by Diane Darcy
“But, my lord—”
“The matter is closed.”
Good call, in her opinion. Gillian glanced around at the crowd to see that more people had gathered. It looked as if the entire town had turned out. The scandal sheets apparently had nothing on medieval England.
A tall, well-dressed man came forward next. Stern-faced and confident, he dragged a shorter man by the arm who pulled and tugged and tried to escape.
Lady Teasdale leaned forward. “’Tis the reeve bringing a man to justice. He supervises work on Lord Marshall’s property and reports to my husband.”
“Ah.” That might account for the air of self-righteous indignation. He was doing his job. The reeve dropped the man’s arm and the guy danced away, then glanced around and finally settled in front of Kellen, bowing his head and wringing his hands.
The reeve gestured. “This man poached a fish from my lord’s stream.”
Murmurs flowed through the crowd as the accused looked at Kellen beseechingly. “My lord, if I might defend myself?”
The reeve’s lips curled and Kellen nodded. “Continue.”
The man’s eyes darted about constantly as if seeking escape. “I was merely cooling my hands in the water, my lord, and the fish swam right into my curled fingers, it did, or I would have thrown it back.”
The reeve snorted. “He used a hook.”
The accused ignored the reeve and glanced around at the crowd. “In truth,” he said, raising his voice and straightening, “I did throw the fish back for it was so very big and was obviously meant for his lordship’s table.” He gestured toward Kellen.
“But then another fish, an exceedingly puny and worthless one, swam right into my hands; and my wife, being very ill and with a great desire for fish, she came to mind.”
“Did she now?” asked Kellen, irony lacing his tone.
“Aye, my lord.”
Gillian couldn’t help a smile as she started to draw again.
It wasn’t hard to see where this story was going.
“I could not help myself. I did take the puny, feeble, insignificant fish home with me. Barely a mouthful it was. For my wife, that is to say.”
Everyone laughed, clearly not believing he didn’t get his share of the fish; and Gillian, a broad smile on her face, stood. “Kellen? May I make a comment?”
Kellen glanced back, surprise flickering across his face as he motioned her forward. “As you will.”
Stepping beside Kellen’s chair, her sketchpad pressed to her chest, she smiled down at the man, then turned to Kellen. “I hesitate to interfere in something I don’t understand, but aren’t fish washed downstream and into the ocean? That being the case, couldn’t they be considered free fish?”
“No.” Kellen shook his head. “All fish belong to the landowner. If they are taken without permission, shortly there would be none to speak of.”
“Ah.” Since she had no idea if the fish population would decline if everyone suddenly took up fishing, or if the river would replenish itself with new fish coming downstream, she didn’t comment.
She lowered the sketchpad and glanced down, then back at the defendant. “Well then, sir, may I ask you a question?” At his hopeful expression and nod, she continued. “Exactly how big was the fish that got away?” She managed the words with a straight face.
“It was this big, yer ladyship.” He held both hands quite far apart and Gillian bit her lip. Hard. “That big, huh?” At his nod, Gillian lifted her pen and added another detail to her drawing. “Well, that was certainly generous of you to let that one go. And what illness does your wife suffer from?”
“A babe on the way is wearisome. It vexes her so.”
She glanced down at Kellen. “I ask you, what is a man to do in such a situation? Perhaps you could be lenient this once concerning the fish?”
“I cannot. Then all would expect leniency and the fields would be neglected in favor of the river banks.”
“Well then, might I suggest that this man’s payment could be in amusing us all so well?”
Kellen’s amber gaze, sparkling amusement and approval, captured her own. “Are you amused, Lady Corbett?”
Gillian turned her sketchpad around and handed Kellen the finished artwork, an exaggerated caricature of a man, eyes gleaming lustfully, a huge fish escaping his grasping fingers.
Kellen laughed aloud and she couldn’t help her own smile. “Why, yes,” she said. “I do believe I am.”
