“Sir!”
A voice broke the concentration. Conn whipped round, taking his eye off Alexander for a moment. When he looked back, it was to see the man's flat gray eyes wide with surprise, and then narrow with bullish anger.
“What?” he spat balefully.
“Your presence is urgently needed in the great hall, Sir Alexander. Yours too, Sir Conn.” The knight, Sir Adair, looked from one to the other in bemusement. Conn let his staff hang loosely by his side, trying for nonchalance.
He knows that was likely more than just a practice bout. No point in letting everyone know that, though. Sparring among the guards was one thing, bloodthirsty wrangles another.
“I'm coming, Sir Adair,” Conn said quietly. He glared at Alexander.
The man glared at him bleakly across the courtyard. The place was silent as their eyes met, the wind that ruffled Conn's hair barely noticed in the weight of that stare. It was not finished.
Alexander moved the staff downward, a crisp motion that was extremely threatening. Conn blinked.
Threaten me as much as you like, Alexander, he thought. I don't mind.
He just stared at the man until, laughing, his immediate superior shrugged and walked away.
Conn shook himself. Sir Adair was looking at him thoughtfully. He dropped the staff onto the pile with the remainder and headed up the stairs behind the older knight.
In the hallway, he was not alone for long. Alexander was still there and, when Sir Adair had walked ahead of them, he caught up with him.
“I'd keep an eye on that lass, if I was you,” he said.
Conn's head shot up. “What?”
“Nice juicy bit of stuff,” he commented. “I wouldn't let her wander about if I was you.”
Conn felt his skin crawl. “Alexander,” he said tightly. “What you suggest is abhorrent whether I cared for her or not. If you harm her, the queen herself will know.”
Alexander chuckled. “Hiding behind her, too, eh?” he raised a brow. “Might be lady of the land, but he's still hiding behind a lady. Is that the way it is, eh? Big boy,” he added with a nasty grin.
Conn refused to let himself get drawn. “No man hides behind the law,” he said. “Some hide from it.”
Alexander just shook his head and walked off, chuckling to himself.
When he had gone, Conn stopped. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. His hands clenched into fists. “Damn him,” he whispered under his breath. How dare he threaten Glenna? The thought made his skin crawl.
Conn sighed. He had only just met her, but already she was important to him. Moreover, yes, he had to confess that he wanted her. With those full lips, big dark eyes and masses of brown hair, her graceful body, she was beautiful in ways he'd never dreamed possible.
My body aches for her.
He sighed and joined the others in the hall. While he listened, detached, to the news from their commanding officer – mostly announcing new members of the Guard who had just arrived at the port in Queensferry – he let himself dwell on memories of her.
He recalled the sweetness of her lips pressed to his. He felt his loins twitch remembering that sweet warmth. He tensed, almost amused by the rapidly rising need.
It wasn't just the sweetness of her figure, though, even with those rounded hips and that high, sweet bust, her full buttocks. It was the quick smile, the funny banter.
Yes, I am falling for her.
He had to admit it to himself.
He heard Sir Ivan, their commanding officer, saying something and blinked, remembering where he was. He was in the great hall, sitting on a bench, surrounded by colleagues.
As he looked around, his eyes fell on Alexander, who was sitting on a bench a little ahead of him. He shivered, catching his eye on him.
That man is trouble.
He had always known that – Alexander had made himself a nuisance from the day Conn had arrived and was placed under his immediate command. Now, the trouble was more sinister.
He can be as difficult as he likes. He must leave Glenna alone. I will do anything to protect her.
As he thought it, their commander cleared his throat. Whatever he was going to say next, it must be something important, because the whole room leaned in closer to listen.
CHAPTER THREE
DISCUSSION IN THE GARDEN
DISCUSSION IN THE GARDEN
Glenna walked briskly up the hallway to the bedchamber. She was sleeping in the same room as Lady Amabel, her mistress, as she always did. That way, she would always be within calling distance. She knocked at the door.
