“It was different. All light and shimmering. It…called to me.”
“It called to you?” He looked down at this woman in his arms, wondering if his heart would ever stop thundering. It was a miracle it didn’t burst clean through his chest. “It would appear, my lady, that you are in need of a keeper, for you seem determined to harm yourself.”
Stung, she pushed free of his arms. Though her legs trembled she stood her ground. “And I suppose you see yourself as so much wiser.”
“Wise enough not to attempt to fly. If you’d been meant for such things, you’d have been given wings.” Without thinking he dragged her close. In his eyes was a dark, almost frightening look. “Sweet heaven, you could have been killed.”
“Aye. And then you’d have been rid of me, my lord.”
“Don’t say such things. Don’t even think…”
The very air between them seemed to shimmer and stir, as though charged by some unseen force.
With a savage oath he covered her mouth with his.
The kiss caught them both by surprise. All fire and flash and need, it pulsed between them with the shattering force of a summer storm. A strike by lightning would have been less shocking. Their heartbeats thundered in their chests, causing them to struggle for breath.
Andrew drank her in deeply before lifting his head and drawing back, stunned by the depth of feeling that had welled up, unbidden, at the first touch of her. His eyes narrowed on hers, and he could read the fear and confusion. And something more. The awakening of a deep, slumbering desire. It touched him deeply.
He framed her face with his hands. His voice lowered to a moan. “I was so afraid for you.”
There was such passion in his voice. The depth of his feelings startled her.
Before she could reply he plunged his hands into the tangles of her hair, drawing it back as he covered her mouth in a kiss so searing, so hungry, he nearly devoured her.
He felt her stiffen for just a moment. Then her body seemed to go pliant. Her mouth softened, opening to him. Her hands reached out blindly, clutching his waist, as she returned his kisses with a hunger, a passion that matched his.
“You were afraid, too, my lord?”
“Aye.” He ran hot, nibbling kisses over her upturned face. Her eyes, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.
Gwenellen wondered at the way her heartbeat began racing, as though she’d just been running across a meadow at breakneck speed. Her mind filled with images so erotic she could feel her cheeks burning. There were so many strange needs tumbling about inside her.
His voice was a growl of frustration as he trailed his lips down the smooth column of her throat. “You must promise never to frighten me like that again.”
“I…” She couldn’t get the words out. Her throat was so constricted, she feared she might embarrass herself by bursting into tears.
“Promise me, my lady. For I couldn’t bear to see you harmed.”
“I’ll do my best.” She stood very still, loving the feel of his arms around her. Of that warm, clever mouth brushing kisses over her face. And those hands. So big and strong, moving along her back, setting fires wherever they touched.
She had the most overpowering need to be loved by this man. To be cherished. For the first time in her life it didn’t matter that she couldn’t control her powers. What mattered was that Andrew had worried over her. Not out of annoyance, but out of… something deeper.
Oh, what was the matter with her? Hadn’t she vowed never to lose her heart to a mortal as her sisters had done? And yet here she was, not only permitting this mortal to kiss her, to hold her, but wanting him to. And wanting more. Wanting all those things that Allegra and Kylia had found with their mortals.
She knew she ought to demand that he stop, but instead she held on tightly as he took her on a wild ride of emotions that left her even more confused and dizzy than when she’d been hanging by her fingertips in midair.
Andrew reminded himself that the woman in his arms was an innocent. He had no right to these liberties. But how could he stop, when she tasted like heaven? When the touch of her aroused him as no woman’s touch ever had?
He’d thought, for one brief moment, that she was lost to him. And then she’d landed like an angel in his arms, and the joy he’d felt was beyond belief. It was more than joy. It was pure jubilation. His heart was close to bursting with it.
He took the kiss deeper, loving the feel of her lips on his. There was a taste about her, a sweetness, that had him thinking about lush, exotic lands and forbidden fruit. He savored the feel of her body against his. All soft curves that melted into him as though made for him alone.
“Andrew.” She lifted a finger to his cheek.
In reply his hands tangled in her hair, drawing her head back as he ran open-mouth kisses down her throat. He ached to touch her everywhere. To feel her body move under his. He felt himself being drawn down into the dark, primitive need to take her, here, now, like a savage.
He was trembling when he lifted his head and held her a little away.
“Forgive me, my lady.”
Her breathing was too ragged to form a reply. She merely stared at him as he released her and took a step back.
“It’s late. I’ll see you to your chambers.”
“There’s no need.” She drew herself up and stepped around him, eager to escape those dark, knowing eyes. Was it possible that he could see into her heart? Could he read her most intimate thoughts? Did he know how much she wanted him to do more than kiss her, touch her?
“I believe I can manage the stairs without doing harm.” She flung the words without a backward glance, and hurried away.
When she was gone, he caught a glimpse of the book lying on the floor at his feet. He bent to retrieve it. Not bright and shimmering, as she’d described it, but a dark, dusty collection of parchment so fragile it appeared to crumble as he set it on a low shelf. Then his gaze moved upward to the shelf high above. The sight of it had him shuddering, for it was high enough that the fall could have broken her neck.
