Chapter Twenty-Four
How many days had Lyall been gone? Too many. Out in the yard, Giselle watched the children chasing each other with wooden swords, pretending they were great warriors. She dearly hoped Lyall was not doing the same with a real sword against the Gowans. According to Ravenna, the Gowans were no match for Cormac and Lyall and their clansmen, but still, she fretted. Ravenna, on the other hand, seemed curiously indifferent to the fact that they had gone to fight her half-brother’s men. But then, she had long since cut ties with her family, when they had cast her off in marriage to Cormac, and clearly, Ravenna’s loyalty now lay with Clan Buchanan.
Since Lyall had ridden out, Giselle had been in a fever of worry for him, longing for his return. When he came back, she would be so good to him. Her face burned at the thought of the things he would do to her and how much she would enjoy them. How she longed for Lyall’s kisses, the smell of his skin, the knots of his muscles under her hands and the feel of him inside her, so hard, so potent. Soon he would be her husband, and she could have him, all day, every day. What a wanton thought.
Little Ross got knocked onto his backside by a bigger boy and started to cry. Giselle rushed over and hauled him onto his feet, dusting him off.
‘Don’t cosset him, he needs to learn how to be a man,’ sneered Ramsay from where he leant against the wall of the keep, picking at his nails with a knife tip.
‘Can he not be a child first, Ramsay?’
‘That is the weak, English way, but here, in the Highlands, it will not serve him.’
Giselle was about to bite back at him, for she was learning more defiance every day, now that she had Lyall at her back, but she stopped dead.
Horses, many of them, clattering over the bridge. Lyall was back!
She ran toward the gates with a big grin on her face just as a party of men poured through. But they were not Buchanans. They were strangers, soldiers, heavily armed, and she didn’t recognise any of them, save one.
‘Did you miss me, Giselle?’ His voice was like a fist to her gut.
The children scattered out of the way of the horses’ hooves, and Giselle spun around and ran as fast as she could, but Banan was off his horse in an instant, catching her by the hair, tearing her backwards and off her feet.
Ramsay ran over to help her with his knife drawn.
‘Deal with him,’ snarled Banan, and a group of soldiers fell upon Ramsay, punching and kicking him to the ground. Giselle heard the crunch of feet on bone, and Ramsay, hopelessly outnumbered, could do nothing but curl up into a ball to protect himself. They would surely beat him to death if she did not do something.
‘No, please leave him, no,’ she screamed, but Banan had hold of her tight, so tight in fact that she feared he would tear her scalp from its skull. The pain made her clutch at his hand, but he did not loosen his grip until he had dragged her back to his horse.
He flung her to the ground. ‘Stay down, or I will kick you until you vomit, girl, and then I will slit his throat before your eyes.’
Through a blur of tears, Giselle saw Ravenna run out of the keep and stop in horror, at the sight of Ramsay, bloodied and moaning on the ground. She glanced at the soldiers and at Banan. Some of the other Buchanan’s were starting to gather around and stare and mutter. Ravenna put a hand out to stop them coming closer.
‘Who are you?’ she said, her voice firm.
‘Banan MacGregor is my name, woman. Who are you?’
‘I am Ravenna, Laird Cormac Buchanan’s wife and Lady of Beharra. What right do you have to do this, on my husband’s land?’
‘Ah, so you are Cormac’s bitch. Well, Lady, I have the right to do anything I like, and I am taking this woman here, by the King’s order. Anyone who tries to stop me will be hanged for treason.’
‘King’s order is it? If that is so, I have a right to see it?’
‘If you must.’ Banan waved a hand, and one of his men ran to Ravenna and handed her a parchment.
‘Can you read, bitch,’ he said, spitting his anger onto the ground. His grip tightened. Giselle had to bite her lip to stop herself from screaming. ‘See, it has the King’s own seal upon it.’
Ravenna tore it open and, as she read it, she frowned. She looked towards Giselle with a stricken face. ‘It says here he has a right to take you, Giselle, as a hostage of war, by order of King Robert. We are to give you up or face the consequences.’
‘And you can imagine what they are, can’t you, Ravenna?’ smirked Banan. ‘Get in my way, and I will take the women of your clan and give them to my soldiers for their amusement, and then, I will take your children and feed them to my dogs.’
‘Where are you taking her?’ asked Ravenna, going pale.
‘Hold your tongue, and your questions, it’s no concern of yours.’
‘Very well, but, if you must take her, can she not fetch her clothes, her belongings?’
‘Giselle need take nothing from you Buchanans. From now on, I will give her all she wants, and some things she does not want as well.’