by Amy Jarecki
2
For the first evening feast of Beltane, Gyllis sat in the great hall with her sisters wearing a green damask kirtle and matching veil, held in place by a bronze circlet. All the lasses were dressed to astound—one thing Mother never failed to impress upon the Campbell sisters—Clothes maketh the lady. Gyllis did not admire fine gowns as much as Ma, but she couldn’t discount the fact that a noblewoman’s dress indeed was important to society.
Mother and Duncan had gained places at the high table with the Lord of Lorn at one end and the Earl of Argyll at the other. The two highest ranking men in the hall glared at each other like caged dogs and Gyllis was happy to be sitting away from the stuffy posturing and politicking upon the dais.
Alice pointed toward the door. “Alan MacCoul just arrived with an impressive retinue. Is he a knight?”
“He looks gallant like a knight,” said Marion.
Gyllis tore off the butt end of bread and tossed it at the twins. “Sillies. Do you not know anything? He’s a bastard.” She cringed. Alan had stopped her earlier that day and had been a tad too familiar, grasping her hands and telling her how lovely she looked. She’d tried to be polite though there was something sinister in his stare. Gyllis couldn’t put her finger on it, but those lignite eyes made her uneasy.
Helen raised the ewer of watered wine. “Looking at his ceremonial armor, I’d say he’s a wealthy bastard.”
Alice craned her neck to better see him, making a blatant show of ogling. “Aye, he must have ample property.”
“Good heavens, Alice, turn around. You’re making a fool of yourself.” Gyllis eyed her sister across the table. “You’d best set your sights a wee bit higher. Duncan would never approve of an untitled man.” She leaned forward to whisper. “No one even knows who his father is.”
Alice clapped a hand over her mouth. “That does sound like a scandalous story.”
Marion giggled. “At least he’s handsome if ill-bred.”
A servant placed a trencher of roasted meat and stewed vegetables in front of Gyllis. “Thank heavens the food’s here. Your minds have run amuck from hunger.”
“Pardon me, is this seat taken?” The deep voice came from behind.
Gyllis cringed. Alan MacCoul had moved out of sight. Please no. She feigned an annoyed frown and turned. Her heart hammered in rapid succession. “Oh my.” She smiled broadly and scooted aside on the bench, squeezing into Helen. “Of course, we would love to have you join us.”
Sir Sean grinned. He could melt an entire slab of butter with his smile—straight, white teeth, bold jaw with a neat and closely cropped beard. His shoulder-length, dark brown hair and azure eyes made him look devilishly dangerous.
The bench was so crowded, his thigh and shoulder pressed against hers. In any other venue, such touching would be indecent, but Gyllis couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. Her heart fluttered and she leaned into him a bit more.
“Sir Sean, Why are you not wearing your ceremonial armor?” Alice asked.
“Honestly?” Sean shot a puzzled look to Gyllis. “That sort of pomp is only reserved for weddings and court appearances. I’m far more comfortable wearing a plaid and doublet.”
“Alan MacCoul has donned his ceremonial armor.” Marion pointed. “Even the Lord of Lorn is sporting a silver breastplate.”
Sir Sean’s shoulder ticked up, but a tempest brewed behind his eyes. “Mayhap I incorrectly assumed this eve to be a more casual affair. I’m afraid my uncle makes Beltane a greater spectacle every year.”
“The church is insisting we call it May Day.” Gyllis lifted the trencher of meat and smoothed her shoulder against his as she offered it to him. “I think you are admirably dressed.”
“My thanks.” Sean selected a thick piece of roast lamb with his eating knife.
She replaced the tray. Helen nudged Gyllis with an elbow and she scooted flush against Sean’s thigh. Though she wore layers of skirts, his leg felt hard as stone. Goodness, with flesh as solid as his, he needs no armor. She dared glance his way. “Apologies. The hall is awfully crowded.”
Sean faced her and lowered his lids, fanned with long, dark lashes. Gyllis liked that he had to cast his gaze downward to meet hers. So often she was self-conscious about her height, but Sean MacDougall stood at least a head taller.
