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Authors: Spring Stevens
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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
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
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