Born to Bite Bundle

by Hannah Howell

  His body grew hot and hard as images of Murdina beneath him, naked and flushed with desire, filled his head. Gillanders tried to shake the images from his mind but was not surprised when he failed. Even in her ill-fitted gown he could see that she was all he desired. The faded wool could not hide the fullness of her breasts or the sweet, womanly curve of her hips. She also had height enough to offer him the delight of long legs, limbs perfect for wrapping around him as they sought their pleasure in each other.

  She was trouble, Gillanders decided. The need she roused was too strong, clutched at him too swiftly, and was difficult to shake free of. It would be wise to stay away from her, but he knew he would not do so. Since the first time he had rolled about in the heather with the butcher’s daughter, a greedy, buxom wench who had gleefully rid him of his virginity, he had not known such a hunger for a woman. There had been a spark of interest in Murdina’s lovely eyes, and he knew he would not be able to resist the temptation to use it to draw her into his bed.

  There was a soft rap at the door, and he heard her husky voice announcing that she had brought him his food. Gillanders glanced down at his near naked body and grinned. His desire was no longer blatantly visible through his braes, so he bid her to enter and waited.

  Murdina entered the bedchamber and nearly dropped the tray she held. The man was as good as naked. It took all of her willpower not to slam the tray down on the table near the fireplace and bolt from the room. With what she prayed looked like calm disinterest, she walked to the table and set the tray down on it. It was not easy, for she could feel both his amusement and his interest in her as a woman.

  It was an effort to keep her gaze firmly on the food she set out. She did not understand why she so badly wished to look at him. Despite being the only child of a very protective father, she was not a complete stranger to the sight of a man’s body, yet none had held more than a passing interest for her.

  Then again, she mused ruefully, none of those men had been quite so fine to look at. She had been right about the long, lean, powerful lines of his body. There was no softness to the man, his strength clear to see beneath the taut skin, skin that held the light, golden tone much like one can get from the sun. That smooth, unmarred flesh made her palms actually itch with the need to touch him.

  “Ah, just what I needed.”

  That deep voice sounded right in her ear, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin there. Murdina bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from squeaking in alarm. Her eyes widened as he reached around her, his strong, elegant hand picking up a thick chunk of cheese. She could feel the heat of his body all along her back. When the urge to lean back a little, to brush against his tall body struck her, Murdina grabbed the now empty tray and quickly sidestepped away from him. She fought against blushing when he looked at the tray she held up before her like a shield and quirked one dark brow at her. The amusement in his eyes made her want to hit him with the heavy wooden tray. They had not actually touched, but she had been close enough to catch the want that afflicted him, a desire for her that she found all too tempting.

  “If that will be all, sir?” she asked, pleased with how calm and serious she sounded.

  “I suppose it must be. For now.”

  “Then I will leave ye to dine. Please send for me if ye need anything else.”

  “Oh, I most certainly will. And my name is Gillanders.”

  I did not run, Murdina told herself as she shut the door behind her and hurried back to the kitchen. I but left the room with swift efficiency. She was not surprised when a small part of her heartily scoffed, but she ignored the tiny mocking voice in her head.

  The man affected her like the most potent of wines. She had heard such subtle flirtatious remarks before, as well as many that were not so subtle. Not one had made her insides clench with the temptation to reply in kind. His amusement tickled her anger to life, but everything else about him left her as breathless as some cow-eyed maiden with little sense of the danger she was in, a maid too foolish to see beyond a handsome face, playful words, and a fine, strong form. When he drew close his desire had warmed her, and she knew it would be a mistake to touch him, to open herself up to the full strength of such a feeling.

  His name was Gillanders. It should be Dangerous. He should wear some marking to tell women to beware, she thought crossly. It would be best if she found as many ways as possible to avoid the man.

  Murdina was so lost in her thoughts she almost walked into the laird. She stumbled to a halt and looked up at the tall Sir Ranald Dumfries. He was so thin she often wondered if the man was ill. What she was certain of, however, was that he was a man it would be wise to avoid. He made her skin crawl with the way his too pale eyes fixed on her. She did all she could not to even brush against the man.

  “How is our guest?” he asked.

  “Weel, m’laird. He has been given the water to wash away the dust of travel, and I have just taken him some food to tide him o’er until the evening meal is served.”

  “Good. Keep a close eye on the mon.”

  “M’laird?” She could not hide her uncertainty, wondering exactly what the man meant. There was a lot of lewd and violent behavior at Dunnantinny, but she had not seen that any of the maids were actually ordered to service anyone. Most were more than willing to do so without being asked. Murdina could think of no other reason the laird would ask her to watch Sir Baldwin, and she wondered what could happen to her if she refused.

  “I wish for ye to tell me all he says or does. How he acts or any odd habits he might have. Do ye understand me?”

  “Aye, m’laird,” she replied, praying he would not press her to openly swear that she would do as he asked.

  “Good lass. And if ye cannae find me, tell all to Egan or Donald.”

  The moment the laird was gone, Murdina softly muttered every curse she knew and then heartily wished she knew more. Her laird wished her to spy for him. If that was not appalling enough, he wanted her to keep a close eye on the very man she had just decided she would be wise to avoid as much as possible. Perhaps, she thought, it was past time to continue her search for her cousin.

