Droit De Seigneur (8 page)

“What did I say to you not too long ago about staying close to the castle, Amber?” She had forgotten. She really had. There had been so much hustle and bustle with the King arriving shortly, and she just couldn’t stand it any longer. Amber had made sure she’d gotten everything done that she could, helping everywhere she could, but she needed to escape for a while, just one last time, knowing she’d be pressed into service in every possible way while he was here, so she ducked into the woods to swim and bathe while she thought no one would miss her.

Of course, he would notice, and she would end up punished, as always. It seemed he never missed a chance to blister her for one reason or another. Sir Piers punished her three or four times more often than her father ever had.

She shuddered to think what he was using on her now. Amber could feel the welts rising individually each time his arm fell, and, as usual, she was crying almost before he’d begun spanking her. It annoyed her to no end that she had so little control of herself around the person she wished she had the most control! Her emotions seemed so scattered with him, and it was as if he knew her body much better than she did – how to deliver it searing pain and unbelievable ecstasy, sometimes in the same instant.

It was in the middle of this disciplinary session that they heard thunderous hoof beats, and before they knew it, they were descended upon by a large army of men bearing the King’s crest, and then by the King himself, who stepped to the forefront and required that his men, who found the scene to be quite comical, step well back into the woods.

William, who knew and liked Piers quite well, walked down to the shore, where both of his subjects were on their knees to him, one quite prettily but unintentionally giving him a very nice view of English scenery, indeed.

“Rise, rise, the both of you.”

Piers did so immediately, handing Amber her new tunic and shoving her behind him to don it quickly.

Amber was shaking so badly that it took her five times longer than it might have, because she knew the King of England was a mere ten feet from her.

When she was done, she barely peeped around Piers, wanting to sink to her knees again, but William wouldn’t hear of it. “I see you’ve found a fair English flower with whom to occupy yourself, Sir Piers. And what an interesting occupation it is.” He smiled broadly. “Please introduce me.”

When Piers drew her towards the King, his hand strong and steady on hers, his strength infused her, and she became more of herself and less the frightened maid, despite the ignominious circumstances.

She met William with a deep curtsey, but squarely, not shrinking from him, proudly, as she should. Piers was very proud of her, knowing it was hard for her, especially considering the scene he’d stumbled upon.

He drew her up with one hand, kissing the back of hers. “I had concern that there was a maid in distress, but I had no idea just how distressed. Tell me, Miss Amber, were you deserving of the punishment Sir Piers was administering?”

Amber colored beautifully, and both men found themselves heartily admiring it.

Piers’ heart was in his throat at her possible answer, but she surprised him, as he should have known she would. “By the letter of his law, yes, Your Majesty.” The King was pleased at her answer, nudging Piers in the ribs. “Ho, this one has a bit of the devil in her, does she not, Sir Piers? I’ll leave you to the beating then. It seems she’s in the need of one.”

He left them laughing, which Amber thought, with a King, was probably a good thing.

She had hoped, against hope, it seemed, that that would have been the end of her spanking, but Piers was too strict for that. After they heard His Majesty’s men all laugh – on her account, she was sure – and gallop away, he finished her off, quickly and quite viciously, sure that the sounds of their own horses’ hooves would drown out the sounds of her screams and his sword gracing her bottom.

“When I tell you not to go into the woods, my flower, then you are not to go into the woods, until I lift that ban.” He rained down several last swats, but kept her in position, quite liking the natural bond her hair made when under his foot. “What did I just say?” How did he know how much she hated to repeat things back to anyone, like a child forced to recite lessons? She hesitated just a second too long, and got more for her trouble –

more swats, more pain, and a much hoarser throat.

“Amber?” he asked, when he stopped again.

“Wh- when you say I’m n- not to go into the w- oods, I’m not t-to go into them un-until you lift the b-ban, Sir.”

He let her up, but didn’t free her; instead he swooped her up in his arms and threw her up onto Tygan, kicking the horse into a gallop. “Tell me if you know a way to get us back to the castle before the King.”

