I was indeed a very despicable person. No person of any character or wit at all could do something as horrid as what I did. So I stood there in the garden, feeling very small and evil as I looked up into his face.
      “I should very much like to banish you from all of Scotland,” were his words to me.
      I nodded, prostrate, my face no doubt a picture of perfect remorse. “And I would not blame you, sir, for I have sinned greatly against God and all of Scotland.”
      “Sinned?” His eye brows shot up. “Nay, Aileana. You have not sinned, yet you have disgraced me before the entire realm.” He leaned closer, and his cheeks turned a soft pink. “I was indeed a fool, Aileana, for a I thought you an amiable lady, to be respected.”
      I could not longer bear his chastisement in submissive silence. “And you think me no longer worthy of respect because I do not marry you?”
      Silence rippled on the aromatic air of the garden. He turned his eyes away from me, letting them roam over the distant hills of Scotland, their color and brightness no doubt a balm to his wounded heart. When at last he turned back to me, his lips were not so tightly pressed together, nor were his eyes as sharp as they had once been. “You, Aileana NicGender, are a stubborn woman.”
      I could not suppress a smile, for I knew that Sir Breac had come as close to granting me his forgiveness as he ever would. He was a prideful man, to be sure.
      “So be gone with you, Aileana. Do not torture me with the loveliness of your lips any longer.”
      My eyes darted to his, and I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks, burning under my skin. Sir Breac, prince and warrior of the great land of Scotland, thought my lips to be lovely? Why had he never told me of this? Perhaps if he had said as much before, or even showed any signs of affection, I would not have openly declined his proposal of matrimony...
      “Stop gaping, Aileana. It is most unbecoming.”
       I stood up straighter, ashamed that my blush was deepening. I uttered an apology once more, then departed, leaving Sir Breac of Scotland standing alone in the garden.

YYYYYYYYYY

     My father Alick watched me in perfect silence on our ride home. Since my mother's death, may she rest in peace, my father had fallen into a deep quietness, and though he did speak on occasion, his words were few. I had grown accustom to this silence, but now, as I sat rigid in our carriage, I hated it.
      “Father, do speak to me,” I said, most abruptly.
      He looked at me with his wise old eyes, not saying anything at first. When he was finished studying me, he said, “Is it approval you are in want of, my child, or rebuke?”
      Of this I could not answer. In truth, what was it I wanted?
      “Nay, Father,” I finally answered. “I need neither rebuke nor praise, but rather a friend to guide me.” I sighed most heavily. “My heart is very hurt, and yet I think I did what God would have me do.”
      As was his way, he remained silent for a while longer. Finally, he said, with a look of tenderness on his face, “My daughter, why doth your heart hurt?”
       Again, I could not answer. Of that I was very unsure of myself. “I do not know,” I whispered. I turned my eyes to the window and stared out, losing myself in the scenery and my own troublesome thoughts.
      Father only watched me, and nary a word was spoken the rest of the way to Gendersfield, my beloved home.

