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Chapter five:

A/N: Im getting home early today specifically to answer reviews. Im really sorry about the late postage and not replying. Hopefully this chapter is long enough and accurate. as always thanks to everyone who supports this fic: Jolynn, Im_bloody_English and jamie’s lady… Oh and another warning. For those squeamish around near rape scenes please turn away now... right now.


Liam mumbled his answer into the dirt. “She is my betrothed.”

Buffy watched the lord stare down at Liam with disgust, her heart secretly wilting. This could only end one of two ways and neither saw her receiving anything but a beating. She held back the unconscious desire to plead for mercy as Liam had done and instead simply watched as the two men completely forgot her.

Silence hung like the clouds above.

Part of her couldn’t help following the fall of his chest as he breathed. This lord, so inclined to let her go with nothing more than a bruise, was mysterious. He was different. And worst of all, he made her feel.

As though in reprimand for even thinking such, Buffy cowered back, shifting her knees like a miscreant child.

His eyes, shaded by thick curls of sun kissed blonde, glinted with annoyance and rage as he glanced in her direction. His lips, thin like a blade, were pursed into a curved line, showing just the hint of amusement. Buffy allowed herself to breathe when his eyes settled back on Liam.

Her heart however continued to race.

There was no doubt that Liam had saved her from an immediate beating but beyond that she knew nothing. Buffy couldn’t even understand why he had thrown himself at the lord’s feet. Any other man would have watched, bowed respectfully and dragged the woman home. Liam’s odd decision made her more than uncomfortable.

The royal obviously was also perplexed. Even as his steed beat the ground, tail whipping at the air, he remained silent. His hand, pale and muscled grasped at his sword hilt yet he did not move forward. Whether the royal knew it or not, he controlled every movement.

And all she could do was wait…

Buffy sighed, traitorous thoughts slipping in far too easily. Time and her father had taught her to follow directions perfectly when under supervision. And indeed she mirrored every order, at least while a man was around.

But in the small moments of freedom, Buffy became someone else. Someone uninhibited. She could only explain it as being a mood of apathy, a wild desire in her to simply walk away and forget the consequences. It was this very spirit that had possessed her to walk amongst the flowers and indeed gaze unperturbed at the overpowering royal. Blood flamed her cheeks as yet again it came, whispering of possibilities and turning her head down to the village.

Her actions, right now, were uncontrolled, no heavy masculine hand pushing in the ‘right’ direction. Liam still continued to breathe into soggy churned earth and the lord still stood there grimacing. Her knees, wet and creased pushed into the dirt as she considered it. It would only take one flying leap to raise herself and then dart away. She could run, feet pounding, back down to the village or perhaps further; away from everything. Her feet dug deeper into the ground as though it was really an option.

And then he looked back at her.

The ice in his eyes seemed impenetrable, freezing her into place even as the wind pushed at her ragged clothes. They spoke of knowledge, flaming her cheeks red at her body’s obvious movements. Why hadn’t she expected him to catch her longing looks? He’d managed to catch her here alone, despite her best efforts. Buffy forced away any hope of flight with only a sigh. Even if Liam didn’t catch her, the noble on his horse certainly would. The land was not too difficult for the beast’s iron shoes. She snuck a glance at him again, her heart quieting back into a steady beat.

“Get up.” William ordered. His hand motioned upwards as though beckoning a dog. Don’t take for sodding ever.

Rather than responding the peasant did not move from his position, an odd tremble crawling down his back the only sign that he had heard. The mop of dark brown hair seemed to kiss the rough ground as still the idiot held himself rigidly.

Blind obedience.

William could only look skyward. I wonder how they get anything done around here, if this nonsense is the norm. William pulled forth his sword, the slide of metal forcing Liam to look up instinctively.

“I told you to get up.”

“Yes M’Lord.” Liam jerked his head from the ground, heavy brow now caked with dirt. His eyes, dark soulful brown studied the sword for a moment before daring to look at the noble in front of him. “M’ Lord.” he said again, this time tilting his head ever so slightly. He never looked in Buffy’s direction, knowing that she could be dealt with later.

