Once again, her hooded head gave no answer whilst she clutched the tartan closer to her, as if it offered the security she stood in need of.
“No? Well, I cannot in all good conscience leave you here to fend for yourself. A name then,” he encouraged, “tell me your name?”
“My n-name?”
Dristan heard her whispered words softly teasing his senses. “Aye, mistress, your name. Surely you have one?”
He stood fascinated as the head of the woman swiveled quickly in his direction. For one brief moment he beheld eyes of violet, reminding him of the heather on the Scottish moors. Still he waited patiently for her answer and yet she provided nothing to give her identity away.
Merciful heavens, what was she to do? His words hung in the air between them, and her consciousness frantically screamed to find an answer to give him and quickly! Yet, no rebuttal came to her frozen mind as Amiria stood there in total indecisiveness. She knew she could not allow him to get too close on the off chance he might recognize her, even though her face was clean from the grime and mud usually gracing it these days. ’Twas the words he uttered, haunting her as he had spoken them to her once afore, although she was now in a different guise.
“Somehow, I do not think giving you my name would be in my best interest, my lord,” she said quietly and took but an instant more to gaze at him afore her eyes became downcast. Her mind was racing, thinking of only how to escape the predicament she now found herself in with no horse to hasten her journey.
Dristan gave a soft chuckle at her words. “Mayhap not, but ’twould please me to know it just the same.”
“It matters not to me if you are pleased, so I will keep it unto myself I think,” she retorted sharply.
“I see a task afore me that I might coax it from your lips,” he prompted, taking a step in her direction. For each footstep he advanced, Amiria took one in the opposite direction towards the forest ’til he halted.
“Call it as you see fit, but ’twill still not gain you what you seek.” Amiria watched as he laughed out loud, but she could not find the humor of the situation from her words she had spoken.
“I do so love a challenge,” he argued humorously.
“Do you?” she asked sarcastically. “And what, pray tell, do you achieve if you should know my name, my lord?”
Dristan looked on her with a slight smile set upon his handsome face. “Why I achieve the name of a beautiful woman I would like to know better.”
She contemplated him again, wondering at his ploy. “And how know you I am beautiful with just one glimpse of my face?”
“Anyone with eyes in his head could tell, fair damsel, you are indeed a fine looking woman.”
“They say beauty is not everything, my lord Dristan. Perchance I have a shrewish nature, as I have been told such afore.”
“Somehow, I think not.”
“Do you?” she repeated the same words of but seconds ago.
He interrupted her. “Besides, ’tis not fair you should know who I am, but I am not granted the same.”
“Any and all would be a fool not to know the Devil’s Dragon of Blackmore now claims his lair in Berwyck Castle.”
“Then you have heard of me and my reputation has proceeded me,” he cajoled.
“Aye, my lord, I have indeed knowledge of you.”
“I see you do not fear me, as some do upon first encountering me. Why is that, I wonder, when you in truth do not know my nature?” he questioned honestly.
“I fear no man,” she answered, as she raised her head defiantly with a flip of her head, “or beast for that matter!”
Dristan threw his head back and laughed. It sounded pleasant to her ears. “Well said, damsel. Mayhap in you I have finally met my match! Still you have me at a loss mistress . . . besides not giving me your name, that is.”
She tilted her head as she pondered his question. “How so, my lord?” she whispered softly. Her breath left her in a sudden rush as he began to make his way towards her. She could not breathe, and she could not move. Her sanity left her as she waited for what was to happen next.
Dristan came towards the vision afore him whilst she stood her ground this time. He was impressed how she gazed at him directly, as if she in truth feared no man as she had said. He smiled at her again, noticing the unusual color of her deep violet eyes and saw her startled expression. He hesitated, if only for a second, afore he carefully reached for her hand holding the tartan in place to cover her features. He felt it tremble as the cloth fell away, and he brought her but a step or two closer to his side.
For once in his life Dristan could form no words as he stared down at the treasure afore his eyes. She was indeed more lovely than he had first thought, upon closer examination, and he was not sure how he would be able to let her go now that she was almost within his arms.
She closed her eyes, and he felt the heat of their body’s as he moved her closer ’til they were but a heartbeat away. “Carpe Diem,” she spoke tenderly, as if she were savoring this moment, however brief it may be. She opened her eyes, noticing his further bewilderment at her words. “’Tis Latin . . . it means to seize the day.”
“Aye, I know its meaning. I am just surprised you do, as well.”
“My lord?” she questioned breathlessly.
Dristan continued to view the beauty of the woman, who watched him just as intently, almost as if she knew him. He cleared his musings inside his head and smiled once more at the fair maiden afore him. “You dress with clan MacLaren’s colors and that of a peasant, yet your speech is of a lady,” he answered. The mystery intensified as he felt the slight calluses in the palm of her hand he yet held, giving evidence she was used to hard labor.
“Not all peasants are unlearned, my Lord Dristan, even though ’tis most unusual,” she said, as if stating the obvious. His brow once more furrowed in puzzlement, and he had the distinct feeling she was poised to take flight.