YYYYYYYYYY

     When we arrived in front of Gendersfield, I was again filled with a strong sensation of pride and contentment, as I often was. The tall mansion, standing perfect and grand upon a green mountain, was a picture of utter beauty. Its walls were of deep gray, with a fresh and flamboyant garden surrounding the front, and the gates were a dark wood with iron knobs that gave it mightiness. The sky had turned a gentle pink, and Gendersfield's fine walls outlined the mansion, giving it a grandeur and romantic physiognomy.
     I proceeded to the mansion's interior, and when I reached my own chambers, went straight to the window seat. There I sat, in my favorite spot, and groped desperately for comfort. But none was to be found. Instead, I was once again at Breac's feast...
      My father sat on one side of me; Sir Breac on the other. I felt honored to be placed near him, as it was a seat of importance, a seat to be proud of. There were women dancers just now, entertaining the menfolk who sat around the circular table. I scanned the faces of the men, noticing that only few women were present. It was strange, I thought, that I should be invited to a feast of such importance, when my father was only a small Lord who owned little property. I forgot such thoughts and turned my eyes to Sir Breac...
      His eyes, dull with boredom, followed the women dancers as they twirled across the room. His dark brown hair, shoulder-length and thick, was fairly wavy, making him a most handsome creature. His tall physique and broad shoulders were another asset to his looks, and had he been more charming, I might have looked at him with admiration, perhaps even attraction. But such was not to be the case. He was far to prideful to ever win my affection, and his attention towards me had been only civil—never allowing a coquettish word to be said to me, nor even a smile that was meant for me alone. And yet here I sat, beside him, feeling quite confused and unsure of his intentions.
     It was then that he stood from his seat, sending the dancing women away with a wave of his hand. He looked across the room, smiling into the faces. And then, much to my surprise, he turned to me and took my hand. “Lady Aileana NicGender,” he began in his deep, smooth-as-honey voice, “I have found that my affections for you are great, and I should very much delight in a future together.”
      I could feel every eye staring at me, watching with pleased amusement that the prince had finally decided to take a wife.
      “I have consulted your father, and as you might expect, he left the decision in your hands.” He paused here, and gave me a most exaggerated smile. “So I ask you, Aileana of Gendersfield, will you be my betrothed? Will you promise to marry me, in front of God and all that are thus present?”
      I stared at him, hardly believing, hardly able to breath. I hardly knew him. He was the most prideful and arrogant man I had ever met, and had never shown me any signs of love or affection in the past. And now, in front of the elders of the land and all the lords of any importance, he asked me to be his wife?
      I felt my father's finger nudge my knee under the table, but for the life of me, I could not speak. Clumsily, I stood to my feet and looked at him in the face, with tears burning in my eyes. “I cannot,” I whispered, and having thus said, fled from the room.
      Leaning my head against the window, I let a tear stroll down my cheek. His words came back to me, gentle and soothing, and yet so very disturbing all at once, “Do not torture me with the loveliness of your lips any longer...”
      My heart plunged in my chest, as I considered the fact that I may have just received the only proposal I would ever receive, and that I may have rejected a man that could have loved me.

YYYYYYYYYY

      It was late evening, and I had left the walls of Gendersfield for a stroll. It had been nearly four months since I declined the good prince of Scotland, and the matter was far from my mind. I had devoted myself to studies, and it was only late in the evening that my mind had time to wander, for I often took long walks in this time. It brought me a strange peace to be perfectly alone, even for a little while, and it was then that I prayed and thought. As it was, I was lost in a deep thought, very far from Gendersfield, when I noticed riders coming from afar. I could not tell who there were, just yet, for it was dusk and quite hard to see from a distance.
      As they neared, I noticed there were about six of them, all garbed in rough clothing, as if they were poor shepherds out seeking their wandering sheep. The leader of the beastly bunch looked down upon me from his high steed, and I suddenly got a strong feeling of trepidation under his scrutinizing eyes. “Lady Aileana?” he asked, his voice quite gruff under his bearded chin.
      I wasn't sure if I should answer him, but he suddenly got such a fierce look on his face that I blurted out the words, “Yes, I am Aileana!”
      He looked at his other men, and they shared a grin that puzzled me. Then the leader leaned down to grab me...
     I backed up, frantic, and darted away from him. I ran as hard as I could, all the while listening to the sound of their cheers behind me. I felt as if it were a game—a cruel game where a mouse is thrown in a hole with a cat, and the mouse tries to flee, but everyone knows the cat will catch him.
      I tripped, and landed on my face in the desolate field. I started to get up, but large hands were suddenly pinning me down, pressing hard on my back, keeping my face on the ground.
      His gravelly voice punctured my heart with fear. “My lady, what poor manners you have!” He shoved my face harder into the dirt. “Has your father not taught you to stand still when speaking with a gentlemen?” Grabbing a fistful of hair, he yanked my head up, and pulled me to my feet. Then he swooped me into his arms, and started back towards his men. Their crude cachinnation still clamored in the air.

