Castles, Kilts and Caresses

by Carmen Caine

  Duncan shoved his chair back. “Of course you’ll stay for the evening meal—head back on the morrow?”

  “I will, thank you. ’Tis a long ride.”

  “Mayhap we can get in a sparring session afore the meal is served.”

  Sean swirled his fingers over the basket-weave pattern on his sword’s hilt. “I’d welcome a healthy round. No one’s given me a good run since you left me on the borders.”

  Duncan clapped him on the shoulder. “’Tis time you groomed a champion. A chieftain should not be the best sword—’tis not healthy for the longevity of the clan.”

  “Oh?” Sean scoffed. “And why have I not seen any Campbell guard best you?”

  The Lord of Glenorchy winked. “I’m working on it.”

  ***

  Gyllis sat in the embrasure of her window and stared out over Loch Awe. September was always her favorite month. The warmth of summer lingered, though something in the air warned the nice weather wouldn’t last. It made her anxious to enjoy it all the more. This season it also made her anxious to shed her crutches. She’d been suffering paralysis for so long, she yearned for the days without constant care, when she was free to run and dance.

  The chamber door opened and Helen stepped inside carrying a missive. “Have you a moment?”

  “Meg and her retinue of lasses have come and gone.” Gyllis beckoned her. “What is that?”

  Helen skipped over and sat on the padded bench opposite. “I’ve received a letter from Sir Aleck MacIain.”

  “Honestly?” Hopefully this was a pleasant surprise. Gyllis waggled her eyebrows. “What does it say?”

  “He wrote me a poem and said some nice things.”

  Gyllis rolled her hand. “I’m sure you didn’t come in here to talk about the lovely weather we’re having. Read it to me.”

  Gyllis listened to the love letter. The chieftain’s prose put Helen on a pedestal, reassuring her that all would be well, reinforcing she was needed as the lady of the keep in Ardnamurchan posthaste, and Aleck awaited her arrival with fond anticipation. He even signed it “your servant”. When Helen finished reading, she folded the velum and stared at it with a long sigh.

  “He sounds very nice.”

  She nodded her dun locks and pursed her delicate mouth. Gyllis had always considered Helen a bit frailer. Though now stricken with paralysis, Gyllis figured the tides may have changed in that regard. In so many ways over the past months, Gyllis had doubted herself, feared she would be a burden and hated every moment of her dependence.

  But her sister needed reassurance now more than Gyllis did. “Surely, Sir Aleck’s letter has eased your mind.”

  “Aye.” Helen looked up and smiled—a sad smile all the same. “I believe he has a good heart at least.”

  Gyllis leaned forward and patted her hand. “’Tis a start.”

  Her sister stood and moved to the window, gazing out over the loch. “I shall miss this place.”

  Gyllis scooted along the bench and grasped her hand. “And I shall miss you.”

  “I’m ever so anxious.” She glanced at the crutches. “Would you be up to a stroll?”

  “Aye—let us venture to the battlements.”

  Helen’s gaze dropped to Gyllis’s legs. “Are you able to climb that many steps?”

  “I will not know until I try.” She slid back and plucked her crutches from the floor. “I nearly made it across the chamber without these today.”

  “That is wonderful news, but I’m not certain you should be climbing all the way to the battlements. What if you fall?”

  The more Helen balked, the more Gyllis wanted to cast the blasted crutches aside and race her to the top of the stairwell. If only I could. Mayhap they’d be able to race the next time they were together. “Come. If I fall, I’ll have a wee bruise. If ’tis too far, we shall turn around.”

  Helen giggled. “I suppose I could always ask a young guard to carry you back to your chamber.”

  Gyllis pulled herself to a stand and started toward the door. “Now that’s the best idea you’ve had in ages.”

  “I thought you were head over heels for Sir Sean.”

  “I am. But I’m not dead.”

  Helen followed her into the passageway. “You’re still incorrigible.”

  “And you are still a prude.”

  Giggling, they made their way up through the narrow stone stairwell winding like a spiral to the wall-walk. At the top, Gyllis leaned against the stone battlements to catch her breath. “I cannot believe I used to run up those stairs.”

  Helen fanned her face. “I cannot believe you’ve suffered paralysis and climbed all the way up here with a set of crutches. You are truly amazing.”

