by Amy Jarecki
Duncan stood. “Sir Sean, please take the seat at the end. I’ve no doubt my sisters will enjoy your conversation.”
Sean gulped. Duncan never wanted him to take a wee gander at his sisters. Hmm. Perhaps he believed there was no threat with Gyllis away at the priory.
“How are you Sir Sean?” Lady Meg asked holding out her hand. “It has been ever so long since we’ve seen you.”
“I’m well.” Sean strode around the table, took her hand and kissed it. “My dear lady, you are bonnier than ever. And how are the twins?”
“Elizabeth’s almost as beautiful as her mother,” Duncan said. “And Colin is a lad who would make my father proud.”
“Congratulations to you both.” Sean then bowed to Lady Margaret. “And how are you m’lady?”
“Very well,” the woman who’d been a second mother dipped her head. “Please accept my condolences for the loss of your father. He was a good man.”
“That he was.”
Sean took his seat, but no sooner had he done so, a hush dampened the banter in the hall. Lady Margaret clapped a hand to her chest and sat forward. Sean followed her gaze.
Gyllis stood at the foot of the stairwell wearing a crimson mantle. Both the over and under gowns were a work of art. Low cut, Gyllis’s breasts swelled above the sealskin-trimmed neckline, her flesh more perfect than pure white calla lilies. Her tresses were held away from her face under a matching French hood, also trimmed by sealskin. Looking directly at him, she offered a lovely smile before she handed her crutches to Helen.
She’s not?
She did.
With her first step, the gold satin underdress caught the glow of the candlelight and shimmered. Sean scarcely noticed Helen walking closely behind with one hand out. Gyllis grinned at him, her face alive and filled with joy.
She took another step and another.
Sean wanted to dash from the dais and gather her into his arms, but in no way would he wish to detract from her performance.
Duncan stood, as if he’d had the same thought.
Lady Margaret sat transfixed, her hand covering her mouth. “Praise God.”
“’Tis a miracle,” said Lady Meg.
Sean grasped his armrests. He couldn’t allow her to cross the entire hall unassisted, no matter how much she wanted to impress her family. When he slid his chair back, Gyllis stumbled forward. Helen squealed and reached for her, but the lovely lass tumbled beyond her sister’s grasp. Benches scraped across the floor as Gyllis collapsed into a heap.
Sean didn’t remember his feet touching ground as he dashed to her side. “Miss Gyllis!” He dropped to his knees before her. “Are you all right?”
“Blast.” She smacked the floorboards with her fist. “I wanted to impress you, and I had to go and fall on my face like a cripple.”
“You are a cripple,” Alice said from behind the small gathering of people. Sometimes little sisters could be so maddening.
“No. She is not.” Sean gathered her in his arms. “Miss Gyllis may have suffered from a bout of paralysis, but I’ve never seen anyone with more courage and determination.”
Frail and light in his arms, he stood with ease.
She buried her face in his chest and a tear moistened his shirt. “I’m so embarrassed. I wanted to show you how much I’ve improved.”
“Are you jesting? You walked, Gyllis. You practically strode across the entire hall without a lick of help. I’ve never been so impressed by anything in my life as much as I witnessed in that moment. I know how hard you’ve worked. You are truly amazing.”
She met his gaze with a joyous bleary-eyed smile adorned by delightful dimples—so much more enchanting than Duncan’s. “Lady Meg started applying warm compresses. I think they’ve helped a great deal.”
“Aye? I’d wager your pure determination has done as much or more than a handful of warm rags.” He proceeded to the dais, met with Duncan’s angry glare. But before Sean neared close enough for the baron to hear, he pressed his lips to Gyllis’s ear. “You’ve never looked as radiant as you do this night.”
Why she was there and not at the priory he’d uncover later.
Duncan planted his fists on his hips. “Was it necessary to carry my sister all the way to the dais?”
If Sean weren’t cradling Gyllis in his arms he’d challenge Duncan on the spot, friend or no. She’d had the courage to attempt to cross the entire great hall unassisted and when her frail legs had given out, the bastard hadn’t rushed to her aid. “I believe it was. Only a few sennights ago, Miss Gyllis had just started to walk with crutches.”
