Chapter 14 #2
His gaze flicked to hers, then back to the ring, brows arched.
“Afterward . . .” Gillian swallowed, unable to think about her mother’s death for fear of the pain it would cause.
“Father tried to find the person responsible for what happened. He was gone for a fortnight. Uncle Roderick collected what things they had of hers in the village where it happened. He brought me this ring. He had picked it out of the ashes. I don’t know if my father wanted me to have it, but he’s never said anything. ”
Nicholas turned it on her finger again. “It’s too big.”
“It hasn’t been until recently.”
He leaned back a bit to study her sheet-draped body, his black eyes moving over her from head to toe. He placed a hand on her hip and squeezed. “You are getting a bit thin. Are you eating?”
She shrugged.
His gaze rose to her face and narrowed. “Are you happy here, Gillian?”
“Aye, of course I am.”
One brow arched skeptically, but he said, “The goldsmith does some work with silver. Perhaps he can make it smaller so you don’t lose it.”
Before Gillian could thank him, a knock on the door interrupted them.
“Go away,” Nicholas bellowed, annoyance making his handsome face severe. Gillian smiled inside, knowing she was the reason he didn’t want to be disturbed.
There was a moment of silence, then Sir Evan called through the door, “My lord, the hall is full of petitioners . . . Lord Boath is here to see you as well.”
Nicholas sighed, his long fingers curling into Gillian’s hip through the sheet.
“Shall I send them away?” Sir Evan asked.
After a long pause Nicholas said, “No . . . I’ll be down in a bit.” They listened to the clank of Sir Evan’s weapons as he left.
Gillian whispered, “We’re being slothful. You should go. I’m keeping you from your duties.”
He pushed the sheet off her. “We just married. I am allowed some sloth to become better acquainted with my bride. I should not have to listen to people begging for money and favors. Not for a while at least.”
Gillian turned toward him, sliding her hands up his hard belly to his chest. The muscle was heavier on his chest, the skin stretched taut and smooth. His pulse throbbed in the hollow of his throat.
“Does this mean you’ve no more reservations about marrying me?”
He grabbed her bottom and maneuvered her closer. His head bent to lick her shoulder. “Och, I’ve reservations. For one, I can clearly get nothing done with you here.”
“Oh, I think you’ve been most industrious this morning.” Her voice was breathless, her body quivering.
He pulled her tight against him so that she could feel he was prepared to toil some more on her behalf.
“What other reservations do you have?”
“I have to worry about someone hurting you now.” His voice was muffled against her throat. “I have not had to worry this way in a very long time.”
“Are you really worried about me?” she asked softly.
He pushed her onto her back and rose on his elbows over her, his hands cradling her head.
He examined her features slowly before meeting her eyes.
“Aye, I am—not because I’d ever allow such a thing to happen, mind you.
But . . . But . . .” A shutter fell over his face and he frowned, eyes averted.
His body above hers hummed with tension.
Gillian took his face in her hands, turning him to look at her again. “What is it?”
“My son was just a bairn when he died . . . two years old. Consumption, Gilchrist said. I . . . uh . . .” He took a deep breath and continued in a rough voice, “I was supposed to keep him safe, protect him, as my father protected me. And I failed.” His black eyes burned fiercely as they bore into her. “I will not fail you.”
Gillian didn’t think she could love him more than she did at that moment. She had no words, so she kissed him, touching his mouth with her lips and fingers. He kissed her back, but with restraint. He broke the kiss off, holding her head between his palms.
“I have one more reservation.”
His expression was so serious that Gillian’s heart stopped. “What is it?”
He said nothing for a long moment. “Before we wed, you put something into my wine.”
There was no way for Gillian to master her reaction or lie her way out of this. The blood drained from her face, and her mouth worked soundlessly. His hands tightened on her head, as if he meant to crush her skull between them.
“There can be nothing between us if there’s not trust, and I can’t trust you if you’re trying to poison me.”
“No!” Gillian burst out. “Not poison—I would never!”
One brow twitched slightly. “That’s good. As I am not dead, and you don’t seem terribly disappointed about that, I surmised that it was not a lethal poison, but several other unpleasant possibilities present themselves.”
“I would never cause you harm, Nicholas, I vow it. What I put in your drink . . . it was harmless. Surely you see that, you’re healthy and hale as ever.”
