The Captive Heart

Chapter Seventeen

Robena Ramsay came down from her own bedchamber in late afternoon to the kitchen. She was dressed in a burnt-orange jersey gown with a low neckline, her long black hair contained by a simple copper caul. "Is the meal near to ready?" she asked her serving woman. "The day grows late." She sighed. "I shall lament the loss of that fine cock of his. I had so wanted to enjoy it. It has been months since I enjoyed a good fucking. I am almost desperate enough to take your brother to my bed."

"Mistress!" Fyfa looked both horrified and distressed.

Robena laughed. "Do not fret yourself," she told her servant. "I know his mind is that of a lad, though he is long grown. One taste of my cunt and he would be lost to me forever. I certainly do not want a jealous, half-witted lover mooning about me. Especially when the next fine lad comes upon our little cottage. I can be patient, but I do hope we will have a lusty visitor or two before the winter arrives and we are snowed in for several months. Do you never get hungry for a sturdy cock, Fyfa?"

"I planned to go to the church, but when our da died, out brother would not give the nunnery my dower portion," she answered. "But I do not have to be within a convent's walls to maintain my virtue, mistress," Fyfa said quietly.

Robena shrugged. Then she said, "Did you take him some garments?"

"I found breeks, a sherte, and jerkin to fit him, but I thought it would be better if you brought them to him. That way he could not flee us this afternoon," Fyfa responded.

"Well considered, Fyfa," Robena approved. "Give them to me. And serve the supper in a few minutes. I want him buried before moonrise."

Fyfa took the clothing from the table where they lay and handed them to her mistress. Receiving them, Robena departed the kitchen and made her way to the small bedroom down the narrow hall behind the stairs. Entering, she found Sir Udolf standing by the single window staring out. "My lord, I have brought you some garments to wear. They belong to my cousin who comes to visit now and again. They are sturdy and they are serviceable though not, I fear, quite as elegant as a man of your rank should possess. But I was fortunate to have them. I had quite forgotten he left them, but Fyfa reminded me."

"I am grateful to you, madame," Sir Udolf replied. "The Laird of Dunglais will know who I am without my fine feathers, as will my dear Alix." He pulled the breeks on beneath the simple chemise he had been wearing and then the sherte. He found the materials of both garments rough against his skin, but as she had said, they were serviceable. A leather jerkin completed his outfit. It had horn buttons. Clothed he felt stronger and more in control of himself again.

"Ahh, how well you look," Robena complimented him with a small smile. "Now, come into what I refer to as my hall," she invited him. "I did not always live in a cottage on the moor. Fyfa has prepared us a good supper. And in the morning I shall direct you to Dunglais, which is not very far." She led him from the little bedchamber down the corridor and into a small rectangular room with a large hearth.

"It is still light," he said. "Could I not reach Dunglais if I departed now?"

"If you had a horse, perhaps," Robena replied. "But on foot? Nay, my lord. You will need much of tomorrow, and after your illness you should not overnight on the moor. Dunglais is several long miles, and if you will but gaze out my cottage door you will see the sun will soon set. It is no longer high summer, my lord. But come and have supper with me. Then you will tell me of your home and your woman." She could see he was actually debating with himself as to whether to remain or set out. Robena quickly looked for the pitcher of wine, and after finding it poured him a small goblet. "Here, my lord," she said, handing it to him.

He took it from her almost absently, sipped, and then said, "I suppose you are right, madame. I do not really know the countryside, and might easily become lost again. And as I am now unarmed, there are wild beasts to consider."

"Indeed, my lord, you are wise to remain but a few hours more," she almost purred at him. "Ah, here are Fyfa and Rafe with our supper." She led him to a table already set with a linen cloth where their meal was now being set out. "Let me serve you, my lord," Robena said. "Thank you, Fyfa. Rafe, wait outside the door. If I need you I will call you." She waved them from the room, and then proceeded to fill a bread trencher with capon, trout, and a potage of vegetables consisting of onions, peas, and carrots in a creamed sauce. Putting it before him, she served herself. She buttered some bread for him, adding a wedge of cheese.

