She tensed almost at once, but then leaned against him and nodded. “Very well,” she said.
Feeling guilty, as if his base hand should not touch such a beautiful woman, he bent down and lifted her, cradling her gently to him. Heavens! But she weighs nothing.
He carried her into the inn.
“Oh! Poor lady!” the innkeeper's wife ran up, almost as soon as they'd entered the place. “Come! Bring her in.”
Conn sighed, nodded, and let the woman lead them up the stairs. In his arms, Glenna was asleep – or seemed to be. Her eyes were closed, her lips a thin line, head lolling a little as he carried her up. He knew her well enough to know she was alert, could feel the tension in arms and legs well enough to know that she was fully-awake as she lay against him.
“Put here in here, poor lady,” the innkeeper's wife was saying. “On the bed. There you are.”
Conn laid Glenna down very carefully on the bed.
“Now you leave her here and go and find my husband,” the innkeeper's wife continued. “He'll take your particulars and find you somewhere to sit at dinner. Leave the lady with me.”
Conn nodded and went downstairs mutely to the front room, where the innkeeper's husband soon appeared. He greeted him and they settled payment of the chamber – Conn fortunately had brought some means with him – and discussed the prospect of dinner. Conn thought it would be better to take something up to Glenna where she was. The innkeeper agreed and provision was made.
It was only later, once he had settled the payment and was awaiting Mrs. McAfferty to bring the soup upstairs, that he realized he had only booked one chamber.
He sighed. He tiptoed up the stairs and into the room, not wanting to disturb Glenna. He opened the door. She was lying on the bed almost exactly as he had left her. She was covered with a blanket though, and her lovely face faced the door. Her eyes were closed.
“Glenna?” Conn whispered.
She said nothing and this time he could see her sweet lips parting as she breathed a slow, full rhythm that betokened sleep.
Conn sighed. He tiptoed to the chest for storing clothes and settled himself on it. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. A long sigh escaped him and he collapsed forward slightly, his whole body encased in a sudden heavy weariness.
His whole body ached. His eyes were lead-weighted with tiredness. Every inch of him was cold and shivering from the exertion, exhaustion and riding in the woods without a cloak.
Nevertheless, he was relieved.
Glenna was safe. She was here with him. Moreover, Alexander was at least temporarily no concern for them.
It was a start.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A RETURN
A RETURN
Glenna felt a sweet warmth flow through her body. She stirred, shifting. She was on something soft and pillowing and she could feel her fingers and toes. She felt a sudden stabbing ache in her head and remembered.
Terror. Pain. Shock. And then...
Images came to her disjointedly. The cottage in the woods. The sight of a man with a sword, roaring in hate and loathing. The feeling of terror and then suddenly the silence, and falling...
She remembered something else, too. Something more dreamlike and insubstantial. Conn, riding with her in the forest. Conn with his arms around her, holding her close. The sweet warmth of his body on hers as they rode. His lips, speaking her name over and over and over.
Glenna.
She shook her head, half-unsure whether it was a memory or if he was here, now, somewhere, calling her. She opened one eye.
Where am I?
The warm orange of firelight spilled across her vision. She winced, focusing her eyes. Heavens, but it hurts! She closed her eyes, then, slitting them against the brightness of the light, opened them once again. She had to find out where she was! What if the vision of Conn was just a dream, her reality the brutish horror of before?
Just then, she heard a soft sigh. She turned her head painfully and stared.
The firelight played softly over pale auburn hair, the color of sunset on wheat growing abundantly in the fields. She stared at him. Asleep, he was so at peace. Vulnerable, almost. The contours of his face were soft and fine, those red lips slightly parted as he drew breath.
Conn! Her heart leaped. Here he was, asleep across from her. She wondered, then, if she was truly seeing him or if she dreamed still. She shifted, testing her legs. Then she stood.
