Untamed {Mature Reading}

Chapter VIII

The main hall turned out to be the very same hall Bianca had occupied on her first night of her arrival. The vast expanse was cold and bare without people to occupy it and give it some semblance of life. The large oak tables and benches were gone, leaving the stone fireplace to dominate the room. The walls were lined with banners and coats of arms, amour displayed proudly, if not glinting a little dully off the fire's light.

It was only the large chair, nay a throne, that stood regally at the far end of the room, presiding over all who entered. The same throne that Callum had occupied when he humiliated her, mocked her and had carelessly sealed her fate.

That very same Laird has his back to both Bianca and Angus as they entered, more so standing by the light of that large stone fireplace whilst shadows and light danced off the planes of his horned body.

He looked like the god of death himself, dwelling deep within the earth's core surrounded by cold stone and unforgiving flame.

Tension rippled off him, filling the vast hall in a way that made Bianca shiver, suddenly cold despite the heat of the lit fire.

Angus cleared his throat to announce their arrival, the grown man who was at least twenty years senior to the Laird suddenly looking unsure before him. Callum did not turn but merely uttered, "You can go, Angus."

Angus was quick to follow the veiled order, leaving Bianca and Callum alone. The silence that followed the distinct closing of those large oak doors was enough to put the captive priestess on edge.

"I hear you have been to the stables." Not a question, but still a statement that demanded an answer.

Bianca did not dare edge closer. "Yes."

It would seem that everyone was curious about her adventures today.

"I heard that Freo was particularly fond of you."

"She tolerated me." Bianca paused. "I heard that you did not see any further use for her. That you wanted her killed."

He looked at her then, those piercing blue eyes beneath such thick brows. "Aye," There was no remorse in his voice, his face. "If a creature has no purpose, what use do I have for it?"

What use do I have for you? The silence seemed to say.

The familiar burn of anger flamed Bianca's flames though her voice was cold, echoing around them in that empty, lifeless hall. "Goes to show what some kindness and compassion can do. Rather than disdain and dismissal."

Bianca watched as Callum turned at her words, an odd expression his his face. One she could not discern. "For a pagan savage who cannot read," He commented in an almost aloof tone, as if he were merely commenting on the colour of her hair. "You talk like a noble lady."

Ire spiked in her veins. "I cannot read English, as you very well know." She distinctly remembered having this conversation last night and from the gleam in his eye, she knew he remembered just as well. "I can read Gaelic just fine. Besides," She edges a little closer towards the fire. Not to speak to the beats of a man who stood beside it, but because the hall's chill was truly seeping into her bones. "I was educated." She raised her hands to the dancing flames, watching as they licked against the charred logs. The heat eased some of her tension. "Perhaps not like you or a noble lady. But I know what a priestess ought to."

In truth, her teachings had not finished when Callum's men ransacked her village, but she had learned enough and would continue to educated herself one way or another.

Beside her, the Laird snorted in a gruff, dismissive way. "What? Sacrilegious prayers and rituals?"

Bianca watched as her open palms twitched, as if to ball into a fish. She was not a violent person, but she had the most insane urge to leave a handprint on the arrogant Laird's cheek. But willpower and fear stilled her. She was alive by his grace and the god's demands. She was not to toy with danger when she has a purpose to fulfill.

But her willpower could not extender to her tongue, no matter how much the gods willed it. "You seem to know more about pagan rituals than I do." Her glare fixed on him. "Or at the least, have an usual amount of interest in them."

She watched as his lips parted, no doubt to utter something insulting but he was interrupted but the tentative sound of knuckles on oak.

Callum turned towards the large oak doors with a scowl that sent a shiver down Bianca's spine, despite her close proximity to the fire.

"What?" He snarled as a young boy poked his head around the door. Bianca watched as the colour visibly drained from his cheeks at hearing his Laird's tone.

"The - the Grey's..-" He stuttered, his gaze jumping from Callum to Bianca. "...a-a-are h-here."

The mention of Lord Grey and his daughter brought a wave of reality crashing down on Bianca. Callum's noble betrothed. Some of the chill that creeped around the hall seemed to settle in her veins, steeling her spine and cooling her blood. Her gaze darted to Callum.

He looked like he was chewing on something particularly unpleasant, his jaw working furiously until he bit out. "Send them in."

The priestess' eyes closed as her head swam. The man before her was a conflicting riddle that she could not work out. He could be the cruelest of the cruel, vicious and unfeeling, viewing people as nothing, as mere playthings for his amusement. And then there were rare glimpses of someone whom Bianca did not recognised but longed to see. The person who found her a book to read in Gaelic, the one who walked her to her room.

She wondered which person the elusive Lady Grey would meet.

