by Sakwa, Kim
“And her forthright manner bothers you?” Gavin asked.
“Of course not,” Greylen quipped. “I’ve endured your impertinence for years.” And he had. Fifteen years to be exact. They’d fought side by side in service to their king. And shortly after, Gavin gave him his allegiance. They’d forged an unwavering bond over the passing years. Close as true brothers could be, perhaps more so, as they chose their alliance. They antagonized each other continually with caustic remarks and barely veiled insults. But, in truth, one would not be the same without the other. “Nay, ’tis not a bother,” Greylen confessed again. “But, what of the other things?”
“What of them?” Gavin offered in a dismissive tone. “The prophecy spoke of—”
“Another time. I know, Gavin.” Greylen rubbed his hands through his hair. “’Twould account for her strange clothing, the accident she spoke of, her dialect and manner as well. I…” He cursed instead of continuing.
“I’ve other news, Greylen,” Gavin said as Greylen walked back to the window. Greylen raised a brow in wait, and Gavin continued, “Our southern border was breached before dawn. Five cattle were slaughtered.”
Greylen shook his head. Just what he needed right now. Damn.
Resigned ’twould be night before he could return, he gave Gavin his orders. “Kevin and Hugh will remain. If Gwendolyn’s somehow able to move about, they’re to shadow her.”
“They assume their posts outside your chamber,” Gavin informed him.
“Then we ride. I wish to see the carnage myself.”
“Your plans…for Lady Gwendolyn?” Gavin asked.
“Nothing’s changed, Gavin. I’ll not wait.”
Greylen considered the significance of the question as he watched his first-in-command leave. He rubbed his hands through his hair, the scene playing in his mind.
The one in which he informed Gwendolyn of the role she would assume.
Instead of the courtyard, Greylen found himself within his chamber. ’Twas the last place he should be at the moment, yet there he was. Loath to admit it, he was anxious to see Gwendolyn. And, oddly, as soon as he laid his eyes upon her, the tightness within his chest subsided. She seemed to be resting fitfully beneath the covers while Isabelle sat beside her.
“Leave us,” Greylen commanded, standing at the bedside.
Gwendolyn rolled over but waited until the door shut before she spoke. “You sound angry, Greylen.”
“I thought you to be asleep.”
“Just resting. Is something wrong?” she asked, sitting up. “Or when you said leave us,” she mimicked in a deep voice, “was I supposed to go too?”
“How do you feel?” he asked, disregarding her comment.
“Your mother said the bandages could come off tomorrow.”
“I’m aware of your progress, Gwendolyn. I asked how you felt.” He said it more harshly than he intended, angered with himself for what could only be a loss of discipline on his part.
“Your mother keeps plying me with liquid painkillers,” she said, gifting him her first true smile. “You obviously have an awesome and very lenient pharmacy. And please, call me Gwen.”
“Gwen, I…” Disarmed by her smile, he truly had difficulty continuing.
“Are you going to take me back, Greylen?”
He waited a moment to answer. “Gwendolyn, you’ll not be going back.” As he looked upon her upturned face, he wondered how she could even think such a thing. There were of course still many unknowns; however, relinquishing her was not one of them. Based on his physical reaction, and attraction to her, as well as this odd internal awareness that Gwendolyn was in fact the “she” of the prophecy, the thought of “taking her back,” as she just stated, was preposterous.
“Was there a problem at the inn?” she asked, a slight puzzle to her lips. “Did they let my room go? I could have sworn I paid for two more nights.” She said the last almost as an aside, then turned her head from left to right as if considering something. “They have my credit card on file, too, Greylen.”
“I’ve not spoken with them, Gwendolyn.”
“You didn’t call?” The reprimand in her voice was unmistakable. She reached for his hand. “But you said you’d take care of it.” Her slender fingers worried over his. “What about, Sara? She’ll be concerned if I don’t check in.”
He knelt in front of her, covering her hands with his own, and he told her quite honestly, “I’ve no means to call, Gwendolyn.”
“You don’t have a phone?” she asked, sounding surprised.
Her brow furrowed above the bandages and he wished to reach out and smooth it, but instead, continued to rub her hand. “Nay, Gwendolyn. I have not a phone.”
“Not even a cell phone?”
Truly grateful she offered questions that he could seemingly answer, he repeated her words, “Not even.”
“Greylen, it’s the twenty-first century. Everyone has a cell phone.”
’Twas a statement he would remember for the rest of his years and a life of training that kept him perfectly still. While shock and curses ran through his mind at what she’d just revealed, moments later, he was smiling. Of the many reactions one might have to such a statement, what he felt most was relief. Gwendolyn was his. This beautiful creature he’d plucked from the waters was in fact his. “Gwen…” Gwen what? Holy mother of God—glad tidings aside—what?
“Did you lose power? Did the storm wipe out the lines or something?” she asked before he could continue.
Bless the woman for making it so easy. “Or something would suit,” Greylen implied.
“Well, I guess I’m stuck here.”
He was grinning as she shrugged while making that last declaration. “Aye, Gwendolyn,” he drawled. “I guess you are.”
