by Amy Harmon
Maybe it was already too late.
Chapter Eighteen
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. So I was 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?
Dismayed, Gillian looked at the ground. Kellen wasn’t hers. Ultimately he belonged to Edith who might just be a perfectly nice person and well suited to him.
Gillian didn’t like it when Marissa and her friends blamed her for Catherine’s failings. But wasn’t she doing exactly the same thing to Edith? Catherine was bad, therefore so was Edith? Therefore, Gillian could do what she liked?
Gillian felt sick. She’d taken this whole thing too far. She needed to find a way back
home before she ruined Kellen’s chance of a good marriage.
She needed to get out of there.
* * *
Marissa appraised the forlorn expression on Gillian’s face and barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Enough of this mooning about. “Come then,” she said, clapping her hands. “We’ll not dawdle in the hall all day waiting for the men to return. There is work to be done.”
Turning, she led the way, and her ladies followed. A glance over a shoulder assured that Gillian was slowly climbing the stairs. The girl looked upset. Was it because Kellen had left? Or because of the biting comments made by Yvonne and Vera?
Marissa shook her head. If the latter were the case, the girl needed to grow a backbone if she thought to take her rightful place as lady of the castle. Otherwise, Gillian’s own ladies—when they arrived—would soon disdain to follow her lead.
Marissa climbed the stairs to the solar, and when Gillian finally entered the chamber, Marissa stood patiently beside the head chair and waited to see if Gillian would offer the seat or take it for herself.
Politeness dictated Gillian give up the place-of-honor as Marissa was Kellen’s stepmother, but the girl said nothing at all and simply sat across the way, leaving not only the head chair available, but also the one she should have rightfully claimed next to Marissa. Lady Vera promptly sat therein with a smirk toward Lady Yvonne.
Marissa sank down with a sigh. The girl had much to learn. And learn she would. If Gillian’s mother was such a sad case as to allow her daughter out in the world with so little training, then for Kellen’s sake it was Marissa’s duty to teach the girl.
“Lady Corbett, let us start with castle fare. Know you how to plan a menu?”
Gillian sighed. “Look, Lady Hardbrook, I understand you’re trying to help me, and I appreciate it, I do. But I really have somewhere I need to go. And the sooner the better.” She stood. “So it’s been really nice to meet you, but—”
“Sit down.”
“Um—”
“Now!”
Gillian sat.
Marissa schooled her expression. She didn’t enjoy raising her voice and didn’t like that this girl had managed to goad her into doing so. “’Tis obvious you’ve been allowed your way too often.” Marissa was proud of her patient-yet-stern tone. “That will change. You have much to learn. I will not have this family disgraced by your laziness.”
A flush rose in Gillian’s cheeks and she crossed her arms.
“I’ve never been called lazy in my entire life.”
“Then ’tis obvious someone thought to spare your feelings.”
The ladies giggled and Gillian’s mouth fell open. Marissa raised a hand. “No more. There is work to be done.”
“But if you’d just let me explain—”
“I’m not interested in excuses.” Marissa cut in. “We will now begin. Let us start with castle fare. Lady Corbett, know you how to plan a menu?”
Leaning back in the chair, arms and legs crossed like a sloven, Gillian shrugged. “Not really. Mostly I’ve just done take out.”
Marissa stared. “So you have never planned a menu for an entire keep?”
Gillian shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
This was worse than Marissa had realized. “How many servants had you the responsibility of directing?”
“None. If I wanted something done, I just did it myself. My mom was a big believer in self-sufficiency. We never had a maid or anything. We all just pitched in.”
Marissa stared, appalled. “You’ve not been trained in the instruction of servants?”
“No.”
Marissa’s chest tightened. This was not to be believed. “Do you sew?”
“No.”
“Nay?”
“Well, I sewed an apron once in school, but I sewed the ties on backwards and they wouldn’t reach around my waist. I made a mess of the material trying to unpick the whole thing. My teacher still gave me a C for effort, which I appreciated.”
Marissa knew when she was being mocked and her voice sharpened as she asked. “Do you embroider?”
“No. But I’ve always wanted to learn. I did knit a hot pad once. It was actually supposed to be a scarf, but when I lost interest, my mom used it to protect the table until the yarn unraveled.”
Marissa didn’t even try to hide her disgust. Gillian’s mother should be ashamed of herself and certainly of her daughter. “Can you do nothing womanly?”
Gillian raised a brow.
Lady Yvonne snickered. “It almost seems as if your mother thought to train you for the life of a peasant.”
Lady Vera laughed. “The lowliest of peasants. With your lack of skill, ’tis no wonder you had to wait for your sister to die fore you could find yourself a husband.”