Leaning over his shoulder, she studied the picture and lowered her voice so no one else could hear. “Taking into account the fact that the one that got away is always the biggest fish ever caught, I believe you should give the man a break for being so generous in giving up such a catch; and also for being willing to tell such a good . . . ah . . . tale, don’t you think?”
Kellen’s mouth still quirked at one corner as he studied the picture. “Aye.” He didn’t bother lowering his own voice. “He did tell the story well, did he not? And as he amused her ladyship, I will excuse him this one time with his tale being sufficient repayment. But were such to happen again, I would be most displeased.” His gaze bored into the man. “Most. Displeased.”
Gillian, feeling unaccountably triumphant, straightened and bowed her head toward the man. In turn, he bowed repeatedly to her. “You are wise and beautiful, my lady.” Bow, bow. “Generous and a true noble.” Bow.
Well, as to that, she couldn’t say, but she might have made a fine defense attorney if she hadn’t become an artist. As Kellen grasped her hand, Gillian jumped. His look of approval had her brows raising, especially since she hadn’t been sure he’d welcome her interference.
She squeezed his own in return, took the proffered sketchpad and turned toward her seat. Kellen was gratifyingly reluctant to let go of her, only releasing his grip when their hands had stretched too far apart. He waited until she was seated before he called the next case.
Luckily there weren’t many more complaints and, since Gillian didn’t interfere again, they were soon free to walk around. Kellen was quick to reclaim her hand and she tried to control her grin.
“Everyone is staring, my lady,” Kellen said. “I cannot fault them as your beauty seems to glow as does the sun at noontime. You radiate happiness.”
“Thank you.” Gillian could feel herself blush. She didn’t look at him but kept her gaze firmly on the wares being sold by the townspeople. Vases, cookware, cloth, her eyes skimmed them all as her attention was taken up by the man at her side.
He leaned closer. “I was truly proud of you this day.” His breath stirred her hair and caused goose bumps to break out at the base of her neck and along her arms. “These are our people. They are as important to us as we are to them. Thy prompt aid, and my acceptance of your judgement, showed us as unified. I am well pleased with you.”
Gillian looked up at him, her heart beating hard, leaving her lightheaded and breathless. “These compliments have to stop.”
He grinned.
“And so does the way you’re looking at me.”
His warm gaze, his forbiddingly beautiful face, the attraction flaming between them, it all had to stop.
“I would spoil you. I wish to fill the pack you value so with all the treasures it can hold. I want to be gentle with you. And more.” His voice deepened on the last two words as he gazed at her mouth. She shivered.
“Stop already.”
“I merely want to please you and make you smile.”
Gillian ducked her head and his chuckle sent another shiver up her spine.
Kellen tugged her to a nearby stand and bought a bundle of colored ribbons. Laying them across his palms, he presented them to her with a slight bow. “For your hair, fair Gillian.”
Her cheeks were heating again as the shopkeeper smiled and listened in. Gillian lifted the bundle, studying the different colors as they walked away. “I haven’t worn ribbon in my hair since I was in grade school, and now I’m wearing them all the time. They’re beautiful, thank y
ou.”
She searched desperately for another subject before he could say anything else to make her blush. “What is the name of the village?”
“Thropworth.”
“Really? Well, someday, it will be named Marshall. For you.”
Kellen laughed. “Think you I would name this village after myself? You talk nonsense.”
Gillian glanced up at him and smiled. “I think Marshall is a good name. Strong and masculine.”
He stared down at her, eyes intense, then cleared his throat. “Let us hope ’tis not too masculine a name as it will soon be yours to share.”
“I suppose it will.” She looked down. “And if we were married, then you would belong to me as well, wouldn’t you?” A girl could wish for a moment, couldn’t she?
“Let me assure you, my lady, that I am yours, even now.”
His words, spoken in that gravelly tone, had Gillian’s breath catching and her knees weakening. She slowly raised her head to see the possessive way he looked at her, like she was dessert and he had a sweet tooth that hadn’t been slaked in a very long while. The way his gaze dropped to her mouth, his slowly drawn-in breath, his firm and inviting lips.
