“He’s an old dog, my lord is. Won’t let the devil take him until he’s good and ready. You can enter the hall, there,” Davy said, pointing at a wall where there was no door.
He and James shared a quick grin before they entered the hall to the left. The old man was not only irritable, but he was also blind. Inside the large room, weapons of all sorts hung on the walls. There had to be at least fifty swords, some to rival his, variously decorated with jewels and scrolls. Among the swords were shields, most embellished with a lion and birds. Scattered on the walls were also massive horns of deer, which likely had been hunted by Lord William and kept as trophies.
Sean wasn’t one for hunting animals unless they needed to replenish their stores for food. He hoped hunting for sport wouldn’t be expected. Then he could have laughed for that was not the biggest concern at the moment.
Lord William was carried in a chair by several of the lads he’d seen earlier by the gatehouse. They set him down at the head of the table and left.
“Lad, you’re still here. I thought you’d run off. Thought I’d frightened ye.”
Sean admitted he felt many feelings about what the man asked of him, but fear was definitely not one of them. “Nay, I’ve given thought to your request and accept your terms. This is James, one of my closest friends from the Gunn clan. James, this is Lord William Hume.”
“My lord. Sean told me what you requested of him. I’m pleased you deem him worthy. He definitely is.”
Sean frowned at James, because he’d spoken so eloquently. He bid James to be seated and then he took the seat next to him on the bench.
“Pleased to meet you, James. I remember you from a few of the meetings Laird Gunn attended.” Lord William closed his eyes and took a few gasping breaths. “My breathing is difficult. Forgive me.” He reached for the ale goblet which had been set in front of him and took a small sip.
At that moment, a woman entered the hall. She reached the table and leaned over the old lord and spoke low in his ear. “What are you doing down here? You should be abed. I told you I would come and sup with you.”
“Don’t nag me, Fancy. I needed to be here for this meeting.”
She looked up and Sean rose from his seat. When James didn’t rise immediately, he hit him with the back of his hand on his upper arm. They both stood.
“My lady,” he said, and slightly bowed, unsure what convention was called for.
James followed suit.
“This is Sean Gunn and his comrade, James,” Lord William announced.
Sean watched for an expression, something to cross her face which told him her reaction to him. She stood rigidly and kept her face devoid of any smile. This wasn’t a good start. He didn’t know what to make of her.
She didn’t appear bonny in the way he liked his women. Sean had a liking for ladies who were delicate and feminine in their curves. He couldn’t tell if she had curves for the attire she wore loosely hid her body. If she had bosoms, he’d be left to wonder. Her eyes, from what he could see of their color were a shade of green and her hair fair, a light shade of brown that gleamed with strands of gold.
She looked at James and smiled. “My lords. Sean Gunn, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Lord William drew a gasp. “Nay, that’s his comrade James. There,” he said, pointing at him, “is Sean.”
Her eyes widened slightly and she bit her lower lip. “Oh, I thought … Sean Gunn, welcome to our home. Lord William has told me about you. Please be seated. We’ll dine.”
She took her time assessing him and he felt the roam of her eyes from his face to his feet. Damned if his rod didn’t grow hard with her perusal. He wasn’t one to be affected by a woman’s scrutiny, but for some reason his body reacted.
Sean stared back, giving as good as he got. She seemed thin, but who could tell beneath the thick fabric of her gown, which showed no skin at all. He couldn’t even tell if her breasts were that of a woman’s or a lass’ coming to age. At least she was tall enough to look him straight in the eye as she was doing now. He continued to hold her gaze until she blushed and retreated.
Though she wasn’t much to behold, her voice affected him. She had a sexy raspy lilt to her voice, one that he could verily listen to for all his days. He imagined what she’d sound like when he made love to her. The image stiffened him, body, mind and soul. He was besotted by her voice alone.
CHAPTER FIVE
Frances wasn’t sure she could speak another word in the Highlander’s presence. He intimidated her like no other. After meeting her intended last eve, she was dubious of her impending marriage. How could her uncle expect her to marry him? And yet she was thrilled to her toes when she was introduced to him. Beyond excited at the possibilities.