They ate, and when he had finished, looking more relaxed than he had since they had brought him to the cottage, Robena served him a plate of Fyfa's custard with plum jam. The first pitcher of wine was already emptied, and so she called to Rafe to bring another. "I find wine helps me sleep," she remarked. "And you will want to sleep well tonight so you may start your journey early, my lord."

"How far are you from Dunglais?" he wanted to know.

"About eight miles," she told him. "You must go north and just slightly east from my cottage, my lord." She filled his now-empty wine cup.

He shoved a piece of bread and cheese into his mouth and drank it down. The cup was filled again, and he sipped it thoughtfully. "I suppose I could not travel so far now with the sun set," Sir Udolf remarked. "So I shall accept your hospitality for another night, but no more. A pity my horse could not be found." He stood, clutching the cup, and walked to the door of the cottage to gaze out at the darkening skies.

From his place in the heather where he lay observing the cottage Beinn saw the man shadowed in the doorway. It was not the lack-witted Rafe, for Rafe was a big man. This fellow was of medium height, and stocky. So the bitch had found herself a lover to scratch that unquenchable itch of hers. Beinn thought back several years when Robena had been in residence at the keep and his master's wife.

Several times while working in the stables he had thought that someone was watching him. It always amused him, for he knew that the serving wenches considered him a fine man. With his sherte off as he pitched hay or curried a horse, his muscles rippling, he could arouse their lust, and he was never above a quick tumble in an empty stall. Sometimes he even heard them giggling, and he would stop, pretending to be tired and, turning about as he rubbed the sweat from his forehead, give them a good glimpse of his brawny, hairy chest.

One day as he worked, a lass came up behind him, putting her arms about him, one hand reaching about and down to fondle his cock. He was easily arouse, and let the wench have her way. She'd pay for her boldness in a few minutes when he put her on her back and gave her a good fucking. Reaching about, he turned her around so that her back was to him. She giggled as he pulled her gown down from her shoulders to her waist so he might feel up her breasts. They were large and filled his big hands. He pulled her gown up after a few minutes, one hand cupping her mons. She was already so wet, her juices were running down the insides of her plump thighs. His finger found her little love button, and she squealed with pleasure.

"By Christ, you're an eager little wench," he growled in her ear. "Give us a kiss then, and you'll have a good long fucking for your reward, lass." He turned her about, and found himself staring into the dancing blue eyes of the laird's wife. Horrified, he had shoved her away. She fell into a pile of hay, laughing at his surprise. He had stepped back away from her, shocked, as she spread her bare legs to him.

"Lady…" He could say no more.

"Come, Beinn," she invited him, her fingers parting her nether lips wide. "You want to fuck me, I know it. Your cock is bursting forth from your breeks, and a fine cock it is too. And I want to be fucked by that beautiful cock of yours. Come, don't be shy. I am your mistress, and I command you to fuck me. Now!"

He had undone his breeks in his eagerness, and indeed his cock was thrusting forth from them. He was as hard as a rock, and it was painful. But he pushed himself back into his garment, fastening it as quickly as his shaking hands could, and retreating from the woman lying on the pile of hay.

Robena's face had grown dark with her anger as his refusal became apparent. Her voice was low and measured, but deadly as she spoke. "Do you think your master is the only man to have ever ridden between my thighs, you dolt? My brothers broke me in before I married, although my stupid husband believed me a virgin because I screamed when he first had me. And of course there was the skin of chicken's blood for the sheets." She laughed. "The king even lusted after me when we were at court, but forbore my company for his friendship with my husband. Fortunately the Earl of Huntley was not so scrupulous. He was a vigorous, if uninspired lover. But now I am home again, and your master bores me. I must have a lover, and you could please me, Beinn. Come now, and lie with me. Fuck me hard and deep. I will not tell if you won't." She smiled seductively at him, beckoning with her finger.

He had turned and left the stables. He was at first confused as to what to do. He had had his hands on his lord's wife, fondled her breasts, stroked her cunny. Should he go to Father Donald and confess this monumental sin? He was close to weeping with his shame and the dishonor. He sought out the priest, who listened quietly and then spoke the words of comfort that Beinn had needed to hear.