“Lady Amabel?” She waited.
No answer.
She knocked again, but no one answered and she assumed that the room was empty. The door was not locked, so she slipped inside.
The scent of roses hit her first, as it always did. Lady Amabel used an unguent of roses on her skin and in the water to wash her long black hair. It always scented her chambers, a pleasant smell that, oddly, made Glenna feel at home. It had been part of her life for the last eight years; a happy eight years, in truth.
She's dearer to me than almost anyone I know.
She went to the dressing table, smiling fondly as she rearranged the chaos on the tabletop; putting the lid on a box of hairpins, tidying away the brushes and neck-chains that lay in a casual pile on the surface. She lifted a blue velvet cloak from the bed and put it on the chair by the clothes-box, ready for use later.
There.
When the room was tidied, she went to her own bed; a smaller, cozier one behind a linen screen. Here, she didn't get as much light as in the main room, but it was safe, comfortable, and warm. She sat down on the bed, hugged her knees up to her chin, and shivered.
So many thoughts went around inside her mind. The walk with Conn. The kiss. That look.
She wanted to rejoice in the beauty of it – in the strange wonder of having found love so suddenly and unexpectedly. She who had never thought such joy would be within her grasp. Yet she could not rejoice in it – that confrontation had set a coldness on her heart.
“What was that about?”
She shuddered. There had been so much hate in the glares between the two men. Conn had the right of it, she thought stubbornly. All he had done was defend a man who had been unfairly wounded. Even as she thought of it, she wondered if the man had been adequately treated. She covered her mouth with her hand.
“My lady would be shocked to hear that I walked away from a wounded man.”
Glenna shook her head. How could she let her own worries about how Conn had suddenly withdrawn from her get in the path of helping another person! She was upset. She stood, rushing to the door. Lady Amabel's mother is a skilled healer. What would she have done?
Some whispered that she and Lady Amabel were both witches, though Glenna scorned that. Yes, her lady had the Sight. She had foreseen Glenna's own wounding, all those years ago. However, she was a good, sweet, kind young lady. She would have insisted that the wounded man receive adequate care if she had been there today, Glenna was sure of it.
“I should go to the field and find out if he's been taken care of.”
She lifted her homespun cloak from the chair by the bed and hurried out through the partition. Then, with a little cry, she walked into the door as it opened.
“I...oh!” She stared. “My lady.”
“Oh. Sorry, Glenna!” Lady Amabel covered her face with two long, slim hands and laughed ruefully. “My poor, dear Glenn. I didn't see you there.”
As always, Glenna was a little astounded by the sheer beauty of the woman. Four years Glenna's junior at twenty years old, Lady Amabel had a long oval face, high cheekbones and sapphire eyes. Paired with plump dark-red lips and a mass of curly black hair, she was stunning.
Glenna laughed. “I didn't know when you were coming back, milady. I was just going out to find you!”
“Oh!” Amabel grinned, transforming her face from a serene loveliness into a mischief-seeking child. “Well, then
. If you aren't going out, you can stay in here. With me. Is that not nice? We can call for some cordial and have a nice chat.”
Glenna nodded. “It is nice, my lady.” She was surprised by how nice it was.
“Well,” Amabel said quickly. “I do have some news, which I suppose I should have mentioned first, because it's most grave.”
“What is it?” Glenna asked.
“There's an insurrection afoot. Or so it's been said. Many guardsmen are being sent out to quash the fighting.” Her pale face was even paler than ever, eyes round.
Glenna stared at her mistress. “What?” she gaped. “Sorry, milady. I'm just speechless.” She felt as if her stomach had been punched. She couldn't breathe and the world was spinning around faster than she could keep track. Nothing made sense.
Amabel reached out her hands and they stood in the center of the room, fingers grasping each other as the only comfort.
“I know,” Amabel said quietly. “I am shocked too.”