The Highlander was too tall, too muscular, and definitely too appealing in face. When she bravely assessed him, she realized how hard his body was; undeniably firm and likely strong enough to lift a good sized boulder. Secretly, she envisioned him lifting her and carrying her off for a liaison of unadulterated passion. He was unlike any man she’d ever encountered.
She couldn’t take her eyes from his and read such desire in their depths. Perchance it was the way his thick dark eyebrows slanted over his eyes that drew her regard? His copious eyelashes framed the mysterious depths. Admittedly, she grew eager thinking about that passion and what it would feel like to be the recipient.
Her betrothed was the opposite of Adam Armstrong in every aspect, and yet she couldn’t even recall what attire the Highlander wore. Sean Gunn looked like no man she’d ever seen, least of all akin to Robert who dressed drably.
Her husband had been far too practical to care for his dress. The fact that he cared about farming more than attending lordly duties effectuated the same regard in her. She never cared for her dress when in his presence for he barely noticed her.
She lay in bed and her imagination stirred longings that she hadn’t felt in a long time. A burning ache setting between her legs and she sighed woefully, wishing and dreaming the Highlander would quench it.
She opened her eyes and squinted at the morning glow in the window casement. The bright spring day should be one to rejoice on, but with everything that happened in the last week there was no such delight.
“I’m fooling no one and am such a beef-witted-coward! I shall refuse to be so. He won’t daunt me. But glory be he is handsome.”
Frances groaned and wanted to pull the covers over her and not get out of bed. Cowardice wouldn’t resolve her distress, and she’d have to see him eventually, no matter how nervous he made her. Throwing off the coverings, she’d face what was to come. There was too much to do to be lying about envisioning the dreamy man and dwelling on the other worries of late.
There was always a way to deal with such trifling, well not so insignificant, matters with decorum. How she wished her friend was there. Winifred would probably tease her about her upcoming nuptials. Her friend was never wary when it came to men, and she’d likely tell her how fortunate she was to be marrying such a man.
The matter of Winifred’s disappearance instilled concern, and the entire situation began to rattle her. She wanted to see Lord Lombard and find out if they’d had any word of Winifred. And there were also the threatening missives and gifts to look into.
“Gifts, ha!”
Once dressed and readied for the day, she went to see how her uncle fared. He didn’t look well when she’d put him to bed the night before. She’d prayed he’d made it through the night.
Frances approached the two nuns standing outside his chamber. That wasn’t a good sign. She looked them in the eyes, but they didn’t show any emotion, so he must be living. Then she heard his raspy speech when she opened the door, giving the poor healer, Muriel, another view on medicinals.
As she stood by the bedside, she gave Muriel a pitying gaze and took her uncle’s hand. “I’ll see to him for a few minutes. Thank you, Muriel.”
The healer was a quiet one and never voiced her regard one
way or the other when it came to caring for people. Her skill was the only draw when one asked for her. She was a peculiar sort of woman and often used ancient remedies as cures. Most relished her care, but Frances appreciated a more modern approach to medicinals, and wouldn’t allow anything she thought was more harmful than good.
“You’re still grumping about the medicinal, Uncle? You should take it. ‘Twill make you feel better and be of comfort. Muriel only has your best interest in mind.” Frances cringed at her hypocrisy, for she knew her uncle felt the same way she did about medicinals. Still, seeing him ill caused her misgivings.
“Aye, he should,” Muriel said, “for he is beginning to rasp with the death rattle. I give him a week at most.”
“Oh, Uncle, please. It will help you rest easier. I can’t bear to know you’re suffering.” Her chest tightened and the reality of losing him set in.
“Nay! I won’t drink it. And I shan’t allow bloodletting either. Ye hear that, Muriel?”
Frances shook her head at his willfulness. “I deem everyone can.”
“Ye will wed this day or the morrow at the latest and until that happens I will not rest or allow the good Lord to take me.”
