“Yet for the life of me I don't know how you managed to get me to the point of contemplating marriage to a harridan such as you."
“Come to think of it,” she said, putting a finger to her chin, “you've yet to kiss me to seal the betrothal."
“There is no betrothal until your father agrees to it, brat,” he reminded her, although deep in his heart he knew he'd challenge Dakin Cree to a to-the-death duel rather than allow the man to forbid the betrothal.
“Why,” she went on, pointedly disregarding his words, “you have not even asked me if I care to be shackled to a man such as yourself for the rest of my life!” She gasped, looking down at him with mock horror. “An old man such as yourself, at that!"
Kaelan wagged his brows evilly at her. “Old man, is it?"
“Aye,” she lamented. “Thirty, isn't it?” She shivered delicately. “My god, but that's practically middle age!"
“Thirty, my ass,” he snarled. “I'm twenty-six and well you know it, brat."
“Still,” she said with a long, drawn out sigh, “Rolf de Viennes is only...."
He had came up off the ground and over her in one lithe bound, pushing her down amongst the heather and covering her with his powerful body.
“No man,” he said from between clenched teeth, “will have you save me, Milady Gillian!"
“Is that so?” she teased, her eyes sparking fire for the mere weight of him was a joy she had long wanted and dreamed of.
“Aye, that's so!” He clasped her wrists in one strong hand and brought them up over her head, shifting his body so that he lay between her slightly parted legs. “Swear it, Gillian,” he growled, gripping her chin with his free hand. “Swear it!"
Her lips had parted from the hunger that had suddenly coursed through her belly. “I swear it,” she whispered.
Naive in the ways of love, ignorant of the passions racing through the grown man poised above her, she ran her tongue over her upper lip. Her eyes flared wide as a fierce groan rumbled from Kaelan's chest only a fraction of a second before his mouth slashed across her in a kiss so savage, so possessive, it took her breath away.
Kaelan was as mindless to what he was doing to the young, untried body lying beneath his as he was of the storm clouds that had gathered overhead and were, even then, racing pell-mell across a suddenly-dark sky. His only thought was of the pulsing need in his shaft and the soft curves upon which he rested.
Driving his tongue deep into Gillian's mouth—his eyes squeezed tight in concentration—he did not see her own eyes fly open with stunned surprise, nor cloud with intense desire as she instinctively thrust her hips up toward him. But he felt that submissive action to the very depths of him and his hand slid from her chin to her breast: cupping, caressing, molding her flesh through the fabric of her gown.
A loud crack overhead startled them both and Kaelan jumped as though he'd been prodded by an electrical current.
Or his conscience.
His eyes snapped open and he looked-really looked-into Gillian's eyes and saw the mistake he'd almost made. “Oh, god!” he gasped, rolling off her and into the safety of the grass. He pressed his rigid member against the ground, causing himself acute pain. “God!” he repeated.
“W ... what's wrong?” she asked, reaching out to touch him.
“DON'T!” he ordered.
Gillian stared at him where he lay plastered to the grass. “Did I hurt you?” Adele had told her all about where to aim a kick at a man who might be pestering her; she thought perhaps she'd somehow injured Kaelan in that most vulnerable of male places. “Is it your cock, Kaelan? Did I...?"
“Gillian, hush!” he breathed. He turned horrified eyes to her. “Where did you learn language like that?"
“Adele says..."
“I should have known!” he bit out, cutting her off. “Don't ever use that word again, do you hear?"
“Aye,” she said, somewhat hurt. What was so wrong about a mere word?
“Gunter should know what his wife has been discussing with her innocent sister,” Kaelan grumbled. How dare the woman tell Gillian about the effects of arousing a man!
“Would you have me defenseless, then, against men like Rolf de Viennes?” she snapped.
Nothing else the young woman said could have caused the intense reaction that de Viennes’ name did in Kaelan. He reached out and snagged her hand, jerking her toward him. “Defenseless, how, Milady Gillian?” he bellowed.
Gillian flinched, for his fingers were biting into her flesh. She tried to pried his hand away, but he tightened his grip. “You're hurting me, Kaelan,” she told him.
