Trouble with a Highland Bride (4 page)

“I am a beast then?”

“Nay.” Though it would be so much easier if he appeared more like a gargoyle. Gwyn shrugged. “Do ye want my help or no?”

“Yes. I will admit to needing some help.” He gazed at her through the bars, his eyes sweeping down the length of her.

Her treacherous body responded without even the merest touch. She should run from such danger, but instead, she leaned forward. He slowly slipped off his red-and-gold surcoat with his English family crest of a lion embroidered on the front. Her pulse quickened to watch him undress, though in truth he still wore several layers of clothing, let alone armor, so he was hardly indecent.

He lifted an arm without a word, and she reached through the bars to untie the leather laces that held his shoulder plates of armor in place. She was undressing this man. Undressing! She wondered how far she dared to go.

Her hands became clumsy, and it took longer than it should to remove the shoulder and elbow plates. He struggled out of his hauberk of fine chain mail and placed it on the ground beside him with a chink of the armor. He should be warmer now. Seeing him in his arming doublet was certainly sending waves of heat down Gwyn’s spine.

Jack and Gwyn stared down at his legs. They were still armored. He focused on untying the chain mail chausses from his arming doublet. He stilled and looked up at her, his eyes searching hers. “The rest are tied in the back.”

“I can do it.” Gwyn’s hands were itching to undress him.

“I doubt I can stand at the moment.”

“Roll over.”

“It would not be chivalrous to give a lady my back.”

“It would’na be chivalrous to force a lady to watch ye freeze to death.”

He reclined onto the ground and lay on his side, his back to her. She got to work untying the back side of the chausses. When they fell away, she was graced by a glorious view of his backside in nothing but snug-fitting woolen hose. She forced herself to move on to untie the padded cuisses of his thighs. Her hands unavoidably touched his thigh, and she swore he shuddered in response. The poleyn steel plates on his knees were all that was left, and she took a long look at his backside and muscular legs before informing him that he was free.

Jack rolled back and grabbed the large plaid to draw it around him, ending her shameful gawking at the well-built knight.

“Thank you. I am greatly indebted to you.” His eyes met hers, soft and true. He stuck his hand through the bar and Gwyn took it. Her heart skipped a beat at his touch. He then casually slipped his hand in the pocket of her kirtle.

“I left the key over there on the barrel,” said Gwyn, smiling at his brazen attempt.

Jack gave her a guilty smile and snatched his hand back through the bars. “I hope you do not blame me for trying. Is there any way I could tempt you to release me?”

“I dinna ken a way to do it wi’out endangering the castle. I canna give ye the key.”

Jack nodded and looked down, dejected. “I understand.”

“David isna like yer murderous uncles. He winna hurt an unarmed man,” she reassured him.

“So he would let me go?”

“After ye were ransomed.”

Jack slumped back on the wall. “Could he kill me instead and be done with it?

“Ye dinna ken yer uncles would ransom ye?”

Jack shook his head. “Not likely. They would not waste an ounce of gold on me.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the stone wall. “They would mock me something horrible to know I was caught by a maiden.”

“In truth, ye shut the gate, so ye actually trapped yerself.”

Jack eyes snapped open and he groaned. “I beg you would tell none that. I shall contend I was apprehended by at least two dozen, killed several, and injured many others before finally being taken down by a treacherous blow to the back of the head.”

Gwyn smiled in spite of herself. “Ye have quite the fanciful imagination.”

Jack smiled in return. “I do what I must. Since I will be here awhile during the siege, I shall tell myself this story until I believe it.”

“What do ye mean, siege? I thought both sides were going to meet tomorrow to talk terms.”

Jack shifted on the floor and inspected the bandage on his foot, never meeting her gaze. “I was the one who wished to parlay. My uncles are here to wait it out. They came purposely before the harvest, so you would be at your lowest ebb of supplies.”

“I am starting to take a dislike to yer uncles.”

Jack smiled again. “I agree with the sentiment.”

They were silent for a moment, Gwyn not knowing what to say. “It grows late. My sisters will be wondering about me,” she murmured.

