The Knight and the Seer (17 page)

“Nay, Andrew.” She drew him close and touched a hand to his cheek. “You didn’t hurt me. I don’t know what caused these tears.” She sounded mortified. “I never cry.”

“Of course you don’t.” He was feeling far too tender at the moment to remind her of the tears she’d shed not more than an hour ago. He rolled to one side and drew her gently into his embrace, wrapping her cloak around them both. “You’re too sunny to weep.”

“I am?” She snuggled close, loving the feel of his strong arms around her.

He nodded. “Do you know, each time I look at you I see sunshine?” He tangled his fingers in her hair. “It’s probably because of all this light that surrounds you like a halo.”

“I’ve heard of halos. I’m no saint.”

His grin was quick. “Aye. I’ll attest to that. But there’s an aura of bright colors that seem always to surround you.”

She lifted a finger to his face and began tracing the outline of his lips. Such amazing lips. They brought such unbelievable pleasure. “What else do you see when you look at me?”

He turned slightly, staring into her eyes and wondering that, even now, the mere touch of her could be so arousing. “Are you hoping to unearth all my secrets now, Imp?”

“Aye. If I were one of my sisters, I could see for myself. But since I haven’t the gift of sight, tell me what you see, Andrew.”

He traced a finger over the curve of her brow, the outline of her mouth. “In your eyes I see truth. On your lips I hear only honesty. While others around me might mask their feelings to spare mine, you’ll tell me what I need to hear, even if it isn’t to my liking.”

“I thought that angered you.”

He chuckled. “It does. Nobody wants to hear unpleasant things. But I admire you for your honesty, Imp. Especially since I’ve made it so difficult for you to speak the truth.”

“You can be a bit…overbearing, my lord.”

“Overbearing?” He folded his hands behind his head. “I’m a model of evenhandedness. A man of infinite patience.”

That had her laughing. “Aye. A paragon of virtue.”

His laughter faded. “I haven’t always been kind to you, and for that I’m truly sorry. Earlier today I made you cry and…”

She sat up and touched a hand to his mouth. “Hush. You couldn’t know why I’d attempted another spell.”

“But I assumed the worst.”

“It was no more than I deserved.” She flushed. “I’m well aware that my spells haven’t always been successful. As for you, Andrew, I’ve seen how hard you’re working to ease the pain of the villagers. And I’ve heard from them about your many kindnesses. You may pretend to be a heartless warrior, but your people knew better. They wouldn’t have asked you to be laird if they hadn’t considered you worthy.”

“Oh, Imp.” He drew her down and treated himself to a long, lingering kiss. “You almost make me believe that I can do some good here.”

“You’re needed here. Without your leadership, what would these good people do?”

Before she could say more he shot her a dangerous smile and ran hot, wet kisses down her throat. “Why are we wasting time talking, when there are so many more…pleasurable things to do?”

At the spiral of heat she clutched his waist and gave a little gasp of pleasure. “You mean we aren’t finished? There’s…more that women and mortal men can do?”

“Oh, my wonderful, delightful little Imp.” He threw back his head and roared with delight. “There’s so much more.”

With a growl of pleasure he covered her mouth with his and proceeded to show her.

As moonlight spilled over them like liquid gold, they lost themselves in the wonder of their newly-discovered love.

Chapter Fifteen

G
wenellen lay very still, wondering what had awakened her from a sound sleep. It took a moment to recall where she was. Then it all came rushing back to her. The library in the old portion of the abbey. The love she had shared with Andrew.

It felt so good to be here with him. So right. As though everything in her life had been moving her toward this place, this man.

It wasn’t just the joy, the passion, the pleasure they’d shared. It was this room. It was, she felt certain, an enchanted place. The spirits of the ones who had sought refuge here eons ago lingered still. She could feel their presence. Could sense their approval. It gave her great comfort.

Some time during the night Andrew had started a fire and carried her to the fur-covered chaise. There, warm and cozy, they had whispered words of love while indulging all their fantasies.

