Page 37 of Warrior’s Lady

Travis pressed his sword more firmly against the man's chest, drawing a gasp. "That is for the master to decide and not you. If you value your position here in this castle, I suggest you remember that."

The warrior's face paled and his gaze dropped to the floor. "Aye."

Travis sheathed his weapon. A low-level murmur rippled through the room. "Come, milady," he said, taking her by the arm. "You have us to support you."

Rhiannon gazed at the two big men, and offered them a soft smile. "My thanks," she said, grateful for her new champions. Together, the three of them made their way past the remaining tables, until there was no doubt in Rhiannon's mind that they headed to the high table. Once there, Travis released her arm. Rhiannon breathed a sigh. The worst was over.

She stopped and consciously braced herself before she brought her gaze to Camden's. He looked so different tonight, dressed in a dark shirt and dark breeches with his hair tied back at his nape. He looked tough, sleek, elegant.

"You look well," he said, his gaze lingering on the rise of her breasts as they pressed against the low-cut bodice.

She tried to control her response to him as she remembered the lecture about staying away from him that she'd given herself upon their arrival at the cottage. Her mind might want one thing, but her body responded otherwise. Her breasts swelled beneath his gaze and heat moved through her body in mindless, melting waves.

She forced a calm smile as she approached the empty seat between Camden and Violet. "Good evening, Lord Lockhart, Lady Violet."

"No!" Violet cried, her distress echoing throughout the room. The room plunged into silence. Her chair crashed to the floor. She threw herself at Rhiannon. Tears rolled unchecked down her reddened cheeks.

Rhiannon froze, startled by the little girl's attack.

"Take it off," Violet sobbed, raking her small fingers across the fabric of Rhiannon's dress. "Take it off!"

"Violet, what is the matter?" Camden thrust back his chair, coming to kneel beside his niece. He grasped her hands gently with his own, protecting Rhiannon from Violet's violent attack.

"Violet, what have I done to distress you so?" Rhiannon asked, as she also knelt beside the hysterical child.

"Make her take it off." Violet writhed in Camden's grasp. He pulled her tight against his chest. "That's my mum's dress."

Rhiannon felt the blood drain from her face. "What have I done?" she whispered, realizing the grief she had caused Violet. To her knowledge, the little girl had never truly grieved her mother and father's loss. No doubt she'd been too traumatized by the events to truly do so.

Grief poured from the little girl now. The sound of her wails knifed through Rhiannon's chest.

Camden stared at Rhiannon. She could read the uncertainty in his face. How could she explain the trick Mistress Faulkner had played on her? Would he believe her if she did?

"Excuse me." Rhiannon raced for the stairs. The faces of the people and the names they called her became a blur as her sight fastened on one woman's face. Mistress Faulkner stood near the staircase, a satisfied smile on her face.

A cold sickness settled in the pit of Rhiannon's stomach. Rhiannon stopped before Mistress Faulkner. "How could you do something so hurtful to Lady Violet?"

The woman's gaze flew to the front of the room. "I hadn't thought… I never considered…"

"Next time you want to hurt me, hurt me. But leave Lady Violet out of it. That girl has been wounded enough."

Mistress Faulkner's mouth gaped open, trying to form words, though none would come.

Feeling slightly redeemed, Rhiannon raced up the stairs to her chamber and after fumbling with the lacings at her back, she ripped the dress from her body. She hurriedly put on her old gray dress. She opened the chamber door to find Hamish and Travis heading for her chamber. "We are going back downstairs," she said as she passed them. She needed to reassure Violet that she would never wear her mother's clothes again.

Rhiannon braced herself for the barrage of hateful words that would no doubt come her way. The others might think that Ruthvens were good for nothing. But this Ruthven knew her duty, and would let nothing and no one stand in her way.

Camden stared at the sleeping form of his niece. Her eyes were closed, free from the horror he had witnessed in them earlier this eve. "Are you sure she's asleep?" he asked Rhiannon.

From her position on the opposite side of Violet's bed, she nodded. "Absolutely."

"Will she be all right?"

Rhiannon nodded. "Give her time. She's lost much. Grief comes out in odd ways sometimes."

"You sound as if you know something about grieving."

She dropped her gaze to her hands. "I still miss my mother after all these years."