by Diane Darcy
He looked pleased and a little shy, his gaze falling as he entered the room. “Missing me, I hope? I searched everywhere and none seemed to know of your whereabouts.”
He’d bathed. His masculine face was clean-shaven and his hair damp on his shoulders. The long shirt and belt he wore didn’t hide the well-developed muscles of his chest and arms. Maybe he could learn to play football? He might like that. She couldn’t help the sappy grin she was positive adorned her face. She really didn’t want to lose him.
“Do you wish to join me in the kitchens to find some supper?”
Forcing herself to stop ogling, she glanced instead at the sewing pile. She was hungry, but determined to finish. “Not yet. I still have a lot of mending to do.”
“I could help.”
“Really? I thought this was considered women’s work. Since when do big, strong, handsome,” she drew the last word out and grinned at him, “knights sew?”
“Ah, flattery.” Kellen grinned and closed the door. “Now you’ll not be able to rid yourself of me. Leastways, two will finish more quickly and we can be on our way.”
“True.” Suspicion had Gillian’s brows drawing together. “But do you even know how to sew?”
Kellen crossed the room and retrieved another candle, bringing it back to hold the wick against the flame beside her. “Not many women grace the battlefield, yet there is still torn clothing aplenty. I was a squire once, and had to sew my lord’s clothing as well as my own.”
He shrugged. “Of course, that was years ago and expected. I must issue a warning. If you happen to mention that I helped you this day, I will, of course, have to slay you.”
“That sounds ominous.” Gillian smiled as she retrieved another needle and threaded it for him. “How exactly will you do me in?”
Kellen hesitated, and Gillian glanced up. Suddenly serious, his smile gone, he said, “There are many and varied ways I am capable of doing the deed, though I will say I do not count poison among my skills. I tend to be more forthright.”
He was talking about Catherine. Well, Gillian was sick and tired of Catherine and the damage she’d done this man. He’d been playful only moments before and she wanted that back.
“I never thought you did. But what about drowning? I bet you could make it look like an accident if you tried. You could tell everyone we were going swimming and when you return alone you could fake tears and that would be that.”
Kellen laughed. “Too much effort, especially the weeping part. Besides my dagger is sharp and handy.”
Gillian grinned. “But think of the mess. What if you arranged a horse riding accident? Everyone knows I can’t ride. Or better yet, what if you threw me off a cliff, or placed a snake in my bed?”
Kellen smiled, then chuckled, almost as if he couldn’t help himself. “Again, ’tis all too much effort. Adders are especially difficult to find. I suppose I must needs keep you and suffer the ribbing my men are sure to give.”
“You’re assuming I’ll talk. I won’t, you know. All your secrets are safe with me.”
Kellen glanced up, a quick upswing of his head as he studied her face, before he snatched up a piece of clothing and searched it for damage. Long enough for her to see the vulnerable, seeking expression. She breathed out slowly. Catherine had a lot to answer for.
“Tell me about the stolen cattle. Did you get them back? I hope no one was hurt?”
Kellen shrugged. “We found our men tied up and, other than a few scuffle marks, unharmed. We found most of the cattle and have two men in the dungeon.” His sudden smile was edged with satisfaction.
“Will you try and retrieve the missing cattle?”
“’Tis pointless.” When he finally looked up again, his expression was unreadable, the earlier traces of vulnerability gone. “They are long away by now and the further into Scotland they go, the more likely we are to face ambush and loss of life.”
He really was a good leader. He cared more about his men than his pride. As Gillian watched the play of candlelight on one of Kellen’s high cheekbones, she realized the sappy expression was probably back on her face.
Kellen finished the shirt and held it up for her inspection. “Well? What think you?”
He’d done a better job than she could have. “Not too shabby.”
“Do I receive payment?”
“What kind of payment?”
“You are sure you have no more of the chocolate?”
She chuckled. “I wish. It really is all gone.”
