A Warrior's Perception (10 page)

Pierre whispered,
“
I am sorry, my sweet. Your Da has ended your lessons. Said you no longer needed them.
”

He stepped back into his room,
“
It is good, and I must confess it has become hard to have you in my presence. I have grown very fond of you and your soft hands. I enjoy your caresses far more than a teacher should.
”

Andra cautiously stepped into the room,
“
And there is nothin' left to teach me?
”

He pulled her by the shoulders farther into the room and locked the door behind her.
“
What are ye doin'?
”

“
I do have one more lesson for you although I know I should not go against your father's wishes,
”
he whispered as he swayed towards her,
“
I have taught you how to use your body to your advantage, today's lesson will be a little different.
”

“
Different?
”
she asked as she took another step back.

“
Yes,
”
he purred as he grabbed her arms,
“
Today you will learn that men have needs and women are the cure for those needs.
”

Andra tried to pull away as his fingers sank into her flesh. She kicked at his shins and spit in his face. He laughed and slapped her cheek. She forced herself to look at him in the eye. She was rewarded by yet another harder slap to her cheek. He let her arm go and violently tore at her shirt, the soft fabric pulled free and ripped down the front. Her breasts were visible as he came down on top of her, back handing her until she cried out in pain. He grinned and pulled her to her feet. He drug her into the middle of the room to the wooden table.

“
Feel me, my sweet,
”
he ordered as he took her hand and placed it between his legs.
“
Your maid has made it obvious to my ears how you have wanted me.
”

Her eyes widened in shock as his shaft turned hard and long. She arched to get free of his grip and he slammed her into the table. She fought his hands and kicked his legs. She scratched at his face and drew her hand back to punch him, but he punched first, knocking her back onto the table. He swiftly pulled her baggy pants to her ankles and threw them to the floor.

Her face hurt and her body went limp as he slid his hand between her legs. Her stomach lurched as his fingers slammed inside of the folds that hid her womanhood. She came up fighting and clawed his eye. She kicked him in the gut and he went to one knee as she scrambled off of the table and ran for the door. She screamed as his hands grabbed her waist and pushed her to the floor. His cruel laughter filled the room as he picked up a leather strap and lashed her bottom. She screamed in rage as he pulled her hair and lashed her again. She struggled to stand under the weight of his arm. He jerked her hair and made her stay on her knees.

This cannot be happening! Please Dagma save me from this!

He tied her feet together and slapped her bottom, leaving a red handprint on her bare butt. He jerked her up and flung her to the table. She lost her balance and fell across it. She pushed herself to stand and was slammed back onto her chest. Her exposed bottom flinched in pain as Pierre's hand created multitudes of red welts up and down her backside. Her angry sobs eased as the onslaught stopped.

“
Do not worry, my sweet, I will not break your maidenhead, I will take what I deserve for suffering your touches. I will pleasure myself where it leaves no trace of entry. Our secret will be safe,
”
he feverishly stated as he pushed himself into her backside.

Andra stiffened in pain and screamed as his head entered the forbidden place. She pulled away and grabbed the edge of the table as he slammed hard into her. She screamed as she twisted and tore away. She drew her legs up as she turned onto her back and used every ounce of her strength to kick him squarely into the chest. Pierre fell backwards and she pulled herself upright and untied her feet. Her bottom ached as she squirmed off of the table and landed on her feet. He came up trying to caught his breathe as her fist connected with his jaw. He cursed and backhanded her. She fell sideways and landed with a thud against the wall where training weapons hang loosely from rusty nails.

The weapons and shields fell around her from the wall. Her head pounded as he pulled her to her feet and flung her to his bed in the far corner of the room. She fell to her knees, vaguely feeling her kneecaps rip open. From some far recess of her mind she felt the sword under his bed and grabbed it's hilt. The room was spinning as he grabbed her waist and pushed her onto her stomach across the bed. His hands spread her backside open and he put his shaft into position. He paused as a look of shock crossed his face.

Pain exploded into his groin and he looked down. The edge of a blade penetrated his tender sac and was grinding deeper into his manhood. His guttural scream escaped from his mouth as he stood and grabbed his balls. Andra flipped over and stood. She swaggered toward him with sword in hand. She knew she was going to be sick as blood filled her mouth and coursed down into her eyes. She swung with all her might.

The blade sliced his arm as he dodged it once, twice. The third swing left a trail of blood across his chest. He howled in anger as he charged her. She swung and the blade cut deep into his shoulder, slicing through the skin and muscle, lodging into the bone. Pierre fell to his knee in agony and looked up into the face of his most formidable opponent. He had taught her well, too well it seemed. His vision blurred as he fell forward at her feet. She pulled the sword from his body and kicked him in the face. Her nostrils flared as she triumphantly stepped over him and vomited. Her insides twisted and lurched, emptying itself of all its contents.