  Gyllis chuckled and took in a deep breath. The deep blue water shimmering on the loch caught her eye. She could see for miles. Even the purple heather on the surrounding hills was in bloom. Violets and lavenders climbed for miles up the slopes of Ben Cruachan, the sight was enough to take her breath away. A breeze caressed her face and summer’s fragrance filled her with renewed energy. “This view made our effort worthwhile.”

  Behind them iron clanged. Gyllis snapped her head around and headed across the stone walk to a crenel notch. “Remember when we used to watch Eoin and Sean spar from this very spot?” She poked her head through the gap. Only two men sparred in the courtyard. She instantly made out her brother, but her heart leapt when she recognized the man with his back to her. Only one man on earth could make her heart stutter an arrhythmic beat—make her knees turn into boneless limbs, and most of all, heat pool in the most sacred place of all.

  Tall, wavy, dark hair brushing his nape, built like a prized bull from his broad shoulders to his sturdy hips. “Sean,” Gyllis whispered.

  “Oh, my.” Helen pushed in beside her. “Do you know why he’s here?”

  She gaped at him. “I haven’t a clue.”

  Helen fanned her face. “But he is.”

  Gyllis sighed. “Aye.” Her body went from trembling recognition to floating. Her mind drifted to the night she’d seen him sparring with an imaginary partner completely nude. Sean moved like a cat. His movements so fast, his sword and limbs blurred. His lunges deep, his spins precise, calculated. Duncan kept up, but her brother could hardly match the younger chieftain.

  She could watch Sean forever, her mind’s eye picturing the bulging muscles beneath his linen shirt. The men circled. She could see Sean’s face now. His hawk-like eyes focused on Duncan as if nothing around them could draw his attention away. With the laces of his shirt spread open, his chest glistened with perspiration. Even from five-stories up, Gyllis could see the sheen, and all too well she was familiar with the bands of sinew taut beneath.

  Heat spread throughout her body. Her breasts swelled against her stays. From such distance she could smell his spicy musk soaring up to her with the breeze, as if begging her to float down to his arms. Her lips parted with her stuttered breaths.

  “Och aye, you are smitten.” Helen nudged her. “You should see your face.”

  Gyllis clapped her hands to her cheeks. “’Tis that obvious?”

  Helen laughed. “You may as well hold up a placard that says ‘marry me’.”

  “Oh please, how utterly unheard of.” Gyllis straightened, though she couldn’t bring herself to pull her gaze from the Adonis down below.

  “Come, I ken what we should do.” Helen hastened toward the stairwell.

  Gyllis hobbled after her as fast as she could, her blasted crutches clicking the flagstone.

  “What are you on about?”

  The dun-haired lass had never looked like she was up to so much mischief as she did when she stopped at the entrance to the stairwell and grinned. “We’ve not much time to make you look as bonny as a queen.”

  Gyllis’s insides flipped upside down. “I think the idea of matrimony becomes you. You’re not half as dull as you were when we rode onto the Dunstaffnage foregrounds for Beltane.”

  Helen slapped her hand through
the air. “Hogwash. I’m as passionate as you. I just do not let everyone know about it as you do.”

  Gyllis tried to keep up with Helen’s fast pace. “Honeyed cryspes? You would have rather sought out food than stroll past a gathering of brawny knights.”

  Helen stopped and faced her. “Ah, but you forget even knighted lads enjoy sweets. Mother doesn’t pay a mind to us if we’re seeking out a treat, silly. I’m not half as dull as you may think.”

  Gyllis covered her smirk with the tips of her fingers and snorted out her nose. Evidently her sister was a master at pretenses. Perhaps she should pay more attention in the future.

  Chapter Twenty

  Standing at the well, Sean splashed his face with water and ran his fingers through his hair, shoving it from his eyes. He didn’t have a comb in his kit, so a quick brush with his fingers would have to do. He straightened his sword belt and headed into the keep. He wasn’t enamored with the idea of spending the night, but it would be folly to head home in the dark. Not only would he have to travel through Fearnoch Forest, the delivery of Fraser’s body broadcast loud and clear that Sean’s problems were far from over. Traveling home at first light was his only option.

  Once inside the great hall, he strode through the crowd to the dais. Duncan sat in the lord’s chair at the center of the table with Lady Meg on his right and his mother, Lady Margaret, on his left. If anyone had entered the keep wondering who was lord and master, there would be nary a question. The trio looked as regal as the king’s retinue at court.