YYYYYYYYYY

     I sat in utter silence, my entire form aching as I leaned against the cold wall. My hands were bound in leather strips, and my wrist burned from the way they rubbed against my skin. I looked around me, at the crumpling castle I was being held in, at the drunk men that were all feasting around me, at the leader who sat off in the corner, his look making me tremble. Without warning, he stood to his feet and crossed the room, coming to the bench where I was sitting alone. He stood in front of me, and I was sure he was finding much pleasure in the fact that I was forced to look up at him.
      “How fare you, my rich lady?” There was no humor in his eyes, but I knew that in his soul he was laughing at me.
      I, however, said nothing to him.
      He held out a cup of wine. “Could it be you want a drink? Perhaps that will make you a more friendly creature.” When he was again answered with silence, he bent down until he was looking me in the eyes. A wild fierceness consumed his face, making his cheeks turn crimson red. “You do realize that you are at my mercy, do you not?” he seethed the words bitterly. “And if I so wish it, I may strike you or kiss or do anything I like.”
      I felt the tears gathering behind my eyes, but I would not let them show. I would not have him know that I was frightened of him. “Then you have no plans of returning me from whence I came?” the words came out demanding, belying the fear that I felt. “Are your plans to keep me here forever?”
      His fingers, dirty and grim, stroked my cheek. I could not discern what he was thinking, for his face was quite suddenly a hard mask, an impassive picture in which I could not read. Then he said, “Yes, I have well intentions of returning you. But not until your father has paid my price.”
       “What is your price?” I whispered. My father was not a very rich man, though we were never in want. I feared the man's price would be outrageous, and my father could not pay, and I would be left in this forsaken castle forever...
      “Do not fret yourself with that, my lady, for I am sure your father will find a way to deliver what I ask. After all,” he gave me a grin that was most unnerving, “you are your father's only child.”

YYYYYYYYYY

     I was locked in a room—a very small, desolate room with no windows or furniture—and there I sat, still bound by my hands, for three long days. I heard no one in the castle, and I decided that they must have ridden away. I could only hope they would return. Only what if they should take my father's money—every last penny that he owns—and never tell a soul where they'd taken me? What if I met my eternal destination in this lonely, rancid smelling room?
      Leaning back against the wall, I let the tears fall from my face. I felt as if the whole world had forsaken me—as if God, even in his mighty and infinite power, had forgotten me. I felt utterly alone, utterly hopeless, utterly lost without any chance of regaining my way.
      And so consumed was I in my present grief, that I did not hear the sound of footsteps. It wasn't until the door started to rattle open, that I noticed and stood to my feet. I braced myself as that same disarrayed commoner walked into my room.
      He stood looking at me for a moment or two, not saying anything at all. Finally, he walked to me and placed his arms on the wall, so that I was trapped between them.
      “Has my father paid your price?” I was surprised at how normal my voice sounded.
      “It matters not,” he said, his breath foul against my face. “I would not return such a lovely maiden as yourself.” A low chuckle gurgled from his throat. “I think I shall be quite happy with both you and the money.”
      My heart stopped. A stirring deep in my chest started to erupt into a wild rage, and before I could think or reason, I spit into his face.
      He blinked, his expression not changing much. I thought perhaps he would do nothing, but then he grabbed me up into his arms, crushing me in his embrace. He met my lips, forcefully, painfully, bruising them under the pressure of his punishing kiss...
     I gasped and jerked my head back, but he kept pursuing. My dress ripped at the shoulder as he clung to me, trying to keep me in his arms as I fought.
     Finally, breathing hard, he threw me down to the floor.
     I didn't move, didn't even look up at him. I was too frightened to look into his demon eyes, afraid that if he knew the depth of my fear, he would find pleasure in torturing me.
      Without a word being said, he spat on me and walked away. The door slammed behind him.
      I curled up into a ball, trembling from my fear, and sobbed desperate tears onto the cold floor.