"You are not to blame, my son, for this transgression. The woman tricked and entrapped you, and while you may have fondled her while her identity was unknown to you, you left off upon seeing her face. I have long suspected that the lady was not the wife our laird deserves, but until he learns the truth they are joined under God's law. For the sin of your unbridled lust, however, I must punish you. You will be present at the early Mass for a month, and at Vespers as well, Beinn. And you will keep your own counsel, saying naught to the laird."

"What if she accuses me of assaulting her?" Beinn asked Father Donald, still frightened by his encounter with Robena.

"She will say nothing, Beinn, for she does not want her husband suspicious of her, and she is obviously seeking a lover to amuse her. She chose you because among the laird's men you hold a small rank. She will bother with none of the rest of them, for the lady believes them beneath her even as you are," Father Donald had told him.

And of course, Beinn thought as he lay watching the cottage, she had indeed sought out a lover, who had turned out to be her husband's wicked half brother. When he had caught them he had killed his sibling. Many thought he had killed Robena too, but Beinn knew better, for he had helped his master. After the laird had buried his half brother he had taken his captain into his confidence. They had ridden out, found Robena, and transported her to a convent, where she was incarcerated while the laird made other arrangements for his adulterous wife.

The evil bitch had murdered some poor beggar woman she had found on the moor, and was exchanging clothes with her when they had caught up with her. They had half hidden the body to decompose and be found at a later date when the laird would identify it as Robena's and the matter would end. Then the laird had installed Robena in the cottage below with the two servants he had found in Edinburgh. His master had not wanted any other of his people to know Robena still lived. He had cleverly avoided any feud with the Ramsays in this way, and only Beinn knew his secret.

It was a confidence the big captain wished he did not carry. But then he considered that was the real punishment for his sins. The darkness set in, and he stood up, no longer fearful of being seen. The lights from the cottage twinkled invitingly. He wondered who the man in the door had been. Was it Sir Udolf? He would watch for another day or two and then return to Dunglais to report to his master. He worried that if it was the Englishman he would have told Robena things it was better she not know. And if Be inn knew Robena Ramsay he knew she would be seeking revenge. The lights in the cottage began to go out but for the main room.

Sir Udolf Watteson came to stand in the door once more. His belly hurt, and he was feeling very sleepy.

"What is it, my lord?" Robena asked, coming to stand near him.

"Suddenly I am not well," he told her. "Was the capon fresh, madame?"

"The food was all quite fresh, my lord, and as you can see I am suffering no ill effects. Drink a bit more of your wine," she encouraged him. "Perhaps it will help."

He gulped down the bit remaining in his cup and, holding it out to her, said, "More!"

"Alas, my lord, you have had more than enough," Robena told him. "You drank the second pitcher all by yourself. Soon you will sleep, but it is a sleep from which you will not awaken, I fear. If you believe in God, Sir Udolf, make your peace with him now before it is too late." And she smiled at him sweetly.

"What have you done?" he gasped.

"Killed you," Robena replied sanguinely.

"Why? What have I done to you?"

"You poor old fool," Robena said, rubbing his balding pate in an oddly comforting gesture. "You have done nothing to me. But I cannot have you going to Dunglais. By telling me of my husband, his whore, and their bastards, you have done me a great service. Now I shall have the revenge on Malcolm Scott I have been seeking all these years since he incarcerated me out here on this lonely moor. I will not let you take that from me. Say your prayers, my lord, for you will be shortly dead."

The darkness was reaching up to claim him. Sir Udolf could actually feel his heart slowing. He was overcome by a sudden weakness and fell to his knees, struggling for breath, and finding it a final time, he grated out, "God curse you, lady!" Then he collapsed and died on her doorsill.

"Rafe! Come and bury the fellow before he begins to release his bowels and stink," Robena Ramsay said. She yawned, and turned back into the cottage.

On his hillside Beinn had watched the pair as they stood in the door. He had been very surprised when the man had collapsed. Robena had shown no signs of distress, nor had she cried out. Instead she had turned away and disappeared back into her home. A moment later the light in her second-story chamber had flickered brightly. A shadow of another man, Rafe, came into the cottage entry. He picked up the body and threw it over his shoulder. Beinn could see the shadow of something in his other hand. A shovel?

