Chapter 5 #2
Once they both emerged from the aftershocks, Tair lifted her, stood, and carried her over to another table by a wooden stand with a large pottery bowl and pitcher.
Lucy was too bemused to do anything but watch him pour water into the bowl, and then immerse a swatch of linen in it.
Only when he squeezed it out and wiped it over her heaving breasts did she flinch.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, trying to take the cloth from him.
He nudged away her hand. “I need see to you, wench, to ken I didnae injure you.”
Even now he behaved as if he was actually worried that he’d harmed her, even inadvertently, this man who acted like a thug and called her wench. He had to be all bluster, but why did he want her to believe otherwise?
“You didn’t.” He went still, and gently touched a pink mark near her right nipple, which made her smile. “That’s a love bite,” she murmured, covering his hand with hers. “I’ve got one on my neck, too.”
Tair looked into her eyes. “I lost my head with you. ’Twillnae happen again when you come to me.”
Lucy wanted to agree, but now that she’d had a few minutes to cool off, she could see how a repeat of this might end up being a very bad idea.
She couldn’t be with a man without letting him in to her heart, and she knew nothing about the laird.
This world wasn’t hers. Whatever had brought her here could whisk her right back to the future, and there would be no way she could reunite with him.
That prospect made her stomach clench, as if she’d been punched in the belly.
“That may not happen.” She could have said it better, but she preferred honesty over tact. “I rushed into this with you. It was reckless and thoughtless of me.”
Instead of becoming angry Tair just nodded, and then continued wiping her down. He had no problem tidying her up between her legs before using the cloth on himself, a lover’s task that made her smile a little. He then picked up his tunic and pulled it over her head.
“I shall bid the chambermaids find you garments,” he said as he laced up the front, and then inspected her. “Skirts and such.”
“I’m not much of a skirt lover.” Lucy reached down to pick up her jeans, which she pulled on while he watched. “I won’t get burned at the stake if I dress in pants, will I?”
His brows rose. “They burn females in your time for such?”
“You’d be surprised. In some countries, they imprison, fine and flog them for not wearing a head scarf.
” She could adjust to the medieval dress code, as long as she didn’t have to do that.
“I want to help you find the cluet. It’s come to me twice now, so maybe I have some sort of connection with it.
” When he frowned she added, “If the dark Fae queen destroys your world, mine won’t ever exist.”
“I shall speak with my war master, Cath,” he said. “He dwelled in Elphyne for many years, and may ken more of the nature of the wish cloth.”
A war master, to go with the scary chieftain? What kind of clan was this? “Fine, then I’ll wear a skirt, as long as I don’t have to bed down in that cage again.”
Tair shook his head. “You shall sleep with me in my chamber.”
“I just told you this might be a one-time thing,” Lucy said, and stepped back. “I’m not ready for more yet. I may never be.”
“’Tis your right, to choose,” he said, surprising her again.
“You said the cluet, ’tis come to you twice now; I shall be there to catch the treasure if there’s a third appearance.
With me you shall sleep, no’ fack.” When she started to protest again he held up his hand.
“You’re as lovely and fragile as a new bloom, and I’ve a stronghold filled with my kind.
Many, they’re worse than me. ’Tis for your protection. ”
Lucy winced. She’d forgotten that she had been brought to a patriarchal world where women had few rights, and lived completely subservient to men.
“I’m not that fragile,” she said, mostly to herself.
Yet when she met his gaze she saw again only honesty and a strange protectiveness.
He might be the head brute of a clan of brutes, but he wouldn’t take advantage of her.
“If your chamber comes with hot water, soap and a bed, I accept. I need a bathe and nap.”
“Good.” The laird took hold of her hands and drew her closer. “Shall we kiss to seal our bargain?”
The man was absolutely shameless. “Only if you want me to rip off your bottom lip this time.”
“ M agistrate Duff.” The guard who came rushing into the morning room had the flushed face and dismayed expression of a man who had failed at his task.
“The village headman came to demand the release of the debtors. He slipped in through the gate upon the changing of the guard and refuses to leave the outer bailey.”
That explained his state of dread. Although he had not long stepped into his new role as magistrate, he knew only too well how to conduct such business.