YYYYYYYYYY

      I thought perhaps it was morning, though there was no window, for the air was warmer and I thought I heard the sound of birds singing from somewhere outside. They were loud birds, their sounds very peculiar...
      I drew in a sharp breath, as I heard a more distinct sound. Twas no bird that I heard. It was the sound of a scream, an agonizing scream, a desperate scream.
      I stood to my feet and went to the door, pressing my ear against it. The sounds were coming clearer—there was a struggle outside. I was sure of it! Had my father come to rescue me? Surely, yes! How could I have ever believed he would give up hope on is only daughter—his beloved daughter?
     I fell back as the door burst open. He was grabbing me, that horrid man was pulling me against him. His arm went around my waist, and he pressed the blade of a knife at my neck. He jerked me into the hall, sneering out to three men who stood blocking the stairs, “Get out of my way or the lady dies!”
      The three men did not move, nor did their swords drop to their sides.
      I felt the knife pressing deeper into my skin, cutting me...
      “I said get out of my way, you wretched fools! Shall I slit her throat? Is that what you want?”
      The knife went deeper. The blood started trickling down my neck. “Please...!” I gasped. I was desperate now. I would go with him...I just wanted to live...
      The blade was cutting farther...
      The man holding me screamed, his hand instantly dropped the knife. His body swayed, still clinging to me, and then he fell to the ground.
      I was still laying over top of his body, when I felt new hands lifting me up. I didn't see who it was, but he cradled me in his arms, and I felt safe—as if I had just reached home after a long journey.
      I was carried outside of the castle, but I kept my face buried in the stranger's chest. There were so many noises around me, and I was so very frightened that I would be locked up again—in that dark room—all alone.
      The noises grew quieter, and I heard horses riding away. I felt the wind on my back, and I smelled the sweetness of the fresh Scotland air.
      “It's alright now,” came a voice.
      I had heard that voice, though I couldn't seem to remember just where. It was a voice that brought on a rush of emotions, a stirring in my chest, a regret of some sort...
      I lifted my face from the chest and looked into his face. For a moment I just studied him: the proud, cleft chin, the dark hair that curled around his shoulders, the distinct green eyes. “Sir Breac...” I breathed the words quietly, as if voicing them louder would make him disappear.
      He nodded, and his eyes took on a look that sent my heart beating hard. “Aye,” he answered me.
      I had forgotten how smooth his voice was.
      “Are you hurt?” he inquired.
     I felt my eyes fill with tears, and—as often seemed the case when near him—I felt embarrassed. “I am sure I shall manage fine, sir,” I told him quietly.
      I felt his arms tighten around me, heard him sigh deep in his chest. “I did not ask how you would manage, Aileana. I asked if they have hurt you.” He paused with yet another sigh. “Any with eyes can see that they have.”
      I leaned my head back against his chest, taking much comfort in the constant, soothing sound of his heart beat. Just minutes later he took me to his steed, and we set off towards his great castle not so very far away.

YYYYYYYYYY

      With great gentleness he laid me in a large bed in his castle. I assumed he would then make his departure, but he remained, instead, bent over top of me.
      “Aileana...Breac,” he tried the words on his tongue, then smiled at me. “It sounds beautiful, does it not?”
      I felt color rushing to my cheeks, and I felt as if I could not utter one word. I only stared at the handsome man looking down at me...
      “Aileana,” he said again. “I shall ask you once, and never again. I want you as my wife, but I do not want a woman who does not love me. So I ask you, Aileana NicGender: do you love me?”
      His hand had slid over mine, his touch was warm, his voice soothing. “I must tell you the truth,” I whispered back.
      His jaw tightened, but the gentle look in his eyes did not fade.
     “I never believed myself capable of loving you.” I felt my throat constrict, and I noticed quite suddenly that there were tears in Sir Breac's eyes. Tears. Tears because I was about to reject him. Tears because he loved me, and I did not love him. Tears because he had risked his life to save me, and my heart was still indifferent.
      And then I knew—I knew the truth my heart had been trying to divulge to me from the start. I understood the embarrassment and nervousness that I found so common while near him. They were slow steps my heart was making towards a journey I thought I would never reach. But I had reached it indeed. I had come upon my destination...and I, Aileana of Gendersfield, was in love with this man.
      “Oh, Breac,” I breathed. I reached up and stroked his cheek, and my heart nearly broke when I saw him battling to keep back those precious tears. “I do love you, sir. And I should want nothing more than to be your betrothed.”
      He didn't smile at me, nor did he say anything. But the look on his face was enough to give me all the reassurance that I would ever need. Without preamble, he bent his head and met my lips in a tender, sweet kiss that made me melt under the knowledge that I was so treasured by this man.
       When the kiss broke, he kept his head still very near mine. “I shall leave you to your rest, my pearl.” He started to leave, but then paused and drew nigh unto me once again. “I don't think I have told you yet, have I?”
      I shook my head, quite unsure what he meant. “What is that?”
      “That you are the loveliest lady in all of Scotland, and I shall never let another man harm you as long as I am living.” He paused here and brushed my lips with his once again. “And I love you with all my heart, Aileana, as I have never loved any one before.”
      “Not anyone?” I whispered back.
      He smiled gallantly, looking very much like the man in love that he was. “Nay, Aileana. Not anyone.”