Silence stretched before them and though Bianca did not look at him, she sensed that Callum wished to say something to her.

But the doors parted and the young boy was back, bowing deeply. "Lord Arthur Grey and Miss Rosalind Grey." The boy stepped aside to make way for the guests.

Bianca watched as Callum stepped forward to greet them, the first being Lord Grey, who was pretty rather than handsome, his face clean and shaven with an angular nose and sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. His finery was a pale grey, perhaps in honour of his namesake, with silver lining his waistcoat. On his head was a white wig with curls at the temples and tied with a matching grey bow at the back.

The headpiece was a strange concept for Bianca and she found herself staring at it in a way that drew Lord Grey's attention to her. His eyes were a rich blue, which looked a little startled when meeting hers. Perhaps it was not the English way to openly stare, so Bianca turned her gaze to the equist blonde who stood behind her father.

Honeyed curls were half pinned to her head while the rest fell artfully to her waist. Her dress was the colour of a rose in dusk's light, glinting with pearls and ribbons. She was taller than Bianca but more slender with skin a creamy colour of fresh milk. There were no marks of freckles upon her skin, making her seem pure, unblemished.

She was captivating and beautiful and Bianca could not stop the unfurling of a dark emotion from the pit of her stomach.

She watched as Callum greeted them - not with a smile, but a degree of politeness and decorum she had never seen, least of all experienced. Her expression remained impassive as she watch him inclined his head respectfully ot Lord Grey and move to brush his lips against the offered hand of his betrothed.

Rosalind Grey dipped her head demurely and smiled up through her lashes to Callum. "Lord Lockhart," her voice was sweet, soft. "I am delighted that we could finally meet."

Lord Grey coughted. "A little early, I might add."

"But I was eager to see you and your lands." Rosalind jumped in. "I wish to know the soil to which I will govern at your side."

Bianca had to pinch herself as she watched Callum's lips turn up into a half-smile. Well, more of a grimace but the effort was still there. Her gaze jumped furiously between the two, a well of frustration storming inside of her.

He must have felt the coldness of her starre because Callum turned, giving her a half-hearted glance. "Lord Grey, Miss Grey - may I introduce Bianca, my..." For a moment Bianca and Callum's eyes locked and the priestess wondered if he was going to utter the words my prisoner. "...guest."

Lord Grey gave a short bow, though he continued to stare at her curiously as if he was trying to figure out what and who she was.

Miss Rosalind smiled, though there was little pleasantness to it as she approached Bianca, her lovely eyes, the image of her father's, were cold. She dipped into a perfect curtsy and when she rose she stared at Bianca expectantly.

Bianca's gaze cut between Callum and Rosalind and realised that she was meant to curtsey also. Embarrassment flamed her cheeks as she dipped unsteadily, knowing that she must have looked like a fool - she had never curtsied before and the sudden airs and graces that clung to Rosalind made Bianca feel clumsy and inadequate.

"Miss Bianca...?" Rosalind trailed off and with her back to Callum and her father, Bianca watched as the blonde's gaze raked her up and down, one perfect brow arching.

"McDaid." Bianca forced a smile, though uttering the common clan name of her people made her heart lurch.

"What a strange accent," Lord Gre interjected. "Where have I heard it before?"

"Perhaps from many newly acquired servants." Bianca's smile remained fixed on her face, false and painful. "I believe the Irish people who could not work the lands were sent to England to work in other ways."

There was a beat of silence and Bianca swore she saw Callum hide a smirk, looking as if the whole scene was right out of a play written sorely for his own amusement.

"It is rather a..." Bianca watched as Rosalind paused, searching fo a word. "Comely accent."

Lord Grey cleared his throat. "Yes, I do say it is not unlike our Scottish friends, here."

"Bianca will assist you with your stay here," Callum had finally decided to speak, much to Bianca's dismay. "A lady in waiting, if you will."

"How kind," Rosalind's smile had changed, blooming into something more comely indeed, turning her back to Bianca to give Callum to full loveliness of it all. "But you needn't have bothered, my Lord. I have come with my own ladies."

"As every good Lady should," Callum nodded, though there was an edge to his smile, as if he did not like to be questioned or denied. "But Bianca would be additional help to you, as she knows her way around the castle and its grounds."

Bianca's brow arched at that, as if to say, do I?

"But I will personally show you to your rooms and this evening we can dine together."

Bianca watched as the beats wearing a gentleman's clothes offered his arm to Rosalind and gracefully strolled out of the hall as if they were truly Lord and Lady of the castle, Lord Grey trailing after them, all the while looking rather pleased with himself.

And as the doors closed shut, their echo bounding of the stone walls, Bianca could not help but feel, for the first time since her arrival, that she was truly alone.