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Twelve
With the dawning of the new day, Dristan rose, dressed quickly, and made his way down to the Great Hall. There were not many who stirred as yet this early. He went to the kitchen, grabbing but a loaf of bread and some cheese to break his fast. He had much on his mind this morn and did not relish company.
Making his way to the stables, he went to Thor’s stall and noticed the exceptional job Aiden had performed yester eve. His critical gaze took note of Thor’s shining coat and he assumed the boy had brushed it to its now lustrous sheen. He grabbed Thor’s bridle and trappings and had his horse ready in no time. Leaping into the saddle, Dristan left the security of the castles walls and made for the beach. ’Twas something he had longed to do for many se’nnight’s since he had first seen the lady in the mist gazing out serenely upon the ocean waves. Thor seemed to sense his master’s need for a taste of freedom, and tossing his head he lengthened his stride, putting the castle far behind them. His hooves thundered upon the sandy shore, and clumps of the disturbed sand marked their way across the strand.
Dristan let the stallion race along the shoreline with no thought of attempting to slow the steed to a slower pace. He became one with his horse whilst the scenery of the countryside flew by his vision in a blur. ’Twas the first time in a while he felt at peace, with no thoughts to his future or the responsibilities of the new castle and lands to now hold securely in the name of his king. With the taste of the salt air on his lips and the wind whipping through his hair, he was content to have only his own thoughts inside his head. At least there, no other would harp at him or try to tempt him into their bed.
The unwelcomed thoughts of Lady Sabina made him realize how far in truth he had traveled in such a short time and he could only marvel at Thor’s stamina. He should breed the steed to a fitting mare so the line could continue with the blood of newborn colts. With only a slight tug on the reins and a slight pressure of his knee, Thor slowed his pace. Dristan turned his mount into the direction from whence he came and took in the view.
Sitting there, he fully surveyed his surroundings for the first time. The castle was well in the distance now, but still appeared impressive situated on a high cliff. If it had been anyone other than him and his army, they would have been hard put to penetrate its defenses. He planned to reinforce the walls where he had found weaknesses so no other would ever take by force what now belonged to him.
Thor stamped his hooves in the sand impatient to be on the run again, but Dristan only gave him a pat on the neck and continued holding the reins loosely in his gloved hands. The sun chose that moment to peek from beneath the clouds and the sand came alive as if ’twere covered in sparkling diamonds as far as the eye could see. The water shimmered whilst the waves crashed into the shore and even the trees of the nearby forest looked as if they, too, were shining a little brighter from the dew drops caressing each leaf.
Dristan was about to let Thor have his way and let the beast fly his way back to the security of the castle, when a slight movement by the edge of the forest caught his eye. He blinked once and tried to refocus his vision ’til he noticed a person lying wrapped securely in a MacLaren clan’s tartan. He watched in fascination as the person stretched and unfolded and the unmistakable form of a woman became abundantly clear.
Apparently, the woman had not realized she was no longer alone. She rose from her bed on the sand and began to shake the tiny granules from her clothing and hair. Finally, in frustration, she grabbed both ends of her tartan, which she had used as a cape of sorts, and raised it above her head, shaking out the contents that had found every fold to hide in. ’Twas only as she settled the garment around her head and fastened a broach to keep everything in place that she chose to at last look up, and a startled expression crossed her face.
Dristan gave a brief smile as he took off his gloves, dismounted, and made his way towards the woman, knowing Thor would remain where he was left. The closer he came, the more pleasantly he was surprised, ’til she pulled the tartan close about her features. Although only allowed the slightest glimpse of her face, this woman appeared as an angel with porcelain skin, a neck as graceful as a swan’s, and high cheekbones. A small pert nose and lips begging to be kissed were now hidden by the plaid she used to conceal her appearance.
His hands would no doubt be able to span her small waistline; her breasts were not overly large but he knew they, too, would fit well within the palm of his hands and then some. Her hair was the color of flames or the sky just as the sun was about to set as a few loose tendrils blew in the ocean’s breeze.
She shifted her feet in the sand in indecision, and he noticed no shoes covered her feet, which even appeared perfect to his eyes. Surely there must be some flaw with the girl, Dristan thought to himself but he could find none. First the lady in the mist had consumed his thoughts, and now this woodland nymph had come to confuse him even more. Mayhap he could hope the damsel was not wed or spoken for.
“A good morn to you, mademoiselle,” Dristan said, with a slight bow. “You are far from the village so early. Mayhap I can offer my assistance and see you back to your dwelling?”
A negative shake of her head was all Dristan was awarded, and he watched as she took several steps backwards towards the haven of the trees behind her.
“Come now . . . I mean you no harm, mistress, as I am lord of yon keep,” he declared with a wave of his hand towards the castle. “As a knight of King Henry’s realm, I fear you must humor me as ’twould be most unchivalrous to leave one so lovely unprotected to the elements of both man and beast alike. May I escort you to the village perchance?”
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.