“How, Gillian?"
“He's always pestering me!” she shouted back, trying to twist her hand from his hold. “Adele said if I kneed him in the c...” she stopped at his look of warning, “It wasn't important!” She jerked on his hold. “Damn it, Hesar, let go!"
The steel of the erection that had pained him so greatly had fled. He let go of her hand, glancing down to see if he had, indeed, bruised her, and winced: her flesh was a mottled blue color, the sight of which filled him with shame. But the overall emotion he was feeling at that moment was absolute fury. Getting to his feet, he held out his hand to her.
“Did you tell your brothers about this?” he demanded as she allowed him to draw her up.
“No,” she grumbled, dusting the grass from her gown. “I saw no need to do so. They'd only call him out and...” she stopped, seeing the thunderclouds that had not only formed on the horizon but on Kaelan Hesar's brow. She ignored the ones overhead and put out a restraining hand to the man she loved and whose life she dearly cherished. “You won't call him out!"
“Aye, I will!” Kaelan growled. He bent down and snagged his jacket.
“Kaelan, no!” she protested. “It's not worth it."
“It's worth it to me!” he shot back. He took her hand and started walking to where he had tethered their horses.
“But it's not important!"
“The hell it isn't!” Before she could mutter another word of protest, he gripped her waist and propelled her upward, onto her mount.
“Kaelan, please..."
She might as well have saved her words, for nothing standing between heaven or hell could have kept Kaelan Hesar from going after Rolf de Viennes.
And paying dearly for it.
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Chapter Twelve: Holy Dale Manor
Kaelan could not sleep. Nick's snores were bad enough-they matched Brownie's snorts and snuffs in almost perfect harmony; but Gillian's tossing and turning left no doubt in his mind that she could not sleep, either. Finally, after two hours of battling his conscience and the pain in his heart, he tossed aside the covers.
The room was cool; not yet, cold. The fire had died down to a deep red glow. If they weren't to freeze during the long night, more wood would have to be brought in from the pile Nick had stocked just inside the kitchen door. He didn't know if he was up to the long climb up the stairs, but he hated to wake Nick and ask him to perform the menial chore; the man had done more than his share already.
Heaving a long, tired breath, Kaelan got up, drew on his rough shirt-now almost dry from the soaking he'd taken in the pond-and looked for his breeches.
“What are you doing?"
He glanced around and found Gillian propped up on her elbows watching him. “We need wood for the fire,” he answered.
“Nick!” she called out.
“Don't wake him!” Kaelan ordered in a voice more harsh than he had intended or had used in a long, long time. “I can get the gods-be-damned wood, woman!"
“Can you, indeed?” she snorted. She was watching him standing there, wavering, his shirt barely covering his naked ass. “And are you going out dressed like that?"
“Where are my breeches?” he hissed.
“I washed them,” she said.
Kaelan turned an astonished face to her. “You did what?"
“They were dirty; I washed them,” she said.
“The other clothes, as well."
“When?” he gasped.
“While you slept this afternoon.” She lifted her chin. “I have no compunction about doing physical labor if the need arises."
“I'll not have you washing my dirty clothes!” he spat at her, surprised by the venom in his words. Where had the anger come from? he wondered.
“Who else was going to do it, Milord Hesar?” she shot back.
Who, indeed? He had not been able to for quite some time but there was no need for her to know that. He shook his head. “Don't do it again, Gillian,” he said.
“Don't worry, Your Grace, I won't!” she threw at him.
“What are the two of you arguing about, now?” Nick grumbled. He sat up in the bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his knuckles, much as a little boy would have.
“We need wood, Nick,” Gillian grumbled.
“And I told you I could get the gods-be-damned wood!” Kaelan spat.
“You told me a lot of things but most of what you said proved to be untrue!” Gillian shouted.
“None of it was untrue!” Kaelan retaliated.
“No?"
“NO!"
“What of your love for me, Kaelan Hesar?” she said, coming to her knees. “What of that?"