“Are you looking forward to Beltane?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said. “The games will be great sport.”
Helen leaned forward. “I hope the weather remains in our favor.”
“Me as well.” Sean held up his eating knife. “I prefer running on dry ground.”
“I’m looking forward to the Maypole dances,” Alice said.
Marion licked her lips. “And pigs on the spit—nothing better than pork roasted over an open fire.”
“Mm, I can practically taste it now.” Under the table, Sean’s fingers brushed Gyllis’s thigh. “And you? What are you looking forward to on the morrow?”
“Everything.” She inhaled, her heart hammering like a snare drum. Sir Sean smelled of rosemary soap and spice. How undeniably intoxicating. Her eyelids fluttered while her head swooned. “Would you care to sit on our plaid…weather permitting of course?”
He reached for his tankard as if considering.
Gyllis could have kicked herself. Oh heavens, I’ve been too forward. He most likely has other plans. She flicked her hair with a toss of her head. “I’m certain Mother and Duncan will enjoy your company. After all, we haven’t seen you at Kilchurn Castle in ages.” Now I’ve done it. Why can I not keep my mouth shut?
Sean sipped then offered a nod. “I’m not positive Lord Duncan will approve, but I would be remiss if I did not accept your generous invitation.”
“You will?” Beneath the table, Gyllis clasped her hands, trying to quell her excitement. “Very well, then. I shall ensure I bring along a plaid of ample size for us all to sit upon.”
She hesitated for a moment, wondering what she should say next. Did Sean agree because they had been friends for such a long time? Nine years her senior, she’d known him nearly all her life, looked up to him when she was a wee lass, and as a teenager, admired him. They’d shared many a glance across Kilchurn’s great hall, especially since she came into her majority. Gyllis had always interpreted meaning into those glances. However, Sean had never been more than courteous—though he was a good dance partner when he wasn’t off on the king’s business with Duncan. She stole a sidewise glance at him then quickly looked at her plate.
He’s staring at me. Surely that must mean something.
The musicians moved into place on the balcony above—a fiddler, a drummer and a piper.
Alice clapped her hands. “It looks like his lordship has planned country dances for this eve.”
Gyllis stole another look at Sean—he was still staring and now grinning at her. “Ah…It looks like a plaid and doublet were the perfect choice for this evening’s dancing.”
The fiddler started in on a reel and benches scraped across the floorboards. Sean stood and offered his hand. “I believe I owe you a dance, Miss Gyllis.”
Her heart thrummed in tandem with the foot-stomping music. “You’re ever so kind, sir knight.”
“You must dance with us all, Sir Sean,” Marion chimed.
Gyllis wanted to tell her sisters to go find their own dancing partners. But that wasn’t the way of things at a Highland gathering. Everyone danced with everyone. At the moment, however, Gyllis rested her palm atop Sean’s powerful hand. Though they were barely touching, gooseflesh rose across her skin. She prayed this would be a very long reel indeed.
Sean probably shouldn’t have agreed to sit with Gyllis and her family at the morrow’s Beltane feast, but her eyes had looked so hopeful, he couldn’t say no. Since his father was ill, as future Chieftain of Dunollie, Sean should keep company with his clan. But he wouldn’t worry about that now. He led the lovely lass to the dance floor, his thigh still tingling where it had been flush against hers. All he cared to
do at the moment was watch her gracefully twirl in the crook of his arm.
In a fortnight he’d return to the borders, sleeping in stables with a mob of smelly warriors. He could allow himself a modicum of enjoyment over the next sennight, even if Duncan Campbell didn’t exactly agree. Besides, the coming months would have no such pleasures. Sean was never one to buck a challenge, and he’d had been enamored with Gyllis since…since…honestly since she’d turned from a spoiled gap-toothed lass into a stunning woman.
“Have you had much opportunity to dance as of late?” Gyllis asked.
“None at all. I’m afraid all there was time for was riding, eating, sleeping and fighting the English.” Sean’s belly squeezed when she smiled, her dimples dipping into the high color of her cheeks.
