Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
What now? Gwenllian mused as she made her way back to Nead an Diabhail.
After Alexander’s departure that morning, she had decided to go for a long walk in the woods, but being outside had not helped her clear her mind or reach a decision.
Last night, or rather this morning, had been spectacular.
She had wanted an adventure, she’d had one and more.
But that was hardly surprising; from the moment she’d met Alexander, her life had been turned into a whirlwind.
A daring rescue from the ruffians, a ludicrous encounter with a French wanton, a thrilling ride alone with a handsome escort, a shocking attack on their persons and now a scandalous night in a passionate lover’s arms. Where would it stop?
Why should it stop?
Had she suspected how wonderful it would feel to be bedded, she would have gone to him long before.
But now that she had, what would happen?
Would Alexander want more of her and make the most of their time in Scotland to introduce her to all the delights a man and a woman could share?
Or would he regret relenting and announce his departure when he next saw her? She couldn’t tell.
A terrible question suddenly seized her.
As an experienced man, had he not been disappointed by her lack of expertise and initiative?
She had not done anything to please him, she had only lain under him and let herself be kissed and ravished.
Now that she could think clearly, she saw that she should at least have tried to caress him.
He hadn’t seemed to mind, making allowances for the fact that she had been a virgin, but perhaps he would now prefer to go back to more satisfying conquests, women who knew how to please their lovers as well as take the pleasure offered to them.
Oh dear. That would be a blow.
As she approached the castle once more, her mind in turmoil, she saw a man slip through the gate as naturally as if he were at home. But that could not be since he was not a Scot.
Gwenllian frowned when she recognized Sir William Parry, the former squire from Sheridan Manor.
This had to be one of the last people she’d expected to see here, so far away from home.
But now that the surprise had passed, she remembered he had every reason to be here, as he was a dear friend of Bethan’s, and Callum’s godfather.
It made sense that he would have come to visit them.
But why had Bethan forgotten to mention his visit, and where had he been until now?
She and Alexander had arrived two days ago, and Nead an Diabhail was not so big, surely she should have crossed paths with him if he were staying here?
Delighted to see a man she hadn’t seen in years, grateful for the distraction he would provide, she set off after him, but his long legs ate up the ground twice as fast as hers, and she could only watch him disappear into the tower across the courtyard.
When she finally caught up with him, it was to find him at the bottom of the spiral staircase, locked in a passionate kiss with another man.
The gasp escaping her lips alerted the pair of lovers to the fact that they had been seen. Alasdair, a gray-eyed man who only the day before had been introduced to her as Cameron’s squire, swallowed and did his best to protect his lover’s identity. But William did not let him shield him.
He straightened and came to stand in front of him, drawing the attention to himself instead. “Lady Gwenllian, good morning.”
He reddened. Alasdair reddened. Gwenllian knew she’d reddened as well, but she stood her ground. This awkwardness was her fault, as she was the one who had gone to him. She should have left him alone. But she was here now, she could not just leave without a word.
“Good morning, William. I thought it was you. I was out on a walk when I saw you in the distance and wondered what you were doing here in Scotland, so I…followed you.”
It now sounded ridiculous and intrusive. Fortunately, reassured by her lack of reaction despite having seen him kiss a man, William seemed to have recovered his composure.
“I arrived here weeks ago,” he explained. “I came to see Bethan and my new godson.”
Yes. And apparently, he’d found the love of his life. Or at least, a fiery lover with whom to pass the time. One might even say an adventure. The irony was not lost on Gwenllian. She gave a small smile.
She had often wondered why the personable, handsome, honorable Sir William, who was the perfect knight and an enviable party, was not yet married.
Surely he could not be short of potential brides?
Now she thought she understood. Just like her, he was destined never to marry, even if it was for very different reasons.
His unmarried state was not to be attributed to fate, but to personal preferences.
“Well, I’ll see you at dinner tonight, I suppose,” she said, at a loss as to how to bring this conversation to an end.
“Of course.”
William seemed relieved to see that she was not making an issue of his relationship with the squire.
