My Noble Knight

by Cynthia Breeding

  Niall jerked away from him, glowering. “Aye. I wilna have to wait much more.”

  Deidre’s stomach lurched as she wiped his slimy kiss with the sleeve of her dress. Dallis looked appalled, but Deidre didn’t care about proper manners at the moment. She just hoped she could keep her supper down until she could get away.

  Elen appeared at her side. “Suddenly, I don’t feel well. Would ye come with me upstairs, please?”

  Bless her, Deidre thought with relief, as she complied. She didn’t look back as they left the room. That would be the last time Niall kissed her. Repulsed, she wiped her mouth again and then sighed.

  Gilead’s betrothal was formal. She hadn’t found the Stone. Her Sight must have been wrong, obviously. There was nothing keeping her here, now. Lugnasad was only a fortnight away. The gates would be open late tonight for all the guests. It was time to leave.

  ◊♦◊

  “Come on, Mori,” Angus said as he nuzzled her neck in the shadows of the rose garden behind the Great Hall. “It’s late. The place is quiet now. Let’s go to my chambers.” He nibbled the sensitive area just behind her earlobe that he knew she liked, and drew a slow hand across a breast, thumb and forefinger squeezing the nipple lightly.

  “Mmmm,” she said as she slid her body across his hand so he could knead her other breast. “I doona know if I’m in the mood.”

  Angus slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue demanding entry. She teased him, parting her lips only slightly and then moving her head to the side.

  He growled low in his throat. “We can play this game better in private.”

  “Aye. We could. If I were in the mood.”

  He wrapped both arms around her and pressed his hard erection against her belly. “Does that put ye in the mood?”

  She smiled benignly. “Mayhap we should talk first.”

  Angus was suddenly wary. Mori seldom wanted to “talk.” They were usually in harmony with each other’s thoughts. What had he done? Dance with Elen? Mori couldn’t possibly be jealous over that. Could she? His manhood swelled a little proudly.

  He sighed and loosened his hold a bit, enraging his cock with the broken contact. “If this is about Elen, that was only for show. To help Gilead.”

  “I doona think ye helped Gilead much.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “Ye should have given them some time before ye announced the wedding. They’d scarce met one another.”

  Angus shrugged. “It’s an arranged marriage. Did ye know Turius well before ye agreed to it?”

  “I knew what I was getting into, Angus,” Formorian said evenly. “I doona think Gilead wants this.”

  “Nonsense. Dallis is a beauty. He’ll learn to love her.”

  Formorian arched an eyebrow. “Like ye did Elen?”

  Angus frowned. Maybe his Mori was jealous, after all. “I never loved Elen.”

  “My point exactly.”

  She looked somewhat triumphant, but her logic defied him. She didn’t have to wheedle an affirmation of love from him. They told each other that regularly. And the growing need in his groin was making him impatient. He moved closer and began sliding his hands up and down her back. By the Dagda, she was tense. Frustrated, he stepped back. “What would ye have me do?”

  “Doona force this marriage. If there is any attraction—”

  A torch flamed suddenly, its light throwing them into sharp relief.

  “I checked your chambers first,” Gilead said acerbically.

  Angus kept the anger out of his voice at his son’s tone. “What is it ye want?”

  “I thought ye might want to know that Mother has been attacked. Again.”

  ◊♦◊

  Deidre stared at the purple bruises around Elen’s neck. Her eyes were closed and her breath still rattled if she inhaled too deeply. Who could have done this?

  “What happened this time?” Angus demanded as he slammed through the door and then stopped at the sight of his wife. He bent over the bed. “Elen?”

  Her eyelids fluttered and she looked up at him with a wan smile.

  “What happened?” he asked more gently.

  “I doona know,” Elen said weakly. “Brena gave me my potion and I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, Sheila was shaking the near wits out of me.”

  Angus turned to her. “Did ye try to strangle my wife?”

  No one in the room mistook the deadly quiet and dangerous tone in his voice. Still, Sheila managed to look shocked and hurt at the same time. “Certes not, my lord. I was coming up the front stairs to relieve Deidre and I heard footsteps running down the back steps. When the room was empty, I thought it was Deidre who had left.”

