Chapter Eleven

The hall went silent when Prudence entered, much as it had when she'd arrived. Men toyed with their beards while they contemplated her with much the same looks she imagined they'd use on a hen at the market, while the women who were serving slowed to a standstill to stare at her over their pitchers and platters.

The dress lady Alice had given her was made of silk. It was delicate and ill-suited for anything except being presented. The garment was performing perfectly, making a spectacle of her.

Something snapped inside of her.

Let them look. She was too hungry to allow their silent judgement to keep her away from the table. Food had never smelled so good. Not even on a feast day.

The scents overwhelmed her, making her mouth water. Fresh bread. Hot porridge, which was different because it had oats in it. Fresh diced apples, and a pitcher of morning ale.

She could already taste it.

Prudence took a step toward an empty seat on a bench, but everyone was suddenly shifting and rising because the laird and Lady Alice had arrived. The men reached up to tug on their caps while the women lowered themselves into little curtsies.

"Be at yer ease," Laird Hay said, releasing them to return to breaking their fast.

There was another round of scuffling as benches and chairs moved on the stone floor. A retainer pulled back a chair for Lady Alice, but she stood until her husband sat down. Laird Hay nodded, reached for his cup and drew a long sip of his ale.

Then he caught sight of Prudence. Laird Hay lowered the mug, his eyes narrowing. He swept her from head to toe before the sound of his mug hitting the top of the table cut through the conversation in the hall once more.

"That dress is ill-suited to winter weather," Laird Hay declared. "Ryesen, take the lass above stairs and get her dressed sensibly before I have to shoulder more guilt. 'Tis bad enough I have to suffer, knowing her parents worry about her fate."

Beside him, his wife bristled. "It is a most suitable dress for a wedding."

Laird and lady locked gazes. Everyone in the hall froze, waiting to see what the laird would say. Prudence was no different, for it was her fate that Cormac was about to decide.

"Winter is not the season for weddings, wife." Laird Hay's tone was congenial, unless one looked close enough to see the pinched look around his eyes.

"It is always a good season to see to honor," Lady Alice answered sweetly.

But no one missed the undercurrent of tension in the hall. Several retainers took to stroking their beards because it allowed them to cover their faces and keep their expressions secret.

"My son Dugan…" Laird Hay spoke slowly, to ensure that his words were heard clearly. "…has stated that there was no misconduct between them. I trust his word. There is no need for a hasty blessing since the girl is here and there is no worry she shall be cast out of her father's house into the grip of winter. As me son, Dugan's nuptials will be a celebrated event."

Lady Alice didn't argue further.

Laird Hay looked past Prudence and made a gesture with his hand. Someone immediately reached for her elbow.

"Come away now, the laird has spoken," Ryesen said, pulling harder when Braylin remained rooted in place.

She was starving…

She was so hungry, she couldn't think straight. But a second woman rose, making a little scoffing sound in the back of her throat, and together with Ryesen, managed to drag her out of the hall.

"When the laird speaks on Hay land, ye do as he says," the other woman grumbled. Prudence remembered her name as Niamh. "One would think ye learned that lesson last night in the storeroom."

Prudence's belly rumbled in response. Ryesen heard it, but she pressed her lips into a firm line, refusing to have compassion for Prudence's plight.

Whatever that snap of rebellion had been inside of her, Prudence suddenly realized that it had caused the dam of restraint to break, allowing defiance to flow through her. She pushed the first woman's hand down her arm. The action earned her an incredulous look from the maid.

"I have not eaten a true meal in three days," Prudence informed her. "Surely changing my dress can wait until after I break my fast."

"The laird has spoken—" Niamh pointed at her with a grim look on her face. "I'll push ye right out of this hall like a sheep if ye prove stubborn over the matter."

Prudence whirled around, facing off with the woman. "I've had quite enough of being pushed about by the Hay."

No one was more shocked than Prudence herself.

But it felt so very good to speak her mind.

"Is that a fact, mistress Braylin?"

