A Highland Knight to Remember (Highland Dynasty Book 3) (12 page)

The two men grasped each other at the elbows—a sign of Highland kinship. Sean held firm. “I’ll have her back before compline.”

“I’d expect no less.”

Once Sean had mounted his stallion, they rode straight out the gates. The rocking motion of the horse beneath her gave Gyllis an enormous sense of freedom. “’Tis wonderful to ride again.”

Sean walked his horse alongside hers. “I thought you’d enjoy a jaunt away from the cloistered halls of the priory.”

A breeze picked up the hood of her cloak. “I couldn’t have thought of anything more invigorating myself.”

Thunder clapped overhead. Sean arched his brow and gave her a sideways glance. “I’d hoped to picnic beside the babbly burn at Glen Nant.”

Gyllis peered at the sky, swirling with grey clouds.
Please withhold the rain, if only for a little while
. She grinned. “What a lovely idea.”

Thunder rolled and Sean cringed. “I’m not so certain. I wouldn’t want to see you end up with the sweat or worse.”

“Perhaps if we increase our speed to a fast trot, we shall arrive sooner.” She glanced back toward the priory. The grey stone walls were as foreboding as a prison. In no way did she have any intension of turning around.

He stared at her for a long moment and then clicked his tongue. The entire retinue sped the pace to a trot. Droplets started falling, but this was Scotland. It always rained, but rarely did they have a lasting downpour.

“Thank you,” Gyllis said.

“A faster pace is going against my better judgment.” He flashed a wicked smile that tickled her insides. “But from the excitement in your eyes, I’d wager it would be too much of a disappointment not to give it a go.”

She giggled and slapped her riding crop, demanding a canter.

“Gyllis.” Sean hastened after her. “You could fall.”

She shot him a challenging grin. “Sean MacDougall, I swear you are the most adventurous man I know. Do you honestly want to amble along when there’s a picnic to be had?”

His eyebrows waggled with his grin. “Since you put it that way…” His stallion lurched ahead.

Gyllis laughed. This was the wild lad she’d admired whilst she was growing up. She slapped her crop and loosened her reins, giving her horse his head. Together they rode at a moderate canter for miles, Gyllis unable to stop giggling. Though she knew Sean could ride much harder, she dared not try to push more. As it was, her legs bounced with the motion of the horse. One errant move and she might be flung from her saddle.

A sloppy raindrop splashed her face.

Lightning streaked and lit up the sky.

Sean slowed and Gyllis pulled up beside him, the sentries circling around. “A storm’s coming for certain.”

“Dunollie’s only a mile away. ’Tis the closest shelter,” said Angus.

Sean frowned as if he didn’t care for the idea, but then he nodded. “I hope you do not feel it improper, seeing you are unaccompanied.”

Gyllis scanned the staring faces. “You’ve an entire retinue of men.” She slapped her crop and headed west as the skies opened up and doused them with a torrent.

***

When at last they rode through Dunollie’s gates, Gyllis was soaked clean through and shaking like a sapling in the wind. Sean drove the horses past the stable, straight to the keep’s huge, oaken doors. After dismounting, he strode directly to Gyllis’s horse, his face awash with rainwater. Pushed away from his face, droplets splashed from his dark hair, soaking his cloak and linen shirt beneath. Her gaze dipped to the laces of his collar. Curls of hair peeked through the opening, the wet fabric plastered to his chest. God help her, she wanted to tug open the laces and gaze upon the treasure beneath. Raising his arms, his cloak opened, revealing more. The linen hugged every curve of his rigid chest—chiseled as if carved in stone. Dropping her gaze further, the cloth clung to undulating abdominal muscles akin to those hammered into the iron breastplate of a Roman god.

Before she could blink, he placed a hand upon her waist. “Come, we must see you warmed by the hearth.”

Teeth chattering, she braced her hands on his shoulder while he slipped an arm beneath her knees and carried her up the stairs. Once inside, Sean turned full circle. “Light the fire in my mother’s chamber,” he bellowed.

