The Knight and the Seer (11 page)

That part, at least, appealed to him. He was more comfortable with a sword in his hand than a quill and parchment.

Seeing movement in the garden he strode to the balcony and watched as Gwenellen moved slowly along the path. From this distance she appeared other-worldly, with moonlight turning her hair to spun gold, and a sprinkling of stardust at her feet. She paused and he thought she was looking up at him. Could almost feel the warmth of her touch as it slid ever-so-softly over him.

Had he imagined that touch? If so, why did the warmth linger on his flesh?

Stepping back, he watched until she disappeared beneath the balcony and stepped into the abbey.

The ledgers were forgotten. What he wanted, what he craved more than life itself at this moment, was to hear her voice. To see her face. To touch her.

Aye. He needed to touch her. Now. This very moment.

He strode from the room and descended the great stairs. When he reached the main level he never paused, but was drawn along the hallway until he stopped in front of the open doorway leading to the ancient library.

He stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. What he saw had his heart stopping. Gwenellen was hanging by her fingertips from the very top shelf, just beneath the rafters.

He was across the room in quick strides. His voice, when he finally found it, was gruff, but he was determined to hide his fear from her, lest it make things worse. “Fancy finding you here, my lady.”

Gwenellen looked down, eyes wild, voice little more than a breathy whisper. “Thank heaven you’re here. Can you help me? I fear I can’t hold on any longer.”

He glanced around, hoping for a ladder. Seeing none, he sighed in frustration. “How did you get up there?”

“I tried one of my spells. It seems to have…gone awry.”

“I see. Why not try another and get yourself down from there?”

“I’m afraid I might find myself in even graver peril than I am now.”

“For once you seem to have shown a bit of wisdom.” In a glance he gauged the distance, the danger, then planted his feet. “Let go, my lady, and I’ll catch you.”

“I can’t.”

“You must.”

She shook her head, and even that simple movement brought her to the very edge of the shelf. She scrambled for a better grasp, but could feel herself slipping. “From this distance I’m likely to kill us both.”

“I’ll just have to take that chance. Let go, my lady.” His tone hardened. “Now.”

Gwenellen had no choice. At that very moment she felt herself slipping free and falling, falling. She waited for the crash, the pain. Instead, just before she hit the floor, she was caught in arms of steel and engulfed in warmth.

Andrew held her close and pressed his lips to her temple, willing his heartbeat to steady. He’d thought, in that one terrible moment before impact, that he’d misjudged, and would drop her. He’d seen, in his mind’s eye, the look of her, dashed upon the stone floor and shattered like a helpless bird. It had wrenched his heart as nothing else could have.

He masked his fear with anger. “Little fool. What were you thinking?”

Feeling the sting of his hot breath on her cheek, Gwenellen was awash in so many emotions. Shame. Fear. And a great welling of relief that she’d been saved from her own folly.

When at last she found her voice, she managed to whisper, “There was a book. On the highest shelf.”

“A book?” Still holding her in his arms, he waved a hand. “There are hundreds of them. Why did you have to choose one that posed such risk?”

“It was different. All light and shimmering. It…called to me.”

“It called to you?” He looked down at this woman in his arms, wondering if his heart would ever stop thundering. It was a miracle it didn’t burst clean through his chest. “It would appear, my lady, that you are in need of a keeper, for you seem determined to harm yourself.”

Stung, she pushed free of his arms. Though her legs trembled she stood her ground. “And I suppose you see yourself as so much wiser.”

“Wise enough not to attempt to fly. If you’d been meant for such things, you’d have been given wings.” Without thinking he dragged her close. In his eyes was a dark, almost frightening look. “Sweet heaven, you could have been killed.”

“Aye. And then you’d have been rid of me, my lord.”

“Don’t say such things. Don’t even think…”

The very air between them seemed to shimmer and stir, as though charged by some unseen force.

With a savage oath he covered her mouth with his.

The kiss caught them both by surprise. All fire and flash and need, it pulsed between them with the shattering force of a summer storm. A strike by lightning would have been less shocking. Their heartbeats thundered in their chests, causing them to struggle for breath.