“I suppose.” His look was sly. “I will have to settle for a kiss then, as payment.”
Gillian glanced at Kellen’s mouth and, suddenly breathless, barely refrained from licking her lips. “Settle, huh? I don’t think so. Anyway, that’s hardly fair since you’re the one who tore it in the first place.”
Kellen crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. “You would deny me payment?”
“Are you going to pout if I do?”
Kellen glanced away, his brows drawing together. “Nay.”
“You are!” She laughed. “Well, perhaps I’ll kiss you when the work is all done.”
“I always think it best to deliver payment as work is completed.”
Gillian laughed. “For each piece? An installment plan?”
“Yes, I wish for an installment.”
“All right.” Still smiling, unable to resist, she leaned forward. “One kiss.”
Kellen quickly took advantage of her capitulation and leaned in and fitted his mouth to hers, kissing her gently. He coaxed her mouth open and tasted her, making her boneless, making her moan.
She lifted an arm and slipped it around his neck and Kellen dragged her across his body. Her other arm rose of its own accord to circle his neck. She was getting dangerously addicted to him. To his taste and—
The door creaked slightly as it swung open. “Saints protect us!”
Gillian scrambled back as Kellen let her go.
Marissa’s shocked expression was quickly replaced by a glare directed at Gillian. “I leave you to work and this you do instead? Have you not the pride to fulfill your duties?”
Heat fired Gillian’s cheeks. “Uh . . . I was actually sewing,” Gillian pointed to her pile. “And got quite a bit done. This was the first time I’d stopped working since you left.”
“Do you take me for a fool?” Marissa turned and pulled the door closed behind her.
Gillian sighed and looked at Kellen who didn’t seem upset in the least. She glared at him. “Well?”
“Yes?”
Gillian gestured frantically toward the closed door. “So much for impressing the woman. Now I’m not only a sluggard, but a slut.”
“A slut?”
“A wanton.”
Kellen laughed. “I could but wish.”
Gillian sank back with a laugh of her own. She looked over at the pile of clothing still to be done. “Well, no point in continuing now.” She turned to an unrepentant Kellen and his smile irked her. “But for the record, you’re a jerk.”
He laughed. “Shall we go down to supper now? Or we could stay here and finish. I find I’m not as hungry for food as I had believed.”
His eagerness made her laugh. “If we stay here, I’m sewing. I’m not risking her coming back and finding us making out.”
“Making out?”
“Kissing, necking, smooching, snogging, sucking face. Whatever you call it.”
Kellen laughed and leaned in, obviously intent on kissing her again.
“That’s it.” Gillian stood. “I’m out of here.”
Kellen scrambled to his feet. “No, wait. I must needs discuss this sucking of face with you.”
“Not another word.” Gillian was out the door before he reached her.
After the morning fast had been broken, Kellen knew he should leave. He had much to do but lingered anyway.
Marissa and her ladies moved to sit by the fire and, after a flatteringly long look in his direction, Gillian followed. Kellen, unabl
e to help himself, followed too, stopping nearby to lean against a whitewashed wall.
After they’d raided the kitchen the night before, as Gillian had named their foraging, they’d sat in the great room before the fire until complaints from those trying to sleep had sent them abed.
Kellen smiled at the memory of Gillian’s dread of bedding down with Marissa. He’d offered to let her sleep with him; but she’d rolled her eyes at the suggestion, so he’d walked her to her chamber instead. The lack of privacy had allowed for but a few kisses, leaving Kellen yearning for more throughout the night. He couldn’t wait until she was his the whole night through.
Marissa sat with her ladies and sorted through the mending, checking the clothes and Gillian’s work. “Lady Corbett, I’m pleased with what you’ve accomplished.” She held up a shirt. “Look here. If you but decide, you are quite capable of doing an adequate job.”
Recognizing the shirt as the one he’d sewn, Kellen pushed himself off the wall. “Adequate?” He asked, offended.
