The Devil’s Laird by Brenda Jernigan
Chapter 2
The woman squirmed and struck him several times until he wrapped his arms tighter around her, pinning her arms against her sides. His patience had worn thin. “Och, get still or I swear, lass, I’ll toss ye on the ground myself.”
Roderick realized that the woman had no idea who he was, so he took a calming breath. “I’ll no hurt ye, lass. I’m not one of yer brother’s men. Stop fightin’ me.” Roderick saw uncertainty in one wild, blue eye as the other was swollen. “I’m the one who pulled ye from the hangman’s noose.” Patience wasn’t something he possessed in great quantities and this slip of a girl was trying his patience greatly.
“For Christ’s sake, lass. If I had wanted to harm ye, I’d have left ye to dangle from the end of a rope,” he said, frustrated. “And I’m beginnin’ to doubt the mercy I’ve shown ye.” This woman was going to be more trouble than she was worth, he’d wager. “I’ll loosen my grip if ye will hold still.”
He glared down at her and in a stern voice said, “I’ll have yer promise now.”
Agatha rode up beside them and laid a weathered hand gently on Siena’s arm. “Milady, he is helping us. It will be all right.”
“He is blue! He’s the devil.”
“Nay. He has on warpaint and that is the reason he is blue, milady,” Agatha explained.
At long last the girl relaxed at the sight of her maid, then croaked, “Some water, please.”
“In a minute,” Roderick told her.
Warily, Siena watched the warrior who held her, wondering how she’d gotten in this position when she should have been dangling at the end of a rope.
She remembered seeing a man on a black horse coming through the crowd just before the stool had been shoved out from beneath her feet. She thought it had been the Devil come to claim her, then she recalled her breath leaving her body, and she shuddered at the memory. By the grace of God, she’d been spared. Yet she felt her neck and found it tender to the touch. Apparently, this man had saved her. Now that everything was over, she felt his strong arms around her, and found it comforting. She had no idea why she should feel this way when men had always been trouble in her past.
The intimidating warrior was huge, and his dark eyes were penetrating. She couldn’t help feeling as though he was trying to see deep inside her when he looked at her, but at the moment he wasn’t paying her any attention. “Water,” she rasped again. Her throat was so parched it felt like it was on fire.
At last, the man nodded and nudged his mount over to a clearing in the middle of oak trees. The dead leaves on the ground would provide a good cushion for their tired bodies when they slept.
The sun was lowering, giving a dusky glow the clearing. Only then did Siena notice that there were five other men with them, and they were dismounting too. Who were these strangers? And why had this man saved her? Thankfully, she didn’t recognize any of them. Of course, it was hard to get past their blue painted faces. They would scare the hell out of anyone.
However, her brother’s solders were no better than he was, and she was grateful, but she didn’t yet trust any of them. They appeared to be Scots. They wore red with green and black pinstriped plaids. The tartan pattern consisted of crisscrossed horizontal colors that came to the top of their knees. The rest of their legs were covered in doe-skinned boots. Everyone knew the Scots had no love for the English, so she wasn’t sure she was any better off. She’d learned a long time ago not to trust anyone no matter if they were English or Scot.
A warrior with long, blond hair approached and shoved a soft-skinned pouch up toward her. With trembling hands, she took the pouch and lifted it to her dry lips. The cool water felt like refreshing nectar on her dry throat. “Thank you,” she said as she handed the brown, leather pouch back to the man on the ground.
She turned and looked at the warrior who held her and asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m Laird Roderick Scott, Warlord of Kirkurd.”
She knew the name, but her head hurt too much to think, and her right arm throbbed mercilessly. Perhaps later she could think straight. “I am Lady Siena of Berwick. I know I’m merely a captive, and I’m sure you’re very busy, but my arm really hurts.” She held it up and the throbbing increased. “I see a bandage. Has it been stitched?”
“Nay.” Roderick didn’t bother to look at her, his attention seemed drawn to his men as he added, “We’ll be caring for yer arm once we make camp and get settled, lass. We need to make sure we are safe first.”
Another soldier just as big as the first approached Roderick and held his arms up to help her down, she hesitated until she heard Roderick say, “We will camp here tonight.” He pushed her toward the other man.
Siena felt like a sack of wool being passed around. She didn’t fight this time, but allowed herself to be lifted down, not that she had much choice. The moment her feet touched the ground, her legs buckled. She grabbed the warrior’s arms to keep from falling. “I--I’m so sorry. My legs have gone numb.”