Andrew drank her in deeply before lifting his head and drawing back, stunned by the depth of feeling that had welled up, unbidden, at the first touch of her. His eyes narrowed on hers, and he could read the fear and confusion. And something more. The awakening of a deep, slumbering desire. It touched him deeply.

He framed her face with his hands. His voice lowered to a moan. “I was so afraid for you.”

There was such passion in his voice. The depth of his feelings startled her.

Before she could reply he plunged his hands into the tangles of her hair, drawing it back as he covered her mouth in a kiss so searing, so hungry, he nearly devoured her.

He felt her stiffen for just a moment. Then her body seemed to go pliant. Her mouth softened, opening to him. Her hands reached out blindly, clutching his waist, as she returned his kisses with a hunger, a passion that matched his.

“You were afraid, too, my lord?”

“Aye.” He ran hot, nibbling kisses over her upturned face. Her eyes, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

Gwenellen wondered at the way her heartbeat began racing, as though she’d just been running across a meadow at breakneck speed. Her mind filled with images so erotic she could feel her cheeks burning. There were so many strange needs tumbling about inside her.

His voice was a growl of frustration as he trailed his lips down the smooth column of her throat. “You must promise never to frighten me like that again.”

“I…” She couldn’t get the words out. Her throat was so constricted, she feared she might embarrass herself by bursting into tears.

“Promise me, my lady. For I couldn’t bear to see you harmed.”

“I’ll do my best.” She stood very still, loving the feel of his arms around her. Of that warm, clever mouth brushing kisses over her face. And those hands. So big and strong, moving along her back, setting fires wherever they touched.

She had the most overpowering need to be loved by this man. To be cherished. For the first time in her life it didn’t matter that she couldn’t control her powers. What mattered was that Andrew had worried over her. Not out of annoyance, but out of… something deeper.

Oh, what was the matter with her? Hadn’t she vowed never to lose her heart to a mortal as her sisters had done? And yet here she was, not only permitting this mortal to kiss her, to hold her, but wanting him to. And wanting more. Wanting all those things that Allegra and Kylia had found with their mortals.

She knew she ought to demand that he stop, but instead she held on tightly as he took her on a wild ride of emotions that left her even more confused and dizzy than when she’d been hanging by her fingertips in midair.

Andrew reminded himself that the woman in his arms was an innocent. He had no right to these liberties. But how could he stop, when she tasted like heaven? When the touch of her aroused him as no woman’s touch ever had?

He’d thought, for one brief moment, that she was lost to him. And then she’d landed like an angel in his arms, and the joy he’d felt was beyond belief. It was more than joy. It was pure jubilation. His heart was close to bursting with it.

He took the kiss deeper, loving the feel of her lips on his. There was a taste about her, a sweetness, that had him thinking about lush, exotic lands and forbidden fruit. He savored the feel of her body against his. All soft curves that melted into him as though made for him alone.

“Andrew.” She lifted a finger to his cheek.

In reply his hands tangled in her hair, drawing her head back as he ran open-mouth kisses down her throat. He ached to touch her everywhere. To feel her body move under his. He felt himself being drawn down into the dark, primitive need to take her, here, now, like a savage.

He was trembling when he lifted his head and held her a little away.

“Forgive me, my lady.”

Her breathing was too ragged to form a reply. She merely stared at him as he released her and took a step back.

“It’s late. I’ll see you to your chambers.”

“There’s no need.” She drew herself up and stepped around him, eager to escape those dark, knowing eyes. Was it possible that he could see into her heart? Could he read her most intimate thoughts? Did he know how much she wanted him to do more than kiss her, touch her?

“I believe I can manage the stairs without doing harm.” She flung the words without a backward glance, and hurried away.

When she was gone, he caught a glimpse of the book lying on the floor at his feet. He bent to retrieve it. Not bright and shimmering, as she’d described it, but a dark, dusty collection of parchment so fragile it appeared to crumble as he set it on a low shelf. Then his gaze moved upward to the shelf high above. The sight of it had him shuddering, for it was high enough that the fall could have broken her neck.