The moon was beginning to rise over the hills, but it was not yet bright enough to light the region. Keeping to the shadows, Beinn slipped down the hill so he might more closely observe Rafe. The lack-wit shambled up a small rise near the dwelling and, laying the body down, he stripped it of boots and clothing. Then, with a foot he pushed it, and it disappeared. There was obviously a predug gave there Beinn realized as Rafe began filling it in with his shovel. Finished with his task, Rafe walked upon the grave several times in order to tamp down the earth. Then, shovel over his shoulder, he returned down the rise and went into the little barn where Beinn knew he slept with the beasts.

The Dunglais captain sat down in the heather and waited. All the lights in the cottage were now extinguished. He waited. The moon rose slowly, slowly, and then it was filling the sky. About him Beinn could see everything with clarity. He arose now and found his way to the new grave. Then he began digging with his big hands.

Once he was past the top layer than Rafe had stamped down it was easy if tedious work. He did not seek to open the whole grave. He just wished to see the face of the man who had been so unceremoniously buried there this night. Eventually he was able to make a place for himself to stand and then kneel. Carefully he pulled the earth away, going deeper and deeper into the dirt until finally his fingers reached the body. Brushing the dirt away with his hands, he was at last able to see the face of the unfortunate man. It was Sir Udolf Watteson. Beinn nodded to himself. Poor devil, he thought, and crossed himself.

Then he climbed from the grave and began filling it in again. This was more tedious work, especially without a shovel. But when the dawn came the grave could not look like it had been tampered with or suspicions would be aroused. His horse awaited him on the hillside, and when he had finished he would begin his return to Dunglais. There was no reason to remain observing the cottage any longer, and the laird should know what had transpired. Sir Udolf's lips had been a bright purple and swollen. It was obvious he had been poisoned. How many others had the bitch Robena Ramsay murdered? Were there other graves here on this little rise? He bent to smooth the last bit of earth into place, and as he did he felt a sharp pain touch the back of his head and a bright white light flashed before his eyes as his legs gave way and he fell to the earth.

When Beinn awoke once more he found himself in a small chamber upon a bed to which he seemed to be manacled hand and foot. And he was shocked to see he was completely naked. His head hurt fiercely, and he was very thirsty. As his eyes focused more clearly he saw Rafe sitting in a corner staring blankly at nothing. "Oi!" he called out to the man. "I need water, and undo these damned chain!"

Rafe shambled to his feet and picked up a leather water bag. He pushed the spout into Beinn's mouth so he might drink. "Mistress says you must stay," he told the other man. Then he grinned. "Mistress has been wanting a fine cock for her cunny for many weeks now. She says you have a fine cock," he chuckled.

Beinn swallowed down the water. It tasted bitter, but it was drinkable. When he had finished he pulled his head away. "Your mistress is a murderous bitch," he said.

"Aye," Rafe agreed, "she is. But she is the mistress. I will go and tell her you are awake. I'm glad I did not kill you, Beinn. The mistress is much happier to have you alive than dead. She gave me sweets as a reward." Then he departed the chamber.

"Christ's bones!" Beinn swore softly. Somehow the lack-wit had come upon him just as he was finishing refilling the grave and hit him with something hard. He was no fool. The bitch meant to use him, and then she would kill him as she had obviously been doing to all her lovers. He tested the strength of the chains attached to the manacles about his ankles and wrists. There was no weakness in them. He had to find a way to free himself so he might defend himself. As for pleasuring her, he thought grimly, he had refused her once. What made her believe he would change his mind now?

The door to the chamber opened, and Robena stepped into the room. "Ah, Beinn, how good of you to visit. You usually do not remain when you bring us our supplies." Walking to the bed, she knelt down and took his cock in her hand. "I have always wanted this," she said. "It is such a large weapon for a big man." She drew the foreskin down, and then, bending her head, licked the tip of it. "Ummm," she purred. "It is even tastier than I imagined, Beinn. And I see it is beginning to awaken from its slumbers even as you have. We shall have such fun together, darling."

"I'll not fuck you, you evil bitch!" he said angrily.

"Nay, but I will fuck you, Beinn. And you will come for me, and you will sob like a lad with his first whore. And you will keep pleasuring me until I grow tired of you, darling," Robena told him with a smile.

"The laird will come looking for me," he warned her.

