A Highlander In Peril (Gunn Guardsman)

by Griffin, Kara

  “His head is placed to the west is it not? Don’t let them place him north.” She sounded upset and mayhap panicked.

  “Aye, it is to the west, his feet to the east. Worry not, Father Cleve took care of it. I’ve had a marker made so you can return here.” He understood Lord William’s wishes to be buried as a Christian and apparently Frances wanted to abide by his request.

  In the Highlands matters were not so strict and oftentimes they buried their dead in dugout hallows without much fanfare. If one died from immoral conduct or dishonor, his body was tossed into a bog, akin to what their ancestors did when they sacrificed bodies to the Gods.

  Some of their older clansmen insisted on being placed north/south as opposed to the Christian ritual of east/west. And some wanted to be sent hereafter according to their forefather’s Viking rituals.

  Alone now, he took her in his arms, his large hands splaying her back, offering comfort.

  “It was important to him.” Frances sniffled and wrapped her arms around his waist, and set her face against his chest.

  “I know it was.” Sean felt her hands pressing into his back. The action was discomforting because the movement caused him to feel all of her pressed against him.

  He didn’t want to be unsympathetic, but desire simmered to a height that tensed his body. He tried not to notice how perfectly she fit against him, how her head was just below his chin, and how his body reacted being so close to her.

  “Sean, I wouldn’t have gotten through this without you. I do thank you …” She looked up at him, her pretty face inches below his. “I’m alone now. I have no one.”

  Her softly spoken words affected him. There was insecurity in her bonny voice and despondency in her eyes.

  “Nay, you’re not alone, Frances. I’m here.” He was about to tell her that he was pleased he could be there for her when she pressed her mouth against his. He wasn’t sure why she kissed him, but kiss him she did with more passion than he ever hoped for.

  Sean let her lead the kiss and to see where she would take it. When the kiss deepened, he took hold of her face, keeping her in place and stroked the softness of her cheeks.

  His hands roamed and he caressed the curves beneath the fabric of her gown. She had womanly hips and an affecting curvature to her breasts, breasts that grazed his chest as if vying for attention, for his touch. From the way she responded, Sean realized she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  Desire caused him to moan. But this was not the time or place to take care of such needs. Reluctantly, he pulled away.

  His lips moist from her kiss, he would have groaned in sexual frustration or from the pleasure of it. The way her body molded his, the way her curves felt against his hardness, all led to unconventional thoughts. Thoughts now riddling him with longing. She was more curvaceous than her garments alluded to and sexy as hell.

  “Frances, we should return. You’re overcome.”

  She wept, broke down in a mass of sobs. Sean held her again and let her cry for her heartache was overwrought and there was nothing else to do but stand there and let her. When she calmed enough, she pulled away from his embrace and started off toward the castle walls. He walked silently beside her.

  “You think me wanton, do you not?”

  The words barely audible caused him to stop in his tracks. “Frances, never would I think such about you.”

  “’Tis just … I haven’t been with a man in so many … so long that I forgot how pleasant it is.” She kept her gaze on the ground in front of her.

  Sean realized he liked the coyness about her. “You can be wanton with me, Frances. It feels pleasing to me too, being with you.”

  She kept silent for the rest of their walk to the keep. He took her hand and led her inside the walls. Sean kept her beside him when he stopped to speak to Benson.

  “If everyone is within, close the gates. Let no one enter who does not belong.”

  “Aye, my lord. I’ve already handled the sentry for this night’s duty as ye instructed.”

  “Good. Thank you, Benson. Have me summoned if you need me.”

  Sean continued walking through the bailey and noticed the clan watching them with interest. He was gladdened they saw him and Frances together. The men nodded as if asserting his newfound role as laird, and the women grinned for some unknown reason.

  When they reached the keep, he was called by the steward. There was much to see to now that Lord William died. Security was at the utmost importance. He now had a family of his own to protect: a wife and daughter, as well as a clan. Such a tremendous weight suddenly bore down on his shoulders, but it was a challenge he would meet head on.