Frances admired his spunk. “Very well. Will you give us a few minutes alone, Muriel?”
The healer nodded and closed the door behind her.
“Uncle, are you certain about this? He’s a little … well, barbaric is the only word that comes to mind. Did you see his bared knees? I’d wager he paints himself during hunts, too.”
“Highland men exult their appearance for they want to be feared. Mayhap, he is a bit of a heathen, but he is a protector by nature. Ye should be pleased.”
“Surely you jest. Really, Uncle, you want me to wed such a man? Are you assured he can care for your lands and home?” Frances realized that not only was she in jeopardy, but so were the clan and her home.
“Aye, he’s capable. You only say that because you have never been around a Highlander. They’re different from we Lowlanders. He’s a man who can give you what you want and need. You need someone to lighten ye and make you smile again.”
“You trust he can do all that? From what I saw last eve, he didn’t seem too friendly. Although, he seems strong enough to protect himself and others.”
“You gave ‘em no reason to be kind. Have faith in me, lass. Open your heart. Pledge to me you will at least try.” His eyes shone with a look of insistence.
Frances sighed and felt wretched for causing him dismay. “I will pledge I shall try, Uncle. I will do my best to be a good wife to him.” Another dutiful marriage was exactly what she was trying to avoid. Yet she wasn’t all that certain that the duty would be unrewarding. She closed her eyes when the vision of his body came to mind.
“That is all I can ask.”
A knock came at the door and Father Cleve came into the chamber. “My lord, I cannot believe you are still breathing. Resisting aye? God mustn’t want ye yet my friend. I deem He’s rejoicing in peace whilst He still can knowing you’re on the way.” The priest chuckled and clasped her uncle’s hand.
“Aye, aye. It will be glorious to meet Him, och I have a bit of business to see to before I do. Did I ever tell ye, Fancy, how I met Cleve? He was throwing rocks at a cottage in the village.”
Father Cleve laughed. “Aye and your uncle saved me from a lashing. What was I seven or eight? Been his friend ever since and I go a wee bit light on his penances. I was gladdened to come and serve the area when he called.”
Her uncle looked fondly at his friend. “No other clergyman would do. I always knew you belonged here, on Hume land, Cleve.”
“Father Cleve, will you talk sense into my uncle? He deems he is going to die.” Frances hoped the clergyman would refute her uncle’s claim.
“Bah, Fancy, I know what I am doing. I am glad you are here, Cleve. You can perform the wedding. It should be kept in secret until well after I have departed as we discussed,” Lord William said.
“I understand why the secrecy, my lord. All is set and procured for the nuptials. Where is the groom? Shall I perform the sacrament now?”
Frances stiffened, disbelieving she was to wed this very day, this very minute. “It cannot be now, for I have tasks to see to this morn. Father Cleve, can you return this noon?”
He nodded. “I am free this day to care for Lord William’s needs. I shall be staying with him and praying for his welcomed entry into heaven until he no longer needs me.”
Frances was relieved by this news even though her heart hurt hearing his words. “I am sure it will be a comfort to have you here, Father Cleve. Uncle, will you be able to …” She stopped midsentence when she realized she was going to say something that might upset them all. “… rest until then?”
The last thing she wanted was to cause her uncle’s displeasure, but she wasn’t ready to do what he’d asked. She needed a little more time to reason and accept it. She only hoped he held on a bit longer.
“I’ve waited this long, lass. Aye, Father Cleve and I will discuss what’s to be done and business matters. I need ye to make a list for Sean, Cleve.”
She wondered if he fabricated his impending death. Was he using it as a ruse to gain her agreement to wed the Highlander? Then she reconsidered, for her uncle would never do something so rash and lowdown, and Father Cleve attested to his claim. If he said he was dying then she’d have to believe him.
“I shall return by the midday meal. I want to see Ermintrude beforehand. I should explain to her what’s happening. Have you told him of her?”
“Told Sean? Nay, not yet. I will, but there are other important matters to see to. Give the wee lass and kiss for me.”