“Fool,” he muttered as he walked away.

But he wasn’t certain just who was the bigger fool. She’d merely risked her life. If he kept this up, he’d be risking something far greater. And his heart was something he’d vowed never again to risk.

Gwenellen’s heart was still racing when she reached her chambers. Once inside she paused and took several deep breaths before facing the servant who hurried over to take her shawl.

She wanted desperately to be alone. To sort out all these strange new emotions swirling around in her mind, making her feel as she’d felt that first time, so many years ago, when she’d climbed on Starlight’s back and had soared among the clouds. Aye, that was it exactly. She was soaring. Not from a simple ride on a winged horse, but from something so much more grand. A kiss. A kiss that had left her wildly unsettled and hungry for more.

“You seem out of breath, my lady.” Olnore led the way to the sleeping chambers, where the bed linens had already been turned down.

“I took a walk in the gardens.” Gwenellen stifled a giggle. If she were to walk there now, her feet would surely never touch the ground.

How could one man’s mouth be so firm, and yet so tempting? What was it about his arms that could make her feel so safe, and at the same time, so deliciously wicked?

“I took a walk there myself, not half an hour ago.” Olnore seemed to take a very long time folding the shawl and setting it aside.

“I didn’t see you, Olnore. Were you alone?”

“Nay, my lady. I was…with Paine.”

“Lloyd’s son?”

“Aye, my lady.”

Gwenellen saw the slight flush that colored the servant’s cheeks and felt a sudden kinship with this young woman. Did the two hold hands as they walked? Had they kissed in the shadows?

“Oh, my lady, you’ve soiled your gown.”

“My gown?” Gwenellen’s thoughts scattered. She glanced down with a look of guilt. The bodice of her gown bore the dust of the bookshelves, as did her hands. “After my walk I found a room filled with books. They’ve been neglected, and seemed quite dusty.”

“That would be the library of the old abbey, my lady.” Olnore reached for the buttons of Gwenellen’s gown. “The servants are unwilling to work in there.” She lowered her voice. “‘Tis said there are strange things in the old section of the abbey.”

“What sort of things?” As if she cared. Right now the only thing she could think about, care about, was Andrew, and that warm, clever mouth.

The little servant shrugged. “There were whispers in the village from those who worked here. Of shadowy figures of robed women long dead, reading from their books and chanting in the night.” She removed Gwenellen’s gown and reached for the nightdress, slipping it over her head. “One of the servants swore she saw the old laird’s first wife standing in the doorway.”

Gwenellen wondered what the serving wench would say if she knew that her mistress not only saw the dead, but could speak with them. Tonight, however, it wasn’t the dead that held Gwenellen’s interest, but the living. And soon, very soon, she would be alone with her thoughts, able to relive in glorious detail that surprising scene in the abbey.

She yawned, hoping the little servant would soon take her leave. Lowering her hands to the basin of water, she washed, then reached for a clean linen towel. “Will you return to the garden now, Olnore, or will you sleep?”

“I’ll go to my bed now, my lady. But on the morrow, when my chores are done, I’ll most likely walk in the garden again.” Her voice softened. “If Paine should invite me.”

“I see.” Gwenellen settled into her bed and the servant tucked the linens around her.

Minutes later the candle was snuffed and the door closed softly.

In the darkness Gwenellen lay, allowing the scene in the library to play through her mind.

“Oh, Gram.” Her voice was little more than a sigh. “I know I scoffed at my sisters when they lost their hearts to Highland warriors. But Andrew Ross is different. Not only because he’s kind and good and noble. But when he touches me, I feel safe. Protected. You should have seen him, Gram, when he caught me just as I was about to be dashed against the stone floor. He was…magnificent. I know he would never permit any harm to befall me.”

She shivered at the thought of those strong arms catching her, enfolding her.

And drifted into sleep, still tasting him on her lips.

Chapter Ten

“M
y lord.” Gwenellen paused to catch her breath.

She’d spent a restless night, and then had slept until the sun was high in the sky. While breaking her fast on her balcony she’d caught sight of Andrew in the high meadow, surrounded by a cluster of men and boys.