Roderick dismounted. Immediately, he wrapped an arm around her waist. She was surprised how gentle he could be for someone so large. “Ah, wull, ye can lean on me while my men prepare bedding for you.”
Siena was thankful for his assistance. She hurt all over, and her legs tingled with what felt like a thousand needles sticking into them. She flexed her feet not caring one bit for this helpless feeling. Slowly, the stinging stopped, and she felt the blood returning to her legs so that she was able to support herself, however, the laird still had his arm around her for support.
Siena quickly glanced around. The campsite was ideal as it had a cliff behind them with tall oak trees around the clearing providing them with good protection. The cold air whipped around the cliff, causing her to shiver. She wished she had her woolen cloak.
“I—I’m grateful, sir, but still a little confused,” Siena said looking up at Roderick. She almost gasped at his dark eyes. Surely, they were not black, but they definitely didn’t show any emotion. “How did you come to be at Berwick?”
“I came to kill yer brother, lass,” he said with very little expression. Maybe his eyes were black after all and cold. “But I found ye had saved me the trouble, so I took you instead.”
“But I am worth nothing.”
“I didna take ye for ransom. You did me a favor and the verra least I could do was bring ye to safety. I’m pretty sure ye were not safe at yer home.”
“My brother was a true bastard,” she said with a shrug, her cheeks turning pink for boldly speaking her thoughts.
Roderick gave a bark of laughter. “Of that you and I agree. Did yer brother give ye that black eye?”
She nodded. She liked the sound of his laughter. Laughter wasn’t something she’d heard often in her lifetime.
“I promise ye somethin’ like that willna happen to you again.” He motioned toward two red plaids, woolen blankets spread across the ground. “There is yer bedding. Has the tingling stopped? Can ye walk now?”
“Aye.”
“Ah wull, we will go and wash off the warpaint while you both get settled.”
Agatha moved over to where they stood. “You are shivering. We’re lucky Laird Scott and his men arrived when they did. He saved you from being hanged; a minute later and you would have died.”
Siena followed Agatha to the pallet of blankets where they both sat down. A campfire had been built in the center of the clearing with the beds arranged all around the fire. Already she could feel the much-needed warmth from the fire. Agatha had brought a couple of wicker baskets and placed them beside her.
“I am so glad that my brother didn’t kill you,” Siena said with a sigh. “He told me you were dead.”
“Your brother only knocked me down. I wasn’t worth killing to his mind.” Agatha shrugged. “Begging your pardon, milady, we are better off without him.”
“I’m sure we are,” Siena agreed. She opened the basket next to her, but she only saw food. “You didn’t happen to bring my cloak, did you?”
“I did.” Agatha reached into a soft sack and pulled out the purple cloak. “A bit wrinkled, but I’m sure it will shake out once you have it on.”
“I don’t care about the wrinkles. I want the warmth.” Siena gratefully wrapped the cloak around her, and then glanced around at the dense forest. “Where are we going?”
“To Laird Scott’s holding. Like he said, you wouldn’t have been safe at Berwick, so I begged him to take us with him, or should I say myself because I was sure he was taking you.” Agatha laughed. “You know, milady, he hasn’t let go of you until we arrived here at the clearing and you started hitting him.”
“I do recall him saying he was going to toss me to the ground.” Siena smiled. “I’m glad he didn’t. I’m not sure I could take many more bruises today.” Her dark eyebrows slanted in a frown. “You know, I’ve never felt at home in Berwick. Do you suppose the Laird’s castle will be any better? Will we be accepted?”
“Laird Scott seems smart, milady, and strong. His people will accept us. I’m thinking of it as a new beginning.”
“His name sounds familiar but, at the moment, I cannot place his holding. Are we not his prisoners? It would seem so since my brother was his enemy.”
“I—I’m not sure, milady,” Agatha said. She reached into one of the baskets and produced a couple of blankets, which she set to the side. “Lord Roderick hasn’t treated us as such. I’m sure he’ll take care of us. I know he appears fierce, but I don’t sense the same cruelty like your brother had buried deep in him.”
“Perhaps,” Siena said in a not so convincing manner. She had lost everything. What man would want her now? She wasn’t too sure she needed a man especially if he was like her brother. Hadn’t her brother always told her how plain she was, and no man would want her? And what would she do at this other holding? She sighed. Could her life never be simple?
She wanted somebody to love her and care about her, and most of all she wanted to feel safe. Agatha was the only one who had ever taken an interest in her. Siena’s mother had died with her twin brother when she was born, so she’d never had a mother’s love, and her father had believed she was the cause of her mother’s death.
Evidently, something was wrong with her when her own family didn’t love her.