by Amy Jarecki
The messenger looked puzzled, but Sean grasped him by the elbow and inclined his head toward the man’s ear. “This way.”
He clomped his feet on the floorboards, making a show of walking toward the stairwell, then released the messenger’s arm and whispered, “Go to the kitchens and get something to eat. I shall prepare Lorn a reply anon.”
“Very well, sir.”
Sean quietly returned to the solar and stood outside the door. He opened the missive from Lorn. King James had given consent and the wedding was still on track for autumn—fortunately news which didn’t require Sean’s immediate attention.
“You should tell him,” Angus’s deep voice rumbled through the wall.
“But that is not what Alan declared.”
Sean held his breath. Alan?
“I cannot renege on his final request,” Murdach continued.
Sean released a whoosh of air. At first he’d thought they were referring to MacCoul, but his father’s name had been Alan as well. He leaned closer to the door.
“Aye, but he cannot run his affairs from the grave,” Angus argued.
“If he’d set aside a provision, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Well, if ’tis a case between proving my loyalty and support for the living and honor for the dead, I’ll choose the living. Sir Sean deserves our fealty now.”
“You are right as always, Angus.”
“Then we’re agreed. Regardless of what the chieftain requested from his deathbed, it stops today.”
“Aye.”
Sean leaned against the wall. He could hang them both for what he’d just heard. But then they had been acting upon a promise to his father—something Da wanted to keep hidden. Whatever it was, they had called an end to it. Content that the men within his chamber were not trying to swindle him, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Angus and Murdach looked up expectantly. What Sean had earlier interpreted as collusion now looked like faces torn. He hoped to God his hunch was right.
He grinned and strode to the sideboard. “I believe we should toast to Murdach’s retirement.”
Gyllis studied Brother Wesley while he circled his knuckles into her calf. “Have you taken a vow of silence in the past few days?”
He looked at her with pinched brows and shook his head.
“You’ve scarcely said a word since Sir Sean was here.”
“Have I not?” He set her leg down and started on the other.
Gyllis cringed. Had she been insensitive? After all, Sean did give him a good wallop. “How is your jaw?”
He opened his mouth and stretched it to the side. “’Tis coming good.”
“I am sorry he hit you.”
Brother Wesley grumbled, “As am I.”
“Honestly, Sir Sean MacDougall is a nice man. He never would have struck out if he hadn’t thought I was in danger.”
“It might save him some trouble if he learned to ask questions before he started swinging his fists.”
Gyllis smoothed her hands over her kirtle. “You abhor violence, do you not?”
“Aye, ’tis why I joined the order.”
“I shall ask Sir Sean to apologize as soon as he returns.”
“If he comes again.” Wesley stopped rubbing. “Besides, there is no need. As you said, he thought he was protecting you.”
When Gyllis looked into the monk’s troubled eyes, she could tell the topic of Sir Sean did not sit well with him. “You should forgive him.”
“I have. ’Tis a vice to hold a grudge.”
Gyllis folded her hands. “But I sense you do not care to talk about him.”
“’Tis because he likes you.”
She laughed. Sean loved her, and thinking about it had tickled her insides with joy for the past few days. Though she wasn’t about to lose her head over it. She had no doubt he loved her as a fostered sister—but still it was enough to make her heart soar. “Is that such a bad thing?”
Wesley grew quiet again. He pulled down her skirts and patted her knee. “I should prepare for vespers.”
“But I haven’t practiced walking yet today.”
“Perhaps we can do that on the morrow.” He stood and bowed. “If you will excuse me.”
Gyllis watched the monk take his leave. It didn’t take a seer to discern something bothered him and she had no doubt it had everything to do with Sir Sean. She couldn’t understand Brother Wesley’s recalcitrance. Since the young chieftain’s visit, she’d actually been happy. She’d also made marked progress. Presently she could stand on her own without wobbling and, if she leaned on Brother Wesley’s hands, she could take a step.
