Page 16 of At the Highlander's Mercy
‘But you are right, Symon. ’Tis wrong for a prisoner to expect to be treated as a guest. When I have no need for her, she will work in the kitchens.’
She could not help it—she gasped at his crude insinuation and his command. Work in the kitchens? She would not. Lilidh began to walk away when she found her path blocked by Dougal. ‘I am not your servant,’ she said to Rob and she faced him.
‘You will do what you are told to do, lady,’ Rob ordered as he approached. ‘You will do it when you are told to do it. Or I swear that I’ll be delivering your dead body to your father once he arrives.’
In spite of not believing he would harm her, the sight of his fists clenching and opening, clenching and opening, made her take a step away. She began to back up until Dougal blocked her path and she could go no further.
Was this was a Rob she’d never known? Unpredictable? Dangerous? Was whatever leniency he’d granted her the day and night before over now and did she face him as an enemy this morn? And she was not only alone, but also very overwhelmed and confused. Unable to stand up to him in strength or power, she did the only prudent thing in this situation.
Lilidh dropped to her knees and bowed her head.
If every foul word she’d ever heard or overheard tried to force its way onto her tongue and out of her mouth, ’twas no fault of hers. Keeping silent at a time like this went against every fibre in her body and soul, but she was no fool. Staying alive to fight another day in another way was her plan. If it required her to swallow all those curses, then so be it.
For now.
Rob grunted from somewhere above her. He grunted! Then Symon seemed to copy the sound. From being raised around so many egotistical, proud, strong men, she recognised it as the sound men made when their pride was satisfied. When she dared to raise her head a bit, she watched as a satisfied smirk found its place on the face of the lovely Lady Tyra. Before she could think more on that, Rob spoke again.
‘Dougal, take her to the kitchens. She can begin there now.’
Dougal’s strong hands wrapped around her shoulders giving her more help in rising than was apparent to others, but she felt it. Once on her feet, he tugged the rope and led her from the hall. They talked about her as even she left and could still hear them.
‘Are you satisfied now, Symon? She will be worked from morning to night in the kitchens and then serve me in my bed,’ Rob said.
She so hoped Symon would not speak again, but from her short experiences with the man, she understood he would never give up the chance to have the last word. She prepared herself for something vulgar.
‘I am glad that you, at least, followed my advice on how to treat her, Rob. Tame her with a strong hand andkeep riding the bitch until she cannot walk. It’s all she or her father will understand.’
Fury and pride waged a war within her. How dare they speak of her and of such things about her! Lilidh was about to stop and reply to the lewd words, but Dougal chose to give a real and hard yank on the rope just then and she stumbled forwards, staying on her feet her only thought. Laughter erupted around her. She dared a last glance back as they reached the doorway.
It was a hall divided. Though most of the men laughed, the women sat silently, directing looks of pity in her direction. More than one woman whispered something to her man which caused them to stop laughing. Only one group continued to call out, encouraged on by Symon. His friends, no doubt, and those responsible for capturing her at his side.
Another tug on the rope from Dougal and she shuffled along, limping as she went. If they all chose to believe it was from Rob’s treatment of her, she was not about to disabuse them of that notion right now. A prisoner, a hostage, needed to use whatever tools were at her disposal.
They made their way down the back corridors until they reached the kitchen. It bustled with people carrying out tasks to store and prepare food for the clan. Men, women, even boys, moved quickly in and out of the noisy room, all under the direction of an even-louder, huge man who wielded a large wooden spoon like a sword. When he spotted her and Dougal, he shrugged and frowned.
‘What is this, Dougal? Are you going through my kitchen to reach the dungeon now?’
The cook.As she thought.
‘She’s to work here, at the laird’s orders, I’m afraid, Calum,’ Dougal replied.
‘What am I to do with a lady in my kitchen? Did he think about that?’ Calum asked with the attitude of a man in charge who did not want interference from anyone. From the tone, she knew he did not expect an answer.
‘Here now, Calum,’ a woman interrupted. ‘I will see to her.’ The woman walked to the cook’s side and whispered something to him. Her words seemed to calm him, for he nodded several times before speaking.
‘Siusan will take her, Dougal.’ He motioned her away. ‘Any other orders from the laird, then?’ She knew not of a cook who appreciated any visitors or disturbances in their kitchen and Lilidh almost smiled at how closely Calum fit the mould.
Dougal shook his head and followed Siusan away from the main area. Still tethered to him, she went, glancing around the hustling place. They stopped before a large table in one far corner.
‘Give her to me,’ Siusan said, waiting and watching Dougal. When he held out the rope, the woman shook her head. ‘What good does a bound servant do me, Dougal? There is no task here that doesn’t use her hands.’
The stout woman placed her hands on her hips and stared Dougal down as Lilidh watched. Clearly, it was not something he’d considered on their way here.
‘She is a prisoner, Siusan. Not to have the freedom of a guest. Do you understand?’
‘Aye, Dougal,’ she said in a tired voice. ‘We have all heard about the laird’s plans for her. Work her here, work her in his bed.’ Lilidh blinked quickly, fighting back both a laugh and a retort. News travelled quickly, but even faster through the servants in a keep.
Silently, Dougal untied her hands and coiled the rope back up and pulled it onto his shoulder. She met his gaze for a moment and knew he was not amused. But, truly, what could he do? Or rather, what did he need to do? With her maimed leg, she would not be running away. In this place filled with Symon’s cronies who thought nothing of hurting her, where would she run?
