Tamed by the Barbarian. June Francis

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СКАЧАТЬ she climbed out of bed.

      No glow came from the charcoal brazier and the candle in her lantern had burnt down. How long had she been asleep? Was it late evening or the middle of the night? Her stomach rumbled. She had missed supper. Why hadn’t someone roused her? She remembered Mackillin and groaned. He would surely be thinking the worst of her. Then she asked herself why she should care about what he thought of her. In the morning he would be gone.

      The shutter crashed against the stone wall outside once more and icy air gushed into the room. She shivered, remembering her father’s promise to bring her a sheet of the finest Flemish glass for her window opening. Her eyes were now accustomed to the darkness, but she wished she had a light and fumbled for a fresh candle and her tinder box in the small cupboard next to the bed.

      Another gust of wind fluttered the long sleeves and hem of her gown and she pulled a face, realising it was unlikely she’d get a decent spark in such a strong draught. She placed both items on the chest and crossed to the window. She reached through the aperture and was almost blinded by a flurry of snowflakes. She gasped and frantically groped for the shutter. A sigh of relief escaped her as her fingers touched wood, but she had a struggle pulling the shutter towards her. At last she managed to do so and fastened the hook securely before stepping back. The clothing chest caught her behind her knees and she fell on to it.

      Wiping her damp face with her sleeve, she looked around and could just about make out the outline of the door to the stairway. Her stomach rumbled again. Why hadn’t she been roused? Perhaps Mackillin had got Jack drunk on her father’s wine and cut his throat and was even now plundering the household. Fear clutched her heart. Yet surely she was allowing her imagination to run away with her. Jack trusted him. Even so, she would not rest until she saw for herself that all was well.

      She groped for the candle and tinder box, but it was just as hopeless trying to get a spark in the dark. Hopefully, she would find her way downstairs without a light. If she failed, then she would return to her bedchamber. She would not think about Jack lying there with his throat cut—or demons and apparitions, which some said were the souls of the dead come back to haunt the living. She thought of her father and prayed that God would accept him into Heaven. Clutching her crucifix, she felt her way along the wall to the door.

      Once outside, there was a lessening of the darkness and she noticed a faint light penetrating the lancet aperture on the stairway. She put her eye to it and saw that snow blanketed the landscape and was still falling in large, fat flakes. Her heart sank, realising she was not going to get rid of the barbaric lord after all. Using extreme caution, she continued down the steps, brushing the wall with her hand.

      Once through the door at the bottom, she paused to get her bearings as there were no windows in the passageway. She could still hear the roaring of the gale, albeit the sound was fainter here. Her heart beat heavily as she moved forward through a darkness that seemed to press in on her like a living force. She strained her eyes and ears, alert to any danger. Her hand touched wood. A closed door. She passed it and came to another closed door. She walked on with more confidence, convinced that the kitchen door was straight ahead. She heard the squeak of a latch and started back as the door opened and the light from a lantern temporarily blinded her.

      An expletive was swiftly smothered as someone reached out and seized her by the wrist. ‘God’s blood, lass! What are you doing creeping around in the dark? I could have hurt you,’ said Mackillin, lowering the lantern.

      She caught a glimpse of his wild hair, unshaven rugged profile and words failed her. Light-headed with hunger and emotional strain, she swayed against him. He smothered another expletive and, placing an arm around her, half-carried her into the kitchen. She stirred in his arms and tried to push him away, but it was like trying to make a dint in a shield with a feather. ‘Let me go,’ she cried.

      ‘I’ll free you once I’m certain you aren’t going to swoon again.’

      ‘I did not swoon,’ she said indignantly.

      ‘You did.’ He placed the lantern on a table and sat down in a chair in front of the fire and drew her onto his knee.

      ‘What are you doing?’ Panic strengthened her will and she hit out at him.

      ‘Desist, woman! I intend you no harm, you little fool.’

      ‘I don’t believe you. Where’s Jack?’ She looked wildly about her.

      ‘Where any sensible person is at this time of night—in his bed. Now, don’t wriggle. I will release you if you promise to sit still and listen to me.’

      She considered what he’d just said and calmed down. ‘You mean you’ll tell me what you were doing creeping out of the kitchen?’

      ‘I heard banging and wondered at first if it was some misguided traveller, who had lost his way and come seeking shelter,’ he said smoothly, not wanting to frighten her. ‘I had fallen asleep and had no idea what watch of the night it was when I woke. Not wanting to disturb those sleeping in the hall by opening the main door, and uncertain whether the traveller would be a friend or foe, I decided to make for the kitchen door. When I looked outside I realised that any traveller would have to be a madman to be out on such a night.’ His expression was grim. ‘It appears I will not be going anywhere in the morning.’

      ‘The snow might not be as deep as we fear,’ she said quickly.

      ‘Perhaps. I pray so. My enemies will take my land if I am delayed here too long.’ She wondered who his enemies were, but did not ask because he was speaking again. ‘What set you to wandering about the house?’ he asked.

      ‘The wind had blown my shutter loose and woke me up. I managed to fix it. I realised how hungry I was and came in search of food.’

      ‘Of course, you missed your supper. There is still food aplenty.’ She caught the gleam of his strong teeth in the firelight and the arms constraining her slackened.

      She shot off his knee as if stung. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your bed, Lord Mackillin.’

      She put some distance between them by going over to the table and leaning against it. She waited for him to leave the kitchen, but he made no move to do so. Tension stiffened her shoulders and she forced herself to relax and walk over to the fire, where an enormous log slumbered, its underbelly glowing red. She estimated it would last out the night, ensuring a fire would not have to be relit in the morning, a difficult task at times. A few feet away, her favourite mouser twitched in its sleep.

      ‘You remind me of night, all black and silver,’ said Mackillin abruptly.

      His words startled her into staring at him. ‘What did you say?’

      ‘If you did not hear, I will not repeat it.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Sit down by the fire, mistress. I will fetch some bread and fowl. I have slept enough and who is to say that you might not hesitate to knife me if I were to slumber.’ His expressive eyes mocked her.

      Several times he had shocked her by his words, but that he should believe she would stab him as he slept and the idea that he should wait on her were two things not to be tolerated. ‘I would not harm you. Indeed, if you are to extend your stay, you cannot continue to sleep in the hall. You need privacy. As for you fetching and carrying for me…nay, my lord, it is not right.’

      ‘I do not care whether it is right or wrong.’ His tone was adamant. ‘I am not so high and mighty that I cannot serve another. Did Christ not wait on his disciples during the last supper? No doubt the following days and weeks will prove difficult СКАЧАТЬ