“You give no hint of a Scottish brogue which seems out of place if you are but a peasant from the village, and yet you somehow seem familiar to me as if we have met afore,” he continued tentatively, and saw her give the slightest of smiles. “Surely this is not the case, as I would be hard pressed to forget someone as charming as you.”
“I suppose, coming from the Devil’s Dragon, I should consider your words a compliment, although I find it hard to believe that you give them often,” she teased and gave him an expression that told him she was surprised she had found the nerve to do so.
Encouraged by her words, Dristan urged her closer and was pleased when she came readily into his arms, resting her hands upon his chest. “Tell me your name, ma cherie,” he whispered, bending his head and inhaling the scent of her hair, a smell of the fresh sea air. “’Twould give me great pleasure to have it pass from my lips as we converse together.”
She gave a sweet laugh, making his smile broaden in encouragement even as she shivered at his touch. “Converse, you say? Since you have already mentioned your reputation precedes you, my lord, ’tis hardly likely conversing is all you have in mind this day.”
“I would be lying if I said I do not desire to have a taste of your sweet lips beneath mine and all else you would offer,” he told her truthfully but watched in dismay as the spell that had been woven between them was broken with his words. She stepped away from him, covering her face once more. “Surely you would not deny your lord a simple kiss.”
“Surely you are not wed?”
“Nay, my lord, I am not.”
“Then I do not see the problem if we but share a moment or two of pleasure this morn.” Dristan reached for her again, but to his irritation found only empty arms as she dodged his outstretched hands. Still he persisted in his efforts to know the maiden further. “Come now, do not be shy.
I but wish to know you,” he said, trying again, and got no further than he did but moments afore.
“To what end, Lord Dristan?” she queried tartly, as he watched her become annoyed with him. “I will be no whore for you or any other man nor shall you make me your lady wife. I am but one woman among many to have crossed your path and surely there will be more to follow as you travel about on the king’s business. I will not be used and tossed aside with mayhap a babe in my belly for allowing you to, as you said, share a moment or two of pleasure,” she answered angrily. “Somehow, I think I am worth more than that, although you may not think so.”
Caught off guard by the bitterness in her words, Dristan was about to reply when the sound of racing hoof beats came to his ears and he turned to see the cause. He was put at ease as several of his guardsmen came into view and dismounted with swords drawn as if protecting him from some unseen enemy. He turned back to have further speech with the woman only to find her gone from his sight with only a brief glimpse of her tartan as she disappeared into the forest.
Dristan swore to himself, afore turning towards his men with an enraged glare. Geoffrey sheathed his sword with a knowing smirk set upon his face as did Ulrick and Morgan. Taegan and Turquine began to chuckle but soon stopped with a glare from their lord.
Only Fletcher braved the dragon’s wrath and came to stand next to his lord. “We thought mayhap you made leave of your senses to go riding without your guard. ’Twas most unusual for you to do so, Dristan, but perchance you had a meeting of a more intimate nature,” he dared with a grin.
“I but wished some time unto myself,” Dristan replied sternly.
“I do not think my eyesight was mistaken by taking that form to be anything other than of a pretty young woman. To chance an attack alone is not worth the price for a bit of a romp with a comely wench, my lord,” Fletcher chided knowingly. “Bring her to your chamber if you must or avail yourself to one of the whores already housed at Berwyck. ’Tis much easier to watch your back when we know where you are than if you are missing, and we know not which direction to seek you out.”
Dristan tossed Fletcher a scathing look, causing the man to laugh harder. He dared much and would only have taken the jest from him or Riorden and none other. Knowing he had not heard the last of this, Dristan went to Thor, grabbed the reins, and vaulted into his saddle. As he donned his gloves, he turned to his men with a smile they could only interpret as retribution, coming their way for making sport of their lord.
“Since you men are so concerned with my safety and somehow feel I could not hold my own, we shall ride back to Berwyck and commence to sweating out some valuable time in the lists. Perchance then you will remember who your master is and learn some respect,” Dristan promised dryly.
No one dared to groan, with thoughts of the coming afternoon’s training, with one who would show no mercy, and in unison, they turned their mounts towards home. He allowed himself one brief glance towards the trees where he had last glimpsed his woodland sprite of the forest. He smiled at the memory of how she had felt in his arms and vowed he would somehow find her. What he would do with her when he located her he knew not, but he pledged to himself he would not rest ’til she was his.
Thirteen
“You did well, Lynet,” Kenna praised the young girl, who held the newly made poultice in her hands. “You will do admirably with further tutelage to heal the ailments of the clan or your own family when the time comes.”
“My thanks for your help, Kenna, and for all you have taught me,” Lynet said, her eyes alight with happiness from her efforts and knowing she had pleased MacLaren’s healer.
Kenna gave a slight chuckle at the look of innocence in the young girl’s eyes. “Now go and remember to tell Dougal to keep the poultice on his arm as long as possible to draw out any poison from his cut. I do not relish having him lose a much needed limb!”
