Castles, Kilts and Caresses

by Carmen Caine

“I will hear him.” Gyllis held up a trembling hand. “Leave us.” She looked to John. “Brother Wesley will be standing directly outside the door should I require his assistance.”

  Sean tried not to grin.

  The bumbling monk, bowed. “Very well, Miss Gyllis. We can keep the door ajar if you wish.”

  Gyllis met Sean’s gaze and then looked down as if she were embarrassed. “That should not be necessary.” The high color in her cheeks betrayed her unease.

  “A quarter hour. ’Tis all I will allow—even for you,” John said. “And the door shall remain ajar.”

  “My thanks.” Sean ushered the two holy men out of the small cell and pushed the door until only a sliver of light shone through. When he turned to face Gyllis, he swallowed, completely at a loss for words. “Uh.” He shifted his feet. God, her face was aglow with fury—and something pained. He guessed he’d hurt her deeply by not sending his regrets at Beltane.

  She inclined her head toward the stool. “Will you sit? Looking up at you is making my neck sore.”

  She obviously had no intention of making things easy for him. But moving toward the seat gave him a moment to gather his thoughts. He may as well start from where they’d left things in May. “Were you aware my father passed?”

  Slowly, she covered her mouth with her dainty hand. “Oh my, I hadn’t heard. When?”

  “Beltane. My kin were waiting with the news at the footrace finish line.”

  Her delicate eyebrows drew together. “Your kin?”

  “Aye, Jinny the healer and her husband, Angus.”

  Her hand slid to her cheek. “The woman you embraced is married?”

  Sean bit the corner of his lip and grimaced. “You saw that, too?”

  “Aye.” Gyllis blushed scarlet. “After Alan slashed you with the blade, I hastened from the curtain wall to see if I could be of assistance.” She cringed. “When I found you in another woman’s arms…I…I…” She blinked in rapid succession. “And then you didn’t come to the feast nor did you send word.”

  He reached out and held his hand steady for a moment, then took a chance and grasped her palm. Her fingers were cold. “I must ask your forgiveness. I was distraught with the news. Then things fell into mayhem and I was gallivanting around the countryside chasing after thieves and visiting crofters to ensure their loyalty.”

  She stared at their interlaced fingers. “It sounds as if you’ve had a difficult time.”

  Touching her calmed the thrumming beneath his skin. “Nowhere near as troublesome as things have been for you.”

  Gyllis tugged her hand away and rubbed it, refusing to meet his gaze.

  Sean’s fingers throbbed where her hand had been. He wanted to reclaim it and declare his undying love, but that would be nonsensical. If only he could pull her into his arms and make her well again. “I want to help you.”

  She smirked. “What on earth do you think you can do that the monks have not already attempted?”

  He didn’t have an answer. “What treatments have they tried?”

  “Massage mostly, and tinctures that never seem to work.”

  “But your hands have more dexterity than since I last saw you. What about your legs?”

  She harrumphed. “No good whatsoever. I still cannot take a step without falling.”

  “Can you stand?”

  “For a moment.”

  “’Tis a good sign.”

  She looked up. “How do you ken?” The pain in her moss-green eyes was unmistakable.

  Sean’s heart squeezed. He was no healer. “I just do. Besides, you promised me dancing lessons.”

  “Please.” She covered her face with her hands, her long tresses dropping forward. “You are completely daft if you think I shall ever be able to dance again.”

  “Pardon me for being so bold to think you will.” Sean scooted the bench away and kneeled before her. Again he grasped her hand and rubbed it between his warm palms. “Are your hands always this cold?”

  “I suppose, aye.”

  “Please allow me to warm them.” The corner of his mouth ticked up.

  Using her shoulder, she shyly moved a lock of hair from her face. Though the gesture was innocent, it was unbelievably seductive. Had she not appeared so frail, he would have wrapped her in his arms and kissed her lips—ravished them as he’d done in the garden at Beltane.

  Moistening his lips, he lifted her hand and kissed it. Her scent’s more heavenly than a field of heather. “If it would bring you a modicum of comfort, Miss Gyllis, it would be an honor to see you again.”

  She held his gaze for a moment, her bottom lip slipping beneath her top teeth. “Please do not tease me.”

  He drew his eyebrows together. “I would never do anything of the sort.”