“Yes, adequate. The stitches are not precisely even,” Marissa said. “But ’tis a start. She is doing well enough.”
Kellen leaned back and crossed his arms while Gillian, her face turned toward him, struggled not to laugh.
“As you did so well last night,” Marissa continued, “you may now demonstrate your skill at sketching.”
Gillian squealed, ran over, grasped Kellen’s hand, and tugged him toward a chair. He offered little resistance.
“Sit here.” Gillian was gleeful as she pushed him down, then pulled up another chair and sat across from him.
“Gillian, I cannot stay. I have much to do. My men are no doubt waiting for me to show myself.”
“Oh, come on. Please?” She wasn’t even looking at him, but digging in her pack, sure he’d give in. He sighed. For her, he would. “To please you,” he said. “But I will demand payment.”
She chuckled and jumped up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Payment.”
He shook his head at her but couldn’t help smiling at her contagious joy. She gave him a slow grin that had his heart speeding as she arranged him to sit as she desired, his legs outstretched, hands enfolded on his lap.
He was gratified at how easily she touched him, something his first wife avoided even after four years of marriage. Gillian smoothed a hand down one of his legs and patted his knee.
“Aye, touch me wherever you like,” he said quietly. Gillian winked at him and his grin broadened.
“Now sit still and don’t fidget.” Gathering her paper and sticks, Gillian seated herself and studied his face a moment before beginning her sketch. She looked carefree, her blue eyes shining, a half-smile on her full lips. He was pleased she was settling in. She was fast becoming Kellen’s weakness and he wanted her happy.
He quickly reminded himself that he possessed no weaknesses and anyone who said otherwise would not live to tell the tale.
“Don’t scowl. Just give me a slight smile.”
Amelia entered and wandered over to see what Gillian was doing. “Amelia!” exclaimed Gillian. “I have an idea. Come and stand beside your father. Now Kellen, I want you to put your left arm around her.”
Again, Gillian arranged them to her satisfaction, moving their bodies into position. “There. Perfect. Now don’t move.”
Kellen was rigid, the tiny body next to his own, no less so. He didn’t like being this close to the girl. He didn’t want to look at her for fear he would see she was not his, that he was raising another man’s child. One of his men’s? He was determined not to think on it. To wonder if one of his own had betrayed him.
“Relax, both of you.”
The child, stiff and unbending, stood for only a few minutes before jerking free and running away.
“Amelia, come back!” Gillian tried to coax the child into returning but to no avail. The girl ran out of the room and, looking confused, Gillian asked, “What was that about?”
Kellen shook his head. “I did nothing.”
“Well, I wasn’t accusing you of pinching her. I just wondered why she left.” Gillian shrugged and picked up her sketch. “I’ll put her in later. In the meantime, keep your arm up as if she’s still there.”
“Lady Corbett,” Marissa called out. “You do not have the day through. You must finish soon. There is work to be done.”
Gillian mouthed “there is work to be done” along with Marissa and rolled her eyes, making Kellen stifle a laugh. Then he wondered if she was being made unhappy, if perhaps he should send Marissa away?
He glanced over at the ladies, working industriously. No. Marissa was teaching Gillian well. He wanted her settled and wanted her to take her rightful place. Marissa would make sure she was comfortable in her role, and after the marriage Gillian would have none to gainsay or arrange her time.
“Kellen,” Owen came into the room. “There you are, lazing about as always, I see. The men are training and wondering what you are about.”
Gillian waved a hand. “I’m keeping him. Go away.”
Her words produced a warm glow in Kellen’s chest, and embarrassed that his feelings might show on his face, he lifted a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.
Tristan came inside. “What are you doing? Sketching?” He moved forward to look over Gillian’s shoulder. “No, no. You are making him too handsome.”
Gillian withered him with a stare. “Go away, Tristan.”
“Wouldn’t you rather use your talent to sketch a well-favored face?”