  Angus fixed his gaze on Deidre. “And where were ye?”

  It took every ounce of her willpower not to cringe before him. She could feel the anger radiating from him. What was worse, she deserved it. She should have been there, instead of sneaking away to pack a few items for her planned departure that night. Guilt swept over her.

  “I...I did stay until she fell asleep. Since you barred the passage door, I felt no harm would come to her.”

  Gilead touched his mother’s throat gently. “Ye doona remember anything?”

  Elen shook her head. “I shouldna have taken the potion. I dinna want to...” Her voice trailed off as she looked at Angus. “I wanted to wait for...” she stopped and bit her lip.

  For a moment, Angus almost looked embarrassed, but then he jerked his head around. “Where is Brena? Someone fetch her,” he snapped. A half-dozen servants, crowded in the hallway, bumped into each other in their hurry to obey him.

  Deidre thought Brena looked very pale when she arrived, but it had been a late night for everyone.

  “Did ye give Elen a stronger potion this eve?” Angus asked without preamble.

  The healer shrugged. “A bit, my lord. ’Twas the excitement of the evening. Her face was all red and her breathing fast.”

  “Because she had actually been moving about this night. Dancing with me,” Angus answered. “Did ye see anything suspicious?”

  “Nae. Deidre was sitting in yon chair. No one else was here.”

  Angus looked in Deidre’s direction once more and let his gaze travel to her hands. She resisted the urge to put them behind her back, like a naughty child caught with a sweetmeat. She shouldn’t have been packing. This wouldn’t have happened if she’d just stayed in the room. But Elen slept alone most nights... And then outrage hit Deidre as she realized just why Angus was studying her hands. Did he really think she might try to strangle Elen? She was the one trying to protect her! She glanced at Gilead, hoping for support, but he was frowning at her. Not him, too!

  She swallowed a lump in her throat that was threatening to become a sob. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed.”

  Angus narrowed his eyes and then looked at Elen. “I’ll have a guard posted at yer door from now on. And no more bedtime potions for a while.” He turned to Brena. “Is that clear?”

  Brena started to protest, but apparently thought better of it. She nodded mutely. “I’ll stay with my lady tonight.”

  “No need,” Gilead said as he pulled the big stuffed chair nearer to Elen’s bed and lowered himself into it. “I’ll spend the night. Or what’s left of it.”

  Brena opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Angus interrupted. “That’s settled, then. Everyone, go to bed.”

  Shaken, Deidre filed out with the rest of them. There was still time for her to try to make her escape, but she knew she couldn’t leave now. Whoever was behind this was becoming bolder. The first attack might have been mistaken for food poisoning, and the second incident on the stairs for an accident; maybe the third attempt could even have been misconstrued as Elen having taken the wrong herb, but no one could deny bruises around a person’s throat.

  Who would want Elen dead? The two logical choices were Angus and Formorian, but that would leave the not-so-subtle problem of Turius still being around. No one had tried to kill
him. Yet, Angus had looked genuinely concerned this evening and was even posting a guard. Unless he intended to give the man coin to look the other way.

  Formorian certainly was strong enough to have strangled Elen, and perhaps Angus’s attention to his wife that night had spurred the queen on. But there was the matter of the Saxons. Deidre felt the abduction was somehow related to these incidents and she doubted that Formorian would ever treaty with a Saxon. She valued the land even more than Angus did.

  Who, then?

  ◊♦◊

  The next few days were a blur. Deidre switched her schedule with Janet so she would not be present when Gilead visited his mother, often with Dallis in tow. She couldn’t abide seeing them together and Dallis’s tinkling laughter set her teeth on edge. Janet was only too happy to oblige, and flirted with Gilead even more in front of Dallis. Deidre hated to admit it, but Dallis acted like a proper lady, not seeming to be concerned about Janet’s flagrancy. But then, maybe Gilead had already promised his undying love for the beauty and she had no reason to be jealous. Deidre tried desperately to put down her own green-eyed monster at those thoughts.

  Angus, meanwhile, had closed the gates that night and everyone who was inside the walls was questioned the next day. Several times, Deidre heard the lash of the whip and quickly stifled screams from one unfortunate man or another bound to the hitching post by the stables. Men who were supposed to have stood posts that night but apparently had not.