  Chapter Two

  The door to Sir Gillanders Baldwin’s bedchamber loomed in front of her like the gaping maw of some huge dungeon. Nay, Murdina thought, a torture chamber where the weapons used to break her will were a fine, manly body, enticing words, beautiful eyes, and a beguiling smile. Each time she approached the room she found herself both reluctant and eager to cross the threshold.

  She had been his maid for a week, and the only time she saw him fully clothed was when he was outside his bedchamber. The man had not one drop of modesty in his blood. It puzzled her that he spent so much time shirtless or wearing only his braes. The castle was not a warm place. Most everyone else dressed very warmly to fend off the chill and damp.

  And every time she left his bedchamber the laird or one of his men appeared to ask questions about Sir Baldwin. Murdina could sense their frustration with her lack of any useful information. She could hardly tell them that the man was flaunting his beautiful, broad chest and making her heart pound and her hands itch to touch all that taut, golden skin. It had already been hinted that she should crawl into the man’s bed to try and gain whatever information they were so eager to learn. She was not about to let them know that she found Sir Gillanders very desirable. Nor could she ever explain that it was not just her virginity she was protecting by not getting intimate with any man, even one that she desired more every day.

  Murdina took a deep breath and rapped on the door. The anticipation that heated her blood when he called out for her to enter irritated her. She was a grown woman and should be able to control such feelings. The man was playing some game of seduction with her, and she should have the strength to resist.

  She stepped into the room, took one look at Sir Gillanders sprawled in his bed, and nearly ran right back out of the room. He was propped up against the pillows, that chest she so admired in full view al
l the way down to the edge of the fine linen sheet that barely covered his groin. One long leg was outside of that cover, begging to be admired.

  That leg was worthy of admiration, she thought as she forced herself to move and put the tray down on the table by the bed. Long, well shaped, and sleekly muscular. The candlelight favored his skin, making its golden color almost glow with warmth. Murdina wondered a little crossly if the man was aware of that. Either he was so vain he thought he could pull her into his bed just by flaunting his body or she had somehow revealed her attraction to him and he believed it fair to try to tempt her into acting upon it.

  And why were the candles lit? she wondered and glanced around. The heavy drapes were pulled close over the window, barring the daylight from entering the room. A fire burned in the hearth, making the room comfortably warm, and the day was not a cold one. It seemed a sad waste of candles when the sun would light the room very nicely. Consumed by that puzzle she was able to look at Sir Gillanders without being immediately distracted by his smile.

  “Shall I open the drapes, sir?” she asked. “ ’Tis a fine, sunny day today.”

  “Nay, leave them shut.” Gillanders saw her confusion and groped for a reason to keep the drapes closed that would ease her obvious suspicion. “I have eyes that are verra sensitive to the bright light the sun can cast. I will open them when it no longer shines right into the room.”

  Although she had never heard of such an affliction, Murdina supposed it could be true. He did have eyes of a very unusual color. She realized she was staring into those beautiful eyes, her thoughts slowly clouding, and quickly turned her attention to pouring him a tankard full of the cool cider he preferred.

  Gillanders watched her very closely. He could almost smell her attraction to him, and it fed his own. It pleased him that she was not one of those maids who readily tumbled into a man’s bed, but it also frustrated him. The need she stirred inside him refused to be placated by any other woman. There had been several women in the keep who had indicated that they would be more than willing to warm his bed, but he had no interest in them. That troubled him a little for, as his mother liked to say, the men in the Callan line did their best to live up to the randiness of the tomcat in their blood. The MacNachton half was not one to deny itself pleasure, either. Turning away a willing woman who met his meager qualifications of reasonably clean and comely was not his usual habit.

  “So, tell me, Murdina, how do the laird and his men fare this fine morning?” he asked as he helped himself to the bowl of honey-sweetened porridge she held out to him.

  “They have been up and at work for some time now, sir.”

  “Ah, but I keep verra late hours. Sensitive eyes, aye?”

  “Oh. Of course. They are just doing as they always do, but they have requested that I try and discover when ye might be ready to join them.”

  “Soon.” He smiled at her. “I also suspect they wish ye to discover far more than that.” He nodded when she blushed. “Dinnae look so guilty, lass. Most lairds would do the same. Do I nay always ask ye questions, too?”

  “Aye, and I do wish all of ye would just stop,” she snapped, and then grimaced. “I beg your pardon, sir.”

  “Nay, dinnae apologize. Ye are being forced into the middle of a game not of your choosing. Just because such things are done all the time doesnae make it right.” He set aside his empty bowl and then studied her closely for a moment. “Most maids are weel accustomed to such games, but I am thinking ye have nay been a maid for verra long.”

  She shook her head. “Nay, I grew up as the daughter of a blacksmith. Lost my parents to a fever and there was naught left in the village for me.”

  “So ye came here to scrub floors or worse?”

  “I came here because, when my father was dying, he said he had a brother in the village near here, and I sought my aunt and uncle. Sadly, they, too, are dead, but I have discovered that I have a cousin. I am seeking her now.”