He had been an amazing lover. At times so easy and gentle with her, as though they had known each other for a lifetime. At other times their lovemaking had more resembled a sudden summer storm. All thunder and lightning and bursts of passion that caught them both by surprise, sending them into a frenzy of need.

She heard the sound of labored breathing and Andrew’s muttered oath as, caught in the throes of a nightmare, he thrashed among the furs.

“Andrew.” Alarmed, Gwenellen touched a hand to his shoulder and felt him flinch. She shook him gently. “My love, wake up.”

He sat up suddenly, his hand going to his waist, as though to reach for his sword. Feeling his bare flesh, his eyes snapped open.

He stared blankly at the vision beside him, before he blinked and seemed to pull himself from a dark place in his mind. “Forgive me, Imp. I woke you.”

“You were having a bad dream, Andrew.”

“Aye.” In the glow of embers his skin was slick with sweat; his eyes narrowed in thought.

“Would it help to tell me about it?”

Instead of a reply he walked to the fireplace and tossed a fresh log on the hot coals. Within minutes flames began licking at the bark.

She studied the way he looked in the firelight. Tall and proud, his profile so cold and stern it could have been carved from marble. She could see, by the hands clenched at his sides, that he was still struggling with his demons.

His words, when at last he spoke, were gruff, as though forced from a throat raw with grief. “I had a bitter argument with my father before I left for Edinburgh. Things were said in the heat of anger that can never be recalled.”

“What things, Andrew?”

He returned to the chaise, but instead of sitting beside her, he knelt at her feet and caught her hands in his.

“I’ll not speak of them, for they’re too painful even now. But I thought, when I left, that I never wanted to see him again. I can’t help thinking that my wish was the cause of all that’s happened here.”

Gwenellen squeezed his hands tightly. “You must never think that, Andrew. You weren’t responsible for what happened to your father.”

“How do you know that? I wished it, didn’t I? And now my wish has been granted.” He shoved a hand roughly through the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

She closed a hand over his, feeling the spill of dark hair over their joined fingers. “Your guilt will do nothing but add to your burden.” She slid her hand to his cheek. “If you are seeking someone to blame, then look to your enemy.”

Seeing that he was about to protest further, she touched a finger to his lips and stared deeply into his eyes, as though daring him to argue. “Your father bears no resentment toward you. In our conversations he has expressed only love.”

Andrew sighed. “If only he could speak to me. But I suppose I must be content with the fact that he can speak to you.”

“Then you don’t mind if I continue conversing with your father?”

“I welcome it. In fact, since I’m being completely truthful…” He caught a wisp of her hair and twirled it around and around his finger, studying the look in her eyes. “…I must admit that I’m more than a little jealous of your ability to speak with my father.”

“You can speak to him, as well, Andrew.”

“And you believe he will hear me?”

“Aye. I know he will. But he is unable to make a reply except through me.” She leaned closer, brushing a kiss over his forehead. “There’s no need to regret the words left unspoken between you. Speak to him of all the things that are in your heart, my love. Your father will hear you. And your own heart will be lighter for it.”

He linked his fingers with hers, then looked into her eyes. “How did you get so wise, Imp?”

She shook her head. “I’m not wise. But I know that your father wouldn’t want his only son to suffer so.”

“Has he told you that?”

“Not in so many words. But he has spoken of his love for you. And of his desire to keep you safe from the snare of his enemy.”

“Then I suppose I must be content with that.” He pressed a kiss to her palm before folding her fingers over it, as though to hold it.

The gesture was so sweet and unexpected from this tough warrior, she felt a quick tug at her heart.

She lifted the edge of the fur. “You must be freezing. Come here, my love, and I’ll warm you.”

His eyes crinkled with laughter. “Don’t you know that you have only to touch me and I’m warm?” He lay beside her and gathered her into his arms. Against her temple he whispered, “And now, lying with you, I’m on fire.”

He ran a hand down her back, then slowly up her side, until he encountered the soft swell of her breast. As his thumbs teased, his mouth covered hers in a kiss so hot it nearly seared them both.

Against her mouth he muttered, “See what you do to me?”

She chuckled, but the sound soon turned into a moan of pleasure. “And all along I thought it was you who brought this heat, my lord.”

