by Diane Darcy
“No doubt training with the men.” Beatrice looked suddenly hopeful. “What about goose feathers? If you gave Cook permission to—”
“No! No feathers!” Gillian should never have lied to Beatrice about the queen’s fashions. The girl was developing a feather fetish, and Gillian was starting to feel quite guilty about it. Grabbing her pack, Gillian said, “Come on.”
She headed downstairs and Beatrice hurried to follow, insisting on carrying the pack. The minute Gillian stepped outside the keep people stared, pointed in her direction, and watched her every move; but she was getting used to it.
She passed the kitchen and was stopped short when a chubby woman with gray-streaked hair rushed to block her path. Two more followed, a thin, middle-aged woman with a ruddy complexion and a pretty, younger girl, both standing slightly in the background looking anxious.
The chubby woman nervously wiped her hands on a stained apron and bobbed up and down. Her two counterparts followed suit. “Pardon, my lady, but have you any instructions?”
Gillian looked around. “Instructions?”
“For the meals, my lady.”
“Oh. Oh, right. The meals.” Gillian waved a hand. “Er . . . no. Just carry on. The food has been excellent. I’m very impressed with the quality and quantity. I don’t know how you do it all.”
The three looked at each other, smiles replacing anxiety, and obviously pleased, the youngest ducked her head to hide a grin.
The cook nodded vigorously. “Thank ye, my lady.”
Gillian felt a slight heat rising in her cheeks. They were grateful to her for enjoying their cooking? She was just glad she didn’t have to do it. “No, thank you. Seriously, I appreciate all you’re doing. I haven’t eaten this well in a very long time.” Roasted chicken, veggies, and homemade bread beat instant noodles any day of the week.
Their smiles grew and with a wave Gillian hurried off, uncomfortable with their gratitude.
She passed the well and the chapel and watched a few little girls drawing with sticks in the dirt and a couple of chickens pecking nearby. The sound of clanking metal alerted her to the blacksmith in the distance.
A man on a bench looked to be making a pair of shoes, while another tied a length of rope around an axe-head, and a third hauled a barrel over one shoulder. A couple of soldiers crossed the yard. The place was a miniature city.
She’d think of her time here as if it were a resort or cruise vacation where everything was all-inclusive. Maybe they had shuffleboard or a spa?
Gillian stifled a laugh. What she really needed was a lounger, some tanning oil, and a good romance novel. Or better yet, a real live shipboard romance complete with a gorgeous, slightly dangerous hunk.
She wouldn’t mind if Kellen were to rub oil on her, or vice versa, and if he were wearing swim trunks while doing so, well, so much the better. Gillian shivered at the thought of all that hard, bare skin, hers for the touching. Where was he, anyway?
Rounding the inner wall, Gillian almost stumbled into the three boys she’d seen the day before. The youngest, a blond of about nine or so, sat on the ground, clutching his knee, sniffling and trying not to cry. Instantly concerned, Gillian surged forward and knelt beside him. “What’s the matter, honey-bun?”
“I got hurt.” The boy pulled his hand back far enough so Gillian could see the scrape on his knee. It wasn’t bad and didn’t look dirty, but she’d bet it stung like crazy.
“Ouchie. How did that happen?”
The slim, dark-haired boy of eleven or so shook his head in disgust. “He’s always clumsy. He fell because he was following us.” The scorn in the older boy’s voice was apparent.
The younger boy, face screwing into an indignant scowl, sucked in a breath. “You pushed me!”
Both older boys laughed.
“Hmm.” Gillian looked down at the boy. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
He looked surprised, then hurt. “I’m Francis, my lady. Don’t you know me?”
The boys laughed again and the stockier one sneered, “I’d forget that face, too, if I could.”
What did that mean? She’d seen the little guys running around, but didn’t remember being introduced. Gillian placed an arm around Francis’s shoulder. “Of course, I remember you, Francis. And what are your friends’ names?”