Gillian snorted. “Yours, I suppose?”
“If you insist, I could be persuaded to—”
“Leave!” Kellen said.
Tristan sent him a disdainful glare. “Come, Owen. As ever, it looks as if we will have to train the men ourselves.”
Kellen snorted and watched them go.
After she’d been busy a few minutes more, Gillian spoke. “I need to ask you something.”
“Aye?”
“I was thinking we could take a walk today. Out to the cemetery. You, me, and Amelia. Just the three of us. What do you think?”
Kellen’s brows drew together. Again, with the cemetery? “Nay.”
Gillian stopped sketching and looked up. “Why not?”
Kellen rubbed the back of his neck. “’Tis not safe.”
“It’s just outside the village. We’d be with you. What’s not safe about that?”
Kellen tried to think how to deny her. “What captivates you thus? Cemeteries are nasty, gloomy places, fit only for the ghosts that haunt them.”
“I just want to go.”
“Another time?”
“Soon?”
“Of course. When we both have a free moment, we will get my men together and—”
“No. Just the three of us.”
He was suspicious again, but could not fathom what she could be about. Was there someone waiting? A man she hoped to see? A lover she wanted to leave with? And if so, did she think Kellen would be easily overpowered? The idea was ludicrous. “For what purpose?”
“It’ll be fun.”
Kellen didn’t want to take her to the cemetery. Not with the thieving Scots about, and not when the hair rose on the back of his neck in warning every time she mentioned the blasted place. It wasn’t likely she could have a romantic tryst in mind. Not with the child there. And by the saints, it was a graveyard!
“Okay?”
What was she hiding? She was tying him in knots. Her sister Catherine had ever been secretive. She’d met with a man somehow, and been so tightlipped about it, Kellen had not been able to find the culprit.
Gillian’s face was open, without guile. But she had such a different way about her that she was still difficult to read. Where women were concerned, he didn’t trust his instincts anymore.
Kellen was relieved when Owen came back in the room. “Kellen? A word with you?”
“I must leave.”
“No!” Gillian said. “Just a little while longer.”
>
Marissa lifted her head. “’Tis best he goes. He has much to do, as do you.”
Kellen looked into her distressed face and desired to give her whatever she wanted. Within reason.
Tristan came up behind Owen. “Is he coming?”
Kellen gave Gillian one last searching look and realized Catherine was making him doubt Gillian. He knew it wasn’t fair to her, but didn’t know how to feel differently.
Marissa glanced over. “Gillian?”
Owen gestured from the door. “Kellen?”
Before Gillian could protest, before Kellen could even be tempted to stay, to accuse or apologize for suspecting her of foul deeds and worse, he vaulted out of his seat and hastened after his men.
Chapter 20
A week later, in the middle of the night, Gillian yawned widely, not bothering to cover her mouth or look away from the sketch she worked on. No one else was around anyway.
To say they’d been keeping her busy was an understatement. Marissa and her ladies were slave drivers, granting very little free time, and zero access to Kellen. Not that he’d seemed to mind.
To add insult to injury, after keeping her busy every day, Marissa had tried to stop Gillian from drawing at night, scolding her for staying up late, for wasting candles, and for keeping Marissa awake with the scratching noises.
Gillian smirked at the memory of that particular accusation. The feather-light sound of her pencil was completely drowned out by Marissa’s soft snoring. It was nice to see the paragon wasn’t perfect.
Gillian bit her lip to try and hold back a smile as she sketched, knowing she shouldn’t be mean. Marissa might not be warming to her, but all the same, she was teaching Gillian all she knew and, if she were actually staying, it would be very useful information.
She used a finger to smudge the curve of Kellen’s jaw on the page, creating a shadow and softening the line. She was just about finished with the portrait and was happy with how it was turning out. She stared at Kellen’s masculine face, the full lips, high cheekbones, neck and shoulders thick with muscle. Yummy. The man was gorgeous, no doubt about it.