He finished eating his last two pieces of sausage before he said, “Who disobeyed my orders to admit no one?”
The guard dropped to his knees, sobbing out his reply. “’Twas my doing, my lord, only no’ my fault, for he concealed himself–”
Beiste turned his head to regard two of his bodyguards.
“Take him out and give him twenty lashes.” As the pair hauled out the weeping man he regarded his young new wife, who returned his gaze with open adoration.
A dark-haired beauty with skin so white it resembled milk, she had doe brown eyes, a pert nose and a modest demeanor that concealed a quite unusual nature. “Do you wish more pottage, my love?”
Her dark lashes swept down. “With your new attentions I shall soon grow fat, my lord.”
“Nonsense.” He’d lock her up and starve her before she could. Beiste drained the last of the perry from his goblet and stood. “I must go and deal with this intruder now.” He went over to press a kiss on her cheek. “Bid the maids to clear, and go about your day, my love.”
He left the hall and walked to the tollbooth’s court, which was a long, wide chamber with windows he’d ordered boarded over as soon as he took his position.
Braziers now provided flame light, which allowed shifting shadows to glut the chamber and lend it more menace.
At the front he had his servants add green twigs to the flames, which created enough smoke to sting the eyes of those presented before him.
He passed the guards flanking a short, silver-haired old man with a curved back and gnarled hands.
He had dressed in what were likely his finest garments, which appeared only slightly shabby and frayed at the hems and cuffs.
“Magistrate Duff,” the old man said as soon as he saw him. “I’m Headman Engus from the village. I’ve come to demand the release of the debtors you’ve collected in your jails.”
Beiste said nothing as he mounted the steps to his ruling platform and lowered himself into his great chair. Only then did he meet the headman’s watery eyes.
“I dinnae collect debtors, my dear fellow. I arrest and jail them until they find the means with which they may repay their debts, as the law demands.” He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “Do you bring the coin needed to settle their accounts?”
“You ken I dinnae,” Engus snapped. “They cannae repay unless they may earn coin, which they cannae do locked away from their work.”
Beiste tapped a finger against his lips. “Indeed. Still, by working, ’tisnae the only way they may earn coin. I’ve other measures that resolve their crimes quite swiftly.”
“I ken you’ve sold dozens of poor bastarts into slavery.” The headman lifted and shook a fist at him. “ I shall inform the king as much when I write to him, unless you release the debtors to me now.”
“So, you’ve no’ yet written to the king?” he asked, just to be sure.
Engus sniffed. “I ken you’re new to your post. I wished give you a chance to act with wisdom instead of greed.”
He leaned forward, almost delighted by the old man’s audacity. “Do you truly mean what you said just now, Headman? Do those words hold weight, or do you but bluster?” As he held the older man’s gaze, he made a subtle gesture with his hand.
“Aye, I meant every word, for I must protect my people–” His words ended in a yelp as two of Beiste’s bodyguards seized him by the arms. “What do you, you fiends? Release me at once.”
“Alas, they cannae. You admitted before them that you have threatened a magistrate, and that’s a grievous offense,” Beiste said as he rose and went to stand before the old man. “You shall join the debtors and share their fate.” He gestured for his bodyguards to take him.
“The Gods shall punish you for your greed,” Engus promised, struggling against the men as they dragged him from the room.
Beiste sighed as he leaned back in his chair.
Perhaps he should replace all of the gate guards with the men he’d hired from the midlands.
They’d arrive in another week, and were such efficient killers they’d have slit the old man’s throat as soon as he’d made his first demand.
Then again, killing the villagers and crofters here offered no advantage beyond stopping them from interfering with his search.
That and in time their outraged blood-kin would doubtless storm the tollbooth compound, overrun even his fiercest protectors and cut him into a thousand pieces.
Beiste smiled as he rose and shook out his robes.
Since he had no more magistrate business to attend to he would go and walk the grounds of the compound to contemplate his next move.
Yet before he could pass even ten minutes in such consideration, another of his guards approached and waited, his head bowed.
“What is it now?” he said.
The guard held out a small scroll case. “A message from the caravan, my lord.”