Gyllis was so close to being able to walk, she was anxious to keep practicing. She flexed her feet, yet another thing she’d recently been able to accomplish. She leaned forward and placed her hands on the stool. Perhaps if she supported herself on it, she could practice walking around it and wouldn’t fall. If she wasn’t careful, she could end up on the floor in her chamber alone for hours.
She placed her feet flush with the floor and took her weight on her hands. Once sure she was balanced, she sidestepped. She closed her eyes and pretended she was dancing. Step together, step together around the stool.
After she’d made two circles, she grew more confident. With an inhale, she released her grip and straightened. Her knees quivered a bit. She held out her hands to gain balance and stood still for a moment. She sidestepped just as she’d done when holding onto the stool. Drawing her feet together, she decided she could do it again. Taking the smallest of steps, Gyllis managed to make it completely around the stool without falling. She clapped her hands and squealed with delight.
Excited to do more, she boldly stepped away from the stool. Her knee buckled. With her heart flying to her throat, Gyllis flung her hands forward to break her fall. Collapsed in a heap on the floor, she waited for the pain to come. When it didn’t, she moved her arms and rolled to her bottom. She straightened her right leg, then the left. She chuckled—thank heavens she wasn’t hurt in the slightest.
But the best thing? She had actually shuffled her feet around the stool without help.
Gyllis threw back her head and laughed out loud. Her skin tingled, her belly muscles tightened and she laughed some more. Heavens, it was good to laugh for a change. She’d done so much crying since she’d arrived, Gyllis never thought she’d find the will to laugh again.
She covered her mouth with a gasp when the door swung open.
Before she could blink, Sean dashed inside and scooped her into his arms. “My God, Miss Gyllis. Are you hurt?”
She sucked in a few stuttered breaths. “I-I am quite well. Just had a wee tumble.” After he set her on the bed, she grinned broadly. “I took my first unassisted steps today. The only problem is no one was here to see me.”
“Wonderful news…but you shouldn’t have been so bold without someone to assist you.”
She jutted out her bottom lip. “Please, since I arrived a monk has had to help me with every bodily purpose imaginable. I stepped around the stool on my own.”
“That is exciting to hear.” He sat beside her and clasped her hand. “’Tis quite an impressive feat. You shall soon be dancing.”
The touch of his rugged fingers made her blood rush hot beneath her skin. “I imagined myself dancing around the stool.” Gyllis couldn’t stop smiling.
Sean smiled back. Bless it, he was handsome. His eyes sparkled with the ray of light beaming from the window. He’d combed his dark locks away from his face and his chin was shaved clean. Gyllis brushed her fingers along it.
His eyes grew dark, intense. He moistened his lips with a slow lap of his tongue. “I shaved close this morn.”
She looked closer—not a hint of dark stubble. “I do not believe I can remember ever seeing your chin so smooth.” Or your lips so kissable. Sean’s upper lip was slightly fuller than his lower. But together they reminded her of a ship with two sails—a very sensuous ship that perhaps might take
them away to a place where paralysis did not exist.
He grinned—a lazy grin that made her desire a wee kiss all the more. “I took extra care with the sharpening leather.”
Raising her chin, she pursed her lips.
But rather than kiss her, Sean stood and paraded in a grand circle, his arm stretching out before him. Finishing the turn he bowed deeply. “May I have this dance?”
She covered her mouth and giggled. “I said I scooted around a stool, silly.”
He straightened and stepped closer. “In my arms you shall not falter, m’lady.”
Gyllis blinked. “You mean to—”
Before she could finish, he swept her into his embrace and swung her in a circle. Sean’s melodic voice hummed a bard’s ballad as he swayed. Gyllis latched her arms around his neck and held as tightly as she could. Mm. He smelled of cedar and spice.
After her initial shock, Gyllis relaxed into him, closed her eyes and smiled. The way her body pressed against his was scandalous, but who would know? His powerful arms supporting her made her bubble inside.