Robena laughed. "I hope he does," she said. "And when he comes he will find us together in this bed. Whatever you choose to tell him, he will believe you betrayed him. My servants and I shall confirm it. I shall tell him you bedded me at Dunglais, and afterwards here each time you came. I shall swear you have been my lover for years." She laughed cruelly. "Do you think I have forgotten how you insulted me in that stable? I offered myself to you, and you refused me! Well, you shall not refuse me now, Beinn."

"I do refuse you!" he snarled at her.

"Nay, you will not," Robena told him. She bent her head, took his cock into her mouth, and began to suck lustily upon it. She licked him and nibbled upon the tender column of flesh. It began to thicken and lengthen without her mouth as she played with him. She heard him gasp with his surprise. He had no idea the water he had swilled so eagerly was well laced with aphrodisiacs that would keep him aroused for the next few hours in spite of himself. He would yield to her desires because he would have no other choice. But eventually he would come to her willingly. For now, however, it excited her greatly to force this big man to her will. She sucked him hard, and he finally came with a cry of anger as she eagerly drew every bit of his seed from his cock and swallowed it down. "That is a fine start," she said, licking her lips and smiling down into his face.

Beinn could not believe what had just happened. A woman did not assault a man and force his seed from him. Yet Robena had done just that, and his cock still stood tall. What sorcery was this? Was she a witch as well as a whore? "What have you done to me that you can use my body in such a lewd fashion?" he said to her.

"Oh, come, Beinn. Do men not force women?" Robena replied. Her delicate long fingers played with his stiff length thoughtfully.

"That is different," he replied.

"Not really," she told him. "When a man's cock is engaged by lust, he does not ask the women in his bed if she is also lustful. He just mounts her and has his way because he believes it is his right."

"Have you never loved?" Beinn asked her.

"Love is for fools, darling. Now I need a taste of that fine cock of yours, and I am not of a mind to wait," she said as she arose and then mounted him. Positioning herself over his great length, she lowered her body to take him in, sighing gustily as he filled her. "Ahh, God, that is good," she murmured as she sheathed him entirely. Then, leaning forward, she took his face in her two hands and kissed him hard. "Tell me it feels good," she purred at him, and then, leaning back, she began to ride him hard.

He fought with himself to deny her what she wanted, but he could not. Whatever had been in the water, and he was now certain something had been, his manly lusts were well aroused and beyond his own control. Unable to help himself he rose up and fastened his mouth about the nipple of one of her large breasts. He sucked on it hard, and then his teeth clamped down on the tender flesh. She spasmed around his throbbing cock and screamed with her own pleasure as she fell forward.

"Ah, you devil! That was very good," Robena praised him as she finally sat up again. "I can see we shall have a fine time together."

Beinn closed his eyes, ashamed. What had made him do that? And then he realized that she was still mounted and he was still hard as iron.

Robena leaned forward and rubbed a breast against his lips. "Open your mouth again, darling, and suck me sweetly," she ordered him.

Mutinously, he clamped his lips tightly together, and she laughed. "If you persist in being a bad boy, Beinn, I shall have to whip you into obedience. Yes, I think I shall have to give you just a little taste of punishment so you understand that I am the mistress here, my captain. It is your duty to serve me as I wish to be served. Rafe! To me!" she called to her serving man. Then she climbed off of him and, to his surprise, put the pointed tip of a dirk to his throat. "Rafe must move you, and while I know thoughts of escape are already in your mind, do not attempt to be foolish. My dirk's tip is poisoned. The slightest cut, and you will die a most painful and swift death, darling. So be a good boy, and let Rafe do what he must."

Go to the devil, bitch, Beinn thought as Rafe came to unfasten the manacles about his wrists. But as he sat up he was overwhelmed by a terrible wave of dizziness. Before he might consider a struggle, the wiry Rafe yanked him forward over the end of the bed and fastened his wrists into clamps that were set into the floor of the chamber. His ankles remained manacled to the bed's posts. Beinn had never in his life felt so helpless. Or so angry and frustrated. Sweet Jesu! What did she do in this place that it was so equipped for torture of this nature? The laird should have killed her when he had the chance, Beinn thought. It was his right to slay an adulterous wife. The Ramsays' pride could have been assuaged in some manner. Then her hand smoothed over his buttocks.