  “I will see you later,” he said, releasing her hand.

  Her face tinged to bright red and the edges of her mouth turned downward. He wasn’t sure if she was ashamed or if it was the effect of the sorrow of William’s death. Before he could ask if she’d be well, she disappeared inside the entrance without a farewell.

  Sean considered going after her, and didn’t want their parting to be disparaging for it would make their next encounter more worrisome. He wasn’t sure if he could be within her presence without wanting to devour her mouth and body.

  Now that he was laird, he would be kept busy enough with little time to consider it.

  But, God Almighty, he wanted to run inside, snatch her in his arms and carry her off to bed and have his way with her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  If Frances had her way, she’d shrivel up and disappear. How could she do what she’d done? The man had to think lowly of her. She practically assaulted him with her wanton behavior. Never had she kissed a man on her own accord. A lady would never be so brazen. Frances managed to hide from him, and gracious be, she hadn’t had to sup with him the previous nights.

  In the five days since her uncle’s passing, she’d seen very little of Sean. The burial took place only three days before and attended by all those within the walls and nearby village. At the hillock where those within the clan were placed to rest, she watched his manner. Sean stood quietly next to his friend, showing no emotion to the service.

  That much couldn’t be said for the clan as sorrow overtook most of the men and women. Frances kept her tears at a minimum so as not to appear weak, but then she lost her composure and wept on the man’s tunic.

  Sun shone through the open window casement in the nursery. Frances sat beside Ermintrude, watching her play with the adorable white cat. Yet her mind was elsewhere.

  Thankfully, she put Sean out of her mind even if for a bit. She couldn’t help thinking about her uncle. She saddened at the loss and missed him, but swore she wouldn’t be so despondent. He wouldn’t want that and she thought by spending time with her daughter, she’d at least be able to cheer.

  Frances had been reserved with her first husband. Why she acted so fervently with Sean, she had no idea. Her turnabout delighted her. She didn’t want to be a coy maiden and would shelf that harridan. When next she saw Sean, she’d judge whether he’d been pleased by her behavior or not.

  Mistress Ina told her Sean was busy meeting the household servants, held up in his chamber, and consulting with the steward during the past days. Frances wasn’t sure if she should seek him out or await him. She despaired not knowing if he kept his distance because he was busy or if he indeed was affronted by her behavior.

  If there was one thing Frances had, it was patience. And besides, she would never overstep her place. She was married before and knew most men wouldn’t be questioned when it came to the household or men’s domains.

  Robert had been stern about being disturbed when he was about his duties or when dealing with farming matters. He never allowed her to assist him. She hadn’t minded, because she had enough to keep her busy.

  She didn’t know Sean well enough to test the limits of what she could do to support him. At this point, there was nothing to do but to wait. With that thought, Frances rose and decided she and Ermintrude could use some air.

&n
bsp; Although they were cloistered for the time being, and in mourning, they’d at least take a walk in the gardens behind the keep. It was too fine a day to stay indoors, and the air had warmed enough to go without a cloak.

  She took her daughter’s small hand and hastily left the chamber. “Come, my heart, let us take a walk.” Ermintrude snatched her cat from the floor.

  When they reached the outside, Frances tilted her face and let the sunshine warm her cheeks for a few seconds.

  Two of the kitchen helpers were planting the spring vegetables and herbs. They paid no attention to her when she passed, consumed as they were by their chore.

  She and Ermintrude walked the lined bushes and then sat on the wooden bench in the center of the middle garden. It had been sometime since she’d spent time in the garden and missed the outdoors. She considered attending to it again and perhaps planting trees to offer shade or brightening it with flowers.

  Ermintrude set her cat on the ground and ran off, chasing a butterfly, and Frances followed. She got a sense she was being watched and an eerie feeling came over her. Her eyes darted to the keep and then to the window casements, but she couldn’t see anyone watching her.