That was over-harsh, and Marissa thought to rebuke her ladies, but at Gillian’s unconcerned expression, decided to allow the rudeness. Perhaps their words would shame the girl into a desire to learn.
Lady Yvonne smirked. “Do you possess any skill at all, Lady Corbett?”
“I can draw.”
“You can sketch?” Marissa wasn’t sure she believed her.
“Yes. Very well.”
At the display of confidence, Marissa felt slightly relieved. At last, a womanly accomplishment. But she was skeptical, too. Gillian’s standards might be low and her skill merely adequate.
“Would you like to see?”
Marissa’s mouth half-opened to respond in the affirmative, but the half-smile, the excitement in Gillian’s expression stopped her. Because what Marissa saw was that Gillian truly wanted to sketch.
“Sewing first.” Marissa grabbed up a garment from the top of the pile. “Kellen has torn this sleeve to such an extent as to render the garment useless. You will sew it back together. Later you can demonstrate your skill at sketching.”
After getting Gillian set up with needle and thread, Marissa ignored her for the next ten minutes and listened to the chatter of her ladies. When she finally could stand no more, she checked Gillian’s progress and her heart sank. “This is very poor work, Lady Corbett.”
Looking crushed, Gillian held up the garment. “What do you mean?”
“The stitches are too far apart and uneven. You need to apply yourself.” Marissa took the garment and demonstrated.
Gillian watched carefully, then sighed. “How long is this going to last? When will Kellen be back?”
Marissa tried to check her exasperation. “Do you want your lord to be poorly clothed or to have his garments fallen to shreds? Are you not ashamed at your lack of skill?”
Gillian shrugged.
“I warn you, ’twill be unpleasant if your people think you slothful. The servants won’t respect a lady that refuses to set an example.”
Gillian’s lips tightened.
Marissa sighed. “Lady Corbett, I don’t understand your belligerent attitude. I am trying to aid you.”
Gillian’s face slowly relaxed and she nodded. Finally the girl straightened in her chair. “I see that. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”
Marissa resumed her seat and relaxed a little as Gillian seemed to concentrate on her stitching. When Kellen’s daughter wandered in with a maidservant, Gillian beckoned to her. “Come sit by me, Amelia. I’m learning to sew.”
Marissa watched as Gillian situated the child and the two of them took up stitching. Marissa shushed Lady Vera when she loudly whispered that Amelia’s skill might outshine Gillian’s. Gillian seemed determined to make the task fun as they played a game of who could make their stitches the tiniest.
A few minutes later Marissa checked on Gillian’s progress again. “Better. But try to make your stitches more even, each one the same. And watch that you don’t take too much material into the stitch. It still has to fit his arm when you’re done else you’ll have to take the stitches out and start again.”
Marissa demonstrated once more before resuming her seat. At least the girl improved with direction, so she wasn’t
totally hopeless, but Marissa was truly concerned about Gillian’s lack of skill. After Marissa went back home, Gillian would be in charge, but her attention seemed on flighty matters. Mostly she seemed to want to spend time with Kellen. And, Marissa had to admit, Kellen seemed to feel the same about her.
How could one so lacking in skill attract a man? She was pretty, certainly, but beauty didn’t get the work done.
Lady Yvonne smiled sweetly at Gillian. “Lady Corbett, ’tis admirable how well you work with the child. Perhaps ’tis because you seem such a child yourself. Might I ask thy age?”
“I’m twenty-four.”
Lady Vera rolled her eyes. “Thy true age, Lady Corbett. Though you act no more than four.”
“I am twenty-four,” said Gillian, her tone firm.
Lady Vera’s brow crinkled as she lowered sewing to her lap. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
Marissa slowly lowered her own sewing, shocked to realize Gillian told the truth. She was older than Marissa had realized. How awful. “I had thought you younger than thy sister. You’ve never married? You have no children?”
“Nope. Never been married. No children.”
“At thy age?”
Gillian sighed and glanced up. “At twenty-four I’m hardly in my grave yet. My biological clock isn’t even ticking.”
Pity for her burned in Marissa’s chest.
Lady Vera finally took a breath. “You must forgive our shock, but you are so old.”
Lady Yvonne jumped in. “You must feel gratified that Kellen is willing to take you in. Is he aware of thy true age?”
Gillian laughed. “Kellen is five years older than I am. I don’t see the problem. Would you want to marry him off to a child?”
Marissa tried to hold onto her pity, but it was hard to feel sorrow for one who did not regret their own sad plight. Besides, her throat had tightened uncomfortably. Her own husband was twenty-three years older than she. Did he see her as a child? Was that what bred his lack of interest?
Gillian glanced up from her work. “So what age did you ladies marry?”