Bundling the ribbons in one hand, she reached up and touched his warm, stubble-roughened cheek with the other. “Right at this moment you do belong to me, don’t you?” She slid her hand behind his neck, her fingers tangling in the thick, silky hair at his nape and slowly she pulled him down and stood on tiptoes.
When their lips met in the lightest of kisses, Kellen groaned, and the sound, the vibrations, the surprising softness of his mouth pressed gently against hers, caused Gillian to shiver.
Applause snapped her out of the enticing daze and she let him go. He slowly released her, stroking her hair once as she glanced around to look at their smiling audience. Gillian, cheeks heating, did the only thing she could think to do. She smiled and waved at everyone.
Kellen chuckled. “’Tis glad I am to see you blush, my lady. I would hate to be the only one. And can I say that your timing could not be more disappointing. I finally get to taste you and cannot pull you into my arms as I long to.”
Gillian laughed, her heart pounding, her face heating. “Sorry about that.”
“Never fear. When next I get you alone, ’tis a problem I will rectify.”
That’s what she was afraid of. Their relationship had gotten too serious, too fast. Her emotions were engaged. His might be, as well. She certainly hadn’t meant for that to happen. Maybe it was time to pull back.
She met his gaze once more, saw the heat, longing, and satisfaction burning there and felt herself weaken once more.
Maybe it was already too late.
Chapter 18
With Gillian sitting in front of him, wrapped in his arms, Kellen was in no hurry to return home. She seemed contemplative as she rocked with the motion of the horse and took in the scenery, and Kellen wondered what she was thinking. “You are very quiet.”
Gillian glanced over her shoulder then back to a copse of trees. “I’m just thinking about our kiss and questioning your courage.”
Kellen’s eyes widened of their own accord and every muscle in his body tightened in outrage. “What?”
“Well,” she lifted a shoulder. “I did kiss you first. It left me wondering if you are simply shy or a bit of a scaredy-cat.”
Jaw clenching, Kellen bit off a sound of disgust. “I am no scared cat. I had desired to kiss you sooner but worried you might be skittish and had vowed to woo you first. I had not realized I had such a bold lass on my hands, else I would have acted sooner.”
“Bold? Whatever!” Gillian turned and hit him in the shoulder, pretending to be upset, but he could now see the laughter in her eyes and the curve of her lips and realized he was being teased. His muscles relaxed and he couldn’t help a slow grin.
A couple of his knights tried to stifle their laughter and Kellen slowed his horse. When his knights did the same, he jerked his head. “Ride on.”
Reluctantly his men obeyed, and when they were out of hearing, he adjusted Gillian in his arms and cupped her cheek. “Now what say you?”
Gillian looked at his mouth, then into his eyes. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.” Her voice, weak and whispery, made him feel strong, powerful.
“I disagree. ’Tis the best idea I have had of late.” He lowered his head and kissed her gently, his mouth moving over hers, his hands sweeping into her hair as he held her in place. His heart pounded and he couldn’t believe the incredible softness of her mouth, the way her lips parted to let him taste her. Her arms slid around his neck as if to hold him to her and he moaned, unable to stop the sound. She was exquisite.
When he broke off the kiss and lifted his head, his voice was rough and his arms tight about her as he claimed, “Mark me, Gillian. This is our first kiss. The other, a weak, paltry attempt on your part, does not signify.”
Gillian, chest rising with quick breaths, laughed as she released him. “If that’s the case then we will never be able to point to a spot as our first kiss. It will be an ever-changing location.”
He lowered his forehead to hers. “I assure you, lady, that whenever I ride my mount I will remember this kiss. And since I ride daily, I will never forget.”
Gillian lifted her hand to his neck and the tender gesture, her cool fingers against his skin, had his arms tightening about her. “You’re very sweet,” she said.