She loves a Guardsman too?
Glenna shook her head in surprise. That was news to her. If she did, she was in as much difficulty as she herself. Actually, even more. They were not only both facing the possibility of the death of someone meaningful. In addition, there was no way Lady Amabel could ever marry such a man. She was a duke's daughter.
“Oh, my lady,” she said. “What can we do?”
Amabel smiled fondly at her. “I don't know, Glenna,” she whispered. “But you...tell me you also met someone? You did, not so?”
Glenna blushed. Amabel giggled.
“Oh!” She sat down on the plush canopied bed, skirts spread all around her like a cloud of silk. “Well, please,” she invited her to sit down too, which she did, on the fine wooden settee opposite the bed. “Tell me all about it, do! Leave nothing out unless you do not wish to share it.”
Glenna smiled at her. It was this she loved about her mistress – her generosity of heart. Generous with material things she undoubtedly was, but it was the careless way she gave time and attention to every little thing that was even more endearing.
She cleared her throat. “Well,” she said slowly, “I met him last night at the ball. His name is Sir Conn McGowan, and he's a member of the Household Guard. He and I danced a few times.”
Actually, they had danced every dance there was together, until they left the floor to kiss, but she did not mention that bit. She felt her cheeks flood with color and knew it was obvious what she thought of this man.
“Oh!” Amabel smiled that secret, lovely smile. “Well! That's awfully romantic.”
Glenna grinned. “Don't tease me.”
“I don't tease!” Amabel protested. “I am in earnest. It's so romantic. But let me tell you about my own evening...”
Glenna listened as she described the handsome, strong, slightly difficult man she had met the day before – two days before, actually – and who had impressed her.
“So,” she said at the end of her narration. “If we're both facing this, I propose we ride out with the army and see if we can make ourselves useful.”
Glenna stared at her mistress. She giggled, and then stopped. “My lady. You are in earnest.”
Amabel nodded, brow raised. “For certain I am!” she said, as if to suggest that anything otherwise was vaguely odd.
Glenna covered her mouth with her hands. “But my lady!” she said. “It's no place for us. And what would we do on the battlefield…?” As she argued, she knew she was already convinced. She wanted to go. Very dearly. She could at least try and do something to help Conn. Couldn't she?
“We would have ever so much to do,” Amabel countered briskly. “The wounded. The sick. The fallen. We will nurse them.”
Glenna nodded. “We will, my lady.”
“Well then.” Ever impulsive, ever matter-of-fact, she stood. “Come. We must pack. We'll leave at first light tomorrow.”
Glenna stared at her. “Yes, milady.”
They packed.
Later, when Lady Amabel was out riding, Glenna took a walk down the hallway and into the main courtyard. She was restless.
I need to see Conn before we go.
She had so many things she wanted to say. Fare well. Stay safe.
She sighed. She had only just met the man. She knew she was being ridiculous. Nevertheless, she couldn't help it. She liked him far too much to let him ride to war without a true farewell.
Out in the courtyard, she heard the sound of fighting. Two men were working on the practice-ground together, staffs clacking together as they practiced blocks and parries in a fight.
“Yes!” a voice said. She recognized it. She smiled. “Yes, McIntosh. Very good.”
Feeling slightly wicked, unable to help herself, Glenna walked silently through the arches and stood in the colonnade, watching the men spar. She leaned against the wall and drank in the sight.
Conn was so handsome with the light shining on that auburn hair. He was stripped to tunic and trews, doublet cast aside hastily on the bench. A sheen of sweat coated his brow and ran across the square of skin that showed in the neckline of his tunic. She could see a hint of the muscled chest beneath the shirt and felt her body flutter at the sight. She grinned, feeling terribly naughty.
“Yes!” Conn was saying. “And...block. There!”
The staffs clicked against each other in an irregular rhythm and Glenna found she was covering her mouth with her hand, watching the beauty of the interplay.
“Forward!”
