The Maid of Lorne. Terri Brisbin
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out again. Sebastien could hear the argument going on, but could not make out the words. The only thing he could tell was that not everyone was in agreement with whatever she planned to do. He realized that he had not heard her voice yet, for earlier her steward had called out her responses to his demands.
“What are your terms?” she called now.
Sebastien laughed aloud before answering. “Terms? I will not kill these two if you open the gates immediately. Delay and I will not even promise that.” He dismounted and his squire ran forward to take control of the horse from him. “I am tired and not in good humor, lady. If you make me fight my way in, I also promise that you will bear the consequences.”
The air was filled with expectation as everyone waited. Sebastien had no doubt that she would order the gates open. Her brother and sister had told him that much on the ride here. They’d revealed that she’d always stood between them and danger, but this time, in trying to send them away from danger, she’d inadvertently placed them in the path of it.
Sebastien had been honest, though; he was tired and wanted to bring this to an end. He wanted nothing so much as a hot bath to rid himself of the odors and filth of battle and blood, and the sooner he got inside, the sooner he might have exactly that. Of course, depending on her actions, he might have one more messy task to accomplish for his king before he bathed.
She disappeared from the battlements and he heard her calling out orders as she ran. He put his helmet back on and mounted again, for it was better to face enemies well-armed and from the back of a horse than on the ground. With a wave of his hand, his men regrouped around him and the children were moved to the back, out of danger from misfired arrows or misguided men.
Would she feel humiliated when she discovered the truth of his treatment of her siblings? How would she react when he offered her the choice that Robert had demanded only hours ago—wed or dead? Now, after seeing her valiant efforts to defend her home, he was certain it would not be an easy thing to carry out her execution. He would, of course, if she did not consent to the marriage, but it would be more difficult than following other orders from the Bruce.
The scraping of wood and metal filled the air as the portcullis was raised and the gates pulled open. Then, with loud squealing, the drawbridge was lowered to the ground. Two guards marched forward with one woman between them. Sebastien was tempted to laugh again, but spared his adversary the humiliation. As if these two men could protect her against anything he wanted to do…The small group stopped after crossing the bridge and stepping onto the rocky ground surrounding the MacDougall fortress.
“Secure the castle,” Sebastien called out without ever lifting his gaze from her face. A troop of his men rode forward, the hooves of their horses clattering on the wood of the drawbridge.
She looked as though she wanted to say something, but hesitated. Now that he could see her features, he realized she was younger than he’d first thought. She wore a plain gown and had her blond hair pulled back and woven into a long thick braid. But the hautiness and arrogance of the MacDougall was etched on her face.
Sebastien dismounted once more and approached her. Her expression displayed a hint of fear as he drew near, and then she seemed to control it.
“How many years have you?” He scrutinized her face and form as he asked. ‘Twas difficult to tell from just looking. He reached up and removed the helmet he wore and pushed his hair and the mail over it back off his head.
“Enough to know that only one of the Bruce’s minions would use children as his shield…”
Her words drifted off as he dropped his helm and reached out to take hold of her face. Pulling her by her chin, he dragged her close enough so that only she could hear his words. Staring directly into her cold blue eyes, he clarified her new position so there would be no mistake.
“Speak carefully, lady. To insult me is to insult the Bruce. And he now rules Dunstaffnage—and you.”
Her face blanched and she reached up to pull his hand away. Although her touch sent shivers down his spine, the look of hatred in her eyes shocked him. Was it meant for him or for Robert? Sebastien released her and sent her stumbling back a few paces.
“I would see my brother and sister.” It was a demand, with no acceptance in her tone that he was the victor here.
“I think not.” They had business to conclude before he would surrender his leverage.
“You think to keep them prisoner? Will you throw them in the cell that opens to the ocean’s winds? Will you keep them wrapped in chains…?”
He grabbed her once more. She challenged him with every word she spoke and, in spite of a certain exhilaration he felt because of it, he could not allow that to happen. This time he used both hands to take her by the shoulders.
“Until we finish our business, you will go nowhere but where I take you, and do nothing that I do not tell you to do.”
He drew her closer until only inches separated their faces. Suddenly he was fighting an urge to kiss her instead of threaten her. Tamping down that desire, he gritted his teeth and forced out the words of his orders from the Bruce.
“The Bruce has taken your father prisoner and I hold your siblings and this castle for Robert. You have the choice of what happens to them.”
“I have the choice?” Her voice came out as a stuttering whisper. He could see the fear in her eyes now.
“You will be wed or dead by nightfall—it is up to you.”
All the color left her face and she looked as though she might faint. After a few moments, she spoke.
“Wed or dead? Who will carry out this sentence?”
“You will wed me or be dead by my hand, lady. Choose now.”
Lara MacDougall could not speak. As most of those living at Dunstaffnage knew, that did not happen often. She stared up at the face of her enemy and could not believe the words he had just said. Wed him or die? Today?
She shook her head, simply not able to comprehend the reasons behind his supposed orders from the Bruce. Pah! The Bruce? How dare he think he had the right to rule Scotland and especially this area! Her father had held power here for so long she could not remember it ever being any different. And who was this Sebastien of Cleish to think that he was deserving of the hand of the Maid of Lorne? Blinking, she shook her head again.
“Is that your answer? You would choose to die?”
He released her and she watched in horror as he stepped back and pulled a long sword from its sheath. His brows gathered in a mighty frown, but his intent was clear—her death. Before she could protest or say anything, the sounds of screaming emanated from the castle. Lara reacted as she always did when her family or people were threatened—she turned to run back inside to determine the reason. Could the Bruce’s men be killing those within? Her young maid and some cousins had remained inside when she’d left. Were they being attacked?
Her captor’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against his body. She tore at his hands and called out her maid’s name, trying to get free, but the brute’s strength was impressive. He hardly even moved as she struggled. When she stopped for a moment, intending to try again, he took her braid in his fist and pulled her head toward his. His breath was hot against her neck and his words were just as heated.
“You will get back inside either as my wife or in a wooden box. No other way. Until you decide, you stay here.” She finally realized he meant what he said. She shivered in fear as the words sank in. Before she could think about her own situation, she must get his agreement to keep those inside safe during his stay here.
“But the women inside…? What is happening to them?” She almost feared asking the question, knowing what men in battle did to their enemies’ women afterward.
“They will not be harmed as long as they do not resist my control over the keep. That is more than I can say for your father’s methods of occupation.”
They