"Round and tight," she said softly. "And so ready for my strap and my switch. Leave us, Rafe! I will call you when I want you." Then she waited until her servant had departed the room before speaking to him. "I want you to understand, darling Beinn, that I am your mistress. You are a hard man. A difficult man. You lack discipline, but I shall teach you that fine art this day. First you will receive ten strokes of my rod. It will be painful, but pain can lead to pleasure. My leather tawse will warm your buttocks after the rod has punished them. Then your cheeks will be burnished to a fine glow with a bunch of switches. And finally…" She paused and laughed. "I shall let the last be a surprise. Now, are you ready for the rod, darling?"

"Got to hell, bitch!" he growled at her.

She laughed, and the first blow fell upon his helpless flesh. He sucked in his breath, but remained silent. By by the sixth blow he could no longer deny the pain, and he howled with it. Robena laughed again as she laid the last four blows upon him. "I have never had a man last so long before crying out," she told him in a delighted tone. "You obviously have a goodly capacity for punishment. I shall render you two more blows of the rod," and he yelped in pain as she did. Tossing the rod aside, she took up her tawse-a strip of leather several inches wide, its ends cut into narrow finger that had been knotted, "Now to heat up your bottom," she said as she began to flog him.

Oddly, the leather beating him hurt less than the hard rod had, but he was still, to his shame, unable to restrain his cries.

"I like the sound the strap makes when it meets your lovely rump," Robena said. "Your white flesh is becoming quite pink. Soon the shade will deepen until the pink turns a most delightful shade of red." She wielded her tawse to deliver several more smacks to his flesh. "Beg me to cease, Beinn," she taunted him.

"Go to the devil!" he cried.

She laid several more spanks upon his hapless flesh. "Do you want me to stop, darling? But oh, I must, for your bottom is quite scarlet. Now I must burnish it with my switches," she told him.

The switches stung and irritated until he thought he could stand no more. She seemed to sense it and ceased the punishment, rubbing her hand gently over his wounded flesh. Her fingers playfully drew the twin halves of his buttocks aside, and she ran a finger about his anus.

"God in his heaven, bitch, what are you doing?" Beinn demanded of her.

"I am curious," she murmured softly. "Have you ever taken another cock there, Beinn, my darling?" The finger rubbed him suggestively.

"Are you daft?" he shouted at her. "Do you think I am a sodomite to copulate with other men, bitch?"

Her finger circled the sensitive little aperture over and over again. "You were not even curious of such things as a boy?" she persisted. "My brothers said all lads were."

"Never!" he denied vehemently. "Never! Your brothers were surely as depraved as you are, lady."

"Tell me you want me to put my finger in your ass," Robena said softly. Her finger pressed against the opening and it began to give way.

"Nay! Nay! And again, nay!" Beinn roared.

"But I want to do it," Robena said, "and I will. You cannot stop me!" Then, wetting her finger with her own juices, which were already flowing, she pushed her middle finger into him as far as it would go. "There now, darling," she crooned at him. "That is not so terrible, is it, Beinn?" She began to simulate the actions of his cock with her finger. "Do you liked being fucked this way, darling? Is it nice?" Robena purred. "Shall I let you do it to me when you are a little more amenable?"

The Dunglais captain was outraged by her actions, but he was also horrified by his own reaction to the finger moving back and forth in his ass. It actually excited him when it should have repelled him. Yet that wicked finger in concert with whatever potions she had fed him was stoking his lusts. He could feel his cock swelling painfully beneath him, and he groaned, helpless to this shameful arousal.

"Shall I make you come, Beinn?" she asked him. She bent and slipped her other hand beneath him to feel his swollen cock. "Ohh, how hard you are," she cried, excited. "I must have that great cock of yours again! I must! Rafe, quickly!"

The serving man burst into the room. "Mistress?"

"I must feel his weight atop me," Robena said, and she was almost weeping in her eagerness to have him in that manner. "Get him back on the bed, facedown. Leave his legs free, but keep his arms chained. Hurry! Hurry!" She began to play with herself in her great need as she scrambled to get on the bed.