It was Laird Hay who asked the question. So intent on the two women trying to push her out of the hall, Prudence hadn't noticed how quiet it had become. Once again, everyone was watching her, including Laird Hay, who stared straight at her from the high ground.

Well, let them stare!

Laird Hay was contemplating her. As master of the house, he most certainly expected obedience from her and yet, she simply seemed unable to duck her chin and give it to him.

"I warned ye, I did…" Niamh snorted. She came toward Prudence, her arms stretched out wide, as she might do if dealing with an unruly piece of livestock.

Prudence felt her body tense. The impulse to fight, something she'd had to quell when Oran stole her away from her family, suddenly flared back up. This time, she didn't need to fear her family members being cut down if she failed to be submissive. She'd never given in to the urge to fight in her life, but she wasn't going to be separated from the meal laid out on the tables without a struggle.

Jus as the woman made to charge at her, someone slid between them. Prudence ended up with her nose nearly pressed into Dugan's back.

She recalled his scent.

She straightened up, recoiling because Dugan's scent sent a flash of sensation through her. It was bright and intense, like lightning cracking open a black sky in the middle of winter.

Dugan reached behind him, capturing her wrist in a firm grip. The instant connection made her feel as if she'd been hit by a bolt of lightning. Dugan must have noticed her agitation because he stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb.

The two women who had been trying to force her out of the hall shuffled back as Dugan began to walk back down the center of the aisle. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his cap in respect toward his sire and laird.

He'd surely heard his father's command.

Yet he turned and made his way toward a bench with enough space for both of them. Everyone was still silent, which meant that the bench feet scraped loudly against the floor when Dugan adjusted it.

Laird Hay was watching them. He was turning his mug around in a little circle, contemplating them. Dugan reached out, taking a round of bread from where it rested on a platter in front of them, tore a portion off and set it neatly in front of Prudence.

Laird Hay grunted, then turned his head, catching Erin in his sights. "Fetch the girl something to put over that dress to keep her warm."

Erin looked toward her mistress, but Cormac snapped his fingers at her. She jumped, dropping into a curtsey before she turned so fast, her skirt spun out in a circle, flashing her ankles and shins. Cormac glanced around the hall.

"The lass is no' the only one starving…" Laird Hay grumbled.

People resumed eating, the sounds of cutlery on plates rising up to fill some of the silence. Conversation was much slower to begin as everyone looked between the high ground and the place where she and Dugan sat.

Dugan continued to pluck items from different trays and put them on the plate in front of her. He didn't look directly at her though.

Prudence's cheeks were warm with leftover adrenaline after the scene she'd just caused, but she was far too hungry to do anything but eat. She reached for the food, feeling clumsy because she was moving too fast, but she couldn't seem to tame the need to stuff it into her mouth.

Dugan offered her a pottery mug, proving he was very aware of everything she was doing. That turned the heat in her cheeks into a full blush.

"Thank you," Prudence muttered.

Dugan turned his head and their gazes met. The connection she'd felt at the bonfire was still there, making her feel as if she was looking at a lost part of her soul. Dugan's eyes narrowed slightly, almost as though he felt the same way.

There was a scuffling behind Prudence, and he broke the connection to see who was arriving.

"Forgive me for taking so long." Erin was slightly out of breath, proving that she'd run most of the way. "If you'd stand, mistress…"

Erin held a sturdy looking surcoat, and proceeded to help Prudence put it on over her dress.

"It is almost a shame to cover ye up lass," Dugan muttered softly. "Summer seems a very long time away now that I know how truly fetching ye are when not swaddled up in dull-colored clothing."

Fetching…

Her cheeks were truly on fire now. Yet for the first time, she didn't feel any shame…even when Dugan motioned the maid away and buttoned up the coat himself.

It was overly bold.

And a statement of his claim on her.

Once he'd finished, he raised his gaze to hers. Prudence felt her world shifting. It was a level of intimacy she'd only ever shared with him. But this was no fleeting moment of frivolity that she'd walk away from and never return to. Dugan was making a very public statement in front of his clan.