“Straight away,” said Angus. “But it will take some time to warm the chill from the air.”

Sean tightened his grip. “’Tis summer, blast it all.”

A matron pattered across the hall. “You’re soaked to the bone, m’laird.”

“Miss Gyllis needs a change of clothes. Can you arrange a kirtle and shift?”

The woman wrung her hands. “Perhaps I can find something suitable.”

“Good. Have them sent up to my chamber forthwith.”

She clapped a hand to her chest whilst her eyes bulged. “
Your
chamber, m’laird?”

“Aye, Jinny,” Sean barked. “’Tis presently the only room without a draft. Angus, follow us with the basket. I’ll not be returning the lady to Ardchattan with even a hint of fever.”

Gyllis sneezed.

“Quickly!” Sean hastened toward the stairwell.

“Apologies.” She tried not to shiver and snuggled into him. Dripping wet, he was still as warm as a brazier. “I’m feeling well, honestly.”

“I’ll take no chances.” Skipping two steps at a time, at the first landing Sean proceeded through the passageway and pushed through the door. He carried Gyllis to a chair beside the hearth and gently set her down. She shivered when he pulled away—the warmth of his body no longer soothing her. But the smell of the chamber washed over her in a delicious fragrance of pine and musky male
. Sean’s scent
.

“The coals are still smoldering. I’ll just toss on a few sticks of wood and you’ll be toasty warm in no time.”

“Th-thank you.” Her teeth again chattered as she glanced back at the enormous four-poster bed across the room. Festooned with a green satin comforter and canopy, she wondered if Sean’s favorite color was green. She hoped so.

Sean brushed her cheek with the back of his finger. “Your cheeks are rosy.”

She clapped her hands to them. “Are they?”

“Aye.” His voice grew deeper. “I like them with a bit of color.”

When he turned and reached for the wood, a rap sounded at the door. Angus walked in, a basket slung from his elbow while he held a bundle of clothing at arm’s length so not to get it wet. “Jinny sent these up for the lady, m’laird.”

Sean tossed another stick of wood with a thump and straightened. “Where the devil is your wife?”

Angus shifted his weight between his feet, with water squishing out his boots. “Called to Morag’s cottage. The bairn is coming.”

A clap of thunder sounded beyond the stone walls, so loud the castle shook. Gyllis shuddered.

Sean gestured toward the bed. “Of all the miserable times for a woman to birth a wee one. Please set the things on the bed and go dry yourself.”

“Aye, m’laird.” Angus did as told and gave Gyllis an apologetic look. “Will you be needing anything else?”

Sean brushed off his hands. “Nay. I reckon all the womenfolk are at Morag’s?”

Angus nodded. “I guess I’ll leave you be, then.” But the old henchman didn’t make a move until Sean showed him to the door.

“No need to worry. I’ve managed far more difficult tasks.”

The corner of Angus’s mouth turned up. “You reckon?”

Gyllis knew what the henchman meant. It wasn’t easy for a cripple to dress. She pulled the wet hood from her head.

Sean clapped his back. “Off with you. Put something warm in your belly to stave off the cold.”

“I’ve just the vintage of whisky—”

Sean closed the door behind Angus and turned. Gyllis rubbed the outside of her arms, her teeth chattering.

“We must warm you.”

“I am c-coming good. The fire is crackling.”
If only the hearth were emitting a modicum of warmth
.

Sean gestured to the bed. “I should leave you to change.”

Gyllis glanced toward the pile of clothes all the way over on the bed and then the door. “I d-don’t think I can.”

“Pardon?” His eyes trailed down to her shoes, then he hit his head with the heel of his hand. “Forgive me. I’ll fetch them for you.”

A slow exhale whistled past Gyllis’s lips. “My thanks.”

He set the bundle on the small table beside her. “I had hoped Jinny would’ve come up to help you dress.” He shifted his feet. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“I think not. I should be able to manage.”

“Very well. I shall be right outside the door if you should need me.”