Perhaps I should even thank her, for letting me see him, he thought darkly.

Since Willy’s murder in the morning, the town had been afire with talks of the new Lord. Most of the peasant folk, thought of him only as the simple could: a new tyrant ready to take their women and feed off of the village’s bounty. Liam however saw an opportunity.

William represented everything that the roving Irish gangs hated. He was of English birth, noble to the point of blind adoration and respected. William commanded everyone, controlled everything. For such as Liam, the desire to plan another’s destiny or even halt a man’s life with a single nod of the head was intoxicating. It was what had attracted him to Hank in the first place. Being young of heart and foolhardy himself, Liam’s head had been quickly filled with images of taking the great Lord hostage and waging utter war against the British. The pure foolishness and idiocy of the idea did not even appear to him, and without urging he would never dare to try. But seeing him now, Liam wondered whether it was possible. Hank had not been lying when he described the man as regal but he hadn’t mentioned the Lord Denver’s arrogance. With just a sword and no accompanying men, this William was looking for trouble. Liam bit his lip to hide the grin which threatened.

Brushing his hands against stained clothes like a flummoxed courtier, Liam could not see how obvious his spite was. None of his pleading, so desperate from the serf’s position now showed.

The frustration William had been holding back seemed to snap at this new display of insolence. The man obviously thought that he was in the right. Or simply is an arrogant tosser. His jaw tightened as the lumbering man shuffled his feet. There was no need to guess as to the fool’s nature. The widening eyes of the girl, Buffy, was enough of an indication.

The moment this peasant moved, she froze.

He’d been watching the girl sneak glances at him like a gossiping courtier and had almost called her on it before holding his tongue. After her dead expression, any curiosity, even so inappropriate was acceptable. William didn’t question himself on why her strange detachment bothered him. It simply wasn’t worthwhile. As a Lord, justification for any of his actions, was so little needed that he himself didn’t even try. He ruled by his feelings.

“Your name?” he asked.

“Liam”. The smile was like that of a bar wench, far gone with child and desperate for coin. False, rotting, fake. “Liam McIntyre.”

“And she is to be your bride.” William didn’t bother to ask the question. The greedy gaze of ‘Liam’ was more obvious than an inward claddagh.

Still Liam answered him. “Aye, she’s to be mine in less than a week’s time.” His awkward grin seemed violent as he locked eyes with Buffy. “That’s if she behaves… I can’t have the wench running amuck through the village. I promise that I’ll-“

William held up a hand, halting the man’s speech. “I have no need for your promises,” he said quietly. “What I want to hear is that she’ll be obedient. Women cannot be trusted without a guiding hand and I was nearly thrown for her foolishness.” He drew back his sword, letting the metal shine as it slid back into place. He had already killed one man today. William hoped removing the weapon would lower the temptation.

Not so.

Turning his back on the peasant dismissively, William reached for the leather reins of his steed. The horse snorted, tail flicking irritably as the maid stared at him unabashedly. Her hair was a tangled mess of knots, sun lit strands splaying across her face and along her neck. William breathed out, one hand grasping the saddle. There was nothing he could do for the girl except to leave her idiot of a betrothed in one piece. He averted his eyes as the deadened look moved across her face, settling it into apathy.

“Take her back to the village.” William barked, leg already swinging over the saddle. The unabashed smile of Liam felt like a slap against his back. Sodding wanker. “I’ll take my pound of flesh from you another day.”

As the horse turned away, William fought the urge to look back at her, a twinge in his chest forcing unwanted pity. He slapped his hand desperately against the stallion’s flanks, as though fighting away the feeling.

When Buffy finally allowed her eyes to stare across the field he was gone.

Good riddance.

***

“He won’t be coming back you know.” He’s too stupid to know your worth.

Liam crouched directly in front of her, the ugly raised skin around her neck his sole focus. His own hand reached forward, stroking the imprints like a newly discovered trail. Her flinch of pain was ignored.

Why torment her physically when her thoughts were so obvious?

