Terri Brisbin - The Maid of Lorne

Turning back, he found Lara watching his every move. As she came awake, she seem to realize where she was, and began to struggle with the covers. Before he could reach her, she tumbled off the bed and landed on the floor with a groan. He walked to that side of the bed, but she scrambled away, pushing the cloaks off as she gained her feet. ‘Twas his turn to groan when he spied the small dagger in her hands, pointed at him.

“Lady, put that away. You are in no danger here.”

“I will not…” she whispered. Then her gaze found the crumpled bedclothes and her own disarray. “You cannot…”

When words failed her again, Sebastien took a step closer. She was against the wall in the corner now, with no place to move. He shook his head and waved at her. The dagger wobbled in her grasp. Seizing his chance, he quickly grabbed for her hand and twisted her wrist, causing the knife to fall to the floor. He kicked it away and released her hand before he could do any true harm to it.

“Sir,” she began as she met his gaze. Her sleepfilled eyes were now clear, and he saw that she was completely awake.

“Lady, you were startled from sleep and fell off the bed.” He picked up the dagger from the floor and held it out to her. Such a weapon was truly no danger to him.

“I was in the chair,” she said, accepting it and sliding it back into the small leather hilt on her belt. With trembling hands she pushed her hair back from her face and over her shoulders. “What do you want here?”

A myriad of wants passed through his thoughts in that moment, but none were of a nature that he could speak of now. He retrieved his sword and his own deadly dagger, and opened the door, handing them to his squire.

“I but sought a few hours of sleep here. Now I must go.”

“You slept here?” The confusion in her expression was a sort of reward to him. “’Tis morning?” She’d been so deeply asleep that she had not realized he’d shared her bed. What liberties could he have taken before she woke? His body reacted to the possibilities even as he knew his honor would never permit it.

“Aye, lady.” Philippe stood at the door, so Sebastien bowed and turned to leave.

“Sir? Wait, I pray thee,” she said, walking a few steps closer to him. “I have a request of you.”

He stopped and waited for her words. She had not asked much of him yet and he was intrigued.

“May I visit the chapel?” She took another step toward him as she asked. “I would like to pray there.”

The chapel was a few hundred yards away, between the main camp of the Bruce’s forces and the castle itself. As it had been the site of their wedding, he was surprised she wished to return there at all.

“I could send Father Connaughty to you here if you require his counsel.” It was safer for her than leaving the tower right now. Too many soldiers being cared for in the yard had been injured by her family, and the sight of her might give rise to trouble.

“It is the place that gives me comfort, sir. My mother is buried there and I’ve spent hours praying there. But I understand, sir. I would do the same if I were the victor here.”

Sebastien was not certain at first if her understanding amused, comforted or bewildered him. Then the glint in her eyes gave away her actions. Most women he had met would be moaning and crying, crumpled into a heap after the last days that she’d faced. Yet here she stood, offering him a not-so-obvious challenge to his authority that she dressed up prettily as acquiescence to his rule.

“If my duties permit, mayhap I could take you there before the evening meal.”

“As you wish, sir.” She bowed her head this time, but not quickly enough to disguise the satisfied smile that lifted the corners of her mouth.

In spite of knowing she was manipulating him, and in spite of knowing that she did not return his desires, that small needful part of him hidden deep inside reveled at the chance of sparring with her. Of drawing her back from her fear and hurt into the person she must have been when her father still ruled here. Of such…possibilities.

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