The serving man did as he was bid, and again Beinn was overcome with dizziness as he was yanked about. Then he was kneeling between Robena's thighs, and there was no help for him. He had to fuck her or he would die. Without release, he would be crippled for hours, and he believed now that he might break the chains that held his arms fastened to the bedposts. He had been more tightly constrained when his legs were bound. "Get out!" he growled at Rafe, and to his surprise the man obeyed him. "Now, bitch," he said to her, and he drove himself to his hilt as hard and as deep as he could go.

Robena screamed, but it was a sound of pleasure, of satisfaction. "Fuck me, you great brute!" she said to him. "I want to come thrice, and if you fail me I shall beat you again, and this time it will be the worse for you."

Beinn said nothing to her, but instead set to work to do as she bid him. She came quickly for him the first time and again the second time. But as his cock throbbed with its own need, she withheld herself from him a third time. He was not certain he could contain his juices much longer, but then he felt the tremors within her beginning, and Robena began to moan and cry as a great pleasure overcame her.

"Yes!" she screamed "Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, you beast, I cannot stop coming! You have killed me with your passion as I knew you could all those years ago!" She shuddered and fell into a deep swoon.

He had seen this happen to a woman once before. She would not regain consciousness for some time, so great had her sexual excitement been. Able to kneel, he looked at the chain attached to the manacle. Then he examined the bedposts. They were solid oak, but now he saw they were carved so that the middle of the post was thinner than the rest of it. He slid the iron ring at the end of the short chain down to that narrow spot, and then he began to yank against it. After several hard tugs the bedpost gave way, and Beinn was able to slide the ring off of it. There was no way to remove the manacle and chain from his wrist, but he would in effect be free once he snapped the other post, which he quickly did.

Beinn slid off of the bed quietly and looked about the chamber. Against a wall was a small trunk. Opening it, he discovered his breeks, sherte, and boots. He quickly dressed himself despite the disadvantage of the manacles and chains he bore. Then he went to the small window and squeezed himself through it. He immediately headed for the hill where his horse had been tethered. But the animal was not there. Had Rafe found it and stabled it? Had it wandered off? Beinn decided he had no time to go back or even consider where the horse might be. He had to reach the keep. It was not quite evening and he began to run. When darkness settled in he slowed to a walk.

With luck the bitch would not awaken for another few hours. Rafe had been taught not to disturb his lady, nor would Fyfa. Beinn trudge on. He was furious with himself for having been so careless as to be put at a disadvantage by the lack-wit Rafe. The man walked like a damned cat, for he hadn't heard him at all when he came up behind Beinn. As for the beating and sexual torture the bitch had inflicted upon him, he had wanted to kill her when he got free, but then he had realized that that was his master's right and not his. He felt no guilt for what had happened between them this time. She had forced him, and he knew better now, though he would confess the sordid hours spent in the cottage to poor Father Donald. It wasn't something he wanted to keep to himself, and it was the priest's business to listen. Though he had been bound and impelled to her will, Beinn knew his lust had also been responsible, especially when Robena lay beneath him, clawing at his back and howling with her satisfaction.

The moon rose, and while on the wane it still gave him more than enough light to travel. He began to run carefully and after several hours the tower of Dunglais Keep came into view. He stopped and listened carefully. The moor was silent but for the soft rustle of a few night creatures out hunting in the grass. None pursued him, he realized to his great relief. He moved swiftly across the moor, down a hillock, through Dunglais village, and finally up to the closed gates of the keep. He knocked softly.

"Who goes there?" a young voice quavered.

"Beinn, your captain," he replied.

The little grate in the door was opened and a face peered out at him. It was quickly shut, and the small privy gate was unbarred for him. Beinn hurried through, saying as he did to one of the several men on duty, "Wake the blacksmith! Wake Iver, and find the priest for me if he's in the keep tonight. If not, fetch him at first light." Then he directed his footsteps to the smithy.

The blacksmith came, looking irritable until he saw the manacles and chains about Beinn's thick wrists.

"Get them off," the captain instructed, "and ask no questions of me."

"Aye," the smith said with a nod of his head. He was by nature a taciturn man.

Iver arrived as the first manacle and chain fell from Beinn's wrist. He cocked an eyebrow with curiosity, but did not ask. If Beinn wished to tell him, he would.

"Fetch the laird, but be careful not to frighten the lady," the captain said. "She should know nothing of this."