’Twas dusk by the time Greylen and his men approached the sight of the attack. Greylen listened to the report of the men who awaited their arrival as he inspected the heinous display.
He knew MacFale was to blame and cursed him for taking his hostility out on helpless animals. Without a word, he grabbed a shovel. His men silently followed his lead. Having to ensure the carcasses wouldn’t contaminate the surface, it took two hours before the trenches were deep enough. By the time the task was finished, they were covered with dirt and blood.
New patrols relieved the men who rode the perimeter throughout the afternoon. They would remain till dawn when the guard would be turned over again. Confident his men would hold off another attack and assured by Gavin that all of their patrols had been doubled, they rode back to the keep.
Consumed by thoughts of Gwen, the time went quickly. Her words nearly rang in his head, twenty-first century. Good God, ’twas astounding. Gavin, too, had been shocked when Greylen told him and said little in response. In truth, what could they say?
Thankfully, Gwen had worked everything out herself, justifying the things he couldn’t explain with assumptions. He was happy to go along. He’d not had to lie, though he’d have done so easily.
He was relieved too. No man waited for her, and she spoke nothing of her family.
He would be her family now.
’Twould be done on the morrow.
Gwen awoke sometime in the afternoon, knowing once again that Greylen had left. He was turning out to be a serious distraction, especially her reaction to him. She meant to ask him about the strange things Isabelle and his mother had spoken of earlier. What they’d said about them waiting for her and knowing that she’d come. It didn’t make sense, and although her head was truly fuzzy, there was something really odd about it all. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. And just when it was on the tip of her tongue to say something, Greylen sat next to her on the bed and asked her if she needed anything.
What she needed was some distance from the man. Well, not really. She’d been thrilled when he told her the storm had knocked out thei
r power and phone lines. She didn’t want to leave. She couldn’t explain it, but being near him seemed to be the only thing she did want.
She knew it was ridiculous, but, what the hell. If she had to get stranded somewhere, why not here? She obviously wasn’t in any danger. Greylen had saved her last night. He’d taken her back to his home to recuperate, and his family was taking care of her. It couldn’t be clearer, they were only doing what was appropriate under the circumstances.
Of course, it didn’t explain why she was in his room. Shouldn’t she be sleeping somewhere else? If they didn’t have an extra room, shouldn’t she be in Isabelle’s bedroom instead?
And what about last night? She was almost certain she’d slept with him. Worse, she had a feeling her dream was no dream. She’d remember that kiss for the rest of her life. My God the man had a powerful mouth and he definitely knew how to kiss. She’d never kissed like that. Well, she’d kissed like that but…she’d never felt consumed by a kiss. She’d never been held like that either. He must think her ten kinds of a hussy, but she hadn’t been able to help herself.
It felt so right and his body…his body was so…well, the man was built. He was so large he engulfed her, and his muscles were so defined they were amazing. When she ran her hands along his back, his skin was so hot she felt like she was being seared. And she wanted to feel his hair again too. It was thick and soft, longer than it should be. But she liked it on him.
Oh my God, what in the hell was she thinking? She hadn’t even seen him yet.
If she had the chance, though, she knew she’d do it again. Somehow, deep down she knew Greylen was what she’d been searching for.
The rest of her day was spent in bed. Hiding blushes when she thought about that kiss and enjoying her recuperation more than she ever imagined. Anna sat by the fireplace while Isabelle sat next to her reading. When Gwen wasn’t sleeping, Isabelle chatted endlessly.
Greylen’s sister was delightful. She had a dry sense of humor and seemed quite mature for someone who’d just turned eighteen.
Before supper Gwen had a bath in front of the fireplace. Why there, she couldn’t be sure, but it helped immensely. Anna rubbed the aches from her body, using a soap that smelled of wildflowers. And Isabelle leaned against the rim and brushed her hair, then tied it in a ribbon. Lady Madelyn returned and removed her bandages, commenting on how pleased she was with the progress of her wounds.
Since she wasn’t used to being cared for by others, she sat quietly wrapped in a towel in front of the fire. Lady Madelyn and Isabelle put ointment and gauze on all of her cuts while Anna instructed the servants to remove the tub and bring up a tray for dinner. But when she heard Anna ask Isabelle to fetch another bedgown, Gwen finally spoke up. “Anna, is there something else I might wear? I’m not really comfortable in long nightgowns.”
There was an extremely long pause and Gwen thought she’d be refused. Thankfully, Lady Madelyn saved her. “I see no harm,” she finally said. “No one’s about but us, and you might rest easier.”
Relieved, Gwen thanked her and asked for a shirt to sleep in instead.
They laughed.
“Gwendolyn, we possess no shirts ourselves but if you wish, you may use one of Greylen’s,” Lady Madelyn offered.
Gwen couldn’t resist. “That would be great, thank you.”
Anna replaced her towel with a very large shirt. Isabelle laughed the second it was on and continued to do so as she rolled up the sleeves. Gwen didn’t care how big it was. It was made of the softest linen she’d ever touched. And it was Greylen’s.
“Is there somewhere else I should be sleeping?” Gwen asked, wishing at once that she’d kept her big mouth shut. She didn’t want to leave Greylen’s room. But staying meant that she would sleep with him again, like she did last night. And everyone in this room knew it.
