise her head a bit, she watched as a satisfied smirk found its place on the face of the lovely Lady Tyra.
Before she could think more on that, Rob spoke again.
‘Dougal, take her to the kitchens. She can begin there now.’
Dougal’s strong hands wrapped around her shoulders giving her more help in rising than was apparent to others, but she felt it. Once on her feet, he tugged the rope and led her from the hall. They talked about her as even she left and could still hear them.
‘Are you satisfied now, Symon? She will be worked from morning to night in the kitchens and then serve me in my bed,’ Rob said.
She so hoped Symon would not speak again, but from her short experiences with the man, she understood he would never give up the chance to have the last word. She prepared herself for something vulgar.
‘I am glad that you, at least, followed my advice on how to treat her, Rob. Tame her with a strong hand and keep riding the bitch until she cannot walk. It’s all she or her father will understand.’
Fury and pride waged a war within her. How dare they speak of her and of such things about her!
Lilidh was about to stop and reply to the lewd words, but Dougal chose to give a real and hard yank on the rope just then and she stumbled forwards, staying on her feet her only thought.
Laughter erupted around her. She dared a last glance back as they reached the doorway.
It was a hall divided. Though most of the men laughed, the women sat silently, directing looks of pity in her direction.
More than one woman whispered something to her man which caused them to stop laughing.
Only one group continued to call out, encouraged on by Symon.
His friends, no doubt, and those responsible for capturing her at his side.
Another tug on the rope from Dougal and she shuffled along, limping as she went. If they all chose to believe it was from Rob’s treatment of her, she was not about to disabuse them of that notion right now. A prisoner, a hostage, needed to use whatever tools were at her disposal.
They made their way down the back corridors until they reached the kitchen.
It bustled with people carrying out tasks to store and prepare food for the clan.
Men, women, even boys, moved quickly in and out of the noisy room, all under the direction of an even-louder, huge man who wielded a large wooden spoon like a sword.
When he spotted her and Dougal, he shrugged and frowned.
‘What is this, Dougal? Are you going through my kitchen to reach the dungeon now?’
The cook. As she thought.
‘She’s to work here, at the laird’s orders, I’m afraid, Calum,’ Dougal replied.
‘What am I to do with a lady in my kitchen? Did he think about that?’ Calum asked with the attitude of a man in charge who did not want interference from anyone. From the tone, she knew he did not expect an answer.
‘Here now, Calum,’ a woman interrupted. ‘I will see to her.’ The woman walked to the cook’s side and whispered something to him. Her words seemed to calm him, for he nodded several times before speaking.
‘Siusan will take her, Dougal.’ He motioned her away. ‘Any other orders from the laird, then?’ She knew not of a cook who appreciated any visitors or disturbances in their kitchen and Lilidh almost smiled at how closely Calum fit the mould.