“Conn?” She whispered his name, moving slowly across the floor. She sank down in front of the chest he sat on, looking up into his face. He was so still that, for a moment, she thought he might not even breathe. A cruel trick, to bring her here to him only to find him dead.
She sat watching him, noting that he breathed. She reached out a hand and touched his, then tensed as his eyelids fluttered. His green eyes opened then. Focused slowly on her face. He smiled.
“Glenna.”
He said her name so gently, caressing it with his lips. She shivered. This was so, so different. It was a world away from that brute-like, pawing nightmare of before. This was love.
“Conn,” she murmured.
His hand tightened around hers. He shifted to sitting, his fingers gently gripping hers. Then his other hand reached out and stroked the side of her face gently.
She flinched as he stroked her, her mind still attuned to expecting violence, even though her heart was rejoicing in him being here. His face fell and he withdrew his hand.
“I...I'm sorry,” he murmured. He moved back and, slowly, it seemed a realization came to them. They were together in a bedchamber, she in her shift. There was no one else near them.
She stared at him. Her heart thumped. In here, with him, alone, all those feelings and urges she had felt for so long suddenly gathered and grew, taking wing. Her hand gripped his and he gripped hers in return. His palms felt hot and she saw the thoughts affecting her mirror in his eyes.
Gently, tenderly, tentatively, their lips met. Glenna sighed as his hard mouth nibbled at her soft one. Slowly, hesitatingly, his tongue protruded and pushed insistently but cautiously into her mouth. She parted her lips slightly and allowed it entry.
She heard Conn sigh as his tongue slowly, deliciously, explored the wet cave of her lips. She let the feeling it summoned slowly filter through her body, tingling and pressing through her and making her ache with sweet desire. This was so different.
His hands moved down her back and she shifted. He slid off the box and sat with her on the floor, arms reaching for her to hold her close. Her heart was pounding like a bass-drum as he drew her into his arms and held her hard against him. His lips tasted her own.
Her breasts were crushed against the muscle of his chest, but it was not a frightening thing. Rather, the blood leaped within her loins, making her feel that strange, sweet need to push her body closer...
“Glenna!”
Conn gasped, breaking the kiss.
Glenna felt her own eyes fly open in sweet confusion. “Conn?”
He was flushed and panting, his face contorted with something that looked tormented.
Glenna frowned, suddenly fearful for him. What was happening? “Conn?”
He smiled at her, breath rasping in his throat. “Sorry, my dear,” he whispered. “I had no wish to startle you. I was just...we mustn't, you know.”
Glenna blushed. Her cheeks flamed. She knew what he meant.
The talk of how babies came to be was fairly well-repeated in the servants' rooms. She had heard and seen things her body understood even if her mind had but rudimentary knowing. All the same, it seemed her body was knowledgeable and had a need to increase its knowledge on this topic. Her loins flared with need as he stroked soft touches down her back, and then sat back.
“I...” He grinned. “Glenna, I think I should say what I have been longing to say for far too long now. It's essential.”
Glenna frowned. Her heart thumped. Apprehension warred with fear, which warred with sweet joy. “Y
es?”
“Glenna,” he said and smiled, handsome face somewhat nervous. “I want to ask...I would understand if you said no, of course. I am utterly unworthy. I know that. But...would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Glenna stared at him. I am utterly unworthy. I know.
Then, abruptly, she started to laugh. And cry. All sorts of emotions – amazement, bafflement and sweet wonder – filled her.
“Conn!” she said. Then she was laughing more than crying and his arms were around her and he held her close. “Yes. I will indeed.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BACK AT THE CASTLE
BACK AT THE CASTLE
Conn helped Glenna up onto his horse with a sense of utter unreality. “Shall we go?”
She smiled down at him. Her sweet, lovely face seemed to have a new peace in it. The livid bruise was still there, but the oval softness of her face held a new tranquility, a new light. He stroked her hand as she spoke.
“Yes. Yes indeed.”
He mounted up and, arms around her, set them on their course back to the castle.