She laughed and laughed while he swayed and twirled her in circles until her head swooned. “My, I’m dizzy.”
He stopped turning when they reached the wall. “Then we must promenade.” He hummed a slower tune and when he stepped forward, his thigh moved hers back. A tingling sensation swirled up her leg and intensified in her nether parts. How she wished she could wrap her legs around his body and cling to him throughout eternity.
Stopping in the center of the room, he stood still, gazing down at her face. His expression had grown serious, hungry.
“Why did you stop?” Gyllis whispered, breathless.
“I-I do not remember the rest of the tune.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful singing voice?”
Sean didn’t say a word, the look of hunger intensified in his eyes. He lowered his lashes and shifted his gaze to her lips. Gyllis’s heart thundered so forcefully, she was sure it was pummeling Sean’s chest right through her bodice. Ever so slowly he inclined his head.
Please, kiss me now.
Gyllis lifted her chin and met him halfway. His lips parted with a quick inhale of air. Blinking, his gaze dipped to her mouth. Her entire body came alive with swirling want. With one more quick lick of his lips, he covered her mouth with bone-melting fervor. The intensity and passion behind his kiss sent her mind whirling in a cyclone of rapture. She closed her eyes and melted into him. Aye, kissing at the Beltane festival had been amazing, but now Sean ravished her mouth with unexpected hunger. Together with his woodsy scent, Gyllis’s entire body ignited with fire. She returned his smoldering kiss with vigor. Thank the heavens her tongue had not been affected by paralysis.
When he paused, he drew in a ragged breath. “Forgive me. I must not take advantage.”
The door swung open. “What, in the name of all that is holy, are you doing with my sister in your arms?”
Holding her tight, Sean spun around and faced the prior. “John.” His voice cracked. “’Tis good to see you.”
John hastened inside and shut the door. “I wish I could say the same.”
“We were dancing,” Gyllis explained.
Sean assisted her to ease onto the bed. “Apologies. I took liberties.”
John scowled. “I ought to—”
Gyllis held up her palms. “We must have been overcome. I walked all by myself today, a-and Sir Sean and I danced to celebrate my success.”
John glared at Sean. “You danced?”
Sean nodded. “Aye.”
“He supported me in his arms was all.” And he kissed me. She brushed her fingers across her lips. The most wonderful kiss imaginable.
John shifted his glare to Gyllis. “What would Duncan and Ma say if they knew Sean MacDougall had been unchaperoned in this cell with you in his arms?”
Gyllis sat erect and raised her chin. “Pardon me, but there’s no need to tell them anything except that I’m making progress.”
Sean folded his arms. “John is right, ’tis not proper for me to attend you in your cell. Upon my next visit we should converse in the gardens.”
Gyllis clapped a hand over her heart. Sean is coming back! “I hope you will return soon.”
He smiled, the warmth of his grin making her heart flutter all the more. “Things at Dunollie require my attention, but I plan to visit two days hence.”
John opened the door. “I shall see you out.”
“Very well.” Sean grasped Gyllis’s hand and pressed pillow-soft lips against it. “I’ll see you soon.”
“And I will await your return with rapt anticipation, Sir Sean.”
Gyllis watched him until the door closed. With a loud sigh, she clapped her hands to her chest. Perhaps God had intended for her to contract paralysis.
12
In the following week, Sean visited Gyllis every morning. Riding his horse at a fast trot, he easily traversed the six miles to Ardchattan Priory in under an hour. Today he was especially excited to see the bonny lass because he had something to give her.
When he arrived, Gyllis was in the courtyard working with Brother Wesley. Seated on the bench, the monk held her hands and helped her stand. When he nodded, she sat.
Deep down, Sean was glad he’d hit the monk the first time he’d seen him. Brother Wesley may have taken an oath of celibacy, but he was a man all the same. He was completely unable to hide his adoration for Gyllis, and the piss-swilling swine fed his lust by having his hands all over her limbs throughout each day. John considered it improper for Sean to be alone with Gyllis? He should take a look at his own men and deem the same.
