‘He died defending the castle.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘Oh,’ was all she said.
‘If he’d had any wits in his head, he would have surrendered and saved many lives on both sides. Now eat, fill your belly.’
Giselle took some bread from him and scurried over and sat before the fire. She was almost on top of it, but still, he could see her shivering. Lyall sat down beside her, wincing as he did so. How his muscles ached, and what a joy it would be to get her to rub them until the pain eased. That would probably terrify her to death and scandalise her beyond all measure.
He laughed aloud to himself, and she regarded him fearfully.
‘There is a chair for you to sit upon,’ she said resentfully.
‘Aye, but I prefer being roasted by the flames down here, where there is something bonnie to look at.’
‘Don’t linger on my account, for I have nothing to say to you until you agree to release me.’
‘I cannot, I will not, and I don’t want to,’ he replied, enjoying the feel of the warm bread in his belly. ‘You are my prize, remember, and I want to enjoy my victory.’
‘Prisoner, not prize.’
‘Aye, that as well.’ He quaffed some wine, straight out of the jug and offered it to her.
‘I should not.’
‘After surviving a siege, I think you deserve it. Fear not, I’ll not get you in your cups and take advantage of you. Truth be told, I don’t think I could, as I am too tired and can barely move.’ He circled his neck back to ease the tightening in his shoulders and hide his lie.
‘Are all Scots as disgusting as you?’
‘Aye, we are. Drink.’
She looked him defiantly in the eye and snatched the jug from him and put it to her lips. But she flung it back too quickly, and it was full and ended up spilling out all over her.
‘Damn!’ she shouted, as the wine made its way down her chin and onward, to her neck, trickling down into the cleft of her breasts.
Lyall laughed heartily. ‘What a waste of good wine, woman,’ he said, leaning forward to wipe it away. When his fingers met her skin, she jumped back as if he had struck her.
Lyall held up his hands. ‘Forgive me. I could not help myself.’
How she glowered at him as the wine spread in a dark stain down the front of her dress.
‘You need to take that off,’ he said lightly.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yes, you do, it is soaked and filthy.’ He got up and went over to the chest again. He pulled out another of Edric’s shirts. ‘This is big, but it will preserve your modesty, and the dress will dry by morning. Have a quick wash in that bowl over there, and then get into bed, for I am tired, and I need sleep.’
‘Wash, with you looking on! Get into bed, next to you! How dare you suggest such a thing.’
‘I said wash, Giselle. I’ll not share my bed with a filthy woman who stinks of wine.’
‘I am sure that’s just the kind of woman men like you, prefer.’
‘Well, I can’t argue with that. Look, I will turn my back while you wash, if that salves your virtue, and, as to sharing my bed, that is so I can feel safe and be assured you won’t creep up on me and try to murder me in the night.’
‘And why would I do that, seeing as you have treated me with such chivalry?’ she muttered, under her breath, but he heard her.
‘I’ve treated you far better than you deserve, lass,’ he said, dragging her over to the bowl and filling it for her.
‘Now wash, and I will turn my back, I swear.’