Francis pointed to the slim, dark-haired boy. “Peter.” He pointed the stockier one. “And he’s Ulrick.”
“Nice to meet you, boys. Did you know I went to school with a boy who was frequently clumsy? He was always falling down and into scrapes like you wouldn’t believe. It’s so sad what happened to him.” Gillian shook her head.
Francis looked worried. “What happened?”
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
The boy nodded and the other two moved closer, grinning.
Gillian sighed. “Okay, but remember, you asked. Well, the guy, Derek, was always falling down, scraping his knees, tearing his clothes, and getting bruises. The other boys used to tease him.” Gillian shot a narrowed-eyed glance at the older boys and they smirked in return.
“But it turned out the reason he was so clumsy was because he was going to grow so big! The guy ended up huge! All muscles and fighting ability. And completely graceful with a football . . . er . . . lance when he got older. All the girls were in love with him. All the boys wanted to be his friend.”
She looked into Francis’s deep blue eyes. “So, there it is. I’m sorry to be the one who has to tell you, honey. I surely wouldn’t want muscles that huge. But chances are you’ll be very big one day. Perhaps as big as Derek.”
Tears drying on his face, the child looked at Gillian with awe. “Truly?”
“Yup.”
“Is he as large as Lord Marshall?”
Gillian nodded and mentally crossed her fingers. “About that size exactly.”
A smile spread across the boy’s face.
The dark-haired boy lifted his chin. “You made that up! No one is as big as his lordship. Runt here is never going to be larger than a tadpole. And I’ve never heard of a Sir Derek. My father is Lord Marlow and he’s never mentioned him.” His arrogant tone amused Gillian.
“Really?”
His friend shrugged, not quite so indignant. “Nor has my father, Lord Stonor.”
Gillian stared blankly. “Who are they, exactly?”
“Both of Oxfordshire, my lady,” the stocky boy sounded shocked, while the other’s mouth dropped open and he sputtered.
“Hmm. Well, maybe they don’t know him. Anyway, that’s exactly what happened. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” Gillian made a crossing motion over her heart.
All three boys recoiled slightly. “A needle in your eye?” Peter said in disbelief. “’Tis disgusting.”
Francis wrapped skinny arms around her waist and hugged her, as if worried her feelings might be hurt. Gillian smiled down and gave him a squeeze, her heart melting.
“Beatrice, hand me my pack.”
Beatrice handed it over and Gillian rummaged around for a moment before pulling out the last of her miniature candy bars. “I have something that will make you feel better.” She didn’t think it would be a good idea to let them have the wrappers, however, so she opened the bars one at a time, handed them around, and then popped one into her own mouth. “Mm.”
Francis looked dubious but finally ate the candy. The boys and Beatrice quickly followed suit. Francis’s eyes widened. “What is it?”
Gillian smiled. “Chocolate. It’ll cure anything that ails you.”
Ulrick quickly swallowed his. “Can I have another?”
Gillian smiled. “They’re addicting, aren’t they?”
“My lady,” Beatrice cleared her throat.
Gillian glanced up to see Beatrice gesturing frantically.
Gillian turned her head as Kellen and a couple of his men came toward them. Ah, her shipboard romance, right on time. She felt a rush of blood through her veins and tingles of excitem
ent just from looking at him, and she couldn’t help the smile spreading over her face. Speaking of addictions. He might even be able to compete with chocolate. “I thought you were training?”
“I am.” He wasn’t returning her smile. “Gillian, I must object to your coddling the boys. As pages, they are yours to raise, but I don’t want you ruining them for the squires they are to be.”
Francis squirmed away.
“Mine to raise? I don’t understand. Where are their parents?”
At Kellen’s signal, the boys ran off.
Gillian lifted a hand. “Wait! We need to clean that scratch!” The boys rounded the corner and were gone.
Kellen sighed. “I am fostering the boys. I do my duty by them and will not have them softened. Your mothering must cease. What were you feeding them?”