  Angus stomped into the Great Hall late that afternoon and threw the whip into the corner. Deidre hastily gathered some fruit from the sideboard at the far end of the hall and wished she could disappear into thin air. She had no desire to incur Angus’s wrath, especially if he still thought her a suspect.

  He appeared not to notice her and then she saw why. Formorian was leaning against the door frame that led to the rear hallway.

  “No one saw anything?” she asked in her low, melodious voice.

  Angus looked tired, but he gave her a smile as he shook his head. “Not a thing. ’Tis like some ghost appeared.”

  “A ghost? Ye’d best be careful where ye say that. The common people are like to believe ye.” Formorian walked around behind him and began to massage his shoulders. “I think ye need a good rubdown.”

  He turned and draped an arm around her shoulders and smiled. “And I know just the place...”

  Deidre had stared after them as they sauntered away. For all their attention, she had been invisible. A ghost, though? Was that the story they planned to spread?

  ◊♦◊

  Gilead couldn’t remember a time that he had felt so trapped. The last few days had been nothing short of a brutish nightmare. He was worried over the increasingly violent attacks on his mother and tried to spend as much time with her as he could, both for her safety and to try to discover some clue as to who might be behind this scheme.

  He glanced down at Dallis beside him as they climbed the stairs to Elen’s chambers. He would much have preferred to go alone, but Angus had made clear that he was to spend time with Dallis and, in a way, this was easier than being with her alone.

  He knew he was the envy of all the eligible males around. Drustan had expounded her virtues to him often enough and he’d seen the way the other young men appraised Dallis when they thought he wasn’t looking. She only had to begin a request before a dozen wishful suitors would leap to do her bidding. To her credit, she really did nothing to encourage any of it, except to smile benevolently at them. She even blushed charmingly when Drustan presented a new ode to her. Gilead couldn’t blame her for that, either. But she wasn’t Deidre.

  He opened the door to his mother’s room and was surprised to see Deidre still there. She leapt up at once, as he knew she would. She had avoided him like he had the pox since Dallis arrived.

  “I must be going, Lady Elen. I promised to gather some herbs for Meara.”

  Gilead raised an eyebrow and leaned against the door frame. To his knowledge, Meara didn’t want her anywhere near the kitchen. Ever.

  “For certes, ye doona have to go this minute. Meara was boxing the ears of the scullery lad when we came up. Ye might want to let her cool her hand a bit.”

  With a dismayed expression and one lingering glance at the door that he was blocking, Deidre sat back down. “Well, I’m in no mood to be screamed at.”

  Dallis looked puzzled. “Screamed at? By Meara? She was so kind to me when I asked for some special tea last eve. Especially when she had already cleaned the pots.”

  Deidre clenched her jaw and Gilead quickly intervened as he took a chair beside Elen. “Special tea?”

  “Aye. I had a bit of a headache,” Dallis answered. “’Twas a long evening.”

  Gilead frowned. It had been rather a dreary dinner. Drustan had not returned from one of his solitary hikes, so there was no music while they ate. They sat with Turius and Formorian and, although he and Turius discussed the Saxon threat, he thought that Formorian had kept the lass entertained. In fact, he remembered her plying Dallis with questions. Had she answered them? They danced when the musicians played later. Granted, she had been quiet and retired early. He had actually been grateful for that.

  “I’m sorry. I dinna realize ye werena feeling well.”

  “’Tis nothing to fash about,” Dallis said and smiled brightly at Deidre. “I’ve seen ye, but I doona think we’ve met. I’m Dallis.”

  Gilead watched as several emotions warred on Deidre’s face. Resentment. Anger? And then a mask slid into place and Deidre nodded sedately. Far too sedately for Gilead’s comfort.

  “I’m Deidre,” she said and glanced at Gilead. “I’m just a lady’s maid here at the castle.”

  Och, she was reminding him of who she really was. Cousin to the king of Gaul. At least as well matched for him as Dallis was. Not that he cared if she’d been a cotter’s child. All he wanted to do was tangle his hand in the silken strands of pale hair and press Deidre close to him and watch that angry blaze of blue flame in her eyes turn to dark, smoldering passion. He wanted to tell her he loved her and...