“Oh my, that does sound tedious.” She assumed her place in line, standing across from him. “Do you remember how Mother used to make you partner with us during our dancing lessons?”
“I shall never forget.” At the time, he’d considered Gyllis an annoying child. He chuckled—he’d been sixteen and she seven. And as a young squire, Sean hated being forced to partner with the lasses. He had more important things to conquer during his fostering—like proving himself to the Lord of Glenorchy and earning his knighthood. As a matter of fact, he’d rarely had time to think of anything except enforcement work. But he did love it. Duncan called him a ghost because Sean’s strengths lay in tracking and ambush.
The fiddler stamped his foot indicating the dance was to begin and Sean locked elbows with Gyllis. Her arms were long, yet lithe. Willowy.
She fluttered her lovely eyelashes at him. “I always thought you would rather be elsewhere than dancing with us.”
Sean reached over and patted her hand. So small beneath his callused fingers, her skin was softer than silk. “Perhaps as children, but right now there is no place I’d rather be.”
The dancers formed three large circles. Sean held Gyllis’s hand while another woman danced in the center. He scarcely noticed the woman to his left. Gyllis’s intoxicating scent of fresh cut flowers and honey captivated him. The bodice of her green gown was cinched taut around her waist. Creamy white breasts swelled above the neckline—not too small, and most certainly not too large. Her cleavage provided plenty to captivate his interest.
She glanced up at him and grinned. Afraid he’d been caught staring at her breasts, Sean snapped his gaze to her eyes. By God, they were the most tantalizing color of moss. He looked closer. He’d always thought she had black rims around her irises, but the more he studied them, the more he could swear the rings were navy blue. “Exquisite.”
“Pardon?”
“Ah, your ey….”
Gyllis released his hand and skipped into the center of the circle. Sean studied the others with no clue as to where they were in the reel. Well, at least if Gyllis was in the ring, she’d spin with the man directly across then return to twirl with Sean. That was the good part of dancing—if he had a lapse of attention, he could usually pick the steps back up.
As he expected, Gyllis skipped toward him, her inordinately long chestnut tresses swishing behind her. He locked hands with her and spun. “Did I tell you how bonny you look this eve?”
She giggled and slid back into place. Irritated to turn away and join elbows with the woman behind, Sean continued with the reel. They wound their way around the circle until again he held Gyllis’s hand in his. “You’ve become quite an accomplished dancer.”
“Thank you.” She blessed him with her dimples again. “I daresay you could use a lesson or two from me.”
He chuckled. Someone had noticed his inattentiveness. “It would be my pleasure to take advantage of your offer someday soon.”
Her mouth twisted. “But you must return to the borders.”
“Aye, for a time.” The music stopped. “But I shan’t be away indefinitely.”
“Miss Gyllis.” Alan MacCoul stepped beside her. “Would you dance with me?”
Sean’s gut churned. If only he could challenge the bastard on the spot. But a friendly gathering was no place to make a scene. His jaw twitched. One dance.
She cast Sean a questioning look. He tightened his grip on her hand and leaned to her ear. “Meet me in the courtyard after this tune.”
Her gasp was barely audible, but she met his gaze with more than trust filling her eyes. The excitement written on her face made him yearn for more than a kiss, though that was all he could hope for.
Sean released his hold and bowed. “M’lady.” Then he spun on his heel.
Why does that bastard plague me every time I turn around? And what the hell is he doing dressed like he’s going to a king’s coronation?
As he headed outside, he ground his fist into his palm. He had no business arranging a secret meeting with a woman, especially his best friend’s sister. It must have been her eyes that caused my lack in judgment. I shall keep the conversation light and see her back to the hall before anyone realizes Gyllis has slipped away.
3
Gyllis could hardly wait until the dance with Alan was over. She glanced at the great hall doors every time she had a clear view of them. Had Sean honestly whispered in her ear and asked to meet her in the courtyard? At long last her dreams were finally coming true.