“I do thank you, Gwyn Campbell.” Jack’s voice was soft and low. “You have shown me kindness I did not deserve or expect. I have no right to say this, but as this may be my last chance, I will have you know that you are the fairest lady I have ever beheld.”

“Thank ye,” Gwyn whispered, a shiver of joy rippling through her.

“If only I could show you my gratitude. Here, wait, I wish for you to have this.” He rolled over to where he had placed his weapons and rolled back with the golden knife in his hand.

Gwyn leaned back, but Jack merely stuck his arm out of the gate and dropped the knife on the sandy floor.

“For you. To thank you. And as a remembrance of me if you should wish it.” He looked away and cleared his throat.

“I will ne’er forget ye,” Gwyn whispered. She accepted the knife and held it tight in her hand.

He met her eyes and somehow without realizing it, their hands reached for each other and grasped between the bars of the iron gate.

“I do need to go,” said Gwyn with an odd hitch to her voice. She reluctantly pulled her hand away. “They will be wondering about me. My, but am I going to catch it when they find ye here.”

“They shall not hear of your involvement through my lips.”

“Ye would keep my secret?” Hope raised in Gwyn’s chest.

“You have given me a service, and I shall not reveal my benefactor. It is the least I can do to repay.”

“Thank ye.” Gwyn paused, turning over the impossible situation once more in her head. “If there was a way to set ye free…”

Jack gave her a winning smile. “I thank you for the thought. I have brought this on myself and I shall face the consequences like a man. Good day, milady.”

“Good-bye, Sir John.” Gwyn stood and backed away slowly. She wished she could keep him somehow, but how could it be done? She searched his handsome face to commit it to memory. She doubted she would ever see him again.

She turned, straightened her shoulders, and walked away.

Gwyn dashed across the dark courtyard, pelted by angry rain. She pulled open the door to the main keep and shut it behind her, hoping to slink to her solar quickly, without raising attention.

“Gwyn!” Isabelle walked to her directly, her eyes flashing, a chubby babe on her hip. “Where are the keys to the cistern gate?”

“The keys?” asked Gwyn weakly. She was painfully aware of the heavy iron keys in the pocket of her kirtle.

“Yes, Gwyn, the keys. David is looking to post guard and the keys are not where I left them, where you know I keep them.”

“They were there earlier,” hedged Gwyn.

“I am well aware of that; as I am well aware that the only elder bushes around here are outside the gates.” Isabelle’s eyes bored into Gwyn’s, reading her secrets. “I need to feed this little one, then I will check again for the keys. Mayhap I was mistaken before.”

“I am sure they will be there,” said Gwyn with a gulp.

“Yes, I am certain they will too.”

Gwyn exhaled deeply and leaned against the wall, watching Isabelle walk away. She could put back the key, walk away, pretend ignorance, and no one would ever know her involvement. She did not know why, but she trusted implicitly that Jack would not reveal her. Why she trusted him, she could not say. He was, after all, English. And more than that hardly needed to be said.

Yet for all the many reasons she should not trust him, she did believe that he would be chivalrous enough not to reveal her. She knew in her heart he was a good man, or he would never have given her the elder twig or his golden knife. She put her hand in her pocket and held on to it.

She
should
walk away and never think of him again. And for that reason, Gwyn did not go directly to return the keys, but instead found herself once more entering the storeroom that led to the cistern gate. She needed to return the knife. It was not hers to keep.

He struggled to stand when she entered, emotions flashing across his face before he greeted her with a half smile. “I was expecting the guards.”

“They will be here soon. I need to return the key. I…I need to return yer gift. I should’na have taken it. Here, this belongs to ye. I’ll no’ have yer uncles mock ye for its loss.” Gwyn reached her hand through the bars, offering Jack the return of the golden knife.

The smile drained from Jack’s face and a frown etched lines in his forehead. He slowly removed the offered knife and slipped it into a pocket. “Thank you.” His words were barely above a whisper.

“Good-bye, Jack.” Gwyn whirled around to walk away, because if she didn’t leave soon, she feared she never would.

“Wait!” he called.

She stopped and slowly turned back to face him.