He could feel her round buttocks pressed against him as he rode and he had to grit his teeth as, combined with the sweet scent of her hair and skin, the feeling tore through him, igniting his desire and need for her.
This is sweet torment.
He cradled her close, riding as carefully as he could across the pathway. He had thought sleeping at the foot of her bed was torture enough. This was something entirely different. Every jolt drove her against him and he heard her gasp and almost cried out with desire.
When they reached the castle, it was to a strangely subdued atmosphere. Conn frowned, looking at the guardsmen. He helped Glenna down and kissed her sweetly, and then escorted her upstairs to her bedchamber. Leaving her at the door, he walked to the courtyard, head lost in wonder.
He was wedding Glenna soon.
“Conn!” Blanchard, one of the guards, hailed him.
“Blanchard?” Conn frowned. His companion looked harassed. “What's bothering you?”
“It's Sir Rufus,” Blanchard said. Conn frowned. He distantly recalled a tall, solid-looking man with a fine-boned, if stern, countenance, a senior knight among the Guardsmen.
“What's the matter with him?” he asked.
“He's been missing four days.” Blanchard ran a weary hand down his face. “And Lady Amabel too.”
Conn froze. “What is going on?” he asked.
“Beats me,” Blanchard said. “But I want them back. I told Sir Ivan we should set out immediately. Should have done so ages ago, of course, but no telling that stone-face what to do.” He shook his head, exhaling wearily.
“We should go at once!” he said, making a gesture toward the gate. A few men-at-arms looked at him, but they looked down again almost-desultorily, turning to their practice and repairing armaments.
“What is happening?” Conn asked. “What's wrong? Adair?”
The older knight sighed wearily. “It's Alexander,” he said. “He's gone missing. When you went, too, the fellows thought that...” He shrugged. “Thought you'd finished him.”
“They thought I murdered a guardsman?” Conn was horrified. “I swear I didn't.”
Just then the gate opened. “Sir!”
Blair ran up, saluting Adair, who had clearly assumed Alexander's role in his absence.
“Yes?” the older man said wearily.
“We found him.”
Conn breathed out raggedly. Adair looked at him, blue eyes wide with new-found good opinion. Conn swallowed hard, indescribable relief flowing through his veins.
“What's his state now?” Adair asked.
“He's...alive,” Blair said carefully. “Well. Almost unharmed. But he's leaving, sir.”
Adair's eyes stretched wide and Conn also stared. What?
“What?”
“He said he's leaving us. Going north. Got his advance pay from the command office. Leaving us,” he repeated, dazed. He couldn't seemingly believe it.
Nor could Conn. He felt as if the last dart had been cleansed from his flesh. He was whole again. Free to love.
“Lady Amabel?” he asked, thinking quickly. “What news of her?”
Blair shrugged. “No idea, Conn.” He looked drawn and concerned. If a Guardsman had abducted a duke's daughter, they could all expect a swift, bloody reprieve. Conn felt as if a cold breeze entered the courtyard and shivered. It was as if a cloud passed across the wan sunshine.
Later, in the armory, he heard the news.
“She's back!”
It was Greer. He ran in, long, slim face flushed with amazement and out-of-breath.
“She is?” Conn jumped to his feet. “The Lady Amabel?”
“Yes!” Greer was clearly also relieved.
“And Sir Rufus?”
Greer grinned. As if in answer, a voice boomed through behind him. “Where's dinner? I'm damned if I'm going to starve out here in this blessed freezing cold.”
Conn chuckled. That sounded about right. All was well in their world again.
He sneaked away at the first opportunity to see Glenna. He had to see her. If Lady Amabel had to leave, what would happen for their plans?
He went to the colonnade and waited. Then, unable to wait any longer, he slipped into the hall where the noble guests had their bedchambers.
“Glenna?” He lifted his fist, about to knock, and then he saw her already in the hallway, a cloth over her arm, apparently a towel. “Milady!”
