Ginny barely had time to steady herself. She was
covered in mud and spit. The shock was starting to wear off and the
anger began to set in. She was attacked, without provocation, and
Ginny sensed that they would not have stopped until her head was on
a pike. With the fear of that possibility, came more
anger.
“WHAT the hell was THAT,” she
screamed at Ian. Although she knew logically that Ian had saved
her, not just this time, but before with the men who kidnapped her,
he was the only other person in the room to rail against. Her face
was red, she was sweating from the anger and fear, and she needed
to release the stress or go mad with it. Unfortunately, Ian didn't
understand this.
“Don't yell at me, wench. I dinna
spit or throw rocks at ya.”
“No. You just forced me to come to
this God awful place, where men throw rocks at women for no good
reason. Where it's freakin' cold and smells and where I'm
hated.”
Ian looked shocked. Did she really think of
his home at God awful? Could she really be mad at him for saving
her from certain death if he'd left her behind? This girl needed to
learn her place and fast. The sun was setting, so he knew it was
time for her to go to bed and cool off before he dealt with her
again.
“Ya will come with me, NOW!” he
screamed at her, grabbing her arm and dragging her to a small room
off the great room. He threw her inside and turned to say, “Ya will
stay here until morning, Lady Chatham,” spitting her name out as if
it disgusted him to say it. “We will talk in the morning.” And with
that, he closed the heavy wooden door and locked it.
Ginny looked around. The room was no bigger
than her walk-in closet at home. There was a small window, situated
high up the wall that provided little light. She could see some
straw in the corner and a blanket on the only piece of furniture in
the room, a wooden chair. The room had no bathroom, only a
chamberpot in the corner and no where to wash off the spit and mud.
This would be a grim night indeed.
Ripping off the bottom of her chemise, Ginny
used it to wipe off her face and arms. It smelled so bad, like this
room was used for animals. For all she knew, it probably was. Dogs,
maybe. She sat on the chair, shaking from head to toe. If this was
a romance novel, it was the worst ever. All the books she read did
not have situations as awful as hers.
Looking over the blanket and straw, she
couldn't see any fleas, but would she see them in the very little
light she had? Ginny wrapped the blanket around herself and laid
down on the straw. Exhaustion over took her and she feel asleep.
Tossing and turning most of the night, the only sleep Ginny got was
filled with nightmarish dreams about her head on a pike.
* Chapter 11 *
The next morning, after getting no
sleep, Ginny was in the worst mood of her life. She couldn't
remember feeling this bad when her beloved grandmother died. It was
worse than defeated, it was utterly glum. She had heard the door
being unlocked early in the morning, before there was even enough
light to see the door.
Once the sun began to shine into
the small window, she decided to venture out. The small room was
beginning to feel more like a tomb, where she should have expired
during the night. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.
Ginny was grumpy, thirsty, hungry
and pissed. A bad combination for anyone to be around. She walked
to the great hall of the keep, in search of some water. On the
table, there was a pitcher and several goblets. Ginny walked over
and smelled the contents of the pitcher. Thank God , she thought as she poured
herself some water.
She drank several glasses and sat
on the bench of the long table. She was too absorbed in her own
thoughts to notice that Ian, Alec and Broderick had all walked into
the room. She began to pour herself some more water when Ian scared
the breath out her by speaking.
“What are ya doing?” he asked in
his usual menacing voice.
Christ, I now have to ask
permission
covered in mud and spit. The shock was starting to wear off and the
anger began to set in. She was attacked, without provocation, and
Ginny sensed that they would not have stopped until her head was on
a pike. With the fear of that possibility, came more
anger.
“WHAT the hell was THAT,” she
screamed at Ian. Although she knew logically that Ian had saved
her, not just this time, but before with the men who kidnapped her,
he was the only other person in the room to rail against. Her face
was red, she was sweating from the anger and fear, and she needed
to release the stress or go mad with it. Unfortunately, Ian didn't
understand this.
“Don't yell at me, wench. I dinna
spit or throw rocks at ya.”
“No. You just forced me to come to
this God awful place, where men throw rocks at women for no good
reason. Where it's freakin' cold and smells and where I'm
hated.”
Ian looked shocked. Did she really think of
his home at God awful? Could she really be mad at him for saving
her from certain death if he'd left her behind? This girl needed to
learn her place and fast. The sun was setting, so he knew it was
time for her to go to bed and cool off before he dealt with her
again.
“Ya will come with me, NOW!” he
screamed at her, grabbing her arm and dragging her to a small room
off the great room. He threw her inside and turned to say, “Ya will
stay here until morning, Lady Chatham,” spitting her name out as if
it disgusted him to say it. “We will talk in the morning.” And with
that, he closed the heavy wooden door and locked it.
Ginny looked around. The room was no bigger
than her walk-in closet at home. There was a small window, situated
high up the wall that provided little light. She could see some
straw in the corner and a blanket on the only piece of furniture in
the room, a wooden chair. The room had no bathroom, only a
chamberpot in the corner and no where to wash off the spit and mud.
This would be a grim night indeed.
Ripping off the bottom of her chemise, Ginny
used it to wipe off her face and arms. It smelled so bad, like this
room was used for animals. For all she knew, it probably was. Dogs,
maybe. She sat on the chair, shaking from head to toe. If this was
a romance novel, it was the worst ever. All the books she read did
not have situations as awful as hers.
Looking over the blanket and straw, she
couldn't see any fleas, but would she see them in the very little
light she had? Ginny wrapped the blanket around herself and laid
down on the straw. Exhaustion over took her and she feel asleep.
Tossing and turning most of the night, the only sleep Ginny got was
filled with nightmarish dreams about her head on a pike.
* Chapter 11 *
The next morning, after getting no
sleep, Ginny was in the worst mood of her life. She couldn't
remember feeling this bad when her beloved grandmother died. It was
worse than defeated, it was utterly glum. She had heard the door
being unlocked early in the morning, before there was even enough
light to see the door.
Once the sun began to shine into
the small window, she decided to venture out. The small room was
beginning to feel more like a tomb, where she should have expired
during the night. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.
Ginny was grumpy, thirsty, hungry
and pissed. A bad combination for anyone to be around. She walked
to the great hall of the keep, in search of some water. On the
table, there was a pitcher and several goblets. Ginny walked over
and smelled the contents of the pitcher. Thank God , she thought as she poured
herself some water.
She drank several glasses and sat
on the bench of the long table. She was too absorbed in her own
thoughts to notice that Ian, Alec and Broderick had all walked into
the room. She began to pour herself some more water when Ian scared
the breath out her by speaking.
“What are ya doing?” he asked in
his usual menacing voice.
Christ, I now have to ask
permission
Similar Books