“Do not have your brother go to the negotiations tomorrow.” His voice was grave.

“No’ negotiate? But why?”

“Because my uncles are bastards, that’s why. They will not honor the truce or the negotiations. They plan to capture or kill any who enter the tent. You must warn your brother not to go.”

Gwyn could not believe what he was telling her, not just because of the treachery, but why should he warn her? “Why would ye tell me this?”

“Because you have shown me kindness, and I cannot have you lose your brother in such a deceitful manner. The plans of my uncles are not mine. I would negotiate with Laird Campbell and Lady Isabelle directly if I could, but as it is, I must wait for my fate to be decided by others.”

Gwyn stepped quickly up to the bars, lowering her voice though there was none to hear. She was running out of time. “Do ye mean what ye say? Would ye negotiate under a truce if ye could?”

“Yes, but you see I am not able.” Jack motioned around him.

Gwyn’s mind spun. She could let the soldiers find him, but he would most certainly be put into a dungeon until the siege was past. If it was to be war, it would not be a pleasant time for Jack, particularly with an injured foot. He needed tending. He needed her. And she needed him to negotiate a peace. Would they have a chance to do that if he was found by the guards? Yet any other plan would mean trusting him.

“Give me yer weapons and armor, all. And quick!” Gwyn’s heart beat with the excited pulse of choosing her own destiny. She would not sit back and hope things worked out as she wished. No, she would take fate by the hand.

Jack stared at her, his eyes opening wide as understanding dawned. “Are you certain about this?” He handed her a bundle of armor and his sword through the holes in the lattice gate.

“Nay.” She took his sword.

He handed her a knife from his boot (he had a knife in his boot!) and then surrendered once more the golden knife. She took it slowly from his palm. “If all goes well, I shall return it.”

“If all goes well, I insist you keep it.”

Gywn ran to the side of the storeroom, out of sight of the English knight and hid the weapons all under some canvas behind a pickle barrel. She ran back to him, her heart pounding. David would not approve. Indeed, she could think of none in the castle who would approve. But that had never stopped her before.

She stood before him, unsure how to proceed. “I will ask for your most solemn vow that ye enter under terms of peace for the purpose o’ negotiations and that ye will attempt no violence nor treachery against me or any o’ my kin whilst ye are our guest.”

Jack inclined his head. “I enter under a flag of truce. I give thee my solemn vow—no harm will ever come to you or your kin from my hand.”

“I will hold ye to yer vow, sir knight.” Gwyn swallowed on a dry throat. “If ye treat me false, I shall track ye down, and if ye doubt my ability to do so, do not doubt my ability to hire someone who can. I have friends of a certain notoriety.” Gwyn brought to mind her sword trainer, her sister-in-law and (mostly) retired thief, Morrigan.

“No act of vengeance will ever be required insomuch as I am concerned.”

Gwyn took the keys from the pocket of her kirtle and put the key in the iron keyhole. Her hands shook and her heart pounded. This was either going to save the castle…or kill them all.

She turned the lock, and it opened with an echoing click. Her heart pounded on her rib cage as if demanding to be released. Would he be true to his word? Would he charge and attack? She stepped back and rested her hand on her own dagger.

He limped his way slowly to the gate and swung it open. The iron hinges cried from lack of use and Gwyn flinched at the loud noise, glancing around to make sure no one had heard the telltale squawk of the gate swinging open.

Jack slowly limped his way through the gate and closed it behind him. He made no move to attack her, and she doubted he could, even if he was of a treacherous nature. He attempted to walk to her but stumbled, and she rushed to his side. If she was to be a fool, it might as well be a big fool.

“Can ye walk?”

“Yes…yes, a little.”

“Here let us wrap this round ye, and I shall help ye.” Gwyn helped wrap him back into the plaid. It also helped to disguise his English clothes. “People will think I am helping someone who is injured or ill.”

“Shall we find your brother?” asked Jack in a shaky voice.

Gwyn guessed his foot pained him a great deal. “Aye, but first let us find a place where ye can rest.” She needed to get him somewhere safe and then find a way to broach the subject with David.