  They needed to return to the keep before anyone saw them. As soon as she and Ermintrude located her cat beneath a bush, they retreated to the keep. She hastened her pace and lifted the heavy gray-woolen skirt.

  She owned too many drab garments and had enough of their dourness. They depressed her and she wanted to wear garments such as the queen wore: gowns dyed of the fairest pinks and blues and soft greens. Frances would have to spend time in her wardrobe and pull out anything that resembled mourning clothes. She’d send them to the miller for reuse.

  With a sigh, she considered the fact that her uncle wouldn’t mind her decision. He’d told her he didn’t want her to mourn him, and so she wouldn’t.

  Inside the hall, she found Lord Lombard and one of his guardsmen standing near Davy who was sleeping at his post in the main entrance. The poor man couldn’t make it through the day without taking a nap, several in fact.

  His inattention of the duty caused her concern. Anyone could enter the keep and slip by him unnoticed. She wondered if that was how her night-rail had been taken.

  “Lord Lombard, is anyone aware you are here?”

  “Aye, the mistress went to inquire if the new lord will see me.”

  No sooner had he spoken, Mistress Ina strolled down the stairs. “My lord, Lord Hume cannot see you right now. He said to come again another day.”

  Lord Lombard’s face grew thick lines indicating his displeasure at being told such. He rubbed his forehead and then turned to glare at her. Frances was about to walk away when he stopped her.

  “Who is the new lord? Why wasn’t I told about Lord William’s death?”

  Frances stepped backward, uneasy by his harsh words. “I’m not sure, my lord, why they would keep the news from you. It is mayhap for security reasons. My uncle had thought we would be besieged if word spread … about his condition.”

  “We’re neighbors. I would’ve come to help. Is this new lord well received?”

  Frances wasn’t sure how much to divulge or whether to trust him. “I suppose he is. If that is all, my lord.”

  “I came to discuss a proposal with Lord William and now must present it to the new lord that is if you’re under his guardianship. Are you?”

  “Aye,” was all she could think to say.

  “Then I will return. Good day, Lady Frances.” He turned and his man followed him out the door.

  Frances stood still, holding onto Ermintrude’s hand, with her somewhat hidden behind her skirts. She knew she had to tell Sean about Lord Lombard’s visit and would when next she saw him.

  Once they reached the top of the stairs, Ermintrude took off, running as fast as her wee feet could carry her. She bounded down the hall and ran into the lord’s chamber. Frances called out to her, but couldn’t stop her from entering.

  As she approached the door, she heard her daughter squealing with laughter. Sean lifted her above his head and swung her around.

  “You’re a wee mite, are ye not? You weigh less than a midge. I could toss you to the heavens.” Sean continued to swing her around and her daughter’s laughter filled the chamber.

  “Aye, swing me high.” Ermintrude didn’t trust many and her abandonment surprised Frances.

  The sound lightened her heart. He set her on the floor and Ermintrude held out her arms and ran around, pretending to fly like a bird. Her daughter’s fear lessened, and Frances found herself smiling at the two of them.

  “Ermintrude, come, we mustn’t bother Sean.” She gave a doleful look in apology. “We didn’t mean to disturb you. I know you’re busy.” His dark eyes rose to meet hers and she could have sworn her heart fluttered.

  “I’m never too busy to see you and Trudy. You’re not disturbing me. I was wondering what you two were about.”

  “We just came inside from a stroll in the gardens.”

  Sean watched Ermintrude and grinned at her antics. “I’m glad. It is a nice day for a walk and you shouldn’t be cooped inside. You should’ve asked me to come. I could use the distraction.”

  An awkward silence arrested them before Frances shook herself and nodded.

  “Ermintrude is ready for a nap. Come, my heart, and let us allow Sean to return to his work.” Frances noted the many parchments sitting on the writing table in the chamber, some of which had been unrolled and laid out for reading. That surprised her, for she hadn’t thought him educated or interested in writings. He certainly didn’t appear to be the type of man to spend all day hunched over a table given the firmness of his body. There was more to the man than she’d realized.