Her palms perspired as she skipped along in a serpentine pattern, grasping the other dancers’ hands. When she completed the circle and again clasped hands with Alan, she shuddered. With his black hair combed away from his face, he was handsome, but the way his dark eyes regarded her made Gyllis uneasy. She could never trust someone with such an intense stare. He seemed almost crazed, and starved. Alan couldn’t possibly be hungry, they’d only just dined.
She spun outward. From the dais Duncan watched her, sitting on the edge of his chair as if he could spring across the hall any minute. Why her brother was so overwhelmingly protective was beyond her. Heaven’s stars, he’s more watchful than a father. She harrumphed. At least they want their daughters to marry and make alliances with other clans.
When the music ended, Gyllis’s stomach swarmed with an attack of butterflies.
“Would you care for another dance?” Alan asked.
Her gaze darted to the doors. If she told him she planned to take a turn in the courtyard, he’d surely follow her. “Thank you, but I would be remiss if I didn’t suggest you dance with one of my sisters.”
He grasped her hand. His touch was rough like Sean’s, but firmer and nowhere near as inviting. “But I’d prefer to dance with you.”
Gyllis pulled her hand away and rubbed it. “Perhaps another time.” She curtsied and made the pretense of moving toward the wall while watching Duncan out of the corner of her eye. Fortunately, he’d turned his attention to a conversation with the chieftain beside him. When certain Alan wasn’t following her, she skirted toward the door. With one last glance over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching, she slipped outside.
She stood for a moment, blinking her eyes to help them adjust to the darkness.
A hand grasped her elbow. “Walk with me.”
Her heart stuttered. “Sir Sean, you are full of surprises.”
He slid his hand down her forearm and threaded his fingers through hers. “Apologies. I hope you do not think me untoward.”
“Not at all. We’ve know each other since I can remember.” She leaned a bit closer to him. “Duncan trusts you—I trust you.”
“Aye? Mayhap too much.” He looked at her, the whites of his eyes glowing in the moonlight. “I shouldn’t have asked you to step out with me.”
“But I wanted to.”
He drew her hand over his heart. “I cannot chance sullying your reputation.”
Of course Gyllis knew what he meant, though she still looked over both shoulders. “That is why I was careful to ensure no one was watching when I slipped out of the hall.”
He led her into the shadows at the far side of the well then turned and faced her, clasping both her hands between his much la
rger palms. “When I said you look bonny this eve, I really wanted to say you are more radiant than any woman in the hall.” His voice grew deeper, the rumble of it making gooseflesh run in tingling waves over her skin.
They were standing so close she could have sworn Sean could hear her heart pattering. She emitted a nervous laugh. “You exaggerate, but I thank you.” Her insides were about to bubble out of control like a tankard too full of ale. “I cannot say how happy I am you were able to come to the games. I prayed you would be here.”
“You did?” He sounded surprised. “I would have thought a lass with such a well-respected family would have far greater things on her mind than me.”
“You are the heir to a chieftainship. I think that would qualify as a suitable subject to occupy any noble lassie’s thoughts. Unless…”
“Unless?”
She had to ask. “Are you promised?”
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Nay. I’ve been too busy keeping peace in the name of King James to become mixed up in a betrothal.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders tensed. What did he mean by mixed up? She started to step away, but he tugged her closer. So near, his warm breath caressed her forehead.
“Forgive me,” he purred. “I shouldn’t have jested.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I’m afraid I’m being overly serious. After all, we’ve been friends all our lives. Why should you not jest?”
He brushed an errant lock of hair under her circlet. “Gyllis?”
“Aye?”
“Have you ever been kissed?”
“I—” Before she could utter her next word, Sean’s lips brushed hers in the most feathery kiss she’d ever imagined. Her head spun. With a sigh, she swooned into him. “I’ve nay been kissed like that before.”
“That was no kiss.” He wrapped his arms around her as if creating a protective barrier where nothing in the world could harm her. His face looked incredibly bold in the moon glow—desire filled his eyes, yet the dark shadow of his beard and long, wavy hair gave him a look of danger.