Gyllis bobbed her head in time to her chattering teeth.

Sean sidestepped to the door. “You’re certain you’ll be all right?”

“A-a-aye.” She clapped a hand over her mouth and sneezed.

“Bloody hell, Gyllis, you best not be coming down with a fever.”

She flicked her hand through the air. “Would you be off? I’ll catch my death with your dawdling.”

He grasped the latch. “Apologies.”

She waited until the door clicked shut. Then the realization that she was alone sunk in. No one had brought her crutches above stairs. Gyllis studied the pile of clothes. Once the dexterity of her fingers had returned, she’d been able to do most everything herself—aside from anything that required her to stand. She wiggled her bottom and tested the chair. It was indeed sturdy.

After shrugging out of her cloak and loosening the laces of her kirtle and shift, she had an easy enough time gathering her skirts and pulling them up to her hips. She planted her feet firmly on the floor and bore down while using her hands to lift herself with the armrests. Once up, she released one hand and grasped her skirts. Her legs shuddered under the strain and cold. The damp cloth stuck to her skin and the harder she tugged the more it seemed to stick.

With a grunt, the muscles in her thighs gave out and she collapsed back into the chair with her kirtle up past her knees. Gyllis took a deep breath.
I’ve been pulling myself to a stand and walking with crutches. Surely it will be easier if I stood. I’ve the chair to lean on if need be. Goodness, ’tis more difficult trying to brace myself in a crouch
.

Again she grasped the armrests. With one deep inhale, she pushed herself up. Once certain her legs would support her weight, she released her hands and tugged the kirtle over her head. Knees wobbling a bit, she gathered up her damp shift. After she pulled it off, the warmth from the hearth radiated across her skin and her teeth ceased their chattering.

Enlivened by her ability to stand unassisted, Gyllis faced the table and reached for the dry linen shift. The kirtle tumbled to the floor, revealing a set of modern stays. She hadn’t worn stays since she’d come down with paralysis. There’d been no need. But she would look so much prettier with her bosoms supported with fashionable wooden slats.

Stepping forward, she reached her hand out to brush her fingers across the feminine garment. The table teetered. Her knees buckled. Before she could fling her arms out, she crumpled to the floor with a shriek.

“Curses.” She cringed at the throbbing pain in her hip.
I shall never be able to fend for myself
.

The door burst open. “God’s teeth, are you hurt?” Sean dashed across the floor.

Gyllis clutched the shift atop her breasts and hastened to cover her nether parts. “I had a wee fall. Leave me.” She turned her face to hide from him. There was nowhere to run even if she could spring up. Dear Lord, why must she bear this humiliation in front of Sean?

Without moving, he gaped at her, his eyes huge. This wasn’t like having a monk help her with necessities. Without a stitch of clothing aside from the garment in her arms, Sean could see every inch of her naked flesh. Yes, concern stretched the features of his face, but something deeper smoldered in his eyes.

Revulsion came to mind.

Gyllis wanted to curl into a ball and crawl under the bed. How utterly devastating to have Sean see her in a state of complete undress, totally helpless, sprawled on the floor. Her spine curled. “Please do not draw out my humiliation. As soon as I am covered you can return me to Ardchattan.”

He stepped closer. “Why would I do that?”

“How can you possibly want to keep company with the likes of me?” She turned her face away. “I am a useless cripple.”

“Nay.” He kneeled beside her. Why he wouldn’t flee the chamber and leave her in wretched peace, Gyllis couldn’t fathom. “When I look at you I see an extraordinary woman who was stricken by infirmity. A beautiful lass who has the strength to fight, who will not remain abed and give up.”

She grimaced, clutching the shift tighter to her body. “How can you stand the sight of me—an enfeebled, worthless lass? You are strong and full of life. You are brave.”

“You think I’m brave? My courage is nothing compared to yours. Before me I see a woman who will not be cut down by a devastating illness, who will look it in the face, grasp it with both hands and fight. Not only today, but you continue to fight, to work through your pain and agony so one day this will be behind you.”