Gillian arched a brow. She held out a hand and he easily lifted her to her feet, his warm touch and effortless strength making Gillian’s knees weak. Cheeks heating, aware of their audience, Gillian removed her hand from his and brushed at her gown. “I was feeding them chocolate. I thought you just said they were mine to raise?”
Kellen sighed again. “Men are honored to send their sons to me for training because I make them strong. You are not to interfere with such. What is chocolate?”
Gillian smiled. “Being around me might make them soft?” she teased.
Kellen’s gaze dropped to her chest, then he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “You are not to be too easy with them.”
Gillian laughed. “But they’re just little boys. They should still be with their mothers.”
“Gillian. You will obey me in this.”
“Fine. No hugs and kisses. I’ll go get my whip.” She dug into her pack and retrieved the last candy bar, opened it and placed it to his lips. “Here. This is chocolate.”
He ate it, his eyes widening. “More?”
She laughed. “It was my last piece.”
Kellen studied her face, lifted a hand as if to touch her, and then let it drop again. “I understand your gentleness with Francis. I beg you’d not believe me ungrateful Lord Corbett showed his support by refusing the return of his heir when Catherine died. I’m glad the alliance is still strong. While I understand you are happy to see your brother, no babying.”
Gillian’s mouth dropped slightly and she was suddenly lightheaded.
“Gillian?”
Her mouth snapped closed and she swallowed. Had she heard him correctly? Francis was her brother? Or rather, Edith’s brother? No wonder the kid had looked hurt when she hadn’t known his name.
“Are you all right?”
Gillian forced a smile. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”
This wasn’t good. Would the little twerp give her away? Expose her? Reveal her as the imposter she was? Get her killed? She swallowed again.
“I’d not meant to hurt thy tender feelings.”
“Uh, huh.” On the other hand, Francis had hugged her and seemed to think she should know him. Maybe he didn’t remember his sister well? Maybe they weren’t close? Still, she’d better stay away from the kid.
“Gillian?”
Gillian refocused on Kellen, waved a hand, and forced the smile back to her face. “I am, of course, happy to do your bidding.”
His snort turned her smile into a real one.
She wouldn’t borrow trouble. As always, what Kellen didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
Gillian, although very pretty in the sunlight, didn’t seem to know how to comport herself. She challenged him, surprised him, laughed at him, and was unlike any female he’d ever met. Facing ten men in battle made him less nervous than one look from her laughing blue eyes.
And yet, much as Kellen needed to get his thoughts back on work, he couldn’t seem to force himself to leave. He tried to think of something to say, something that would keep her smile in place, but, as always, nothing came to mind.
Gillian’s cheeks warmed under his scrutiny and she turned away, displaying her profile. “Kellen, I was wondering, which direction did you say the nearest town is?”
Kellen instantly went cold. “Why would you wish to know this?” he asked quietly. Could she hope to escape him still?
“I’m just trying to orient myself. Maybe I’m hoping to find a mall.” Her lips quirked as her tone teased. At his blank stare her smile widened. “Some shops?”
“Ah.” Kellen felt sudden relief. She was a covetous little thing, there was no doubt of that. He glanced at the ring she had yet to give him and considered all the treasures she hoarded in her pack. The pack that even now her maid carried. Gillian did like her trinkets. He glanced at the comb, still in her hair, then thought of his own stash of treasures. He’d have to see if he had something more she would like. “Nay. I’ll not tell you the location.”
Her mouth parted in surprise. “You won’t tell me where the town is?”
Amused by her frustration, he slowly shook his head.
“You seriously won’t tell me?”
“I will not.”
Gillian crossed her arms, lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Do you have a map?”
“Aye, but as a woman you would be unable to read it. It would only confuse your mind.”
Gillian sighed at his attitude, threw up her hands, turned, and walked away.
Surprised at how easily he baited her, and at how much he enjoyed doing so, he fell into step beside her. She looped her arm through his and he couldn’t help but grin, amazed at how freely she touched him. And at how quickly his body responded.