“Fool,” he muttered as he walked away.
But he wasn’t certain just who was the bigger fool. She’d merely risked her life. If he kept this up, he’d be risking something far greater. And his heart was something he’d vowed never again to risk.
Gwenellen’s heart was still racing when she reached her chambers. Once inside she paused and took several deep breaths before facing the servant who hurried over to take her shawl.
She wanted desperately to be alone. To sort out all these strange new emotions swirling around in her mind, making her feel as she’d felt that first time, so many years ago, when she’d climbed on Starlight’s back and had soared among the clouds. Aye, that was it exactly. She was soaring. Not from a simple ride on a winged horse, but from something so much more grand. A kiss. A kiss that had left her wildly unsettled and hungry for more.
“You seem out of breath, my lady.” Olnore led the way to the sleeping chambers, where the bed linens had already been turned down.
“I took a walk in the gardens.” Gwenellen stifled a giggle. If she were to walk there now, her feet would surely never touch the ground.
How could one man’s mouth be so firm, and yet so tempting? What was it about his arms that could make her feel so safe, and at the same time, so deliciously wicked?
“I took a walk there myself, not half an hour ago.” Olnore seemed to take a very long time folding the shawl and setting it aside.
“I didn’t see you, Olnore. Were you alone?”
“Nay, my lady. I was…with Paine.”
“Lloyd’s son?”
“Aye, my lady.”
Gwenellen saw the slight flush that colored the servant’s cheeks and felt a sudden kinship with this young woman. Did the two hold hands as they walked? Had they kissed in the shadows?
“Oh, my lady, you’ve soiled your gown.”
“My gown?” Gwenellen’s thoughts scattered. She glanced down with a look of guil
t. The bodice of her gown bore the dust of the bookshelves, as did her hands. “After my walk I found a room filled with books. They’ve been neglected, and seemed quite dusty.”
“That would be the library of the old abbey, my lady.” Olnore reached for the buttons of Gwenellen’s gown. “The servants are unwilling to work in there.” She lowered her voice. “‘Tis said there are strange things in the old section of the abbey.”
“What sort of things?” As if she cared. Right now the only thing she could think about, care about, was Andrew, and that warm, clever mouth.
The little servant shrugged. “There were whispers in the village from those who worked here. Of shadowy figures of robed women long dead, reading from their books and chanting in the night.” She removed Gwenellen’s gown and reached for the nightdress, slipping it over her head. “One of the servants swore she saw the old laird’s first wife standing in the doorway.”
Gwenellen wondered what the serving wench would say if she knew that her mistress not only saw the dead, but could speak with them. Tonight, however, it wasn’t the dead that held Gwenellen’s interest, but the living. And soon, very soon, she would be alone with her thoughts, able to relive in glorious detail that surprising scene in the abbey.
She yawned, hoping the little servant would soon take her leave. Lowering her hands to the basin of water, she washed, then reached for a clean linen towel. “Will you return to the garden now, Olnore, or will you sleep?”
“I’ll go to my bed now, my lady. But on the morrow, when my chores are done, I’ll most likely walk in the garden again.” Her voice softened. “If Paine should invite me.”
“I see.” Gwenellen settled into her bed and the servant tucked the linens around her.
Minutes later the candle was snuffed and the door closed softly.
In the darkness Gwenellen lay, allowing the scene in the library to play through her mind.
“Oh, Gram.” Her voice was little more than a sigh. “I know I scoffed at my sisters when they lost their hearts to Highland warriors. But Andrew Ross is different. Not only because he’s kind and good and noble. But when he touches me, I feel safe. Protected. You should have seen him, Gram, when he caught me just as I was about to be dashed against the stone floor. He was…magnificent. I know he would never permit any harm to befall me.”
She shivered at the thought of those strong arms catching her, enfolding her.
And drifted into sleep, still tasting him on her lips.
Chapter Ten
“My lord.” Gwenellen paused to catch her breath.
She’d spent a restless night, and then had slept until the sun was high in the sky. While breaking her fast on her balcony she’d caught sight of Andrew in the high meadow, surrounded by a cluster of men and boys.
She wasn’t so much eager to be near him, she told herself, as merely curious. That would explain why she’d run the entire distance. And it wasn’t the nearness of him that had her heart thundering; it was the exertion of that run.
Despite the serious nature of this training, Andrew found himself distracted by the sight of yellow curls dancing around a pixie face. A face that never failed to stir his heart.
He lowered his sword and walked toward her. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m teaching the villagers how to be warriors.”
She looked around and realized that most of the men from the village, both young and old, were here, and all of them carrying an assortment of weapons. Some held rusted swords and dull knives. Others had hoes, scythes, sickles and any number of farm implements.
She lowered her voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “You would ignore your father’s wishes?”
“You’ve told me what’s in his heart. Unfortunately, since I can’t know what is in Fergus Logan’s heart, I think it best to prepare the villagers for an attack. Since I’ve heard no word from my warriors in Edinburgh, I have no choice but to arm the villagers, and hope to teach them in mere days what it’s taken me a lifetime to learn. If they can’t be warriors, at least they can defend themselves against an assault.” He gave her a measured look. “You need not be afraid. I’ll see you’re kept safe, my lady.”