  “Ye think she may have come here?”

  Murdina hesitated, but there was such honest curiosity on his face, and all her instincts told her that was all it was; she could find no sound reason to hold fast to her tale. “I dinnae think so, but this laird rules o’er the village where she lived. She had to flee the place because of fools who allowed superstition and lies to rule them. I had hoped some word of her could be found here but have discovered verra little. All I hear of her from the people here is the same vicious rot I heard from a wretched wee mon at the gravesides of my aunt and uncle. Now I but try to gather some coin to continue the hunt for her. I cannae blame Adeline for taking her wee bairn and running from this place, but I hope she can be found.”

  Gillanders nearly choked on the cider he was drinking. “Adeline?”

  “Aye. Adeline Dunbar. Do ye ken who she is?”

  “The name seems familiar to me, but I may have just heard a few things said about her and that is what stirs a verra small twinge of recognition.”

  Murdina sighed, the sudden loss of hope she had just experienced leaving her feeling weary to her very soul. “Ach, weel, I am sure I will find her soon enough, and a wee bit of coin in my pocket when I resume my search cannae hurt.” She had caught the brief sense of a lie, but it had come and gone so quickly she decided she had been mistaken, for he had no reason to lie about such a thing.

  The sadness on her face struck him to the heart. Gillanders caught her by the arm and tugged her closer. The way she stared at him with a mix of fear and desire was all he needed to act upon his sudden desire to kiss the sadness from her face. He brushed his lips over hers, and she trembled. To his astonishment so did he.

  He placed his hand at the back of her head and held her close as he teased at her mouth. A quick, sharp nip on her full, soft lips was enough to part them, and he took quick advantage. The only clear thought he had as he explored her mouth with his tongue was that he had never tasted anything as sweet.

  Shock held Murdina still when he first touched his mouth to hers. Desire swept over her so swiftly she shook from the force of it, and she was unable to tell how much of it was from him and how much of it was her own. She did nothing to halt him when he deepened the kiss, the way his tongue stroked the inside of her mouth sending pure fire through her veins. It was not until the urge to crawl into the bed with him became so strong she actually reached for him that she began to come to her senses.

  A little horrified at how quickly she had succumbed to his allure, she pulled away and stared at him. The warmth in his eyes nearly pulled her back to him. She quickly grabbed what little food remained on the tray, set it on the table, and fled the room. It was cowardly and graceless, but at that moment she did not care.

  Once outside the room, the door separating her from the temptation of him, she paused to catch her breath. Her mother had warned her about the temptation of men and their kisses, but she had decided it was just the words of a woman deeply in love with her husband. The few kisses she had experienced had offered no temptation at all, the feelings she had gleaned from the men who had touched her only making it worse. Now she knew there had been some truth in her mother’s warnings. There was no cold calculation in his kiss, just desire, and even that shadow that lurked within him had done nothing to dim it or taint it when she had sensed it.

  And what about his wound? she suddenly thought. Everyone had spoken of how he had been wounded in the sword practice late yesterday, yet she had seen no sign of it. Perhaps she should have given in to the urge to rush to his side when she had first heard about it, but Mistress McKee had then talked of how the man had walked away and shrugged aside any help. He had even declined having Murdina aid him in tending his wound or bring him the late night drink he always asked for. Her father had been the same when he had hurt himself from time to time, not wishing her or her mother to fuss over him, so she had stayed away. Yet, with even a small wound there should have been at least some sign of a bandage, and she had seen none at all. She had not even felt an echo of discomfort
from an injury when she had been touching him. There was something very strange about that.

  “Learn anything yet?”

  Murdina looked up at Egan, the sight of his battered, homely face almost enough to cool her still heated blood, and she took a step back from him. Only once had she accidentally touched him, and she now made an effort to never do so again for the man’s emotions were all dark and twisted, making her stomach churn. She thought about his question and how to answer it. She could hardly tell him that she had learned that Sir Gillanders could lead a lass into sin with but a smile and make her enjoy the journey with but one kiss.

  “Nay,” she finally said, unwilling to tell the man anything of interest even if she had anything to tell. “In truth, I dinnae ken what ye wish me to discover about the mon. He eats, sleeps, bathes, and keeps late hours. I fear that is all I have learned aside from what he prefers to eat.”

  “And what does he prefer to eat?”

  “Porridge sweetened with honey, cool cider, meat, bread, and cheese. He is also verra fond of apples, but they are nay at their best after a winter of storage.”

  “He says naught about why he is here?”

  “I dinnae think any mon of his ilk would discuss his business with a mere maid, sir.”

  Egan scowled at her. “Ye have been in and out of his rooms for a sennight and that is all ye ken about the mon?”

  She suddenly thought of how Sir Gillanders avoided the sun but decided that was not something Egan or anyone else needed to know. Having such sensitive eyes would be seen as a weakness, and no man liked others to learn that he had any weakness. Telling Egan about that carried the sour taste of a betrayal of trust. So would mention of how Sir Gillanders did not seem to be suffering from any wound.

  “Aye, sir.”