Duncan crossed his arms and tipped his chin up. “It seems you know an awful lot about my sister’s ailment.”
Sean pushed past him and climbed onto the dais. “I’ve had dealings at Ardchattan and chanced to visit with Miss Gyllis a time or two.” He set her on the chair beside his. “Are you all right now my…lo…ah…Miss Gyllis?”
“I am, thanks to you, sir.” She cast a heated stare in her brother’s direction.
Sean took her hand and bowed deeply over it. “’Tis my pleasure to be of assistance.” Her lithe fingers smelled of rose oil and he could have hovered there forever. Watching her eyes, he kissed her hand. “Is there anything further I can do to help?”
Gyllis smiled, her gaze trailing down the length of his body. A bold move for a somewhat innocent maid, but a gesture telling him she desired more than a kiss on her hand. “I would be honored if the gallant knight who rescued me would be so kind as to sit beside me during the meal.”
Duncan stepped behind them. “Do not make me challenge you MacDougall. I suggest you take your seat and stop carrying on like a wet-eared lad.”
“I thought he was rather chivalrous,” Helen said, taking the seat on Gyllis’s other side.
“He’s being a fair bit too familiar if you ask me,” Duncan groused.
“Stop,” Mother said. “I find Sir Sean’s actions endearing. Besides, you didn’t spring across the room and dash to assist your sister. If not you, I can think of no one more suitable. Sean is practically family. Why, the pair has known each other since childhood.”
Sean leaned toward Gyllis’s ear. “I could talk to him now…um…you know.”
She held a finger to her lips. “Nay. Let me speak to Mother first. Perhaps she can build a bridge.”
Sean glanced toward Duncan. He’d resumed his seat and poured himself a tankard of ale. Slipping his hand under the table, Sean grasped Gyllis’s fingers. “Why are you here? I thought you’d remain at the priory for another month at least.”
“John was waiting for me in my cell after you brought me back from Dunollie. He said if I was well enough to stay out all night, I could return home.” Gyllis squeezed his hand tight. “He even guessed that we…”
Sean choked on his ale and froth spewed across the table. “Oh no.”
Gyllis bit her lip and dropped her lids. “He did.”
Sean rubbed the back of his neck and flicked his gaze toward the Lord of Glenorchy. “Duncan isn’t aware.”
Gyllis gave him the most perplexed look. “How did you…?”
“He hasn’t tried to hang me—yet.”
Gyllis muffled her giggle with her free hand. “And you, why are you at Kilchurn?”
Sean couldn’t bring himself to tell her about all the problems with Alan MacCoul. The last thing Gyllis needed right now was to worry about an ornery varlet who would soon be brought to justice. “I had dealings with your brother.”
Her face reddened. “Clearly those dealings did not include me,” she whispered so softly, Sean scarcely caught every word.
“Not yet, my love.” Sean pressed his lips to her ear. “Speak to your mother. Then I will approach Duncan after the Michaelmas feast and the Lord of Lorn’s wedding.”
She picked up a piece of bread and took the tiniest bite. “Only speak to him if you truly want to. I know I’m not—”
Sean tightened his fingers around her hand. “Cease. There
is no question of my love or devotion for you.”
Duncan pounded the hilt of his eating knife on the table. “The two of you have had your heads together since you sat down. What is so surreptitious you cannot share it with all the table?”
What was it about Duncan Campbell that brought out Sean’s urge to hit something—namely the arrogant lord’s face. God’s teeth, he’d been friends with Duncan forever, but that didn’t mean he’d take his shite. Gyllis must have sensed Sean’s building ire because she squeezed his arm with surprising strength.
But Sean met the baron’s glare. “If you must know, after seeing Miss Gyllis struggling at the priory, I had my carpenter fashion a pair of crutches for her.” He pointed. “Those she attempted to cross the hall without today. She was simply informing me of her progress.” Sean glared back, just as intensely as the Lord of Glenorchy. Duncan may be his senior peer, but Sean was a chieftain. A man to be reckoned with. And he would win the bastard’s favor regardless of any past indiscretions. “I happened to be quite amazed with her attempt to walk the length of the hall. I trust you were equally so.”