Iver nodded silently and disappeared back into the building. The second manacle and chain fell loose. Beinn was rubbing his wrists as Iver returned.

"He'll see you in his privy chamber," Iver said. "Can I go back to bed now?"

"Aye, and say naught to Fenella," Beinn responded.

"Fenella?"

"She's in your bed, isn't she?" the captain said with a small grin.

Iver neither denied nor confirmed Beinn's query.

The two men entered the house, Iver going one way and Beinn the other. Reaching his master's privy chamber, he knocked and then entered.

The laird shoved a goblet of wine in his hand. "What happened?" he asked. "Why did you not remain watching longer?"

"There was no need. Sir Udolf was there. She's killed him, and he's buried. I would have been back a day sooner but that her lack-wit somehow heard me and hit me with something, probably a shovel. When I awoke I found myself restrained. It took me several hours to break free from the wooden posts I was chained to, and then several more hours traversing the moor home in the darkness."

"Your horse?"

"Probably wandered off. I didn't want to waste the time searching for it. While all in the house were sleeping when I broke free, I feared discovery. I was fortunate the dog did not hear me as I went through the window and set up barking. There is a chance they have the horse though," Beinn admitted honestly. "I was already up the hill to fetch it when I found it gone. I thought it better I not go back, my lord. It was more important I reach you. I think she meant to kill me."

The laird nodded. "Aye, she is not afraid to murder, as we know. You've done well, Beinn."

"What will you do, my lord?" he asked the laird.

"I am not certain I will do anything," Malcolm Scott said. "Sir Udolf is dead and so Alix will not be harassed again by him. As for Robena, let her wonder what I will do. But why did she kill him? And did he tell her of Alix and our bairns? I am curious as to what she will do, but then there is little she dare outside of her own cottage."

"I do not know if she knows of your wife and bairns, my lord," Beinn said honestly. "But I believe she may be waylaying those who stumble upon her cottage and robbing them of whatever they have."

"And probably taking the hapless men who fall into her web as lovers," the laird said dryly. "I hate the thought of imprisoning her in the old tower by Dunglais Water, but I suppose I must think on it. I would not do for either Alix or Fiona to stumble upon Robena's dwelling one day. I know I have been lenient with her. Another man would have slain her where he caught her that day, Beinn."

"Aye, my lord, they would have. But this new murder cannot go unpunished. It is true that Sir Udolf Watteson has no family to come seeking his fate. But if there have been others in the past, if there are others in the future, the bitch may not have such good fortune. You have done your best to protect her from herself, my lord, but now I fear you must protect others from her. Fyfa and Rafe are good souls, and they do their best by her, but you know that she dominates them by virtue of her position as their mistress. They can do so much. She is dangerous, and grows more so, I fear."

The laird nodded. "I do not disagree with you, Beinn," he said. "But autumn and winter are upon us. My lady will birth another bairn soon. I would not have her learn of Robena and her situation, for it will certainly distress her. And I most surely do not want Fiona ever knowing that the mother who birthed her is yet alive. The pain that woman caused my daughter has been wiped away by Alix's love for her."

"You cannot wait, my lord," Beinn pressed the laird as gently as he dared.

"I know, I know. Before the winter we will settle the matter. I would speak with Father Donald before I make any decisions about Robena. The secret must remain only with the three of us, old friend."

"Agreed, my lord," Beinn said.

"You look weary, as well you should," Malcolm Scott noted. "I know it is almost dawn, but go and find your bed for a few hours."

"Aye," Beinn responded. "I am weary, my lord." Wearier than you can imagine, he thought to himself as he left his master's privy chamber and went to his own space. As captain of the laird's men he had a little chamber of his own. His buttocks were sore with the beating he had received, but at least she had been careful and not drawn blood. He washed in the cold water from his pitcher as best he could, trying to rid the stench of the woman's sex from his body.

God's bones! Had the laird smelled it on him? He prayed not. But then his long walk in the night air should have helped to dissipate the stink of her. The priest had not come. He would see him later though, and tell him all that had happened. Then he would make his confession to Father Donald. The priest would agree with him. Robena Ramsay needed to be caged like the wild beast she was. Malcolm Scott's heart was much too good, but if he did not act soon his indecision could very easily lead to a tragedy.