She was in no humor to forgive insolent Saxons, any more than she was willing to consider their overlord an honorable knight. “I haven’t told Sir Nicholasyet.”
The big one’s eyes widened in his plump face, while the thin one blanched.
“I—it was a mistake and we won’t make it again,” the first guard stammered.
“So perhaps next time you’ll think twice before treating visitors to Dunkeathe in that impudent manner. If I hear of such behavior again, I will most certainly inform Sir Nicholas.”
She wouldn’t, of course, because she wouldn’t be here. Later, when she was gone, they’d probably curse her for scaring them, but she didn’t care. “Have you seen my uncle?”
“Yes, my lady. He went to the village.”
She nodded her thanks, then hurried through the inner ward, past the tents and small groups of men huddled together playing drafts and gambling. Others were polishing armor or mail. A few were singing, a rollicking song about a bed and several wenches.
They clearly had as little respect for women as Sir Nicholas, and were likely just as full of base animal desire.
She kept walking until she got to the market square. She scanned the people milling about and looking at the items for sale.
She couldn’t see Uncle Fergus anywhere. She walked a little way through the market, avoiding going near the archer who was still in the stocks. She passed the tavern—full of happy revelers, it seemed—as well as the chandler’s stall, the baker’s, the wool merchant’s and several other stalls, all before she decided it would be better for her to await Uncle Fergus back at the castle. As she waited, she could pack their things ready to leave at dawn tomorrow.
As she returned the way she’d come, she glanced down the alley between the butcher and the baker. Two people were standing close together, whispering and gently kissing like two young lovers.
It was her uncle and Fredella.
Feeling as if she’d been caught eavesdropping, Riona stumbled back and immediately hurried away.
Losh, she knew Uncle Fergus liked Fredella, and while she’d discussed their marriage that very morning with Eleanor, seeing them together forced her to realize just how much Uncle Fergus cared for Fredella. He might very well want to stay until they were wed.
Perhaps Uncle Fergus could stay while she returned to Glencleith. The sheep could be his excuse. Yes, surely, somehow, Uncle Fergus could remain and she could think of an excuse for leaving on her own. Something about the household, maybe. Something she’d forgotten to tell Kenneth…
The tavern door opened, nearly hitting her. As she came to a gasping halt, Sir Percival came staggering into her path.
Grinning like a death’s head, the drunken nobleman straightened. Given his disheveled hair and clothing, she suspected he’d been doing more than drinking.
Before she could go on her way, he stepped in front of her and blocked her path. “Well, well, well, what have we here?”
She went to go around him. “Pardon me, my lord, but I have things to do.”
He grabbed her arm to halt her. “Important things, are they?”
“Yes. Now you’d better let me go or—”
“Or what?” he said with a leering smile as he pulled her closer. “You’ll scream?”
Did this skinny, overdressed dandy think he could intimidate her? What a fool! “Or you’ll regret it.”
“You’re fortunate I find women who present a challenge so exciting, else I could get angry. I’ve heard the Scots are a proud and feisty people. I admire spirit,” he said as he started to pull her into a narrow alley that reeked of piss and dung between the tavern and the chandler’s stall next to it.
“We’re a good deal more than that,” she said, making no effort to halt their progress. Although he had a sword and probably a dagger, she wasn’t the least bit afraid. She’d beentaught to defend herself and was quite ready to do so, and he was so drunk, he could hardly stand.
“You’re damned fetching, too,” he said, pushing her back against the wall.
His stinking breath hot on her face, he leaned forward to kiss her.
“And we’re not afraid to hurt blackguards like you,” she retorted as she grabbed his shoulders and swiftly raised her knee, hitting him hard.
He groaned and, clutching at his crotch, staggered backward. “I’m going to tell Sir Nicholas about you, you…!”
“Please do,” she replied, keeping her eyes on him as she backed toward the entrance to the alley. “Tell him all about it. How you were drinking and wenching in the village after the hunt and then lustfully pulled me into an alley and tried to kiss me.