  He sighed. He was in a fine mess, thanks to his father. Gilead fully intended to take Comgall aside and explain that Angus had acted in haste and that it wasn’t fair to Dallis to be thrust upon a perfect stranger. That, at the very least, there should be time for them to get to know each other before any future plans were discussed.

  But when he tried, shortly after their arrival, Angus chided him for not letting Comgall get the dust off his boots before trying to negotiate a dowry settlement. Both of them knew that was not Gilead’s intent. And then, while the three men and Turius were enjoying a strong red wine before dinner, Angus waved off another attempt at serious conversation, saying there was time for all of that later.

  Gilead acquiesced, swearing to himself he would speak to Dallis’s father before the night was over. But Angus, shrewd planner of battle strategy, had outwitted him. Never had Gilead expected the betrothal to be announced that very night. And now, he would have to figure out a way to save Dallis’s pride and salvage a needed alliance with her father. A difficult task, but not impossible.

  “Ye have not been spending much time with my mother,” he said to Deidre.

  Her eyes went cold. “I haven’t been needed. She has had much company of late.”

  Gilead heard the chill in her voice. “Ye have not attended her at dinner, either.”

  “I gave her permission not to,” Elen interjected.

  “Well, certes,” Dallis said to Deidre. “Ye are betrothed as well, I understand. I think it kind of Lady Elen to allow ye to spend yer time with the man ye love.” For a moment, she looked a bit wistful.

  Deidre grimaced. “Niall can be a demanding man, it seems.”

  Gilead brightened. For certes! Why had he not thought of this before? He could at least keep Niall away from her at dinner. “Mayhap this evening, ye would sup at our table with us, Dee—”

  The look Deidre sent him could have doused the fires of B
el. She rose and gathered the tray and linen from the midday meal. “I don’t think that would be appropriate, my lord,” she said and turned to Elen. “If I may take my leave?”

  Elen looked at her thoughtfully and then nodded. Gilead could have sworn he felt a blast of cold air as Deidre passed him. Now, what had he done? Did Dee not want to talk to him at all? He really needed to explain what he intended to do.

  ◊♦◊

  Deidre pushed wisps of hair out of her eyes and wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead with her shirtsleeve. She had come to the chapel ruins one more time just to make sure she hadn’t overlooked anything.

  But she knew that wasn’t true. There was nothing here. She had come just to get away from the castle. She needed time away from Dallis.

  Perfect, charming Dallis. She seemed to have all of the men—save Angus and Turius, perhaps, whom Formorian kept quite beguiled—enamored of her. Drustan had composed countless odes, which he tried to improve on nightly at dinner. And Dallis sat there, like a royal queen, her lips curling in approval. And Gilead, ever the proper suitor, keeping her entertained with different table partners for conversation. And he’d even had the indecency to invite Deidre to sit at their table. She jabbed the shovel heatedly into the ground and hit a rock, jarring her forearm in the process. She winced at the pain and grabbed her wrist with her other hand. Merde. He’d better not try again to make her sit at his table.

  “What did the rock do to make ye mad?”

  She spun around. Gilead stood not far from her, a faint smile on his face.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He picked up another shovel and started shifting the dirt. “I think ye’ve been avoiding me.”

  “Nonsense.” Deidre bent over to inspect something, causing her long hair to hide her face. She couldn’t let him know that he sent her blood racing, just at the mere sight of him. He wasn’t hers and never had been.

  “Dee. Look at me.”

  When she kept shuffling and sifting the dirt, he reached down and lifted her to her feet, turning her around to face him, arms loosely around her waist “I want to talk to ye. Please.”

  Dear God, his arms felt strong and solid. Deidre inhaled the soap and leather scent of him, mingled with the warmth of the sun as the breeze blew his dark hair away from his face. Brilliant blue eyes in a tanned face studied her. Her breathing grew shallow. That sinfully sensual mouth was only inches away from her. All she had to do was lift her head and part her lips and he would kiss her. She knew he would. And she wanted it. She wanted him, wanted to tear off his clothes and hers, and roll in the warm earth they had just dug, having him burrow deep inside her.