“Aye, Kenna. I will remember.”
Kenna watched the youngest daughter of the old laird leave her side and hurry towards the lists where the sound of the men’s training was already in earnest. Crossing the courtyard, she made her way to the outer bailey so she, too, could perchance catch a glimpse of the knight her heart sought after. ’Twas not hard to have him stand out from all the other men in armor, who were busy training this warm afternoon. She could only marvel the heat of the summer’s day did not seem to dull their enthusiasm to show their liege their skill.
Their two horses met midfield with lances splintering on the breast plates of both knights. Kenna had not realized she had closed her eyes at the contact of both men ’til she heard the loud thud of clanking metal as one knight toppled to the ground. Opening her eyes, she realized that, alas, ’twas her most gallant knight, who now graced the dirt. It took everything within her power not to rush to his side. Their eyes met across the distance between them ’til Kenna blushed at the lazy grin Geoffrey cast her way.
Dristan jumped off Thor’s back and came to Geoffrey’s side with a mighty laugh. “And here I thought you held such promise you would remain topside awhile longer and give me a good day’s sport,” he announced merrily. He held out his hand and assisted Geoffrey to his feet.
“’Twas distracted, my lord,” Geoffrey muttered hoarsely.
“What perchance could distract you so?” Dristan wondered. His gaze searched the yard ’til his eyes came upon Kenna near the wall. “Ah . . . I see. I suppose you must needs rest a spell afore you begin again?”
“Mayhap just a short respite, if my lord would indulge me.”
“Make not a habit of it, Sir Geoffrey,” Dristan retorted.
“Aye, Lord Dristan, and my thanks,” Geoffrey said as he quickened his pace to reach Kenna’s side.
“Do not thank me overly much, Sir Geoffrey, for you will train doubly hard upon your return!” he called laughingly.
Dristan shook his head, realizing how his humor had improved since this morning’s encounter with the unknown beautiful young woman from the beach. ’Twas certainly not the norm that he would allow a knight to delay his training just to have speech with a woman who appeared on the lists. There was no doubt he would need to ensure that women be kept to a minimum during these daily rituals or he would be standing alone with no one to train, having his entire garrison seeking out a comely wench or two as they saw fit. He must be getting soft.
His eye’s searched the combatants who practiced and noticed the MacLaren clan was coming along nicely with the moves he had further instilled in their handling of their broadswords. He even had enjoyed swinging Ian’s mighty claymore and had commissioned the blacksmith to forge one for himself. He looked forward to feeling the hilt in his hands so he might, too, become proficient with such a weapon of war.
’Twas while his eyes were scanning the lists that he came upon the form of Aiden, finally emerging from the barbican gate to join the men in practicing their skills. The lad was met by Ian and the two were having fierce words, seemingly not pleasing to Aiden’s captain. ’Twas clear Ian was not about to be silenced by the boy’s argument. Still, their words amongst themselves were not what perplexed Dristan; ’twas the manner in which they spoke, as if they were about some intrigue that was not to be shared.
Dristan was irked due to the lateness of the day, to see the lad so tardy and keeping hours that seemed to suit only himself. The boy finally placed his helmet over his filthy face and then had the gall to raise his fist at his captain while still continuing their argument. Merde . . . did not
the boy ever wash himself? He swore he had yet to see Aiden with a fresh face to actually make out his features clearly.
With thoughts of reprimanding the lad for the filth he continually lived with on his body and to get to the heart of the matter between those two, Dristan reached for his sword. Swinging it afore him, he marveled at the speed in which he did so. It seemed as light as a feather in his hands today, although he knew most would not even be able to lift such a blade as this. ’Twas as if the sword sang to his senses, spinning a web of magic over him so that he might remain victorious. ’Twas a song within him he had heard many a time afore. Even as the sun reflected off the engravings on its blade, it seemed as if the large ruby placed in its hilt winked at him. It whispered to its master to continue seeking the glory due him as the king’s favorite champion and knight.
Sheathing his blade in its scabbard at his side, he went to make his way to Aiden but was distracted by the site of yet another woman on his lists. Mon dieu was he to be plagued all the long day with women who were where they did not belong? He called to Lynet and motioned for her to join him, and saw her slightly crestfallen face as she rose from her aid to Dougal and came to his side.
“My lord,” she whispered shyly, bobbing a short curtsey.
He looked down at her with her bent head. “Follow me,” he ordered harshly, and she fell into step behind him.
He sauntered across the field, whilst his men cleared a path, not wanting to fall prey to his ire. A piercing glare in an unspoken command had all returning to their work with now eager abandon in the hopes their lord would not find them lacking. He strode past Aiden, who quickly turned from him and all but ran to the lists to start his training. Still Dristan continued on past his garrison, who continued to train with various weapons of war. ’Twas not ’til he came to stand afore Kenna that he halted his stride, and with a brief flick of his hand, Geoffrey returned to the lists, as well.