  “Will I see you … this eve?”

  His words stopped her from exiting and she turned to answer. With her mouth agape, she nodded, and then remembered to close it.

  Sean stood with his hands leaning on the table, his face turned, watching her. Frances couldn’t look away and stared at his beautiful face, a face with a firm jaw and lightly whiskered, lips that looked hard and dangerously appealing. The remembrance of their hardness against hers caused her to clench her legs.

  His gaze produced a blush to creep upward, heating her cheeks. It wasn’t his words that affected her to such a state, but the way he’d said them – all deep and filled with more than he’d likely intended.

  “If that is your wish.”

  “I do wish it,” he said, keeping his gaze fixated on her.

  Ermintrude began tugging her hand and Frances pulled herself away. “I shall see you then at supper. There are things we need to discuss such as Lord Lombard’s visit.”

  “I’m aware of him and what his purpose of visit was. But I will discuss it with you later.” He picked up a parchment and began to read it.

  Dismissed, Frances nodded and ushered her daughter from the room. Ermintrude skipped toward the nursery with her cat tucked securely in her arms, and Frances released her hand after the door was firmly closed behind them.

  “Alice, she’s ready for a nap. I’ll come and read to you later, my heart. Take a rest.”

  Her daughter threw herself on the floor and proceeded to kick her legs to spin herself around. She left her in Alice’s care and hastened to her chamber.

  Frances spent the rest of the afternoon pacing. In between her wayward thoughts, she pulled a few garments from her wardrobe and tossed them on the floor. She couldn’t keep her mind focused on one thing for longer than a few seconds because all she envisioned was seeing Sean again.

  Although she was apprehensive about being in the same room with him, he invoked a spark of excitement through her, feelings she hadn’t felt in a long time. Even Robert hadn’t caused her to be giddy and there she was, unable to concentrate or focus.

  She made sure her sweet lass ate a good supper and then tucked her into bed. The entire time she read to Ermintrude before her bedtime, Frances kept repeating the words in the stor
y and her daughter kept pointing it out.

  They’d made up stories and put them in a blank bound book her uncle had given her as a birthday gift. The book was becoming worn from so much use. They hadn’t entered a new story since she’d returned. She’d have to think of one to add.

  As the supper hour drew near, she dressed with extra care. She wore her best gown, a dark-blue bliaunt with a light-gray overdress. After dressing, she stood in the center of the chamber feeling foolish. The garments did little to accentuate her breasts, hips, and waist. She fooled herself if she thought Sean would take notice. With a heavy sigh, she left and went to the hall.

  He hadn’t arrived yet. Frances was gladdened because she could hide behind the candelabra which held five fat candles.

  Mistress Ina came and placed three dishes in the center of the table. “Are ye dining alone, my lady? Maddie made a fine supper this eve.”

  She looked up from her empty trencher when she realized she’d been spoken to. “Lord Hume will be dining with me this eve. Or at least I deem he will. Please tell Maddie thank you.”

  Mistress Ina smacked her lips. “If ye say so, my lady. When I took his midday meal, my lord was engrossed in writings in his chamber. I’m sure he’ll be along any moment. Will you await him or do you wish to start without him?”

  Frances’ stomach groaned at the delectable scents wafting from the dishes. “I’m too hungry to wait. Oh, Maddie made a stew.” She began filling her trencher with bread and cheese, and then scooped a heaping spoonful of the delicious stew that sat in the large bowl, still steaming with warmth.

  Mistress Ina began singing in words she didn’t understand, but the sound soothed her unease, for the woman did have a pleasant voice.

  Content now that she’d filled her stomach, Frances sat back and waited. Minutes went by … then an hour, and then another. She decided she would seek him out and find out why he’d left her to sup alone. He’d said he wanted to see her this eve. She thought he meant at supper, but what if he meant something else? The idea of it caused her heart to skip several beats.