“It’s the two of us together, love.” As he indulged his passion, he marveled at the way she made him feel. Strong. Proud. And happier than he could ever recall. Perhaps she truly had healed his heart.

At first he’d felt merely a fierce need to protect this funny, sweet, strange little witch from herself. After all, someone had to take care of her when her failed spells were constantly leading her into danger. But if he were honest with himself he’d admit that the greatest danger was to his own heart. He could no longer deny the fact that he was hopelessly in love. And not just in love with any woman, but with a witch, who had a habit of propelling herself into dangerous, deadly situations.

He would have to be vigilant in order to save her from herself. For he couldn’t bear it if any harm should come to her.

And then, as their kisses became more demanding, and their need more demanding, all thought scattered as he once more lost himself in the pleasure of this wondrous new love.

“My love.” Gwenellen awoke to find Andrew propped up on one elbow beside her, staring at her with such intensity, she found herself blushing. “What are you doing?”

“Watching you sleep.” His lips curved into a smile. “Did you know that you wrinkle your nose every time the wind blows down the chimney?”

She shoved aside a tangle of furs and started to sit up. “I do not.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her a little away. “You do. And it’s simply delightful to watch.”

She avoided his eyes while tracing a finger over the mat of hair at his chest. “What else do I do?”

“Your lips purse. As though being kissed by a lover in your sleep.”

She gave him that pixie smile. “Perhaps I was dreaming of someone.”

“Give me his name, my lady, and he’ll answer to my sword.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re jealous?”

“Aye. I want no other man to taste the sweetness that I’ve enjoyed this night.”

“Not even an imaginary lover who visits only in my dreams?”

“Imp.” He dragged her close and savaged her mouth. “I know you’re teasing me, but I’d be jealous of even a man in your dreams. I want you to dream of only me.”

As his hands moved over her she tried to resist. “Andrew. You know where this will lead.”

“Aye, my love. To the same place we’ve been all through the night.”

“But the sun is already upon us. If we don’t soon hasten to our chambers, we’ll be forced to face Mistress MacLean and the servants.”

He chuckled against her throat, sending heat spiraling all the way to her core. “I’ll worry about them later. For now, all I can think about is you, my love. Have pity on me, for I’ve been watching you, and wanting you, since before the dawn.”

Whatever protest she’d been about to make was forgotten as he took her on a wild, reckless ride to paradise.

“Andrew.” Gwenellen gave his shoulder a none-too-gentle shake until his eyes opened. “It’s as I feared. Look.” She pointed to the sunlight streaming through the narrow windows above them. “The sun is already high in the sky. The entire household must be wondering where we have gone.”

“Let them wonder.” He seemed completely unconcerned as he drew her down for a lingering kiss.

“But Mistress MacLean…”

“Is merely the keeper of my household. I am still master of Ross Abbey.”

“But she’ll know. As will all the servants.”

“Let them, my love. I care not if the villagers, or for that matter, everyone in the Highlands know of our love.” He plunged his fingers into her hair and kissed her again, long and slow and deep. When at last they moved apart he studied her eyes. “Are you troubled by this, Imp?”

She lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture. “I know little of your world, Andrew. How will the servants react?”

“They’ll whisper, of course. But none will speak aloud of the laird and his lady.”

“Oh.” She crossed the room and picked up her gown, studying the torn bodice. “What will Olnore say when she sees this?”

“She’ll say nothing, my sweet. And she’ll see that it’s properly mended before it’s returned to you.”

As she began to slip into her clothes he lay watching her. Seeing the smile on his lips, she paused. “Now what are you doing?”

“The same thing I was doing while you slept.” The look he gave her had her heart hitching. “Watching you. And enjoying the vision very much.”

“Aren’t you going to dress, Andrew?”

“I’d planned on it. But now…” In one smooth motion he tossed aside the fur throw and crossed to her side. “Now I think I must taste heaven one more time before we part.”

His eyes were hot and fierce as he slowly undressed her and carried her to the chaise. Without a word they came together with all the force of a Highland storm.