“I will.” She kissed her uncle’s head, left the chamber, and went directly to the nursery.
When she entered, she found Ermintrude eating her morning fare. She stood by the door content to watch her, as she’d missed her the past six months. Her pretty hair was pulled back and tied with a string that matched her dress. Even so, the color of her tresses much resembled Robert’s hair.
Seeing her daughter made her miss Robert even more. Not because she loved him, but for the calm he brought to the household. The situation was becoming unruly and unmanageable, which didn’t sit well within her spirit.
Frances sat beside her. “Good morn, Ermintrude. How are you this day? Did you sleep well?”
“Momma! Oh aye. Libby slept with me.”
“Libby? Oh, the cat. You look well rested. I wanted to tell you about …” How did one tell a four-year-old that she’d have a father? Frances was apprehensive about telling her. The one good thing about all of it was her daughter had never met Robert.
Ermintrude was born exactly nine months after her father died. She didn’t know what it was like to have a father’s love. Although her uncle tried his best to fill that role.
Frances hoped Sean Gunn would fill that place in her daughter’s heart. But after seeing him last eve, she wasn’t sure he could.
“What, Momma?”
“I … you … that is …” Frances rambled and took a breath. There was no need to be unsettled. “I’m to wed this day. You shall have a father. What do you think about that, my heart?”
Ermintrude showed her tiny teeth behind a smile and her lips turned downward. She cast her eyes to the floorboards.
“There’s no need to fear him, Ermintrude.”
“Oh, I seen him. He’s the tall man that helped Davy to ‘es chair. He can reach the roof. He’s a giant, aye.” Her small eyes widened.
“He’s not a giant, my heart.”
Ermintrude’s lips pouted. “Aye, he is. Will he eat us akin to the giants in the stories?”
Frances refrained from laughing at such absurdity. “Nay, love, he doesn’t eat people and he’s not a giant. You shan’t be fearful of him. Now promise me you’ll be behaved.”
How easily gullible children were. Frances vowed not to read her any more stories with such fearsome characters.
&
nbsp; Her daughter gave no such promise vocally, but did nod her head slightly. Frances didn’t want to push her too much for she seemed daunted by the prospect of a new father.
“Well, I shall bring him to meet you soon. Later, we’ll go for a ride, for it looks to be a sunny day.” Frances stood and touched her daughter’s soft cheek. “Alice, if you’ll have her ready this afternoon. Be sure to eat all your food.”
Frances hurried outside and asked a lad to have her horse brought around from the stables. She wanted to ride out and visit the Lombard keep this morning before she’d be confined to the castle. Once her uncle died she’d have to abide by mourning rituals.
As she rode through the adjoining woods, she sensed an odd eeriness to it. She regretted not having one of the stable lads attend her. The trees had yet to fully sprout their leaves and the sun should have shown through to the forest floor. Yet the woods appeared dark and gave her pause at being so alone.
After the short ride, she reached the Lombard holding and was told the lord was not at home. None heard any word concerning Winifred. She expected to see the steward, Bantrum, who was always present whenever she visited, but he was nowhere to be seen. Frances had hoped he’d have news.
Where could Winifred have fled to? It wasn’t like her to be so unfeeling and not leave word where she was. That made Frances reason something terribly dreadful must have happened. In her heart, she sensed her friend was gone. She didn’t know why, but emptiness filled her when it came to her friend and she swore Winifred existed no more. What had she gone through?
Dejected, Frances rode for home. She thought about her upcoming nuptials and the man who she’d met the night before. At first she thought him to be the lighter-haired man, James. There was something about the darker-haired man that intimidated her. It wasn’t that he did anything to inflict such a sentiment, but an apprehension grew within her when she looked at him.
He certainly was tall, muscular, and hard. His eyes dark eyes bore into hers as if he read her thoughts. Mayhap she was afraid of the passion she saw in his eyes. Could she handle such a man? She reasoned she could for she wasn’t wont to admit such a fear. The entire meeting was uncomfortable for her and yet …
A Highlander In Peril (Gunn Guardsman) Page 6