  Duncan stood. “Sir Sean, please take the seat at the end. I’ve no doubt my sisters will enjoy your conversation.”

  Sean gulped. Duncan never wanted him to take a wee gander at his sisters. Hmm. Perhaps he believed there was no threat with Gyllis away at the priory.

  “How are you Sir Sean?” Lady Meg asked holding out her hand. “It has been ever so long since we’ve seen you.”

  “I’m well.” Sean strode around the table, took her hand and kissed it. “My dear lady, you are bonnier than ever. And how are the twins?”

  “Elizabeth’s almost as beautiful as her mother,” Duncan said. “And Colin is a lad who would make my father proud.”

  “Congratulations to you both.” Sean then bowed to Lady Margaret. “And how are you m’lady?”

  “Very well,” the woman who’d been a second mother dipped her head. “Please accept my condolences for the loss of your father. He was a good man.”

  “That he was.”

  Sean took his seat, but no sooner had he done so, a hush dampened the banter in the hall. Lady Margaret clapped a hand to her chest and sat forward. Sean followed her gaze.

  Gyllis stood at the foot of the stairwell wearing a crimson mantle. Both the over and under gowns were a work of art. Low cut, Gyllis’s breasts swelled above the sealskin-trimmed neckline, her flesh more perfect than pure white calla lilies. Her tresses were held away from her face under a matching French hood, also trimmed by sealskin. Looking directly at him, she offered a lovely smile before she handed her crutches to Helen.

  She’s not?

  She did.

  With her first step, the gold satin underdress caught the glow of the candlelight and shimmered. Sean scarcely noticed Helen walking closely behind with one hand out. Gyllis grinned at him, her face alive and filled with joy.

  She took another step and another.

  Sean wanted to dash from the dais and gather her into his arms, but in no way would he wish to detract from her performance.

  Duncan stood, as if he’d had the same thought.

  Lady Margaret sat transfixed, her hand covering her mouth. “Praise God.”

  “’Tis a miracle,” said Lady Meg.

  Sean grasped his armrests. He couldn’t allow her to cross the entire hall unassisted, no matter how much she wanted to impress her family. When he slid his chair back, Gyllis stumbled forward. Helen squealed and reached for her, but the lovely lass tumbled beyond her sister’s grasp. Benches scraped across the floor as Gyllis collapsed into a heap.

  Sean didn’t remember his feet touching ground as he dashed to her side. “Miss Gyllis!” He dropped to his knees before her. “Are you all right?”

  “Blast.” She smacked the floorboards with her fist. “I wanted to impress you, and I had to go and fall on my face like a cripple.”

  “You are a cripple,” Alice said from behind the small gathering of people. Sometimes little sisters could be so maddening.

  “No. She is not.” Sean gathered her in his arms. “Miss Gyllis may have suffered from a bout of paralysis, but I’ve never seen anyone with more courage and determination.”

  Frail and light in his arms, he stood with ease.

  She buried her face in his chest and a tear moistened his shirt. “I’m so embarrassed. I wanted to show you how much I’ve improved.”

  “Are you jesting? You walked, Gyllis. You practically strode across the entire hall without a lick of help. I’ve never been so impressed by anything in my life as much as I witnessed in that moment. I know how hard you’ve worked. You are truly amazing.”

  She met his gaze with a joyous bleary-eyed smile adorned by delightful dimples—so much more enchanting than Duncan’s. “Lady Meg started applying warm compresses. I think they’ve helped a great deal.”

  “Aye? I’d wager your pure determination has done as much or more than a handful of warm rags.” He proceeded to the dais, met with Duncan’s angry glare. But before Sean neared close enough for the baron to hear, he pressed his lips to Gyllis’s ear. “You’ve never looked as radiant as you do this night.”

  Why she was there and not at the priory he’d uncover later.

  Duncan planted his fists on his hips. “Was it necessary to carry my sister all the way to the dais?”

  If Sean weren’t cradling Gyllis in his arms he’d challenge Duncan on the spot, friend or no. She’d had the courage to attempt to cross the entire great hall unassisted and when her frail legs had given out, the bastard hadn’t rushed to her aid. “I believe it was. Only a few sennights ago, Miss Gyllis had just started to walk with crutches.”

