Daughters of the Dagger 04 - Amethyst (15 page)

Chapter 15

Amethyst sat next to her husband during the meal, glad he had busied himself talking to his father instead of trying to talk to her. She knew he was still angry at her for calling him names, but he deserved it. No lord had the right to take women and children prisoners and she intended on doing something to remedy that as soon as she was able.

At least
for her uncle’s sake, she’d managed to calm the workers by paying them and got them to agree to go back to work. She knew she was overstepping her boundaries by paying them their wages – and right in front of Marcus – but she only did it to help all involved in the situation. And he didn’t seem angry with her, as he had actually thanked her.

“H
rmmph,” she said aloud, thinking of how he’d told Benjamin never to thank anyone who was only doing their job. She’d been hiding behind the stables watching them practice when she heard him say that. She knew she should never be spying on her husband, but she also knew he would only put on airs if he had known she was watching him practice.

She wanted to see him in his true colors, and she had. She’d almost laughed aloud when Matilda agreed that he was acting like a horse’s ass. And it made her heart soar to know that he really did care what she thought about him, tho he’d preten
ded like it didn’t matter.

“What did you say?” asked Marcus, turning toward her. Once again, they were sharing a cup and trencher, although Matilda was sitting next to her. Still, Marcus had insisted on sharing since they were married. She knew he did it just to spite her, since he knew it bothered her that he always ate most the food before ever offering the trencher to her. But oddly enough, she noticed that he pretended to be talking to his father for most the meal, leaving the trencher directly b
etween them instead of in front of himself. He’d only eaten after she’d had a good amount. And he’d yet to touch the wine, though she’d put the cup back in front of him each time.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, picking up the cup and drinking from it. She handed it to him and he took it from her, t
heir hands brushing together in the process. Just like the first time they’d shared a cup and their hands touched, she once again found a wave of excitement running through her.

She wanted to lay with him – as husband and wife – more than anything right now. S
he’d missed him dearly, as she’d been sharing a bed with Matilda instead of sleeping at his side. But she would wait until he asked her once again to return to their bed. And he hadn’t. She was starting to regret her outburst, and telling him that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be married to him.

She pulled back her hand and once again, out of habit, looked down to her naked fingers. She really regretted giving him the ring back, now. As that ring had made her feel special, and now she felt like she was back to being naught more than a fixture of the room, and getting less attention from him than he gave his hounds.

Almost as if they could read her mind, two of his hounds came up and nuzzled him in the elbow. They were right between his leg and hers, and as they wagged their tails, they thumped against her.

“That’s my babies,” he said, reaching down with both hands and petting them. As he got his face close to them, they reached up and licked at his face. He smiled, obviously enjoying it, and she wondered if he’d enjoy it if she were th
e one licking his face instead.

Then he reached over to the trencher, and brought it in front of the hounds, causing them to whine and wag their tails furiously, about bruising her leg in the process.

Just as they were about to grab it in their mouths, he pulled back and looked at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my wife. Were you finished with the food?”

She was sure the dogs had already salivated on it, and she wasn’t going to be able to eat anything more if he gave it back to her and the dogs sat there devouring her with their hungry eyes.

“
I am finished,” she said, getting up from her chair.

He hurriedly gave the trencher to the hounds, then stepped over them to join her.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked.

“Why?” she answered. “Did you perhaps need me for something?” She was secretly hoping he would ask her to dance. Not that she really enjoyed dancing, but it would give her a reason to be in his arms
again. She longed to feel his touch as well as the heat from his body once more.

His eyes drank her in, and she noticed that look of lust
within his gaze that she’d seen the day they made love. She felt an instant tingling flit across her skin, and a fluttering sensation in her chest and stomach. She was sure by the intense way he was looking at her that he would at least ask to escort her on a walk.

“Nay. I do
n’t need you … for anything. Not really. That is … unless you need me for something?” he asked.

She did. She needed to feel intimacy. She needed a hug
and a kiss and to mend the problems between them. But she wasn’t going to admit it.

“I thought I’d take the prisoners some food,” she said. “So nay, I don’t need you … that is, unless you wanted to come along with me to the dungeon.”

His eyes narrowed at the mention of prisoners and the dungeon, and she knew she’d said the wrong words in possibly trying to make amends.

“The dungeon is no place for a lady. The servants can take food to them
instead.”

“I’d rather check in on the women prisoners and the child myself. After all, I am the wife of the man who is holding them captive, and it’s the least I can do to offer them a bite of food and some ale, as well as a few words of comfort.”

“God’s eyes, woman. They are prisoners, not guests at the castle. They don’t need comfort.”

“Then I am guessing that means you won’t be coming with me?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she spoke.

“That’d be a good guess, my dear. Now do not let me stop you from spreading your … words of comfort.”

She didn’t wait for him to dismiss her or to say anything else. She
picked up her skirts and ran from the dais, and headed to the kitchen to get what she needed. She’d bring the food to the prisoners, and while she was there, she’d survey the situation. Because, if her husband wasn’t going to do the right thing where the prisoners were concerned, then she would do it for him. And as soon as she got inside the dungeon, she planned on figuring out a way to help the prisoners escape.

*

It wasn’t long before Amethyst was entering the dungeon with the tray of food and a goat skin filled with ale in her hands. She entered into the outer room where the guards sat watch. She stopped for a second to let her eyes get accustomed to the darkness within.