Lady Madelyn spoke those words again. The ones she’d always dreamed of hearing. The same Greylen had spoken earlier. “This is where you belong, Gwendolyn. My son would have it no other way.”
Gwen didn’t ask Lady Madelyn to explain, and honestly, she didn’t want her to. She had dinner with Isabelle by the fire while Anna fussed about the room. And later, when Anna pleaded with her to rest in bed, Gwen stood her ground. She was going to sit by the fire until Greylen returned.
Then she would ask him about the things that had bothered her all day.
He was going to hell.
Over a blasted promise.
He’d burn for eternity.
And it’d be worth each infernal second.
Damn but the woman caused trouble. Tempted him to heights so unfathomable, he cared not of the consequence. He cursed himself a fool—a thousand times. Then added another.
Had she any idea? Had she a care?
Nay!
Had she, he’d not be in his current predicament—which at the moment was dire, and entirely Gwendolyn’s fault. He cursed again, aloud this time, a litany in seven languages. His muscles were so taut now, he feared his skin would split. His eyes narrowed as she began to stir. He scowled.
She had the nerve to stretch.
His erection, now painful, throbbed as he watched her. She might as well deliver him to hell’s gates herself.
“Greylen?” Gwendolyn whispered.
“Aye.” It came out as a growl as his hands fisted at his sides.
“Bad day?” she asked.
“Bad day? Bad day, Gwendolyn? Have you any idea what you’re doing to me?” he shouted.
“Me?” she shouted back, sitting up straighter. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“I made a promise,” he yelled again.
“I take it promises make you grumpy?”
“Nay,” he argued, kneeling before her. “Lasses with flawless skin and honey-colored hair, wearing nothing but my shirt, make me grumpy.”
“All of them? Or just me?”
“Just you, Gwen,” he whispered, lowering his head to her knees. “I swear, just you.” He sensed her smile and felt her relax as she placed her hands on his head and tangled her fingers in his hair. ’Twas a reflexive gesture, yet intimate as well. It felt amazing.
“Speaking of swearing, I didn’t get the fifth one. What was it?” she asked.
Greylen lifted his head, sorry that he had when her hands fell away. “Persian,” he answered. “Know you the others?” he asked curiously.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she all but boasted. “Do you know only the colorful words, or are you more versed?”
“I speak each fluently,” he bit out, unable to return her playful tone. ’Twas the absence of her touch aggravating him so.
“Are you going to keep growling at me? Or are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” she asked as she reached out to him. Her hands landed on his shoulders and her fingers at once started kneading into his muscles. “God you’re wound tight—what happened?”
“I can do no more than growl at present.” Though, he was thankful for her touch once again. “And as to what happened? You happened. And you happened to be wounded. The reason for my current mood.”
Her hands stopped. “You’re angry that I’m wounded?”
Greylen moved his shoulders until she began massaging again. “I’m angry your eyes are covered,” he grumbled. “Otherwise, I’d not have given Lady Madelyn my word I’d leave your bandages till the morn.”
“And the significance of my bandages,” she asked him, digging deeper with her fingers, “if you don’t mind?”
“The significance is simple, Gwendolyn. I’ve every intention of making you mine.” His hands encircled her wrists and moved them to her shoulders. “I’ve every intention of making love to you till you’re reduced to nothing more than whimpers.” He leaned forward, placed his lips against her ear, and whispered in a dark promising drawl, “Till I’ve had you so many times, you’
ll be able to do little more than lift a finger…if that.” He paused before leaning back. “But I’ll not have you with your eyes covered. So keep your hands removed from my person before I lose what little control I have left,” he snapped.
A blush stole across her face, at least up to where the bandages covered her eyes. “Hmm, I see your problem.” She burst out laughing, hiding her embarrassment in her hands.
“Oh no, you shall suffer as well,” Greylen warned, though he, too, smiled now. “And if you saw my problem, you’d take pity on me, not enflame me.”
“Excuse me for being direct, but well, with your last sentiments and all, I think we’ve moved past the formalities. My intention was to wait by the fire,” she explained. “So we would have a chance to talk when you returned. I didn’t mean to upset you by wearing your shirt.”
“I’m not upset you’re wearing my shirt. I’m upset I can’t rip the damn thing off.”
“And I thank you for that. Very much at the moment, I might add.”
“Because you’d not like me to touch you…or because you’re not wearing anything beneath?”
“I am not going to answer that,” she said, holding up her hand in emphasis.
Greylen took her hand and kissed her palm. Then using his teeth, he grazed her wrist. “I’ve ways to make you talk, love,” he whispered suggestively before carefully scooping her in his arms. He groaned again. She was light as a feather and her body seemed even more slender against his.
“I think I have it all figured out, Greylen,” Gwen said as she pressed her face to his chest. “I’m really in the hospital, on an IV drip, and you’re just a hallucination, a magnificent one, of course.” Greylen offered a quick “thank you, love” at the compliment and she continued, “And in this fantastical hallucination of mine…well, I really didn’t think I would’ve come up with it myself, but I guess you’ve decided to make me your love slave. Is that about right?”