“Sweet?” he chuckled. “Enough with these insults. I insist you stop—”
The pounding of hooves had Kellen’s head jerking up and he saw his men riding toward them, fast. Kellen adjusted Gillian, clutched her tight, then urged his mount forward.
The knights pulled up and he did the same, their horses heaving and prancing as the men tried to control them. His other men backtracked to join them.
“My lord,” Sir Reginald de Lacey bowed his head. “Some of the cattle are stolen and the guards missing.”
Kellen’s mouth tightened. “Scots?”
Sir Reginald shook his head. “I know not.”
“Whoever has dared such will soon feel my wrath. Where?”
“The east side.”
“When?”
“Perhaps as early as this morning. It could have happened soon after the guards were changed.”
Digging his heels into his mount, Kellen set a fast pace for home, his men following, Gillian clinging. Once inside the courtyard, he yelled orders as he stopped in front of the steps to the keep.
As his men ran for their arms calling for squires and more horses, he dismounted then lowered Gillian off his horse to stand with the women gathered on the steps, watching the scene unfold. Kellen touched her cheek, then turned to Marissa. “See to her safety.”
Marissa rolled her eyes. “Lady Corbett will be well protected within the walls of the keep.”
With one last look at Gillian’s confused face, Kellen remounted his horse and called to his men. They would get his guards and his cattle back, and make whoever took them very sorry they did.
Gillian, heartbeat speeding, leaned against the stone wall behind her since there wasn’t anywhere to sit. Kellen looked like a warrior, his body thick with muscle, covered in armor and chain, helmet gleaming in the sun, his shield emblazoned with the black bird of prey that made her shiver. Wow. Just wow. Could she help it if her knees went weak?
His men were impressive. Fast at following orders and incredibly well organized, they rode well-trained horses behind Kellen’s out of the keep. She wouldn’t want to meet any of them in a dark alley. These guys were intimidating.
The women stood still watching the men ride away without moving. Almost as if this were expected of them? After the last man disappeared under the gate, Marissa finally turned and walked into the hall. Gillian followed. “Will they be okay?”
Marissa looked surprised. “Of course. None can defeat Lord Marshall.”
“Will there be a fight, then?”
Marissa shrugged
as she moved away. “Doubtful. The miscreants will likely run and hide. Why were you away for so long this day?” She asked over her shoulder. “What were you about?”
“Oh. Um, well . . . what with the traveling there and back, and the judging, and we may have stopped to look at a few things in the village and—”
Marissa waved a hand. “I find I’ve no stomach for excuses. We will simply have to make up for lost time now that you have finally arrived.”
Gillian’s own stomach sank as she followed Marissa inside, the two ladies following directly behind her, hemming her in. She glanced back to see the blue-eyed woman, a big cat embroidered on her skirt, give her a malicious smile. Just as Gillian had suspected, she was to be punished for going off with Kellen.
The second lady, her eyes dark brown and malevolent, offered a patently insincere smile. “’Tis certain you are much like your sister Catherine, are you not? She, also, was ever one to shirk her duty.”
While Gillian had expected the attack, her mouth still fell open. “Hey! I wasn’t shirking. I was just spending time with my fiancé. That’s important, too.”
“I agree,” said the cat lady to her companion, ignoring Gillian completely and certainly not agreeing with her. “She is much like her sister, is she not? If not in looks then certainly in character.”
Stung, Gillian took a breath. “Look, I’m nothing like Catherine. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try and paint me with the same brush. It’s not very fair.”
“What has fairness to do with it? You are her sister. What more is to be said?”
“I agree.” Blue eyes flashed limpidly once more. “There can be no more to say of the matter.”
What a couple of hags. Even if Catherine were her sister, which she was not, it wouldn’t be fair to judge them the same. She knew plenty of sisters who were nothing alike. How would they like it if she blamed them for something someone else did?
Sort of like she was doing with Edith?
Gillian’s heart sank. Wasn’t she romancing Kellen and justifying it by telling herself that Edith didn’t deserve him? Because of the way Catherine had tried to murder him?