He was tempted to place his hand over her own or to kiss the top of her head but refrained, aware of their audience and wary of her reaction. He’d have to content himself with teasing. “Mayhap after you give me an heir or two, I’ll take you traveling. It would please me to show you London, Italy, and France.” It would be fun to show her everything, and see it again through her eyes.
She glanced up, her eyes alight at the prospect, but she simply lifted a shoulder. “That’s your big plan? To keep your wife barefoot and pregnant until she’s done her duty and then she can have some playtime?”
Kellen laughed. “I’d not thought to take your shoes, but ’tis a good idea. ’Twill keep you close to home.” At her raised brow, he laughed again. “Mayhap your duty will feel as play?”
Gillian chuckled. “Oh yeah, childbirth without anesthesia should be a blast. Fun, fun.”
“I referred to the making of children.”
Though her cheeks colored once more, Gillian chuckled again. “As a man, you would.”
Kellen couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face. This girl was just so different. He’d never in his life teased a girl and been teased in return. Now he found it came easily, and that he enjoyed it.
Kellen tried to think of something else to say and wished he were better with women. He wanted her to settle and be happy. But how? She wore the green dress again. “Mayhap you would like some material? For a gown or two?”
Gillian stopped and faced him, her head tilting back. “Can you please tell me why everyone wants me to take up sewing so badly? What is it you’re doing today? Maybe you should be sewing instead.”
Kellen laughed and several of his men joined in, quickly stifling their mirth at a narrow-eyed glance from Gillian. “I’ve the training of my men to see to.”
Gillian brushed her free hand over his upper arm as if feeling his muscles and testing their hardness. Kellen tensed, the blood in his veins seeming to heat. He barely refrained from bunching his muscles, so she could truly see how firm he was.
Seeming to realize what she did, she pulled her hand away and flushed. He immediately missed her touch and wished he knew how to set her at ease and assure her she was welcome to caress him at any time.
“Well, I was attacked recently, remember?” she said. “Maybe you should train me, too. You know, show me some self-defense techniques.”
Kellen, immediately insulted that she believed she needed su
ch, shook his head. “Nay. Now you are in my care, I will protect you at all times. You’ve no need for concern or training.”
Gillian shrugged. “Fine. I have my own way to defend myself, anyway. Have you ever heard of mace?”
Kellen looked down at her. “Yes. I have several.” And he very much doubted she could swing one above her head.
“Well, I guess it’s actually pepper spray, but it’ll do the job.” Gillian dropped her arm from his and turned to retrieve her pack from Beatrice, leaving Kellen feeling a sense of loss. She dug about, finally pulled something out, and held it up triumphantly. “Check it out.”
The object in her hand looked to be a long, smooth, rounded black stone, with yellow and red markings. It fit neatly into her palm. ’Twould be difficult to hurt anyone with it and the thrower would need good aim and much muscle behind the launch. Kellen couldn’t help it. He laughed. She obviously didn’t know what a mace was.
Gillian’s eyes narrowed and she walked a few feet away, held her hand high, and a mist was released from the weapon. Kellen got sudden chills. He’d seen the like when a traveling magician had passed a few nights in his keep, and wondered how Gillian had learned the trick. She walked backward, away from the dissipating mist and gestured toward it. “Go ahead and walk through and then we’ll see who’s laughing.”
Kellen hesitated, then fearing to look a coward before her, threw out his chest and strode through the clouded air.
Tristan, curious as always, followed.
Kellen’s eyes started to sting, he sucked in a breath, and immediately coughed as his throat burned. “By the saints!”
Gillian looked suddenly worried. “Oh, dear. I should have told you. I didn’t think—”
Kellen coughed again, then hurried forward and snatched the object out of her hands and looked at it. He was appalled as his eyes watered and his throat clenched.
A clever trick, but all the same, quite useless. It would be hard for her to get an enemy to stand still long enough for her to release the mist, and then harder still to get the enemy to walk through it. Besides, in the heat of battle, naught would care for stinging eyes when the sting of steel was ever imminent.