She lifted her head. “I’m not afraid, my lord. I merely wonder why you seem so…eager for battle.”
“Is that what you think? That I enjoy killing?” His easy smile faded.
“I mean no disapproval.” She hated the fact that his smile was gone. And that she was the one who’d erased it. “But once you have an army, it would be tempting to confront your enemy with a display of strength.”
“Tempting, perhaps. But I’m no fool. I may be laird, but I’m also a warrior, trained for any eventuality. Only a fool would wait complacently for his enemy to return, without making plans for the safety of his people.”
That made sense.
She brightened. “Perhaps I could help.”
“You think to teach the lads how to wield a sword?” He held the weapon alongside her, measuring her against it. “My sword is bigger than you.” At her little pout he added, “And then there are all those rusted knife blades. Perhaps you could conjure a spell that would sharpen them?”
“I believe you’re having fun with me, my lord.”
He leaned close. “How can I not?” He saw the way her cheeks colored and allowed himself to touch a finger there before taking a step back. “Go and join the women. If you really wish to be helpful, perhaps you could persuade Mistress MacLean to serve our supper in someplace other than that drafty great hall.”
“Would you prefer the library in the old section of the abbey?”
That had him thinking about the kiss they’d shared. He kept his features deliberately bland. But there was a hint of danger in his eyes before he turned away. “Since the servants are afraid to go in there, I doubt even your considerable charm could persuade Mistress MacLean of that.”
“Perhaps I’ll try a spell to persuade your housekeeper, my lord.”
He paused. Turned. “I’d say it’s your duty as a witch. But only as a last resort. Remember the consequences.”
As she danced away, she could feel him watching her. The thought had her laughing in delight.
Oh, it was so grand to feel this way. And she thought she might not be alone in her feelings. He had to care for her, at least a little. Hadn’t he kissed her?
But had he spent the entire night thinking about the kisses they’d shared? Had he tossed and turned and remembered every touch, every word, as she had?
When she arrived back at the abbey she went in search of the housekeeper, hoping to persuade her that the laird would be greatly pleased to sup in the library. And hoping she wouldn’t have to resort to a spell, since there was no telling where that might land them both.
“Mistress MacLean.” Gwenellen found the housekeeper overseeing a staff of young women from the village who were cleaning and polishing the scarred wooden tables in the great hall. “In the event of an attack by enemies, what are the women and children expected to do?”
The older woman shrugged. “Without the protection of the laird’s warriors, there’s not much we can do, except hope our men are able to defend us.”
“But surely there are things we can do to help ourselves.” Gwenellen began to pace. “Does everyone take shelter in the abbey?”
“Aye, my lady.”
“Is there room for the entire village?”
“There is. It will be crowded, but tolerable.”
At the housekeeper’s words, Gwenellen came to a decision. “Then we must see to their comfort. There are many unused rooms in the abbey that can be put to good use as sleeping chambers. Perhaps the women of the village should begin weaving cloth for pallets and blankets.” She could see that Mistress MacLean was digesting that. She turned and began to pace as she mulled. “Some of the women and older lasses could be assigned to see to the comfort of the children, freeing the rest to concentrate on their safety.”
“Their safety? That is the job of the men, my lady.”<
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“The men would be busy fighting off the invaders. I believe it wise to look to our own safety, Mistress.” She turned. Paced some more. “There are steps we could take. For one, the villagers could move their flocks closer to the castle, so that they can be herded within the walls if invaders are spotted in the hills.”
The housekeeper thought a moment. “Do you think that wise, my lady?”
“Aye. Don’t you see? That assures us of an unlimited supply of meat. Also, those harvesting crops in the fields could store some here in the abbey, to insure that the larder is well stocked. If we see to the food, warmth and shelter, our men can concentrate all their energies on holding back the enemy without fear of a long siege.”
The housekeeper looked at Gwenellen with new respect. “I’ll send Olnore to the village to speak with the women this very day.”
“A fine idea.” Gwenellen thought about the messages she had yet to carry to the survivors of the siege. This would afford her the perfect opportunity. “I would like to accompany her to the village.”
“Aye, my lady.” The housekeeper paused. “Can you think of anything else we might change?”
“There is one thing, though it has nothing to do with invaders.” Gwenellen thought about Andrew’s parting words. “I’d like to talk to you about the great hall.”
“What’s this?” Andrew stepped into the great hall and looked around in surprise. No fire burned on the hearth. There wasn’t a single servant in sight.
Gwenellen paused in the doorway before hurrying over to join him. “I persuaded Mistress MacLean that this room was too big and too drafty to suit the laird.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re amazing. We’re dining in the library?”
“Nay, my lord. Your housekeeper wouldn’t hear of it. She said there wasn’t a servant in your employ who would set foot in that place. But she did agree to serve a meal in the withdrawing room.” She met his eyes. “Are you disappointed?”
“Not a bit. I still think you’re amazing. And you didn’t even have to resort to a spell.” He studied her closely, sending heat flaring up her throat. “Or did you?”