“That was true!” he thundered. “By the gods, that was true!"
“And our betrothal?” she asked, missing Nick's look of stunned surprise.
“I had every intention of Joining with you, Gillian. I told you...” There was physical pain in the voice that spoke. “I said..."
“You told me not to worry,” she accused, interrupting him. “You told me everything would work out!"
“I swear to you, Gillian, I did not lie to you.” He was holding out his hand to her, heedless of her brother staring at him with mouth agape.
“You made me swear I'd never have another save you, Kaelan Hesar.” Tears were running down Gillian's cheeks. “But did you swear such to me, milord?” She flung her head wildly from side to side. “You made no such vow to me, did you?"
He moved around the bed, reaching out to grab the foot post to keep from falling. “You have to listen."
“I waited all evening, Kaelan Hesar!” she sobbed, throwing a loose branch of mountain laurel at him. “All eve and you never came for me!"
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Thirteen: Five years and eight months earlier: Tempest Keep
Kaelan Hesar was livid. The black eye Rolf de Viennes had given him during their fight hurt like hell and only served to underscore the growing hatred between the two men.
“Look at you!” Duncan shouted at him. “Brawling in the street like a common thrall! I'll not have it, Kaelan!"
“De Viennes started it!” Kaelan shouted back. He flung his hand to the two burly servants who had dragged him off his enemy. “And I'd have finished it if your two lickspittles hadn't jumped me!"
“Enough!” his brother, the Jarl, thundered. “You're lucky I don't have you thrown into the dungeon for disobeying me again, Kaelan!"
“Try it!” came the mutinous reply.
Duncan threw up his hands. “There's no reasoning with you, man!” He flung himself down upon his throne chair and glared at his brother. “What you need is a wife to keep you too busy to pick fights with honest men."
“Honest?” Kaelan bellowed. “Rolf de Viennes is a fucking horse thief, among other things!"
“Say that word again and I'll have you whipped,” Duncan warned him. He knew his brother understood it hadn't been the vulgarity he had objected to; calling a man a horse thief was dangerous business.
Kaelan spun around and started to leave, his shoulders hunched, fists clenched. Then Jarl's words registered though he didn't stop as they were thrown at him:
“Stay away from Rolf or I promise you, Kaelan, I'll lay the whip to your stubborn hide myself!"
The servants scattered as Prince Kaelan stormed out of the Great Hall. They'd seen that look on the young man's face before-two months earlier-and cared not to see it again. All hell had broken loose that day and no one had been safe from royal wrath.
“ROLF DE VIENNES!"
Those gathered at the training grounds stopped what they were doing and stared at the enraged young man heading toward Duke de Viennes. It was the look on Kaelan Hesar's face that made men much older and bigger than he move out of his way.
The Master-at-Arms of Tempest Keep dropped the sword he'd been using to instruct a novice and turned his troubled gaze from the advancing prince to the smirking nobleman who lounged beside the water trough; the Master-at-Arms knew there was going to be trouble; he wondered briefly if he should intervene, but thought better of it when he saw the murderous glint that shone in Hesar's eye.
“I WANT A WORD WITH YOU, DE VIENNES!” the prince bellowed.
“You don't need to shout, Your Grace,” de Viennes sneered dryly. “I, along with the rest of the Keep, can hear you."
“Then, they'll be able to hear me call you a lecherous woman molester, won't they?” came the snarl that was only slightly less loud than the bellow had been.
Shocked gasps ran through the assembled men. One man turned and ran for the Keep; another was foolish enough to dare to step between Kaelan and his objective. “Milord, you know you can not,” he began, only to be knocked aside like a leaf in the wind. The poor man went sprawling among a group of others, knocking them down, as well.
Rolf de Viennes drew himself up, his hand going to the dagger at his hip. “Who dares to tell such lies of me to you, Prince Kaelan?” he demanded.
“It is no lie!” Kaelan flung at him. “The lady tells the truth."
“She lies,” de Viennes began. “I would not...” He got no further for the wind was knocked from him as Kaelan Hesar plowed headfirst into his belly, sending them both flying over the water trough.