“Wants no part of you I suspect,” he jeered, voice loud now that they were alone. “Man would be more than a fool to take you. What with all this mischief you’ve just caused. Though I guess it’s only the weather that turned his head" he said, eyes flickering upward at the sky almost religiously. The storm would break soon, dousing the fires with fresh rain. "Next time you might’nt be so lucky…” Liam smiled, this time genuine and watched as Buffy’s eyes slowly met his own. That’s my girl. It was obvious that she’d thought well of the noble, doe eyes trailing after him like an awe struck child. From his vantage point, her interest could only be considered stupidity. Probably thinks that the man won’t be so heavy handed. Liam snorted at the idea. Willy’s headless corpse was example enough that Lord Denver did not walk lightly. Rather he stamped down on anyone, belittling them to the point of embarrassment. The innkeeper’s kin would no longer be able to hold their heads high at market after the man’s confession. The only redeeming factor was the shared hatred for his killer. Irish bonds borne from bloodshed.

Hank would of killed the fool anyway, irregardless of squealing or not. At least with the blood drying on William’s hands, they could blame the English. High and mighty Lord Denver had saved Hank from some bad publicity.

Still, Liam had to worry slightly. Intuition told him that the Lord knew Buffy’s full name and well, Liam didn’t think the man was stupid. Just arrogant.

When he hadn’t been able to find her in the village, Liam had feared the worst. By traditional standards Buffy was considered more odd than lovely, those pale colored eyes squinting at everyone like a judge. Her movements were so unconsciously fragile, regal even that some were offended just by the sight of her. The fact that she had no idea made the transgression all the worse. Young women, particularly single young women, were meant to be simple, hardworking and timid. Her apathy ate at them, like the condemned’s conscience.

Buffy reminded the village of what they were not, of what they could never be.

Most people he knew thought that any child borne of her would be bad luck, but he’d simply ignored it. After too many brawls and ale, her beauty and strange behaviour came to fascinate him. Ill fated as the match was, Liam was determined to draw her out, make her react to him.

Whether love came from their relationship mattered little.

At first silence and mirroring her own behaviour had seemed the best approach. He was naturally indifferent to those lower than himself and found it an easy task. But rather than confiding in him or at least becoming used to his presence Buffy had only shied further away.

Which had led him to this very spot…

In the midst of Willy’s murder Liam had been seeking her out in a last attempt to win her affection. If cold indifference did not make her burn then maybe his dominating passion could. The clouds had mirrored his mood when he couldn’t find her anywhere. If not for the washing women, this whole situation would be very different. His legs had burned the entire mad dash towards the field, half expecting her to cry out. His hands carried no weapon, but they were curled, relaxing only as the haughty glare of the lord faced him. He’d expected to find her battered and bloodied when he reached the field, rather than merely waiting for her punishment. Now with the fading thud of horse hooves ringing in his ears, Liam could finally relax.

Releasing her neck with surprising gentleness Liam reached for her wrists. His long fingers easily wrapping around them dragging her upwards with a biting grip. He twisted the skin slightly to watch her squirm but was only rewarded with a silent stare.

Time for a change.

Not giving her a chance to prepare, Liam pulled back his fist and plunged it into her stomach.

Her cry of pain was immediate. Struggling to catch her breath, Buffy toppled back onto the ground. Her left hand flailed back onto the ground as she fell, twisting in a pathetic attempt to break her fall. The other, still dirty, clutched at her abused stomach.

Working her mouth as though in search of words, she stared up at him with just a tinge of surprise. And in that moment she truly saw him.

I should’ve known.

Liam’s face was twisted into one of malicious delight, the dark heavy brows drawn together as he intently studied every wince of pain. His stubborn thick jaw jutted forward as he moved down to her level.

Panic flooded through her veins.

She attempted to kick one foot out at him, toes pointed out like a dancer’s. They met his chest with a small thump, knocking out a puff of air but nothing more. If anything his grin became that much wider.

“Stop fighting me Buff. It’ll only make it worse.” His hand latched onto her, dragging her squirming body underneath his own. Heavy muscled thighs trapped her sides, as his hot breath cascaded onto her neck. Her skirt scrunched around her hips, yet still she didn’t dare pull it down.