She wasn’t sure, but they just made it a few minutes before His Majesty, long enough for Piers to change into his best, and Amber to do her best to fade into the woodwork of the servants, keeping herself busy enough to forget what had just transpired between herself, the King, and Sir Piers.

The King was met with all manner of ceremony. The villagers showered him with flowers and clapped and sang his praises, which fairly astounded him. They were the cause of his lateness to the castle. He could speak of little else when he first arrived, having been much less warmly received everywhere else he traveled. Piers knew he had Amber to thank for this, but he could hardly tell King William that, so he accepted the King’s accolades for himself.

They closeted themselves away for the afternoon, going over the plans for the new castle and its fortifications. The King would travel to the site himself and inspect the construction while he was here, once he’d recovered from his trip. Tonight there would be a great feast that would last for several days; the castle smelled of the meats and pies and breads that were baking for the occasion, as well as the sweet smelling rushes and herbs that graced the floor.

The feast began at dusk, with entertainments, jesters and musicians, and Sir Piers and the King sat at the high board, along with Bruce, and Fitzwilliam.

William leaned over to Piers and commented, “This place suffers from the lack of women, Sir Piers. Where is your Josette?”

He told the King that he had sent for her, but she hadn’t arrived. In truth, he hadn’t thought much of Josette since he’d become involved with Amber, except to request her presence, and it was probably a good thing he had or he was going to end up becoming entirely too wrapped up in her. Amber might make a good mistress, but Josette would be the proper wife he needed.

“What about that wench I saw you with earlier?” William’s elbow was wont to find its home in Piers’ ribs. “Amber, was it? She’s quite the comely wench, and it looked like you’d done quite a good job on her bottom.”

“She’s become somewhat of a healer around these parts. All of my men swear by her.

And, despite what you might think and what you’ve seen, I understand she’s quite virtuous.” The King looked taken aback, and quite disappointed, at that pronouncement. “A healer, you say? And virtuous, at that? Mayhap you shouldn’t wait for your Josette, Sir Piers, but take an English wife, instead!”

This had the whole hall laughing, just when Amber entered the room carrying a basket full of bread. She’d been pressed into service in the kitchens, where it was utter chaos, because it was one of the most dilapidated parts of the castle and they were trying to not only feed an army of men, but to feed the King himself, which demanded a boatload of the best quality foods available, and armies of servants to serve them.

Several of the girls were filling the men’s cups, for the umpteenth time already this evening, with mead, some, like her, were distributing the food. She knew most of the people she was serving, and the majority of them were nice to her, or at the very least, polite.

The only one who gave her trouble was the one she expected to do so: Troy. Every time she came near him, he reached out and did what he always did to her – he grabbed her breasts, or pinched her bottom, or both, and she was just about ready to break out that little blade she always wore and relieve him of one or more of his digits to make him think twice about doing so the next time she came around with a roll or a ladle of stew.

This time, he turned around on the bench and put one hand on her breast, and reached up between her legs with the other.

Despite what Sir Piers had said, most of the men appreciated what Amber had done for them, helping them with their ailments, and they did not appreciate Troy making an ass of himself annoying her. A lot of them leapt to her aid, but unfortunately, in the fracas, Troy located the band on her thigh where she now kept her knife, slipped it out, and had it at her neck before she could prevent him from doing so.

Troy dragged her into the middle of the hall, knocking down the acrobatic tumblers and stepping on midgets, pulling her up before Sir Piers and the King, poking the tip of the blade against her neck while they watched. “Here’s your precious whore, Sir Piers.” Piers watched, his entire body tense as a single drop of Amber’s red blood dripped down the short blade. He’d faced enemies in battle before, but he’d not expected they’d come from within his own ranks to threaten his own. He could see how terribly frightened she was, and anger welled up inside him such as he had never known.

No one threatened that which was his and lived, and she was more his than most.