The fight was savage; the hits loud and telling. No one dared interfere for Kaelan Hesar was of the royal family and not one man there could lift a hand to him without the Jarl's permission. Had it not been for one man's quick thinking-going after Duncan to stop what was sure to come-Kaelan might well have killed Rolf de Viennes that afternoon. It took three men to subdue the enraged prince, another two to hold him to keep him away from Rolf.
“WHO STARTED THIS?” Duncan shouted. Fighting among the warriors was strictly forbidden at the Keep, barely tolerated on the training ground. It was a punishable offense.
“He attacked me!” de Viennes hissed, spitting blood and part of a front tooth away. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Some slut told him I had abused her."
“GILLIAN IS NOT A SLUT!” Kaelan screamed in rage.
Nicholas and Ruan Cree looked at one another. Both men stepped forward. “Our sister accuses this man?” Ruan asked.
“Aye!” Kaelan spat. “She said he'd been pestering her!"
“Oh, for the love of Alel!” Rolf de Viennes laughed. Despite the pain in his face and belly, he doubled over with laughter. “I was but complimenting the silly chit!"
Kaelan opened his mouth to challenge the man, but Duncan slapped a hand over his lips. He turned to de Viennes. “I'll have your side of it and stop that braying! You sound like a Diabolusian jackass.” He ignored the muted shouts behind the hand he had clamped over his brother's mouth.
De Viennes sobered, shaking his head as though vastly amused. “'Tis true I've been pestering the girl, but not like he thinks!"
“Pestering her is pestering her!” Ruan snapped.
“Your sister is of an age to be wooed, is she not, Lord Cree?” de Viennes chuckled. “I've been attempting to woo the girl!” He held up his hands in all innocence. “I swear before the entire Pantheon, I have not tried anything indecent with the girl and have no intention of doing so."
Kaelan was furiously trying to free his mouth, but Duncan's hand was clapped firmly across it.
“I wondered why she was immune to my advances,” Rolf drawled. “Have you been cou
rting that child?” He removed his hand.
“She's not a child!” Kaelan spat at him. “And if she says de Viennes was pestering her, he was!"
“Stop belaboring the point, Kaelan,” Duncan commanded. “I'll hear no more tales of what the child thought. She obviously has no concept of what pestering truly means."
Kaelan shook his head furiously. “She knows full well. She..."
“I SAID TO STOP IT!” It was the Jarl, not Kaelan's brother who spoke. He took Kaelan's chin in his hand. “I asked if you'd been courting the girl, Kaelan. That is all I need to know!"
A flash of worry came over Kaelan's face. He was twenty-six, ten years Gillian's senior. Rolf was nineteen and more apt to receive permission to court her than he was.
“Answer me!” Duncan snapped.
“We've an understanding,” Kaelan said, not liking the way his brother's stare flared with triumph.
“An understanding?” Duncan questioned. “What kind of understanding would that be?"
Kaelan swallowed. He looked at Gillian's brothers but saw no encouragement there. No doubt they thought him too old for the girl, too. He looked back at his brother. “That I will seek permission to court her when she's of age."
Duncan shut his eyes in annoyance and when he opened them, he stared at Kaelan for a long, silent moment as his jaw clenched and unclenched. At last, he turned to de Viennes. “He was defending the lady's honor as he saw it."
Rolf de Viennes nodded, smiling. He could afford to be magnanimous; he knew what was coming. “I can certainly understand that, Your Grace. I have no quarrel with his motives."
“Nevertheless, such gallantry does not excuse his blatant breaking of our rules,” Duncan declared.
Whispers ran through those assembled; knowing looks met other knowing looks and heads bobbed.
“Remember what happened to Kurt Sobern?” Ruan asked his brother quietly.
Nick glanced at Ruan. “Nah!” he drawled in denial. At Ruan's silent nod, Nick turned back to the man being held.
The Jarl was shaking his head in disgust. “I've no choice, Kaelan,” he said. He looked toward the Master-at-Arms. “Sir Nellis?"
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