Conn moved with a muscular grace that made the swordfight into a dance, his long limbs loose and fluid in their movement as he lunged and stepped. She found herself staring at him, drinking in all of him like a delicious cordial of the senses, wanting to just watch him and feel her blood run hot.
“Good,” he said. He was chuckling as the man backed him into the edge of the yard and Glenna held her breath, watching him use his skill to extricate himself, stepping gracefully sideways and to the right so that suddenly it was his opponent who faced the danger of being backed into a corner.
“Hurrah,” she breathed, she thought in a whisper.
She didn't realize that she had spoken aloud until she saw that green gaze flick upward and linger on where she stood in the shade. Then she covered her mouth with her hands in utter embarrassment.
He did nothing, but she sensed that he knew she was there. His fighting changed. Where he had been playing mostly, he now fought with a deadly grace. She found her heart was in her mouth and not for his skill, but for brief worries for the man he faced. He was not nearly as well-trained or as skilled as Conn, and she found herself holding her breath lest Conn take the fighting too far.
He twisted his wrist and the staff was suddenly under his opponent's throat. If it had been a sword, he could have killed him easily.
Glenna saw him look at the man and then step back.
“Well,” he said lightly. “You are doing well. Next time, we can practice blocking that swing. Thank you, Keith. I enjoyed that.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said, clearly confused. Glenna couldn't help a smile at that. If she had been him, she would also have been confused. First, Conn was sparring and then, fighting in deadly seriousness. He must have wondered what on earth had happened within his opponent.
She waited until the man had left the practice ground. Then she looked up at Conn.
He was looking at her. He didn't show that he had seen her, but half his face lifted in a lopsided smile. “Will you join me, my lady?” he asked.
Glenna blushed. “Sir. Yes. I...” she trailed off as she walked into the yard to face him. He looked down at her.
She stood an arm's reach away. He took her hand. They stood together.
“I saw you watching,” he said softly.
“Oh, sir...” she blushed. “I...forgive me?”
He chuckled. “Why would I forgive you? I'm sorry I let myself become distracted.”
It was her turn to chuckle. “Well, if that's you distracted,
I am glad I shall never face you in battle fully focused.”
He smiled. “You would never have anything to fear from me,” he murmured.
She blushed. The words raced through her blood and caught it on fire. She looked up into his eyes. “I would never fear you,” she said softly.
She saw his eyes widen and narrow. He took her hand in both his own. Drew her forward.
Gently, so gently, he planted a kiss on her lips. His lips were soft, mobile, and wandered over her own in a way that made her blood sing in her ears and her belly ache. She let him stroke her hair and draw her into an embrace.
Her body was pulsing with longing as she felt herself crushed against him, and without much conscious thought, she held him to her. She felt that thickly-muscled back beneath her hands and ran them down it, loving the smooth warmth.
He broke the kiss and leaned back, gasping. “Glenna,” he murmured. “We shouldn't.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide. “I know,” she murmured softly. She looked at her hands. Her fingers were long and tapering despite the years of servitude – looking after Amabel was not hard labor. When she looked up, he was looking down at her with a look of rare tenderness.
“Glenna,” he whispered. “I...I hope you know that I am very fond of you. I...” He shook his head, handsome face wearing a confused grin. “I don't understand it. I mean, I only just met you, for Heaven's sake.” He chuckled. “But I'm fond of you. Very.”
“And I am fond of you,” Glenna breathed. She felt a deep solemnity settle on her heart. Though they were in a courtyard, she in a linen dress, him in his tunic and trews, it was as if they had exchanged some solemn truth.
The wind whispered around them. He stood like that for a while, and then sighed, shaking his head. “I...I shouldn't do this to myself,” he whispered.
“Do what?” Glenna was puzzled.
“Put myself in the way of temptation,” he said. Those stunning green eyes sparked suddenly and Glenna felt her breath almost stop.
A Highlander’s Terror (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 23