The Lord's Right (9 page)

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 the
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 woods, 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.

King 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?” King 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. 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.

Several things happened at once: the
soldiers behind Troy 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. 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.

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 King 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!” King William
bellowed from his position less than two feet away. Amber had never
seen a man blush so, and she knew Piers 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?” King 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.”

“
But why did he speak
about her virginity, and you not having it?”

“
Because I claimed droit
de seigneur, Your Highness. I told the men that, if any of them
were going to marry Amber, that I would deflower her on their
wedding night.”

King William gave Piers a questioning
look. He’d never known this man—above all men—to have his head
turned by a woman. Most thought him quite monkish, although those
were the types who didn’t know him very well. Selective was a
better word.

But was this a politically expedient
thing to do, to stake such a claim on an English girl, to prevent
her from marrying a Norman soldier that would obviously be
advantageous to herself and her family in the coming
years?

King William was a man of action. “Sir
Piers, I believe that this situation needs to be rectified
immediately. I said before you should take an English wife, and
you’ve already claimed a right to this one’s virginity. I believe
that the best way to address it would be to see the two of you
married as soon as possible.”

The hall, which had already begun to
bustle with activity, despite the remainder of the drama that was
playing out, ground to a halt. Every foot on the rushes, every
cough, every breath could be heard as all eyes fell on Sir
Piers.

To his credit, he didn’t look quite as
thunderstruck as he might have, and all he said was, “Yes, my
liege,” as King William sauntered away, and it came out in only a
slightly strangled manner.

This time, when he turned to Amber,
the look on his face was entirely different from what it had been,
and she knew that the tender feelings she’d thought he might
possibly be harboring for her had truly never been. It was as if he
wished it was her head that was going to be decorating the entrance
to the castle instead of Troy’s.