He released her head and pushed himself higher on his elbows, though he still lay between her sprawled thighs. Sleek black hair spilled over his dark shoulders. “Then what was it?”
Gillian bit her lip, gazing up at him helplessly. She did not want to tell him. Would rather drink poison herself than tell him. She felt trapped beneath him, and she squirmed, pushing her hands against his shoulders. He caught her wrists and pressed them into the pillow on either side of her head.
“I’m not moving until you tell me.”
All affection had fled from his countenance. He stared down at her, dark and piratical, and determined to have his way.
Gillian worried her bottom lip and closed her eyes. She couldn’t say it.
“The longer you try me, the worse it will be for you when I discover the truth.”
“Fine!” Gillian burst out, eyes screwed tightly shut. “This . . . this . . . fondness you have for me . . . it’s not real.”
He flexed his hips against her, nudging his hardness against her so that she gasped and instinctively arched into him.
“It’s not? Feels real,” he murmured.
Her body was on fire—a full body blush of complete mortification. “It’s not real . . . none of it. It’s a love philter. I gave it to you so you would fall in love with me.”
Her face was scalding. She wanted to sink into the bed and let it swallow her. He was so still and quiet that she cracked an eye and peered up at him.
He looked as though he wanted to laugh but valiantly fought the urge. “A love philter?”
Gillian nodded and jerked at her wrists. He held them fast.
She turned her head away, staring blankly across the room. “I pray you, let me go.”
His breath blew warm across her breasts. “I cannot, my lady, I’m under your spell.”
She bucked violently. Now he would humiliate her with it! She caught him in the ribs and he grunted, falling full length on her. His face was buried in her neck, and his shoulders shook with laughter.
Since struggling was useless, Gillian lay limply beneath him, her embarrassment transforming to indignant anger. “Why is this amusing? It has clearly worked!”
“Oh, clearly.” This made him laugh harder. Gillian waited him out, temper simmering. It was not remotely amusing to her.
After a time he gained some semblance of control and pushed himself off her.
When she tried to escape, he hooked a long, muscled leg over hers and an arm around her waist, dragging her back.
He rubbed his face in a pillow to wipe away the tears of mirth.
Gillian wanted to cram the pillow down his throat.
She lay stiffly on her back, staring at the carved wooden canopy above her.
He hiccupped and laughed again, apparently finding this noise amusing.
“Well, I suppose you thinking I’m an idiot is better than you beating me.”
“You thought I’d beat you?” This made him laugh again.
Gillian rolled her eyes. The man rarely cracked a smile, and now he couldn’t seem to stop laughing—at her!
When she did not answer, he asked, “How do you know it worked?”
“Right after you drank it, you stuck your tongue in my mouth.”
“Right after?”
She turned her head to look at him. His brows were drawn together in mock confusion.
Amusement still lined his face, as though he might burst out laughing again at any moment.
The fact the expression was completely disarming and contagious didn’t help.
She quickly averted her eyes, her own lips twitching now.
She hardened her mouth into an angry line.
“I don’t remember that,” he said. “Potent stuff.”
Gillian expelled an exasperated breath. “I don’t mean immediately. In my chambers? On my bed? When Rose walked in on us? Do you recall that?” Her face grew fiery again.
He watched her with interest, then finally murmured, “Oh, that. I remember now.” From his tone, he’d known all along what she referred to, but drew her humiliation out to amuse himself.
“You’re pink from your belly to your hair.
” He traced the path with his fingers from belly button, between her breasts, to the hollow of her throat.
Gillian tried to ignore his observations. “Ever since you drank the philter it’s been the same. You’ve . . . been . . .”
He leaned closer, a wicked light in his eye. “I’ve been what?”
“Well . . . you’ve wanted me.” A quick glance at his lower body confirmed he still did.
“That explains it,” he said with mock relief. “This strange lust for my wife has been so troubling.”
Gillian let out a heavy sigh, her anger dissolving.
“I’m glad you know. Now you know everything.
” A great weight lifted from her chest, and she truly was relieved.
It didn’t matter that he thought her a lackwit; at least she had no more secrets.
“You think it’s a great jest now and that I’m a fool for putting any faith in a love philter, but that’s because you’re under its spell. ”
He nodded seriously but bit the inside of his lip, as if holding in another torrent of laughter.