“I’m going to kill her right now, right in front of you, so that no one will get her precious virginity. Not any of those mewling guttersnipes, and especially not you!” Troy looked directly at Piers as he raised the blade to plunge it into Amber’s neck.

Chapter Six

Several things happened at once: the soldiers behind where Troy had Amber in his clutches stormed towards him, en masse, ever present weapons of all sorts raised. But they were much too slow, in comparison to both Sir Piers and Amber, and the King, surprisingly. Sir Piers had already climbed over the table and had reached Troy, ready to rip the man apart, muscle from bone, tooth from gum, nail from bed, eye from socket.

Amber, however frightened, wasn’t standing idle, either, though. She had begged her father to teach her the basics of how to fight, and, much to her mother’s consternation, he had done so. It was going to serve her in good stead today. Instead of concentrating on the fact that Troy’s arm was at her throat, and the fact that she couldn’t budge it, she did what she could: she brought her foot down hard on his instep, and, at the same time, elbowed him viciously, as hard as she could in the ribs.

Troy hadn’t been expecting an attack from her. He was looking wild eyed at everyone else around him, yes, but certainly not her. She didn’t really look the part.

By the time she’d finished with him, Piers was on him, and, within seconds, there was very little left of Troy Seville. Piers was still punching the body long after he’d killed the man, and Amber sank to her knees next to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, touching him for the first time voluntarily. “Sir Piers, your hands. Let me bandage them for you.” They were more bloody than actually hurt, but they were definitely scraped from crushing bone.

Piers responded to her when he wouldn’t have to anyone else. He’d lost himself in a haze of red that had nothing to do with the blood that pooled around him. When he felt her small hands on him, he turned, and the film faded, to be replaced by her concerned face.

Only he was the one who should have been concerned about her, rather than the other way around. He could see the mark where that bastard’s blade had cut her; there was a stark streak of blood down her neck that she didn’t seem to care about. She seemed to be more worried about him; although he wasn’t sure he quite believed that.

He stood, taking her with him, not sparing the ruined body another glance as he turned, surprised to find William directly behind him. His men descended on the corpse, and he threw a glance over his shoulder, “I want his head on a pike at the entrance to the castle.” But Piers’ eyes were only for Amber. He inspected carefully, despite the fact that he knew she’d had just as much to do with disarming Troy – perhaps more – than he did. “Are you all right?” He dampened the edge of his own best tunic in wine to wash away the blood on her neck, revealing a small wound, refusing to allow her to leave the circle of his arms the entire time.

She stood stock still, very surprised at his overt attention, especially for such a superficial wound. He was staring at her so intently that she had to lower her eyes. “Yes, Sir.” What was that warm feeling that flooded through her body? It was at least as intense as the vortex his hand created between her legs, but wasn’t quite the same thing. Amber felt almost faint, her legs threatening to fall out from under her for the first time in her life when she thought of the way he’d looked at her, and the gentleness with which he’d touched her.

“Are you sure?” He looked truly worried, his brow furrowed as he stared down at her, paying absolutely no attention to anyone or anything else around them, including the King, who wasn’t used to being ignored. Piers took his time watching her return her knife to its warm sheath next to the skin of her right thigh, sincerely wishing that was his home, too.

“SIR PIERS!” William bellowed from his position less than two feet away, not happy at having to do so.

Amber had never seen a man blush so, and she knew he was none too happy having done so. His hands dropped from around her waist as if he’d been burned, and he presented his back to her, which had her immediately calling into question those burgeoning warm feelings she’d had for him seconds ago. “Yes, my liege.”

“What was that business the dead man uttered about this wench’s virginity?” William reached a long arm around Piers, which was no mean feat, and brought Amber, who had been trying to remain as anonymous as possible during their exchange, up to stand beside Piers.

Sir Piers cleared his throat, but stood his ground, squaring his shoulders and answering in a clear voice. “Troy, like many of men, was intrigued by her charms. However, the maid disliked him, and even went so far as to push him into a fountain when he took liberties.”