Lady Margaret leaned forward, blocking the intense current between the two men, though the matron’s eyes focused on the hand Gyllis had on Sean’s arm. “I could scarcely believe my eyes. It appears Lady Meg’s treatments have been overwhelmingly helpful.”
Gyllis released her grip and folded her hands in her lap. “Aye. I never would have thought hot compresses could make such a difference to the monk’s treatments.”
Mother’s gaze slipped to Sean. “Perhaps we should have kept you at Kilchurn.”
Sean knew Lady Margaret to be a shrewd woman. His exuberant display of concern for Gyllis wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Sean only hoped Gyllis’s mother would be an ally when it came time to ask for the lass’s hand.
Sean and Duncan had spent too much time swilling whisky in alehouses with buxom wenches when they were lads. Aye, they’d both acted like rogues, but Duncan had changed after he’d met his wife—sworn off alehouse tarts. If only the lord could realize more than one man could do the same. Sean hadn’t thought of another woman since…since…in a bloody long time for certain.
Sean didn’t balk when Lady Meg offered him a bed in a guest chamber above stairs—though he’d intended on bedding down in the stable. The soft mattress did nothing to soothe his unease. He needed this business with Lorn’s wedding to be over. Though Duncan’s argument made sense—Alan MacCoul’s quarrel was with Sean and not with the Lord of Lorn. If the bastard was foolish enough to try an attack, it would be a siege on the fortress of Dunollie, not the wedding party and not a castle being part of the crown’s holdings. Sean considered sending a missive to Lorn and asking him to change the date or the venue, but doing so would admit weakness.
Sean closed his eyes and slung his arm over his face. A picture of Gyllis immediately came to mind. She’d been so radiant this eve, he could have swept her into his arms and stole her away like a Viking from ages past. The thought of taking Gyllis to his galley and sailing to a distant shore tempted—but only for a moment. He was a chieftain, by God, and his plan was solid. He’d see out his duty and then Gyllis would be his. Not even Duncan Campbell would be able to stand in his way.
Gyllis was his. They may not have pledged their love before God, but she was his woman—always had been. Duncan would not arrange her marriage to any other. Sean would not stand for it. The idea of her marrying any other man made his blood pulse icily through his veins. Hell, if another man looked at Gyllis he turned into a raving lunatic.
The door opened and quickly closed. Sean sat up, the bedclothes dropping to his waist. Gyllis stood against the door, holding a candle, using only one crutch. She wore a dressing gown belted at the waist. Staring at him, the whites of her eyes grew enormous.
“Gyllis?” Sean reached for a plaid and circled it around his hips as he slid out of bed. “What are you doing in here?”
She drew in a sharp gasp. “I cannot sleep.”
“Nor can I, but ’tis not proper for you to be in my chamber.” He tucked the plaid at his hip and hastened across the floor. “You could be ruined.” Not to mention Duncan would sever Sean’s cods if the lord of the keep found them together.
She handed him the candle then placed her hand on his bare chest. His breath caught at her touch. Heaven help him, he could not resist but a single fingertip’s caress. The tingling of flesh on flesh stirred molten fire from his chest all the way through the tip of his cock.
She trailed her finger from his heart to the edge of the plaid with a seductive chuckle. “I am already ruined thanks to you.”
Sean had no control over his body’s reaction. In the blink of an eye, his cock lengthened and stretched taut against the woolen fabric. “I would never see you ruined.”
“Mm, mm.” She didn’t miss his reaction and ran her fingertips along the inside of the plaid perched precariously on his hips.
He took a step back and grasped her shoulder. “We mustn’t.”
“Why?” she purred.
He squared his jaw. “I should march straight to Duncan’s chamber and ask for your hand.”
“I do like that idea, however…” She chuckled like a wanton. “He’s most likely making another bairn with Lady Meg.”
She stepped closer, again toying with the plaid. Sean stepped away and placed the candle on the table. He needed both hands to control the lassie’s advances, no matter how much he wanted her, damn it all.
“When is Lorn’s wedding?” she asked.
“A fortnight.”