Which meant the only way she was going to be free was to convince him to help her return home.

*

Alice lifted her cup up to hide the way her lips were curving.

She would have preferred to control her expression, but she was simply too happy with the display Dugan was making.

It was perfect.

Beside her Cormac grunted, "Dugan! I have need of you today."

Her husband's voice bounced down the aisle to where his bastard sat. Dugan turned his head, reaching up to tug on his cap in response to his father's command.

But Dugan also turned and looked at the English girl before he left her side. Cormac growled softly beside her when he saw it.

Everyone else saw it, as well. That was the truly important part. Dugan was helping Alice to weave a net that would trap him into marriage with the girl. All Alice had to do was make certain an opportunity arose to push the two together.

An unexpected pang of jealousy hit Alice. She worried her lower lip, recognizing that Dugan seemed to be genuinely attracted to the girl. Caring for her just flowed naturally through him, unlike her own union which had always been awkward and forced.

She shook her head, reminding herself that pity wouldn't get her anywhere. Her parents had made a very excellent match for her and although her union lacked affection, her husband never slighted her in public. No, Cormac would save his personal remarks for when they were in private.

She was in a good place in life. And maintaining that state was something she had to keep up, eliminating any obstacle that might change the way things were. Luckily, in this case, altering Dugan's destiny was not all that hard….

*

There were some things which were the same, regardless of which side of the border a person was on. Prudence discovered that like any house, the Hay stronghold had numerous tasks that had to be dealt with, and since the winter days were shorter, everyone needed to pitch in.

Prudence had barely finished watching Dugan walk toward the high ground and his father before Ryesen came back, demanding Prudence follow her. It was time for them all to get to work.

Prudence went along contently enough, following Ryesen to a room where linens were kept. Here women were ironing the bedding, something that needed to be done carefully for cloth was expensive, and fine bedding overly so. Scorching it wouldn't do.

"Since ye've been fed, ye can earn yer earn yer bread," Ryesen informed her.

"This is not a work dress," Prudence argued.

"It will be a lot colder walk back to yer father's house in that silk." Ryesen pointed at the linens. "Or do ye prefer the storeroom as a way of ensuring that I do not have to suffer Dugan's ire when ye are found missing?"

Prudence glared at Ryesen, but the woman didn't appear to care. In fact, Prudence had a feeling that Ryesen would likely enjoy locking her in the storeroom again.

Prudence picked up a linen and laid it on the table, while Ryesen watched with a critical eye. Once she was satisfied Prudence was capable of doing the task, she moved on, leaving Prudence to deal with a large pile of sheets and cloths.

It was a strange sensation. The work felt familiar—she'd often done the same thing at her own home. But her mind kept reminding her that she should not be at ease where she was.

So where did that leave her?

Outside the snow had started falling. It was magical in its way, so pristine and crisp. It came down in thick clumps, covering the yard in no time. The silk dress would end up being her shroud if she ventured outside in it.

"Ye won't be smiling so happily at the snow in another few weeks," Niamh remarked.

Prudence turned to look at the woman who had tried to force her from the hall that morning. Niamh had her fists propped onto her ample hips, a look of malice in her eyes. But Prudence wasn't going to allow herself to be mistreated. She'd had enough of that already. So she fixed the woman with a steady look, refusing to cower.

"It is a fine sight when I have been working with a hot iron all day," Prudence said, hoping the woman would think she was settling in and no longer needed watching.

Niamh dropped a huge basket full of root vegetables onto the floor between them and sent Prudence a sour look. "Since ye find the snow so very pleasing, ye can take that over to the outer storerooms."

The other women working nearby suddenly all became focused on their tasks. No one wanted to venture outside the walls into the cold gloom of early evening while the snow was blowing.

Prudence looked back across the yard. There was an older, square tower there. "Where is the storeroom?" Prudence asked, needing better directions.