  Duncan crossed his arms and tipped his chin up. “It seems you know an awful lot about my sister’s ailment.”

  Sean pushed past him and climbed onto the dais. “I’ve had dealings at Ardchattan and chanced to visit with Miss Gyllis a time or two.” He set her on the chair beside his. “Are you all right now my…lo…ah…Miss Gyllis?”

  “I am, thanks to you, sir.” She cast a heated stare in her brother’s direction.

  Sean took her hand and bowed deeply over it. “’Tis my pleasure to be of assistance.” Her lithe fingers smelled of rose oil and he could have hovered there forever. Watching her eyes, he kissed her hand. “Is there anything further I can do to help?”

  Gyllis smiled, her gaze trailing down the length of his body. A bold move for a somewhat innocent maid, but a gesture telling him she desired more than a kiss on her hand. “I would be honored if the gallant knight who rescued me would be so kind as to sit beside me during the meal.”

  Duncan stepped behind them. “Do not make me challenge you MacDougall. I suggest you take your seat and stop carrying on like a wet-eared lad.”

  “I thought he was rather chivalrous,” Helen said, taking the seat on Gyllis’s other side.

  “He’s being a fair bit too familiar if you ask me,” Duncan groused.

  “Stop,” Mother said. “I find Sir Sean’s actions endearing. Besides, you didn’t spring across the room and dash to assist your sister. If not you, I can think of no one more suitable. Sean is practically family. Why, the pair has known each other since childhood.”

  Sean leaned toward Gyllis’s ear. “I could talk to him now…um…you know.”

  She held a finger to her lips. “Nay. Let me speak to Mother first. Perhaps she can build a bridge.”

  Sean glanced toward Duncan. He’d resumed his seat and poured himself a tankard of ale. Slipping his hand under the table, Sean grasped
Gyllis’s fingers. “Why are you here? I thought you’d remain at the priory for another month at least.”

  “John was waiting for me in my cell after you brought me back from Dunollie. He said if I was well enough to stay out all night, I could return home.” Gyllis squeezed his hand tight. “He even guessed that we…”

  Sean choked on his ale and froth spewed across the table. “Oh no.”

  Gyllis bit her lip and dropped her lids. “He did.”

  Sean rubbed the back of his neck and flicked his gaze toward the Lord of Glenorchy. “Duncan isn’t aware.”

  Gyllis gave him the most perplexed look. “How did you…?”

  “He hasn’t tried to hang me—yet.”

  Gyllis muffled her giggle with her free hand. “And you, why are you at Kilchurn?”

  Sean couldn’t bring himself to tell her about all the problems with Alan MacCoul. The last thing Gyllis needed right now was to worry about an ornery varlet who would soon be brought to justice. “I had dealings with your brother.”

  Her face reddened. “Clearly those dealings did not include me,” she whispered so softly, Sean scarcely caught every word.

  “Not yet, my love.” Sean pressed his lips to her ear. “Speak to your mother. Then I will approach Duncan after the Michaelmas feast and the Lord of Lorn’s wedding.”

  She picked up a piece of bread and took the tiniest bite. “Only speak to him if you truly want to. I know I’m not—”

  Sean tightened his fingers around her hand. “Cease. There is no question of my love or devotion for you.”

  Duncan pounded the hilt of his eating knife on the table. “The two of you have had your heads together since you sat down. What is so surreptitious you cannot share it with all the table?”

  What was it about Duncan Campbell that brought out Sean’s urge to hit something—namely the arrogant lord’s face. God’s teeth, he’d been friends with Duncan forever, but that didn’t mean he’d take his shite. Gyllis must have sensed Sean’s building ire because she squeezed his arm with surprising strength.

  But Sean met the baron’s glare. “If you must know, after seeing Miss Gyllis struggling at the priory, I had my carpenter fashion a pair of crutches for her.” He pointed. “Those she attempted to cross the hall without today. She was simply informing me of her progress.” Sean glared back, just as intensely as the Lord of Glenorchy. Duncan may be his senior peer, but Sean was a chieftain. A man to be reckoned with. And he would win the bastard’s favor regardless of any past indiscretions. “I happened to be quite amazed with her attempt to walk the length of the hall. I trust you were equally so.”