“Hello?” she called, seeing a guard jerk to an upward position upon a chair, and she realized he had been sleeping.

“Who goes there?” he said, jumping to his feet and pulling his sword from the sheath at his waist.

“’Tis Lady Amethyst, wife of Lord Marcus,” she called out, scanning the small room for other guards. When she found none, she realized they must be
at dinner, and this would be a good time of day to break out the prisoners. Especially if this was the time the guard took his nap.

“Lady Amethyst,” he said with a slight nod, put
ting his sword back. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” She t
ook a few steps closer to him. “I was just bringing the prisoners some food and ale.”

“Aye, what do you have there?” he asked curiously, reaching out to sample the food on the platter. She pulled back a little.

“This is for the prisoners,” she said. “If you’d like some food, go ahead and get something to eat in the great hall.”

“I am not allowed to leave my post,” he told her. “Not until the other guard returns. But you can just leave the food here and I’ll give it to them.”

“If you don’t mind – I’d like to do it myself.” She needed to get inside and see the prisoners, and also figure out a plan of escape. “After all, there are women and a child in there and I need to see if they are hurt.”

Just then the child started crying from within
the cell, and the wailing echoed loudly off the stone walls. The guard pursed his face and held a hand to his ear.

“If you can do anything to keep that bastard from crying, then by all means, do so.”

Amethyst watched him reach to his waist where he kept the key to the dungeon door. He put it in the lock and turned it, then opened the iron grate. “This way,” he told her.

He led her into the dungeon. It was dark and dreary and very damp. The child’s cries echo
ed off the walls eerily, and Amethyst swore she saw a rat run across her path in front of her. The guard stopped outside the door to the women’s cell. “Just hand them the food through the bars,” he said.

“Oh, but … I need to check to make certain the wo
men and the child are not ill.” She needed to get him to open the door. Then she’d know which key was for the cell.

To her surprise, he used the same key to open the cell door. Wonderful, she thought, as this would make it easier when she tried to steal the key later.

“Just be fast,” he said, closing her inside with the women and the child. “Call me when you’re ready to leave, as my ears can’t handle this bloody crying anymore.”

The guard left her there and went back to his post. She looked up at the women. One was older
, and the other two were nearly her own age. And the baby was a boy only about a year old.

“I have food and ale for you,” she said
with a slight smile, trying to comfort them.

They stood back from her with wide, frightened eyes. One of the younger girls was holding the baby, and the older woman rushed over and en
compassed the girls in a protective hug.

“Dinna harm them, m’lady, I beg ye. They are only young lassies and a wee bairn.”

“I’m here to help you, not harm you,” she said, putting down the tray on a wooden bench. She picked up a hunk of bread and handed it out to the girl with the baby. “He sounds hungry. Mayhap if he ate, it would stop his crying.”

The girl looked at the older woman, an
d tried to bounce the baby. “Mathair, may I give ’im some food, as ’e really needs it?”

The older woman surveyed Amethyst with a leery perusal, then reached her arm
forward, but far from her body and grabbed the bread and held it up to the baby. He took it in his hands and gnawed at it eagerly, his crying stopping instantly.

“There’s enough for all of you,” she said, motioning to the platter with her hand.

“How about us?” came a voice from the cell next to her. “We are starving as well.”

“Of course,” she said, rushing over to the platter and handing food, then ale through the bars to the men. The women came forward slowly, and she handed food to them as well.

“Who are you?” Amethyst asked. “I mean – what clan are you from?”

“I am th’ wife
of Laird Muirfinn,” the older woman said with a nod of her head toward one of the men in the opposite cell. “And these are me daughters and the wee bairn is me son.”

“Are you from the Highlands?” she asked.

“Nay,” laughed a man from the other cell. “Lassie, the Highlands are to hell and gone from here. We are a border clan. We’re Lowlanders.”

“That’s right,” said t
he older man proudly. “We are the Kerrs.”

Amethyst looked at their red and green plaids, thinking of her own ties to Scotland.

“My mother’s cousin, Clarista married a Scotsman,” she told them. “But he was a Highlander.”

“A Sassenach
married a barbaric Highlander?” asked the laird. “Hah! She was probably taken as their prisoner. Just like us. The Highlanders are barbarians. They’re nothin’ like us.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever met one, but I do believe Clarista was very happy with the man she married. Actually, her own son married a Eng
lishwoman, so I guess perhaps they are not all as barbaric as you say.”

“What is the name of this man
that she married?” asked the older woman.

“Well, her son’s name is Storm MacKeefe. And his father is Ian MacKeefe. Perhaps you’ve heard of them?”

“Och, lassie! Dinna tell me you are talkin’ about The Highland Storm?” asked the Laird.

“Yes, I do believe that is what they called Storm MacKeefe for some reason.”

“Because ’es a raving lunatic,” the old woman spat. “All the MacKeefes are fearless and wild and known to be …”

“Known to be what?” she asked curiously, looking at all their astonished faces.

“
Madmen,
” answered one of the young girls. “We’ve heard it growing up our entire lives. Stay away from the Madman MacKeefe.”

“Your time is up,
” called the guard from down the hall.

“Just another minute, please,” she called back.

Then she leaned over and whispered into the ear of the older woman. “I plan on helping you escape.”