"Beyond the tower, go to the wall. Down on the far side, ye will see the door. Best get going. The light is fading, and supper will be on the table soon. Now that it is snowing, the head of house will be putting out less fare," Niamh added.

In other words, if she was late to table, she'd go to bed with an empty belly. Darkness was approaching too. The woman didn't seem to have even a smattering of shame over sending Prudence off into the evening shadows.

Perhaps there was a cloak or more arisaids in the storeroom…

Prudence bent down to pick up the basket, trying to hide her enthusiasm. If supper was on the table, and Dugan was still about the task his father had given him, she might well make her escape. The way the other woman had treated her only solidified her determination to leave.

The basket was heavy, filled with vegetables that still smelled like the earth, their skins still dusty from the ground they had been pulled from. In the last few days before the first freeze, there would have been a flurry of effort from everyone to get every last bit of harvest out of the ground before it was lost to the grip of winter's icy hand.

The kitchen and storerooms were nearly bursting with bundles and baskets like the one she carried. Now it was time for the women to sort it all, placing root vegetables such as these deep inside stone walls where they would stay nice and firm until needed.

After she went outside, Ryesen pulled the door shut behind her.

Prudence felt the snow crunching beneath her feet. Only the top was frozen, with powdery snow underneath—the sort that the wind could carry in white streams like the fall of petals in early spring.

But it wasn't spring yet, and the wind bit into her, finding the place where the collar of her surcoat was just a little too big for her neck and snaking down inside to chill her back.

Doubt nibbled on her resolve, but she shook it off. There would be something to wrap around her head inside the storeroom.

Prudence hurried toward the older tower, but the door was closed now to keep the heat in for the animals, forcing her to keep going around the corner and then along the side of it. Sweat popped out on her forehead and wet her hair at her temples but then the wind hit it and she shivered.

Once she emerged from the shelter of the old tower, she felt the full force of the wind. Somehow, it seemed as though it was blowing harder now that the light was fading. The darkness seemed to intensify everything that was so very normal during the light of day.

How many steps had she taken from the old tower?

How many left to go?

She squinted, trying to make out the wall. The wind blew full in her face, causing the moisture in her eyes to stiffen and freeze. This dress really was ill-suited to winter weather. When she'd been inside, she really hadn't noticed how thin the fine, soft blue silk was. Now the wind cut through it, making her feel as if she was wearing nothing but her shift.

And that powdery snow that she'd found so whimsical when she'd first stepped out into it was now coating her ankles, making her clench her teeth together to keep them from chattering.

Her footsteps crunched as she continued in the snow but finally, a few steps further, she saw the wall. Like so many stone walls, this one was darkened with time and the relentless weather. But at least she'd found it. She walked down the length of it, looking for the door.

When she finally found it, Prudence set the basket down so she could work the latch. It was stiff and sturdy, sticking tight when she tried to open it. By the time she'd managed to open it, there wasn't a hint of light left in the sky. Thankfully, she caught a glimpse of a candle left in a holder near the door.

With a happy smile on her face, Prudence reached into a little pottery dish sitting nearby for the striking stone inside. Her numb fingers didn't make the process simple but after a few strikes, brilliantly bright sparks fell into the little bowl to ignite the straw there. Prudence was quick to turn the candle over and hold the wick in the little flame before it died away.

Light was such a magical thing.

Prudence watched, letting out a sigh of relief as the wick caught, then brightened into a warm, welcoming flame. It cast a circle of light, showing her a space inside the walls. As she replaced the candle and picked up the basket, the wind blew the door closed behind her with a thud. She felt instantly warmer with the walls there to provide shelter.

Looking around, Prudence was thrilled to see piles of goods surrounding her. Everything she'd need to make her escape was there, and the darkness which had tormented her moments before now meant she'd be able to leave before anyone thought to look for her.

Hanging off a hook were more arisaids. She took one down and started to pile fruit into it.

She took a moment to wrap herself with the remaining arisaids before gathering up her bundle. Prudence muttered a quick prayer before she tugged the door open. Only to find Dugan standing there, looking at her.