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 all 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.”
“Weel, it may be time to send in another maid, one who kens how to sweeten a mon’s humor until his tongue runs freer.”
She watched him stride away and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from ordering him not to do that. The mere thought of one of the other maids taking her place made her heart hurt. Any one of the others would be climbing into Sir Gillanders’s bed so quickly she doubted he would have time to lift the covers for her.
“I hope he means that, for I would be fair pleased to be the mon’s maid.”
Murdina scowled at Jeanne as the maid paused by her side, carrying two slops buckets. “Egan has no say in such things. ’Tis Mistress McKee who decides who does what about here.” Jeanne stank of envy and a deep anger, and it was so strong, Murdina did not even have to touch the woman to feel it.
“Mistress McKee will do as she is told.”
As she watched Jeanne walk away, it took all of her willpower not to hit the woman over the head with the tray she still clutched in her hands. It was jealousy burning inside of her now. Murdina did not understand why she had such feelings concerning a man she had known only a sennight, one she saw only a few times a day. She knew she ought to get away from Dunnantinny before she did something very foolish, took a step she could never back away from, but she knew she would not do that either. At some time during the sennight in which Sir Gillanders had been spinning his playful web of seduction, she had become firmly caught.
She looked at the door and thought about going back in there to tell him he had to cease his games with her. Murdina actually took a step toward the door before good sense prevailed. If she went back in there right now while the heat of his kiss still warmed her mouth and her body, the very last thing she would be doing was telling him to leave her alone. The fact that she could touch him, could enjoy his kisses and feel nothing but desire despite her cursed gift made him a temptation almost too large to ignore. She needed time away from the man to try and regain her strength. The next time she stepped into that room she wanted to have enough willpower and sense to be able to look at him without remembering how skillfully the man could kiss. Or how much she had liked it.
Gillanders moved away from the door and began to wash up. He would make sure no one tried to send him a new maid. Murdina was not telling the laird or his men anything she had seen. She had not even mentioned anything about how he kept the room as dark as a tomb. It was a weakness he should not have allowed her to see, but the fact that she had not shared that with anyone pleased him. They may have told her to spy on him, but she was not obeying them.
He also wanted to get her in his arms again, he thought and grinned. Her kiss had been sweet if inexperienced. The way she had trembled in his arms, leaned into him as the kiss had deepened, and had flushed with desire made him eager to continue his seduction of her.
A pang of conscience struck him as he dressed. There was a very good chance she was a virgin. It was not exactly kind of him to work so hard to steal what was her only dowry. Gillanders also knew that pang of conscience would not stop him from trying to do just that. He had never wanted a woman more.
A woman who was the cousin of Adeline—the much-loved wife of his cousin. He grimaced and cast a rueful glance at the door. He should tell Murdina that he knew exactly where Adeline Dunbar was. Unfortunately, to do that, he would have to confess that he was not who he had told everyone he was. Murdina was holding fast to any information she had about him, but he doubted she could hide the truth if she knew it. Murdina was no practiced liar. Egan or the laird would be able to see that she held some truth about him back with but one look at her very readable face.
As he headed down to the great hall, Gillanders swore that he would not leave Dunnantinny without telling Murdina about her cousin. When the thought of leaving without Murdina herself at his side caused him a sharp pang of regret, he softly swore. A woman twining herself around his heart and mind was not a complication he needed right now.
One step into the great hall was enough to have Gillanders wishing he could turn around or, even better, go home. Mistress McKee obviously did her best to keep it clean, but the laird and his closest men-at-arms were pigs. Not surprisingly, all the others in the great hall followed their lead. The smell of unwashed bodies was also strong. And, while Gillanders was able to eat food, even enjoyed it despite its inability to give him all he needed to survive, Dunnantinny needed a better cook.
He obeyed the laird’s call for him to join his table and tried to hide his weariness with the game he played. Gillanders was not finding out what he needed to know and doubted he would. The laird was an uncivilized brute in many ways but he was canny. Too many pointed questions and the man would grow even more suspicious than he was now.
Gillanders sat down, looked at the overcooked, greasy meat set on his trencher, and inwardly sighed. It was time to go hunting, he thought, as he smiled at the young boy serving him. He was just not sure he could do so without being discovered, but he needed something to keep up his strength, and he was tired of relying on only the blood-enriched wine he had brought with him.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Murdina slipping through the shadows at the far edge of the hall, heading toward the kitchens. She was a temptation he could not seem to resist. It was as if her allure and the one kiss they had shared had become a tether keeping him at Dunnantinny, at least until he could have more of her. He was either going to have to sate himself on her in his bed, or push her from his mind, if he ever wanted to get out of this place.
Then again, he mused with an inner smile, he could always take her with him. He had something she wanted, or rather, he knew where it was. The lure of family might just be enough to pull her along with him when he left. She did hold a strange allure for him, but he was well practiced in avoiding that. The ride to Cambrun would also be a lot more entertaining with her at his side. It was something he had to take some time to think about, without the fear that he might be getting tangled up too tightly with the woman. He shook her from his mind and concentrated on his host, still a little hopeful that the man would finally say something to make the long time spent at Dunnantinny worthwhile.