  “You are a chieftain now. You said yourself you’ve a great many affairs to attend. The last person you should concern yourself with is a silly cripple.”

  A lump took up residence in his chest. “Do not say that. You are as beautiful today as you were at the festival.”

  She tried to pull her hand away, but he held fast.

  “I want to see you again. Will you please allow it?”

  She drew in a sharp inhale and hesitated for a long moment. “Aye,” she whispered.

  Sean could have picked her up and swung her in a circle. “Thank you.” Restraining his exuberance, he kissed her hand again rather than risk breaking her bones. “Now, would you like to show me how you stand?”

  Cringing, she leaned away. “Oh no, it would cause too much embarrassment.”

  That damned lump stretched over his heart again. “Why? Are you afraid I will laugh?”

  “Nay.” She looked down.

  He lifted her chin with the crook of his finger until her lovely green eyes met his. Ah yes, the irises were still circled with navy blue. He could lose himself in those eyes forever. “Then why?”

  “I am afraid you will never come back.” Her voice trembled.

  Without thought he slid his hands to her shoulders. “Ah, Miss Gyllis. Nothing could keep me away. Spending time with you is as natural as breathing.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “Honestly?” She focused her gaze on his chest.

  “Aye. I love you. Always have.” He heard the words bubble from his mouth before his mind realized what he’d said. Sean’s tongue went dry. He did love Gyllis. He’d just never admitted it to himself.

  Before she looked up, she gasped.

  When her gaze met his, her eyes were filled with life. They were as bright and clear as they’d been when he’d watched her dance at Beltane. “You’d best not be teasing a poor, crippled lass, Sir Sean MacDougall.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The following morning, Sean sat in his solar with Murdach and Angus, but he looked directly at the factor. “Please explain how five crowns went missing from your figures.”

  Holding his palms out, Murdach appeared to be completely flummoxed. “Five crowns, m’laird? Are you certain?”

  Sean snatched the ledger and slapped in down in front of the fool. “Aye I’m bloody certain. I lost a good amount of sleep over it as well.”

  Murdach looked across the table at Angus. Blast it, Sean could have sworn the pair was in collusion.

  He shoved back his chair and paced in front of the hearth. “Ballocks! You are two of my most trusted men.”

  “We’ve done nothing to incite your ire, m’laird,” said Angus.

  Sean whipped around and slapped his palms on the table. “No? Why are both of you sending silent messages across the table at one another?”

  Angus sat back and shook his head. “We are doing no such thing.”

  “Then where are my five crowns? How long has this been going on? Must I call in others to replace you?” He’d already decided to ask Angus to retire when Fraser returned. Murdach as well—the man could scarcely see past his nose.

  “This was my fault. Do not blame Angus,” Murdach said. “I must have made a recording error. Please
, if you must punish someone I am guilty as charged.”

  Sean threw up his hands. “How long were you my father’s factor?”

  “Near thirty years, m’laird.”

  “And how old are you now?”

  “Eight and fifty.”

  Sean resumed his pacing, this time gripping his hands behind his back. “You provided satisfactory service to my father for thirty years?”

  “Aye.”

  “And how often did he catch your errors?”

  “Rarely.” The man scratched his chin. “As a matter of fact, I do not believe he ever complained of errors or my loyalty.”

  Most likely because he couldn’t read a damn thing you scrawled on a sheet of parchment. Sean waved a hand in front of Murdach’s face. “How is your eyesight?”

  The factor grasped the lapels of his doublet, perspiration beading above his lip. “Not as good as it once was, but I still manage.”

  Sean sat in his chair and groaned. “I have decided ’tis time for you to retire.”

  “But sir—”

  Sean held up a hand. “I’ve made my decision. You will receive a pension and continue to live out your days in the cottage with your missus.”

  Murdach stared across the table at Angus, a frown pulling down his jowls. “As you wish, m’laird.”

  Sean regarded his henchman who should be seeking retirement as well. However, with Fraser away, it was best to leave things with Angus alone for the time being.

  A rap came at the door. “A missive from the Lord of Lorn, m’laird.”

  Sean eyed the two men. “I’ll return momentarily.” He crossed the floor and opened the door. Stepping into the passageway, he accepted the note. “Thank you,” he said rather loudly. “Come with me whilst I fetch that for him.”

  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 ou
t 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.”