“Sir Sean, I am surprised to see you this day.” Gyllis beamed radiantly as always.
Sean shifted his angry stare from Brother Wesley and smiled at Gyllis. He held up the crutches in his hand. “I commissioned the carpenter to fashion these for you. When I arrived home yesterday, they were awaiting me.” He placed them under his arm, took her hand and kissed it. “I could not wait until the morrow to see you use them.”
She blessed him with a delightfully dimpled grin. “How so very kind of you.”
Brother Wesley cleared his throat. “I was planning to make you a pair myself.” He eyed her and held up his finger. “When you are ready, Miss Gyllis.”
Sean arched an eyebrow at the errant monk. “I believe the lass is ready now.”
“I think not.” Wesley shook his head, black curls jostling. “’Tis still too soon.”
“And what makes you an expert on the matter?” Sean tapped his foot.
The little monk managed to draw upon enough cods to puff out his chest. “I’ll tell you, Miss Gyllis is the second patient with paralysis I’ve tended, and—”
“Enough.” Gyllis reached out for the crutches. “I want to try them.”
Sean shouldered past the monk and held the pegs out to her.
The sext bell rang.
“You’d best go pray,” Sean said over his shoulder.
Brother Wesley pressed his palms together. “If she falls, it will be on your conscience.”
“That it will.” Sean returned his attention to Gyllis and grinned. “Are you ready?”
“Aye.” She batted her eyelashes. “But you weren’t very nice to Brother Wesley.”
“Nay? Well, how would you like it if a nun had her hands all over me day and night?”
“Oh, please. ’Tis not like that.”
“You think not? I ken a lustful man when I see one.”
Gyllis glanced back toward the church. “Honestly?”
“Aye.” Sean balanced the crutches. “Come, grasp the posts and see if you can pull yourself up.”
She bit her bottom lip and looked at the crutches like she was about to mount an untrained horse. Wrapping her fingers around them, she launched her body forward and up. Sean’s arms quivered a tad while he held the pegs steady.
Once Gyllis had gained her balance, he nodded to the armrests. “Now s
lide them under your arms.”
When they were properly in place, she blew out a breath.
“How do they feel?” he asked.
“Good.”
He gestured forward. “Well then, give it a try.”
The look on her face reminded him of a young lad concentrating on firing a bow and arrow for the first time, but she moved the crutches forward and shuffled up to them. Then she chuckled, a rapt grin spreading across her face. Sean stepped back to encourage her to do more.
In no time, she had moved a quarter of the way across the courtyard.
He hastened beside her. “You’re doing well.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to use these to gain a modicum of freedom?”
“Aye.” She took in a deep breath. “But I’ve grown tired so quickly.”
Sean pointed to the bench. “Can you make it back?”
She nodded and awkwardly crisscrossed the crutches until she had herself turned around. Sean resisted his urge to help, but he followed her with his hands out, ready to catch her at any moment. When Gyllis arrived at the bench, he placed his arm around her waist to give support and helped her sit. He leaned in and inhaled the scent of heaven and heather. He squeezed his arm a little tighter, savoring her supple hip as it molded against his.
“Goodness,” she chuckled.
Pushing away his lustful urges, he sat beside her and crossed his legs. “I think you did quite well for your first try.”
She rubbed under her arms. “It might take me a while to get used to them.”
“Did they cause you pain?”
“A wee bit under my arms.”
He held up a crutch and examined the wooden armrest. “I’d bet we could sew some sheep’s wool around these and make them a mite more comfortable.”
She ran her hand over the hickory. “No need to bother. The carpenter has done a fine job of sanding them smooth.”
“I like to bother—and nothing gives me more pleasure than watching you battle to overcome your illness. I’ll take these with me and they’ll have a cushion of wool when I next return.”
A blush blossomed across her cheeks. “My thanks. You are ever so kind.”