It would only anger him more.

The brogue of his voice snaked through her mind in mimicry of his hand. “You probably acted like this for him too…” Liam breathed in heavily, fingers caressing her inner thigh. He could almost taste her fear and was relishing every moment of it. “He would’ve parted your lovely legs with ease and simply taken you.” He leaned close into her ear, “and you wouldn’t have uttered a cry of protest. Such a little harlot” he murmured. “Playing the mute won’t save you now Buffy. You’re going to have to beg to get out of this…” Liam laughed as sobs reached his ears. His hand found her neck, this time squeezing viciously and forced her completely to the ground. “You must of thought that I was stupid… Or perhaps too cold to care but you forgot something Buffy… you’re mine! No one else is allowed to touch you.” His fist smashed into her face, splitting the lip like ripe fruit. Blood began to stream down, coating her chin.

“DO YOU HEAR ME?” Liam raised his hand again, smacking her even as Buffy nodded brokenly.

“That’s a good girl” he whispered. “Such a good girl.” His tongue swept over his stained lips, relishing the salty tang. Her whimper of pain as he kissed her again was all but ignored.

Now for the final piece.

“We still have a problem though Buffy.” His tone was overbearing but still she said nothing. I need her to beg. “Maybe you and I will know the real story of what happened up here but other people… they may get ideas. Everyone knows that only the whores wander. And I can’t be certain that you weren’t meeting someone else up here. ‘Picking flowers’ really is not that wonderful of an excuse.” He paused, the mad pounding of her heart the only sound to be heard. “Do you understand what I’m saying? Tell anyone about what happened and I’ll declare you sullied.”

No thought Buffy. NO! He can’t. Her fingers pulled him closer as though it was enough to change his mind. She could barely see through the tangle of gold hair which covered her face as she moved closer to him. All she could think of was Hank. Next to him Liam was nothing. Gods no! Don’t tell him… Don’t tell him… The sky faded out of view as fat tears of desperation slid down her cheeks without notice. If Hank even considered the idea that she wasn’t a virgin…

“No” she pleaded out loud. “Don’t. I’ll be ruined.”

“You deserve to be.” His jeering lips were just inches form her own, red from her spilt blood. They curled spitefully as he ground against her. "Letting him touch you... " Anger flooded his senses as William's image appeared again. She's mine. "Did you think that he was interested in you or something? That man, that royal was going to hit you.”

Buffy peered at him in confusion, the sudden shift in mood misleading her for a moment. He’s jealous of the royal… “You’ve done worse.”

Liam nodded, fingers brushing against her navel as she remained immobile beneath him. Her hands were still wrapped around his shoulders but they felt like stone. It mattered little to him now. Her cries of protest were as good as a marriage vow. He stared down at her, the thrill of controling her intoxicating. His next words were confident and full of jealousy. “I won’t mislead you Elizabeth" he said darkly. "I'm not some pathetic soft handed noble and this isn’t some kind of romance. When I kiss you, you won’t wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after.”

“No” responded Buffy softly. Her eyes were twin pools of calm, unmarred by the spattered blood. The tangled knots of her hair seemed to form a halo, catching what little light the clouds allowed. Liam gazed down at her, bewitched. “When you kiss me” she whispered, “I want to die.”

Rage suffused him for a moment, the desire to simply take her pushing his hands along her warm skin. He pressed himself against her, waiting for the pleas but it seemed his spell was broken. Buffy merely stared at him, her body unyielding like her heart.

Once more she was frozen but Liam finally knew how to get to her. He removed his hands, wiping them against her stained dress. Lifting his head, he stared at their surroundings. Grey sky above was already hailing the coming storm whilst the flowers they had trapped beneath them, begged for release. The scent of broken stems and crushed petals meshed with spilt blood, turning this childish place of beauty dark. It was no place to take her. Not when she would be his for the rest of her short miserable life.

His calloused hand reached for hers again.

This time she took it.





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