Chapter Six #4
He was evasive. “I will tell you in time,” he said. “But until then, you must promise me something.”
Allaston was unsteady on her feet, trying not to step on the hem of her cloak as she walked off of the straw. “What can I promise you?” she asked, baffled. “Even if I did, would you believe me after what I did?”
He turned to look at her as he headed out of the cell. “Would you break a promise to me?”
Her brow furrowed. “It depends on the promise.”
“Then you are not a lady of your word?”
She was growing frustrated again with his circular conversation. “God’s Beard,” she snapped softly. “Of course I am. What in the world do you want me to promise?”
Bretton fought off a grin at her irritation. “That you will never again crack me, or anyone, over the head with a poker or otherwise try to harm any of my men.”
Her frown grew. “You make it sound as if I am a murderess.”
His grin broke through then, he couldn’t help it. “You did go after a man twice your size with a poker,” he reminded her. “What if you are a murderess?”
“Then my promise will mean nothing for I will kill you in your sleep anyway.”
He snorted, humorously. “I will make sure to sleep with one eye open, then,” he said. “Will you promise me that you will never again be violent towards me or any of my men? If you cannot promise, then I will have to leave you down here and I do not think you want that.”
He was right, she didn’t. After a moment, she nodded. “Very well,” she said reluctantly. “You have my oath that I will not try to harm anyone again.”
“And you will not try to escape again.”
She was more reluctant to promise him that. “But a prisoner is expected to escape,” she argued weakly. “That is my right.”
He snorted again as they reached the stairs leading up into the gatehouse. The light above was nearly blinding.
“If you try to escape again, I will chain you up and never let you go,” he said. “If you want your freedom, then you must not give me a reason to take it away from you. Is that clear enough?”
He was being fair about the situation, a shocking attribute from a man who had, so far, shown nothing but rank brutality.
He was actually showing her some mercy whether or not he realized it and Allaston knew this was more than likely a one-time offer.
Should she betray him, then the situation would go very badly for her.
Although she was prepared to die for her father, she wasn’t prepared to be locked up like an animal for the rest of her life.
Death would be preferable to that. Therefore, she did the only thing she could do. She nodded.
“It is,” she said, slowly following him up the narrow stairs. “But if you are not going to keep me in the vault, where are you taking me?”
Bretton was taking the stairs slowly because she was. They were mossy and slippery, and she was unsteady on them. He watched her almost lose her footing on one before reaching out a hand to her.
“Here,” he said.
Allaston looked up from the steps, noticing the outstretched hand but having no idea what it was for.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He thrust the hand at her again to make his intention obvious. “Take my hand so you do not slip and break your neck.”
Hesitantly, Allaston put her hand in his and he clamped down on her fingers, his heated grip against hers.
But he was strong and steady, and she end up relying heavily on him to help her the rest of the way up the steps.
Once they reached the ground floor of the gatehouse, he faced her and let her go.
“Since you will no longer be in the vault, I intend to put you to work,” he said. “Tell me what you did at Alberbury. Surely you had assigned tasks.”
Allaston frowned, this time with some outrage. “You intend to make me your slave?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I intend to punish you,” he said. “Tell me what tasks you had at Alberbury.”
Allaston was still frowning but she complied. “My tasks were mostly kitchen related,” she said. “I helped cook meals, tend the garden, and tend stock.”
“Then your punishment will be kitchen-related,” Bretton said, turning to head out of the gatehouse as Allaston followed. “There were only a few male servants left after I took Cloryn and it would be fair to say that our meals have suffered. That will now be your task.”
She skipped after him, squinting her eyes in the bright light. “My punishment is to cook?”
“Your punishment is to be my chatelaine. I need one. You will run this keep to my satisfaction or I will take my hand to your backside. Is that clear?”
It was better than being in the vault. Even as she mulled over her new assignment, the first thing that popped to mind was how easy it would be to poison their food if she had access to the kitchen.
A sick army could not march on her father.
She hadn’t promised not to poison them, after all.
She had simply promised not to harm anyone or try to escape.
She supposed that poison could fall under the vow not to harm anyone and, as she thought on it, the technicalities of it had her torn.
Being nice to the man hadn’t worked. Reasoning with him hadn’t worked.
Mayhap her only recourse was to somehow prevent the army from moving at all.
But she had a feeling if she did that, then again, the consequences against her could be horrific.
De Llion had forgiven an attempt against him once but she doubted he’d forgive a second attempt.
Perhaps she needed to contemplate the option of poison over a little more before doing anything.
Now that he was placing her in a position of some trust, she would have to be careful and not betray that trust until she was absolutely sure she could get away with it. If that moment ever came.
She wondered if it would.