Glenna blushed and laughed. “Whist, you. Wait here.”
She delivered the towel and Conn waited for an agonizing minute, hearing giggles and whispered commentary – muffled words – before she appeared again.
“Conn!” She whispered his name, those gray eyes lively with mischief. “Now we can talk.”
Conn gathered her into his arms for a moment. They headed to a room, deserted now, with a spinet, where he presumed that young ladies practiced their musical skills. They sat together on the settee. Conn slid off and knelt before her, his body aflame with longing.
Glenna stroked his hair. “Conn,” she murmured. “You wished to say something?” Her soft, lovely voice teased him, making him shiver with want.
“I had to ask,” he said, clearing his throat, voice husky with feeling. “When will you leave us? I mean...your lady is back...” He felt his brow crease with sadness. She stroked his hair.
“Oh, Conn,” she murmured. “We will leave the day after the morrow. But first...” She bent forward and kissed him and he gasped, and then moved back, heart thudding with longing.
“First?”
“First, you must discuss matters with your captain.”
“My captain?”
“You're coming with us.”
Conn stared at her. He laughed. Disbelief burned through him. “What? How...who?”
She giggled. “My lady is the daughter of a duke,” she reminded him softly. “She does have special means of making arrangements here. She said we could talk with the leader of the Guard and explain that you were needed in the north-lands...she has a mind to set you to task at Lochlann Castle, our home in the north. Apparently, we can do with an extra pair of hands governing the defenses there...”
Conn stared at her. A commission. Leaving Edinburgh. Governing his own troops. It was all too much to take in.
“Glenna!” he laughed. “You amazing...wild...brilliant...” He was kissing her with each word and she shrieked and giggled as his lips tickled her skin.
“Stop it, Conn,” she protested. He grinned.
“Truly?”
“Yes!” she huffed as he kissed her fingers. “You torment me enough!”
Conn chuckled, kissed her again and then sat back, looking into her eyes. “I do love you, Glenna. So very, very much.”
She smiled down into his eyes, her own soft with tenderness. “And I love you too, Conn McGowan. I love you.”
They kissed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A SPECIAL DAY AND NIGHT AT LOCHLANN FORTRESS
A SPECIAL DAY AND NIGHT AT LOCHLANN FORTRESS
The wedding was set for two weeks after their return. Lady Amabel insisted on waiting so that a proper dress could be made. Glenna would have protested at how much she cosseted her, especially since her own wedding was imminent. To Sir Rufus Invermore. Her savior.
They prepared together, sewing dresses and making veils with their own neat, soft stitches. Amabel would have a veil of gauze; Glenna's a thin column of lace falling from a comb in her thick brown hair.
Then the day dawned, finally.
“There you are,” Colla, the daughter of “old” Colla the housekeeper, helped Glenna to dress. She finished fastening the buttons down the back of the long dress and stepped back. Glenna moved to shift before the mirror, staring as the dress flowed from her slender form.
She had chosen a simple linen dress with long sleeves that were caught back from her pale, slim hands with cuffs, and a narrow skirt. The dress had a fairly-modest neckline, and it fell in an elegant line from a “v” shaped waist down to the floor, trailing behind her.
The thick, glossy hair was loose and hung to halfway down her back, brushed, glossy, and shining with chestnut highlights. The veil topped it. Her slim face was pale and delicately flushed, gray eyes bright.
I can't believe that's me.
She turned, watching the skirt sway, and felt a rising delight in her chest. Then she turned to Colla.
“Here, Glenna,” Colla said gently. She passed her a bunch of daisies and roses. “For you.”
Glenna blushed and took it, thanking Colla softly. Then she headed down the stairs to the courtyard.
She walked across the flagstones to the chapel – again, Lady Amabel had insisted she was wed there – something unheard of in the castle's history.
A Highlander’s Terror_A Medieval Scottish Romance Story Page 30