But Gwenllian didn’t think it was her place to say or even think anything.
That very morning, she herself had behaved in ways many people would disapprove of.
Who was she to judge someone else? The men could do what they liked, just like her, they were old enough to know what they wanted.
Exhausted by all the emotions of the morning and the strenuous walk, Gwenllian decided to go back to bed for a while and dream of Alexander’s caresses.
When she exited the east tower sometime later, she found everyone enjoying a rare moment of sunshine in the bailey.
Alexander was in the middle of the group, laughing with Cameron, with whom he seemed to have formed a strong bond despite their short acquaintance.
She took a deep breath in an effort to erase all traces of emotion from her face, because the sight of him had taken her breath away.
Had this man really been in bed with her that morning? Inside her? It seemed incredible.
Not wanting to be seen spying on them, she walked forward before someone could see her.
Bethan was sitting on a bench, with her son in her arms and William by her side.
Alasdair, careful to keep his gaze away from his lover, was cleaning his master’s chainmail with a wet mixture of sand and oil.
Cameron and Alexander had gone to talk to a man called Angus.
In the corner, Murdo was grumbling to himself.
Gwenllian had heard all about the gruff Scot who had a soft spot for her friend and for his laird’s newborn son.
So far, he had lived up to Bethan’s description and more.
“What is the matter, Murdo?” Cameron asked, when it became obvious the man was not going to be satisfied until someone paid attention to him. “Why are you grumbling so?”
“I finally managed to bed the miller’s niece last night,” was the somewhat unexpected answer. “It’s taken me months to get her to agree, if you’ll believe it. I was starting to fear I had lost my touch with the lasses. I usually only have to appear, and they open their—”
“Well, isn’t it good news that she agreed to have you at last? But, in all honesty, you could have refrained from discussing such matters in front of the ladies,” Cameron chastised. “It is hardly suitable conversation.”
“You asked me a question, my laird!” The man looked affronted. “I could not refuse to answer, could I?”
“I suppose not, but considering the nature of the answer, you could at least have addressed me in Gaelic.”
“You told me to stick to English while our guests were here.” Murdo was getting more and more agitated. “Besides, your lady wife understands Gaelic well enough now, doesn’t she? It would have made no difference.”
Cameron rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Evidently, there would be no winning this argument. The man was as stubborn as a goat. Gwenllian could not help but exchange an amused glance with Bethan.
“I understand why you like the man,” she whispered in Welsh.
“Yes. And you’ve seen nothing yet. Wait until he starts talking about Callum. I often fear that visitors leave Nead an Diabhail with the impression that he’s fathered him himself.”
Gwenllian laughed. “I doubt they do. The love Cameron bears you is too obvious.”
Her friend gave a smile and stroked her son’s head.
“Well, as I was saying,” Murdo continued, oblivious to the fact that his laird considered the matter closed. “I did bed her, but the trouble is—”
“You mean that there’s more to that story?” Cameron exploded. “We don’t want to hear what happened, thank you very much.”
“But I could not tell you what happened even if I wanted to! That is precisely the issue; that is precisely why I’m grumbling!”
There was no avoiding any explanation now. Everyone was staring at Murdo expectantly, so Cameron had no choice but to relent and ask him to tell his story.
“Out with it, man. But no crude language. I’m warning you.”
“Moira came to me last night, out of nowhere. I was delighted but at the same time…” He scratched his head.
“Had she warned me of her intentions in advance, I would not have drunk so much. Because now, I cannot remember anything. I have wanted her for months, and now that I’ve had her, it is as if I had not, you ken?
I cannot recall a single detail or even assure myself that I gave a creditable account of myself. ”
Angus slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Well. All is not lost. Go back to her tonight. You’ll quickly understand from the welcome you get what she thinks of your performance. And if it’s not what you hoped for, you can always do better.”
The guards by the gate murmured their assent. There were even a few muffled laughs, but Gwenllian could only sympathize with the man. She, too, was wondering how her “performance” of the previous night had been received—and worrying that she had spoiled the opportunity of a lifetime.