The crutch clicked the floorboards as she moved further into the chamber. “’Tis soon. I shall await your return with great anticipation.” Her scent made Sean’s knees waver, yet Gyllis moved forward unaware of the spell she’d cast over him. “Mother has always been fond of you—but I shall never understand Duncan. You’re his best friend, and yet he cannot bear to see you place a hand upon me.” She reached out her finger and stroked it across his lips.
Damn, the wavering of his knees rocketed up his thighs, spread through the ache in his groin, and continued to his chest.
Sean forced himself not to tug her into his arms and devour her. God’s bones, Duncan’s chamber was directly above theirs. If he heard Gyllis’s crutch tap the floorboards, the lord would charge in like a raging bull. Sean swallowed, lightheaded from his growing erection. “’Tis difficult for a man to see his friends take an interest in his sister. You ken we’ve talked about it.”
“Aye.” Gyllis’s voice grew husky. “’Tis why mother must make him understand.” She grasped the plaid and tugged.
Sean held her wrist. “We mustn’t.”
She met his gaze with an arched brow, but she released her fingers from the wool. “No one saw me. No one will know.”
Helpless to turn her away, Sean followed while Gyllis moved to the foot of the bed, placed her crutch on the floor then grasped the bedpost with one hand. Reaching out with the other, she again closed her fingers around his plaid. Her eyes flashed wide and a sultry laugh spilled from her throat as she pulled off Sean’s plaid. His cock bounced out and pointed directly at her. He was harder than an oak broomstick and more aroused than a lad staring at a pair of breasts for the first time. Christ, he needed release.
Gyllis didn’t help matters. Her pink tongue slipped to the corner of her mouth as her gaze undulated down his body and stopped at his cock. “I-I’ve wanted you ever since…” She untied the sash around her waist and let the dressing gown drop to the floor.
God save him, she wore not a stich of clothing. Every shred of self-control fled. His mind consumed with the tantalizing woman before him. Somehow she was even more beautiful now than he’d remembered. The candlelight flickered amber across her skin. Chestnut tresses slid over her shoulder, framing two perfectly formed breasts, tipped by rose.
Sean licked his lips, those delectable rosebuds would be his second stop. In two strides, he wrapped her in his arms and crushed his b
ody against hers. “For all that is holy, you have claimed my soul, my flesh and my mind.”
He covered her mouth with his, her minty taste flooding his senses. Claiming her for his own, he forced his tongue inside her mouth. She matched the ferocious swirling of his tongue. No, Gyllis wasn’t one to shy away from anything life threw her way. She was strong and wild and seductive, and he loved her to the depths of his core. His cock slid across her stomach and he moaned.
In an act of unbridled trust, she released her hold on the bedpost and clamped her arms around his shoulders. Their mouths joined, she thrust her hips against him. “I want you.”
He needed no more encouragement. Sean swept her into his arms and placed her on the bed. His mind consumed with desire, his senses overpowered by her smell, her seductive way she rocked her hips in anticipation of receiving him, and the deft fingers plying the muscles in his back, he was powerless to resist.
He trailed kisses down her neck while kneading her breast. Her soft moan made his seed dribble from the tip of his cock. Christ almighty, he needed her and soon, else she’d unman him just by the sultry tenor of her voice.
He clamped his mouth over her breast and teased her delectable nipple with the swirling of his tongue. Her body quivered as she arched her back and mewled. “I cannot take much more.”
Sean looked into those alluring green eyes and chuckled. “You taste like ambrosia from the Gods.”
A slow grin spread across her lips and she tugged on his shoulders. “’Tis my turn to taste you.”
“Nay.”
She tugged harder. “If you haven’t realized it yet, I am seducing you, not the other way around.”
God, he loved this woman. Sean slid alongside her and gestured to his body, his muscles as taut as they were after he’d been an hour or more in the sparring ring. “I am at your service m’lady.” A groan of desire rumbled from his chest.
She ran her tongue over her teeth, sweeping her gaze down his body. The way she looked at him set his cock on fire. The woman was a lioness in the bedchamber, her innocence and eagerness more arousing than anything he’d ever experienced. She rolled atop him and kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his chin.