As a final note of her anguish, she turned to his twitching form and buried the sword into his stomach. A profound satisfaction filled her very being. How dare any man touch her, how dare any man take from her what should only be given, and if Dagma wouldn’t save her then so be it that she save herself!

With her head held high, she marched out into the morning sun. Her father's men gaped at her naked, blood splattered body. They stared speechlessly at her as she walked to the keep and disappeared from their sight. They looked upon each other silently wondering what had happened. Captain O'Darvin pulled himself together and hurried to Pierre's quarters.

Laird Kagan arrived at Shinonoble at noon. He had come to see his bride to be, a day early, but he was in no state to wait for his woman. An arrogant smile lay upon his lips; he had prepared himself to deal with her wily seductive body. He would be in total control thanks to the vile of potent elixir he had obtained from the local gypsy clan. He dismounted Demon and handed the stable boy the reigns, wondering why he had not been greeted at the gate by the Duncan's guards. No matter, today was to be a day of days.

He walked to the keep's entrance and frowned, still no welcome met his arrival. He entered the keep and knitted his brow, his warrior instinct sent shivers of dismay up his spine. Something was wrong within the keep's walls. He stalked down the corridor and rounded the double doors to the ballroom. His mouth had opened to reprimand Adalie of the disgrace, when his eyes fell upon the mess stretched out on the table.

The table was covered in white strips of bloody linens and an old crone was hunched over a bald man with a thick long mustache. His head was bruised and battered. A linen was tied around his left eye, blood had soaked through and dried on the fabric. The old crone was stitching the man's shoulder the best that she could. Kagan inspected the damage; the wound was to the bone, hacked and sawed beyond repair.

If the man survived the
gaping
wound to his stomach, his right arm would be useless as well as his left eye. His chest and arms were laced with newly scabbed wounds; the blade had been extremely sharp and left no pity in its exit. The old crone coughed as she pulled a stitch tight and tied it in place. Blood oozed down the man's neck and crept down the table, pooling on the stone floor. The man groaned as he bit harder into the small piece of kindling that lay between his teeth.

“
What pray tell has happened here?
”
he boomed to the Duncans who stood at the windows.

Adalie turned to his guard and hastily ordered him to leave at once. Kagan eyed Adalie as the guard left. The crone straightened and nodded at Adalie,
“
Ha'e done all I can, the rest is left up to his will power.
”

The old crone left, leaving Adalie, Crimm, Kagan, and the wounded man behind her bent frame. She smiled as she closed the door and wondered who would pay for this deed. She would hold her tongue and allow the girl to deal with this ordeal as she saw fit. Men were ignorant of a woman's feelings and fears and her old heart wished Andra the best. She was so like her mother, so full of life, and the old crone did not want to see Andra get broken by a man.

She had seen Andra run to her room and had followed, letting herself into the girl’s room. She had told her that if she ever needed solitude, she could find it at the abbey. The nuns there would keep her presence secret if she desired it. The girl had paused only briefly enough to thank the old crone with her eyes. The old crone nodded and had left as quickly as she had come.

Kagan stood with his legs firmly planted to the floor beside of the groaning man and growled at Crimm as he stepped away from the window,
“
Out with it!
”

“
Guston was attacked in his quarters,
”
he forced himself to continue,
“
Andra was there.
”

Kagan eyed Crimm,
“
Where is she?
”

“
I do ‘na know. She ran from the keep yesterday morn 'fore we were aware that this had happened.
”
Crimm dropped his eyes from Kagan's viscous stare,
“
Aran is trailin' her as we speak. He will find her and bring her back.
”

“
Who attacked 'em?
”
Kagan roared at his friend.

Crimm ran his hand through his hair,
“
Andra attacked Guston, Kagan! She did this to him, she's gone mad, and then she ran without explanation.
”

“
She...she was...mag...magnificent,
”
whispered the wounded Guston,
“
She fought so hard and.
”

Kagan's hand went to his hilt and turned to look down at the man on the table,
“
Why did she attack ye?
”

Guston laughed, spurting blood onto his lips,
“
One last lesson. Her body was mine. I beat her. Submission. Took my sword. I took her from ...behind.
”

Kagan's rage filled every inch of his frame; his howling war cry breached the keep's walls and echoed across the hillside as his sword danced through the air. The clang of steel bit into the table underneath Guston and the hilt met Guston's chest. Kagan's wild eyes watched the man drag his last breath in as he pulled his long sword from the table and Guston's body. Blood poured out from the wound and covered the floor under the table. Kagan wiped his sword on the linens beside Guston and sheathed his sword as the blood rolled under his booted feet.