She turned and locked the gate, placing the key back in her pocket. Jack rested all his weight on one leg, and she hoped he could manage across the courtyard. She drew his arm around her shoulder for him to gain support, and wrapped her own arm around his waist. Jack had on one boot and his other foot was bandaged. His injured foot would not fit in the boot, so there was nothing to do but leave it behind.

She had never been so close to a man. Or maybe she had, but never one who made her heart pound and her head spin. He rested some of his weight on her, and Gwyn strained to hold even part of it. He was a tall man, trim but solid.

In this most unconventional manner, Gwyn helped Jack hobble through the storeroom to the door to the courtyard. It was fortunate the rain had chased everyone inside the keep. With luck, they could leave without anyone taking note.

“Just keep yer head down, and dinna say a word,” whispered Gwyn. “I have a plan.”

They proceeded slowly across the courtyard in plain view, if there was any to see them. They moved slowly, and Gwyn kept her head down against the cold rain. They were almost there.

“Gwyn Campbell!” Isabelle appeared before her, holding a plaid over her head. “What are you doing, child? Is this man ill?”

“Nay. Well, aye, but only slightly. I can take care o’ him, just a mild case o’ collywobbles.”

Isabelle frowned. “What nonsense are you speaking?”

“Here!” Gwyn thrust the key to Isabelle, hoping Jack would have the good sense to keep his head down. “I found it and was taking it to ye, and then I saw this man and offered to help take him for a lie down. Little too many sips from the jug. Just needs to sleep it off, poor man.”

“Put him where he can sleep it off and come back to your quarters. ’Tis late and you need sleep. I will check on you soon.” She drilled a look into Gwyn that brooked no opposition.

“Aye, I will be there shortly.”

Gwyn and Jack continued the short distance to the tower where the chapel was housed. Below was another storeroom, as most of the towers’ ground floors were. She hurried him inside and set him down on a crate with a sigh of relief, both for her aching shoulders and her escape from Isabelle. She shook off her plaid from the rain.

“Was that Lady Isabelle, my cousin?” asked Jack weakly. “I thought she had caught us.”

“Aye, it was Isabelle. I also feared we would be caught.”

“I do not wish to cause you trouble.”

“Much too late for that,” said Gwyn with a smile. She rummaged through the storeroom and was pleased to find a stack of pallets that had been prepared for the coming guests. She arranged them in a corner and slid crates around it, so that the bed would not be visible to any who entered the storeroom. She wished to lock the door but did not dare. This storeroom would be used during the feasts and a locked door would raise suspicion.

“Come here and lie down.” She braced him against her once more, even as sparks of excitement shot through her at his touch. She helped him to lay on the pallets, and he did so with a groan.

“I must return to the solar. Isabelle will be checking.” Gwyn chewed her lip, thinking of what she must do. She could not leave an English knight unguarded in a storeroom, even if Jack was hardly in any condition to cause trouble. David would have her hide.

“I cannot thank you enough for your help.” Jack’s eyes were half-closed and his face was white. His foot had begun to bleed again through the bandages, so Gwyn raised it up on a bundle of hay.

“Ye need to sleep.” Gwyn pulled out the sleeping draught. If Jack would take it, Gwyn could feel secure knowing he could not escape or cause any harm.

Jack stared at the little bottle. “What is it?”

“Something to help ye sleep.”

Jack pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and finally nodded. “You have trusted me. I shall trust you.” He accepted the draught and took a swig. “I shall hope to wake from this sleep without a sword through my heart.”

“Rest well, sir knight. I shall keep ye safe.” Gwyn smiled at him.

He took her hand in his and held it until he drifted to sleep. She remained longer than she needed, listening to his rhythmic breathing and marveling over how a lock of dark brown hair fell over one closed eye. She slowly traced one fingertip across his forehead, brushing the lock to the side. Without thinking, she leaned down and kissed his brow.

She stood up like a shot, surprised at her own action. She needed to get to her quarters before Isabelle raised the alarm. She needed to get away from this man before she betrayed any more confusing emotions.

What was she going to do with her English knight?